Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke And Other Misfortunes E-Book

Eric LaRocca

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 224

Beschreibung

Three dark and disturbing horror stories from an astonishing new voice, including the viral-sensation tale of obsession, Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke. For fans of Kathe Koja, Clive Barker and Stephen Graham Jones. Winner of the Splatterpunk Award for Best Novella. A whirlpool of darkness churns at the heart of a macabre ballet between two lonely young women in an internet chat room in the early 2000s—a darkness that threatens to forever transform them once they finally succumb to their most horrific desires. A couple isolate themselves on a remote island in an attempt to recover from their teenage son's death, when a mysterious young man knocks on their door during a storm… And a man confronts his neighbour when he discovers a strange object in his back yard, only to be drawn into an ever-more dangerous game. Three devastating, beautifully written horror stories from one of the genre's most cutting-edge voices. What have you done today to deserve your eyes?

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Cover

Praise for Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

THINGS HAVE GOTTEN WORSE SINCE WE LAST SPOKE

THE ENCHANTMENT

YOU’LL FIND IT’S LIKE THAT ALL OVER

Afterword

Acknowledgments

About the Author

PRAISE FOR

THINGS HAVE GOTTEN WORSE

SINCE WE LAST SPOKE

“Some horror walks you down a dark corridor, where there’s whispers and laughter, sobs and screams. Other horror starts down at the end of that corridor, where there’s a door that opens on to you don’t know what. Read this, and then decide where Eric LaRocca has left you. Not that it matters. There’s no way out.”

Stephen Graham Jones, author of The Only Good Indians and My Heart is a Chainsaw

“Eric LaRocca’s unflinching Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke will crawl inside you, move stuff around, and make you see the world differently, like all great stories do.”

Paul Tremblay, author of A Head Full of Ghosts and The Pallbearers Club

“A startling affair… I’ll be cleaning up particles of darkness in my office for weeks.”

Josh Malerman, author of Bird Box and Malorie

“Bleak, clever, edgy, and vicious. Eric LaRocca draws his readers in for something they will never expect and never forget.”

Sadie Hartmann, ‘Mother Horror’

“LaRocca’s combination of structure, adept pacing and masterful language is more complex than meets the eye… A must-read for fans of body horror, epistolary novels, and depravity.”

Library Journal

“A hauntingly elegant, masterfully written, and ultimately devastating indictment of cruel manipulation and even crueler submission. This is one deeply fucked-up heartbreaker. You have been warned.”

John Skipp, author of The Light at the End

“Part Dennis Cooper’s The Sluts, part David Cronenberg’s The Brood… Eric LaRocca’s Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke is a masterpiece of epistolary body horror.”

Max Booth III, author of We Need to Do Something

“Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke is a tight, merciless epistolary, each piece of correspondence coiling the reader around its finger and never letting go. LaRocca skillfully weaves a grotesque, unforgettable page-turner of manipulation and depravity.”

Hailey Piper, author of Queen of Teeth

“With darkly poetic prose and chilling stories that peel back layers of skin to reveal a beating, bloody heart, Eric LaRocca is the clear literary heir of Clive Barker.”

Tyler Jones, author of Criterium and The Dark Side of the Room

“Eric LaRocca is a fierce talent that knows no limit, masterful and utterly unmissable!”

Ross Jeffery, author of Juniper and Tome

“Eric LaRocca reminds us of what horror does better than any other genre: it lets loose the raw primal scream of life.”

Nathan Ballingrud, author of North American Lake Monsters

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Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke

and Other Misfortunes

Print edition ISBN: 9781803361499

Signed edition ISBN: 9781803363141

E-book edition ISBN: 9781803361505

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

First edition: September 2022

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Eric LaRocca asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Copyright © 2022 Eric LaRocca. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

For Ali, my love.

Things have gotten better since we first met.

You make me feel like less of a monster.

THINGS

HAVE

GOTTEN

WORSE

SINCE

WE LAST

SPOKE

AUTHOR’S NOTE

As there has already been an overwhelming amount of conjecture and vitriol—especially in the dominion of online discussion—regarding the untimely demise of Agnes Petrella at the age of twenty-four, the author of this text has tenderly and judiciously compiled the following content with the hope of enlightening the public by publishing the contents of her correspondence with Zoe Cross in the several months prior to her death.

Because the litigation surrounding Zoe Cross’s case remains open at the time of this publication, certain elements of their communication have been redacted or censored at the behest of the Henley’s Edge Police Department. The author has noticeably marked these redacted elements with [omitted]. The absent contents remain in the archives of the Henley’s Edge Police Department and are strictly forbidden from being removed from their records.

The author wishes to extend their heartfelt gratitude to the Henley’s Edge Police Department, specifically Captain Gregory Deacon and Judge Louis Urchek for their amenableness and unwavering support throughout the course of composing this publication.

Also, the author of this publication requests that the reader be cognizant of the fact that the author is in no way affiliated with either Zoe Cross’s legal counsel or Agnes Petrella’s surviving family. The author remains a nonpartisan entity and instead patiently waits for the balances of justice to tip in favor of the truth.

PART ONE

A SLICED APPLE

POST WRITTEN BY AGNES PETRELLA ON ONLINE QUEER COMMUNITY BOARD

[The following post was recovered from QueerList.org—a website where members, usually openly identifying members of the LGBTQ+ community, can converse and solicit. The author wishes to express their heartfelt gratitude to the website’s chief administrator, Sig Thornton, for recovering the post from his well-organized archives and for being so remarkably generous throughout the research process.]

Antique Apple Peeler with Vibrant History for Sale

Date: Friday, May 26, 2000 at 3:47 p.m. EST

User: agnes_in_wonderland_76

Asking Price: $250 (will settle for $220)

I was going to begin this with some absurd comment about the irony of posting about an apple peeler in a queer discussion forum when most of us are probably upset by the mere mention of the word “fruit.”

I decided to begin with a story instead.

Every family has a myth for the young to inherit—an undocumented fable passed between mouths, a grave illness to be contracted—as if the very words were a blight to infect the youth with and let them know they’re now welcome to the fold.

After all, what exactly is a family, if not a brotherhood and sisterhood afflicted with the same terminal disease?

When I was very young, my grandmother told me a story about how her mother—an immigrant from Naples—had desperately longed for a proper apple peeler in order to make a traditional apple pie.

The man she had married, though generous enough to gift her five children to carry in her belly over the course of six years, was resolute in his decision—he would not give her the money for the apple peeler no matter how much she begged.

So, my great-grandmother devised a plan to make her husband understand just how urgently she needed a peeler. Not only would her plan showcase her need, but it would stress a measure of safety as well.

The following day, my great-grandmother packed her husband’s lunch pail and kissed him “goodbye” as he set off for work. She waited, spent the morning tailoring a suit for one of her neighbors. Finally, the news she had been waiting for arrived. One of the Carpino boys that lived next door showed up on her doorstep and explained how her husband had been taken to the local doctor.

“What for?” she had asked, her hands hiding the smile beginning to thaw across her face.

“Something he ate,” the Carpino boy told her. “He bit into an apple with a sewing needle stuck inside.”

A week later and my great-grandmother was at the local department store picking out an apple peeler, chaperoned by her dear husband with his jaw bandaged shut.

As you can already tell by the pictures attached to this thread [images omitted], this antique apple peeler has endured for over a century and provided sustenance for four generations of family members.

I’ve gone through various documents my grandmother had left me and consequently discovered a letter my great-grandmother had sent to her sister (who was living in Turin, Italy at the time) and she details going to the department store with her husband to pick out an apple peeler. The letter is dated August 5th, 1897. So, that means, in no uncertain terms, the apple peeler was manufactured in 1897. Possibly even earlier—1896. I can happily scan a copy of the letter and include it with the item for the sake of verifying the appliance’s authenticity. I’m also more than happy to send along a copy of the letter for a historian to verify prior to purchase.

You might be interested to know not only was the apple peeler’s purchase of the sordid variety, but the appliance furnished the hands of one of the state of Connecticut’s beloved composers—Charles Ives. My grandmother, frequently guilty of repeating the same story at a family gathering on separate occasions, would often regale those who were patient enough to listen more than once with the story of how the apple peeler was once used by Charles Ives, a family friend, at a picnic in 1948—the very year after he had won the Pulitzer Prize.

Unfortunately, there’s no way to authenticate this claim that the apple peeler was once used by Mr. Ives. On two separate occasions, I have scoured my parents’ basement in search of photographs documenting the picnic and found no evidence of Mr. Ives at a family picnic in the late 1940s. In an effort to be as transparent with you as possible, my grandmother was prone to manufacturing stories that she imagined might titillate her guests. She once told a family friend that Marcello Mastroianni (you might remember him from La Dolce Vita) was a distant family relation on her mother’s side. Her stories became more fanciful and varied in her old age; however, she clung to the story of Charles Ives until the night the hospice nurses arrived.

Make of that what you will.

If you’re in the market for a conversation starter, then look no further. I can’t tell you the amount of times house guests have marveled at this particular antique appliance pinned to my kitchen wall. On more than three separate occasions I’ve had offers from guests to purchase the peeler; however, at the time, I couldn’t bear to part with it.

If you’re a serious collector with a fervent taste for traditional Americana—no pun intended—then this is the appliance for you. Be mindful that this appliance is still in proper working order. Though, a skilled owner will be aware not to overuse the tool as it requires the tenderness only a true collector possesses. It’s my sincere hope that this apple peeler will go to a considerate and thoughtful owner, eager to add a touch of history to their beautiful home, or perhaps to add another excellent addition to their growing collection.

Feel free to email me: agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted]. com with any further questions. I’m delighted to help in any way I can. Please do not contact me with unsolicited services or offers.

Please be advised, once purchased I will not accept returns or issue refunds.

EMAIL FROM ZOE CROSS

[The following pages contain the first correspondence between Zoe Cross and Agnes Petrella. As mentioned in the Author’s Note, certain sections of the email correspondence have been truncated or omitted entirely as Ms. Cross’s case is still pending an investigation.]

Date: 05/28/2000

Time: 12:09 p.m.

From: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

To: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Antique Apple Peeler with Vibrant History for Sale

Dear Agnes,

While I don’t claim to possess the refinement of a serious antique collector, I’m filled with the same urgency of your great-grandmother to acquire something very near and dear to my heart. My grandfather is turning ninety-two during the month of July. He’s especially fond of the work of composer Charles Ives and, quite frankly, I had to do a double take when I first read your original post because it seemed too serendipitous—too good to be true.

Although it’s unfortunate you can’t prove the appliance was once in the possession of Mr. Ives at a family picnic, I think my grandfather would be tickled to know of the story and would appreciate the appliance with or without the proper proof.

My grandfather, a World War Two veteran, doesn’t talk much about his involvement with the war; however, he has mentioned time and time again how the lieutenants in the garrisons would often play Ives on the radio. In fact, one of my earliest memories of my grandfather—other than his distinct smell of lavender—involves me sitting on his lap on the front porch of his house in Revere, MA, as a Charles Ives record played.

I understand in your original post you had stressed the importance of the appliance going to the home of a serious collector. Unfortunately, I cannot pretend to claim my grandfather is a dedicated collector. In fact, with his health failing, it’s more than likely that the appliance will be in his possession for a few years—maybe even months if his current doctor’s prognosis proves to be true—before it’s inherited by one of the younger members of our family. Possibly myself.

That’s not to say that my grandfather does not covet his belongings with the tenderness and care of an antiquarian specialist. My grandfather recently purchased a Harpers Ferry Model 1855 musket at a public auction in Danvers, MA. He’s since cared for the rifle as if it were his only child. I visit him occasionally on the weekends when I can comfortably make the trek from Cambridge to Springfield and typically find him hunched over his prized possession, hands furiously polishing the barrel with a cloth.

If you were to sell the antique apple peeler to me—and I wholeheartedly understand if you carry some reservations given the questionable longevity of my grandfather’s health—I can assure you the appliance will be well looked after. If not by my grandfather, then by me personally. As I have explained, I don’t pretend to be an antique specialist; however, I can assure you I make good word of my promises. Of course, you’re more than likely hesitant to accept such a statement from a perfect stranger on the internet. Regardless, the apple peeler will be finding a good home.

If you haven’t tossed my email in the trash by now, perhaps we could discuss the matter of the price. According to your post, you’re seeking $250, but will settle for $220. I think that’s more than agreeable given the rich history surrounding the appliance. After all, it’s still in working order!

Would you be receptive to offering express shipping at no additional cost if I offered to pay the desired $250? It would certainly help my pocketbook.

Of course, I completely understand if that’s not possible. We can negotiate later.

Regardless, please let me know if you are open to the idea of selling the apple peeler to me. I would be more than delighted to take it off your hands and offer it the best home I can afford.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Best regards,

Zoe

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 05/29/2000

Time: 10:43 a.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Antique Apple Peeler with Vibrant History for Sale

Dear Zoe,

Thank you so much for reaching out and for writing such a thoughtful email. Most of the responses I’ve been receiving on the post have unfortunately been solicitations for activities I can’t even imagine having the determination to write down, let alone engage in. Your email was a much welcome respite from a seemingly never-ending onslaught of rudeness.

So, thank you for that.

Based on the thoughtfulness of your email and the dedication you put into crafting your inquiry, I am most certainly open to the idea of selling you the apple peeler. Although my original post may have stressed the importance of the new owner possessing a certain skillset in order to appropriately take care of the appliance, much of that was said in order to suitably vet the contacts who might attempt to query me.

As you can probably tell from my original post, this apple peeler means a great deal to me. It’s been in my family for many generations and was passed down to me by my mother. If possible, I would like for it to become a treasured item belonging to another family—a precious relic to become a birthright for a new generation. I don’t anticipate having children of my own, so I would hope that the apple peeler might go to a home burgeoning with little ones. Of course, I understand this may not be possible. Despite my wishes, I think your grandfather would take excellent care of the apple peeler.

If you’d like, I would be happy to include a small note in the parcel detailing my grandmother’s account of Charles Ives at the family picnic. I only wish I could prove the report. But, as you said, your grandfather will appreciate the appliance with or without the proof.

To answer your question regarding express shipping at no additional cost, I would be more than happy to offer to send the parcel at an expedited rate at no additional cost if you purchase the item at the requested $250. I think that would be more than agreeable. Plus, I hardly expected I would find somebody as caring and as devoted to their family as you.

It’s my pleasure to sell the apple peeler to you, especially knowing how fond your grandfather is of Charles Ives. Isn’t that perfect?

I must admit, I’m slightly hesitant to sell the appliance in general considering how precious it has been to me over the years. It’s really the only thing my mother has ever given me. Not to mention, it’s something my grandmother touted as a magical instrument when I was little. I used to foolishly think it could grant wishes.

I guess we all have things from our childhood we eventually must let go of.

Please send me your mailing address after you’ve sent the payment and we’ll go from there.

Again, thank you so much for your thoughtfulness. It means so much to me.

Best regards,

Agnes

EMAIL FROM ZOE CROSS

Date: 05/29/2000

Time: 3:13 p.m.

From: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

To: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Antique Apple Peeler with Vibrant History for Sale

Dear Agnes,

I am overjoyed to know you’re willing to sell me the apple peeler, especially with the requested expedited shipping at no additional cost. I was hesitant—perhaps nervous as well— to send you my initial email as I worried I wouldn’t be an adequate candidate for your item, but I’m so delighted to hear you’re receptive to my offer.

I plan to send the money to your bank tomorrow afternoon when the funds appear in my account after I make the necessary transfer.

I hope you’ll excuse my momentary forwardness with you, but I’m curious to know why you’re selling the apple peeler in the first place if it holds such profound emotional value to you. I have to admit—I’m hesitant to make the purchase of the item if you’re on the fence about selling.

I would hate to think I’m robbing you of some dearly cherished, irreplaceable artifact.

Best,

Zoe

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 05/30/2000

Time: 8:32 a.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Antique Apple Peeler with Vibrant History for Sale

Zoe,

I sincerely appreciate your thoughtfulness during this difficult time. I don’t consider your email to be too forward at all, considering how vulnerable I made myself during my original online post. I wholeheartedly understand your concern to purchase now, especially after I’ve expressed how precious the appliance was—and still is—to me and my family.

The truth is this apple peeler is one of the few things I have left of my grandmother. She passed away when I was a teenager and had always joked that this apple peeler was to serve as my dowry. When I moved out on my own—into my first apartment—it was one of the few things my mother could afford to give me as a housewarming present. Something I had treasured for so many years—a reminder of the generous and beautiful spirit my grandmother once was.

That night, my mother and I peeled apples to make a pie. We ate cookies with vanilla frosting until two in the morning.

The fact is that was the last night my mother and I laughed together. Or even hugged, for that matter.

You see, when I left home for the first time, I made a promise to myself that I would live as authentically as I possibly could. No matter the consequences.

So, I did.

I picked up the phone and I called my mom and I said, “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you and Dad.”

She exhaled; the dim rumbling of her breath clogging in the pit of her throat sounded like a thunderstorm breaking apart as it passed through a stretch of mountains.

I waited until I could hear my father milling about in the background, close enough to hear what I had to say.

Finally, I said it: “Mom, Dad. I’m gay.”

There was a long, painful pause, and I recall I could feel my heartbeat hammering in the space between my ears—the blood rushing to my face and pooling there.

Finally, my mother spoke. “My child isn’t gay.”

And she hung up.

That was the very last thing she said to me. I haven’t talked to her in two years.

The apple peeler was one of the last things she gave me before we stopped talking—something I thought I would keep as a memory of my family until I had a family of my own one day. But that doesn’t seem that likely anymore.

You had asked me why exactly I was selling the apple peeler if it held such a profound sentimental value. The truth is, I would keep it if I could. I don’t want to bore you with the details or throw myself a little pity party, but I’ve been struggling to make my rent payment for the last several months because of a pay cut I had to take at my job. The extra $250 would really help me out this coming month and keep me afloat so I can bide my time before I can figure out what I’m going to do next.

I had never planned to reveal exactly why I was planning to sell the apple peeler to whoever I arranged to purchase the item. But you seem so genuine and so thoughtful. I know you won’t judge me or think ill of me for discarding such a precious remnant of my family’s history.

I assure you I would never accept your money if I knew in my heart I could not bear to part with it. More importantly, I promise not to pester you after the purchase and make certain the apple peeler is being well cared for. Once we make the transaction, that’s it. I trust that the apple peeler will be going to a good home with you and your grandfather. I have no reservations to sell. If it seems like I am somewhat hesitant, it’s merely because it feels like I’m holding a funeral for my former self—the person I was before I lived with integrity and honesty. It’s the funeral for a person I wouldn’t want you to know.

After all, I much prefer who I am now.

Well, sometimes I do.

Although I must confess—I sometimes wonder how I’ll properly peel apples without it. I suppose the Greek philosopher, Epicurus, was right—“A free life cannot acquire many possessions, because this is not easy to do without servility to mobs or monarchs.”

Best,

Agnes

EMAIL FROM ZOE CROSS

Date: 05/31/2000

Time: 9:24 a.m.

From: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

To: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Antique Apple Peeler with Vibrant History for Sale

Agnes,

Once again, I hope you’ll excuse my forwardness when I ask for your bank account routing information so that I can wire your monthly rent payment to you. I know we don’t even really know one another, but I recognize when I’ve been blessed with certain things others have not.

I would be remiss if I did not take this opportunity to help you in the way that you so clearly need. I’m lucky enough to never have to worry about rent payment or whether or not I’ll survive another bill cycle, and I would be honored to help you do the same.

I know you’ll probably be hesitant—you’ll probably insist that you don’t need the assistance. I would ask you to reconsider your stubbornness and accept help when it’s offered so freely and so selflessly.

I would also like to take this opportunity to give you my Instant Messenger contact information in case you ever need to talk. You can find me at <crushedmarigolds>. I’m usually online later at night as I typically work during the day.

Please never hesitate to reach out or ask for help if you need it. As I said before, I know we’re complete strangers to one another, but I truly believe I’m within my right to help another human being when I can see clearly that they’re struggling.

Talk soon,

Zoe

EMAIL FROM AGNES PETRELLA

Date: 05/31/2000

Time: 11:12 a.m.

From: Agnes Petrella <agnes_in_wonderland_76@[omitted].com>

To: Zoe Cross <crushedmarigolds@[omitted].com>

Subject: Re: Antique Apple Peeler with Vibrant History for Sale

Zoe,

I’m so shocked by your generosity. I really don’t quite know what to say. I’ve, of course, heard of things like this happening to people. But never in my wildest dreams did I ever think it would happen to me.