The strongest work in issue 3 has to be the first, Carole Lanham’s ‘The Good Part’, which features a strange and devoted pair of siblings, a brother and sister, who are still sharing a bed well into their teens. Etta is the oldest, and has been sickly all of her life, owing to premature birth. They stay with their grandfather since their mother died after Gidion was born and their father was killed later in an accident. They live on a farm in Wisconsin, and the story opens on Etta trying to bite into Gidion’s arm. It soon becomes clear that Etta is a vampire, though the word is never used. Lanham avoids just about every cliché there is relating to vampirism, and the setting of the story also makes for a refreshing take. Etta has gone from frail to incredibly strong after the family received a visit from a mysterious stranger who camped overnight in their field. After that, Etta demands her brother’s blood, but he’s a reluctant victim, which seems to displease her. She blackmails him by threatening to feed on others, and an old lady is indeed killed. Gidion feels he has to go along with her, but he’s also in love with the local minister’s daughter, and hopes to marry her when he’s sixteen. He courts her after church, but Etta soon throws a spanner in the works by inviting herself along to a picnic. Etta wants to convert Gidion, like she’s been changed, but he doesn’t want it. He worries that she’ll hurt the girl he loves, and in the end, though she doesn’t succeed in converting Gidion, she does get her revenge twice over. ‘The Good Part’ is a story that deserves to be reprinted in one of the annual ‘Best of…’ anthologies. The relationship between the siblings, though not incestuous in the usual respect, is unhealthy and smothering. But the narrative voice lends a lightness to the story’s telling, which contrasts with the darkness of its content.

‘Silent Corners’ by Nate Southard is a much shorter work. A college student is enthused by his teacher’s lectures on sound, and the idea of dead spots, places sound can’t reach. He determines to spend his Friday night looking for a dead spot in his room, searching for a place where he can’t even hear the sound of his own voice. Eventually, he finds it, but cannot escape. He’s trapped in a strange silent place, and can only hope that his roommate will find him. ‘Silent Corners’ is one of the best stories in this particular issue, and the writer packs a lot into its short length.

‘Haunted House’ by Christoph Meyer is a wonderful poem that seems to delight in the sounds of its words. It’s a work that deserves to be read out loud. It trips off the tongue, and I particularly liked the last line: “Howling like fingernails on drywall”. The poem ‘Orange-Green Monsters’ by Kristine Ong Muslim is beautifully understated, and each verse offers contrasting images, ending in three strong lines. The only thing I didn’t like was the title which is less subtle than the poem itself.

‘The Tamer’ by Neil Ayres is a strange little story that reminded me of another of his works in Whispers of Wickedness, where a fox character meets a feline bookseller at a shop. ‘The Tamer’ has the same eclectic style, though it’s more understated. The story follows a woman prone to daydreaming, who begins to feed meat to a rook, until it comes to feed from her hand. The story is told by someone who witnesses this, but only appears partway into the story. According to his bio, Ayres is writing a Young Adult novel about a rook, which made me wonder whether this story is actually part of a longer work. Either way, it perfectly fits the style of Trunk Stories, and Ayres manages to inject a curious atmosphere into what is a very short story.

‘Baby Secret’ by Margaret Crocker is by far one of the darkest works in the magazine. Based on a real doll released in 1965, the story is a flash piece, framed around the doll’s intimate speech, spoken to the narrator, who appears to be a paedophile. The fact that it is a doll speaking, and not a child, does not in any way lessen the impact. Far from it, the speaking doll makes the situation all the more chilling.

‘Unvincible’ by Michael Northrop contains a darkly humorous thread. A boy is bitten by a poisonous spider and has to have his leg amputated. He takes his fury out on insects, stomping on them at every opportunity. As an adult he spies an attractive young woman in the street, only to see her knocked down by a motorcycle, which mashes up her arm. She too has to have a limb amputated, and he hangs around her hospital bed, clearly smitten. After she’s released, they become involved, but on a visit to his mother’s home, the girl is bitten on the foot by the same kind of poisonous spider. The male character hides his delight, knowing perfectly well that she’s probably going to lose her leg. This is a story with a delightfully wicked streak to it.

The narrator of ‘Manfleas’ by William Wilde is taking his wife and son back home after a weekend at their holiday cottage. Something is wrong with their son, Ryan, who sits in the back seat, wearing a helmet. At one point, Ryan starts hitting himself before the fit wears off. Sometime later, the narrator spots a bunch of cars parked off the road, drivers out in the fields with shotguns and rifles. Manfleas, half-human creatures who’ve been feeding on the crops, are running in panic. The narrator stops and joins in the shooting. What makes this story work is the mystery of Ryan’s condition, and its possible link to the hunted creatures.

Veronica Schanoes provides an autobiographical essay called ‘Why I Hate Penn Station’. It’s a beautifully written article about the replacement of the old cathedral-like station with the newer, uglier Penn Station. Schanoes also weaves in her father’s work in the railways, her childhood visits to his workplaces, and her love for New York. The prose style is lyrical, almost gospel at times, though the piece suffers from being a little bit overlong. Nevertheless, it is one of the strongest non-fiction pieces I’ve seen in some time.

Trunk Stories is definitely a magazine to look out for, attractively produced and easy to read due to the decent sized text and an overall layout which gives stories and poems room to breathe. The contents are darkly eclectic, and the publication is perhaps most comparable to Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, though a link has also been made to Electric Velocipede.

© 2006 Laura Hird All rights reserved.