THE NIGHTLY CHILL
By Steve Arviso
An Unearthly Silence (Teaser).
FIGHT THE DAWN!
As the sunlit sanity of the waking world burns the night to ash,
embrace the unbound madness of your wildest dreams,
laugh into the endless abyss of your darkest fantasies,
and rage against the coming dawn.
The Nightly Chill is the unstable experience of the mind and madness of Steve Arviso (@AmoralCrackpot). Mon-Fri. Ish.
- WE ARE THE LOST
- THE MIDNIGHT HOUR: AN UNEARTHLY SILENCE (TEASER)
- TONIGHT’S TALE…
- THE MIXTAPE
10 NIGHTS AGO!
The Midnight Hour debuted, sorta, with the opening teaser for FAMILY PORTRAIT. And then my wife went on vacation and the holidays have come and gone. And now here we are, me making excuses for not having a new issue all last week.
Well, on the bright side, the previously scheduled “Beneath a Dark Star” has been “canceled.” If only because that story, after a lot of reconsideration and retooling, will be part of a separate anthology series more in line with shows like Tales from the Crypt and Tales from the Darkside. And during the past week, I not only came up with a replacement, that replacement allows me to make use of a story I’ve been tinkering with for years. In fact, it started life as the original first script for The Midnight Hour!
After years of writing and rewriting and re-rewriting, the teaser for the second episode of The Midnight Hour, “An Unearthly Silence,” in which a troubled man confesses to the mother of a young man he killed.
Close out the year with a teaser for the third episode of The Midnight Hour, “Winning Hand.”
STILL TO COME:
- “Winning Hand”
- A winning hand turns a desperate man’s luck around. But when he doubles-down on his own greed, he loses more than he wagered.
WE ARE THE LOST
The Nightly Chill wants to show some love to a variety of cool shit from local and other independent artists, performers, and assorted creative types!
Hit us up if you make:
- Music, audio dramas
- Genre fiction, poetry, films, etc!
The weirder, the better!
We are The Lost. And together, we’ll make sure the world sees and hears us.
VIRAL LOAD PODCAST
PulpBusters is a collection of original genre-fiction audio plays inspired by classic pulp radio serials and anthologies.
THE MIDNIGHT HOUR: AN UNEARTHLY SILENCE (TEASER)
An aged gunslinger in desperate need of sleep confesses to the mother of the young man he killed.
Darkness. The slow, heavy ticking of an unseen clock echoes in otherwise still silence.
Far from the comforting warmth of daylight, in a world cloaked in shadow… our darkest and most primal fears fester, waiting for the chance to consume us whole… as we lay awake, forever unable to sleep… in The Midnight Hour.
The clock strikes midnight, light breaks the darkness, and we FADE TO
EXT. JENKINS FARM – DAY
The late-afternoon sun as it hangs low over a weed-choked valley. An unkempt homestead falls to ruin among this, though not for a lack of effort. The sort of place where little grows, life itself is tenuous, and skin is thick and calloused.
The year is 1899. The place, the Jenkins family farm… a struggling homestead nestled between the weed-choked foothills of a valley somewhere in California.
An exhausted woman, about fifty years old, tends to a small collection of livestock. This is MRS. ELIZABETH JENKINS. For her, it’s not the years, but the miles.
HOST (V.O.) (CONT’D)
And Mrs. Elizabeth Jenkins… currently tending to the needs of the few chickens and sheep left in her care… is now its sole resident and owner.
Billina! Muriel! Moses! Time to eat!
Mrs. Jenkins fawns over her precious animals. They’re all she has left.
HOST (V.O.) (CONT’D)
In a moment… Mrs. Jenkins will find herself visited by a man she doesn’t know. She will be compelled to listen to him speak for reasons she doesn’t understand. And all the while… Mrs. Jenkins will silently choke on a scream that never comes.
Mrs. Jenkins struggles to her feet, her knees and back aching and crying, as we FADE TO
A man in a tattered town coat approaches the farmhouse on horseback. The brim of his hat hiding heavy, bloodshot eyes. This is JAMES RILEY, an aging gunslinger with lines carved deep into the flesh of his face and hands. The sort of man in desperate need of sleep, but miles to go…
Hello! Mrs. Jenkins? Anybody home?
He dismounts, cautiously approaching the rest of the way on foot.
Hello? Is this the Jenkins residence? I was told I could find a Mrs. Liz Jenkins here.
As it answers with only silence and the scattered sounds of chickens and sheep.
As he turns to leave.
Just as well…
As she chambers a round into a Winchester Model 1866. She’s got Riley dead to rights, her rifle aimed at the back of his skull. Her hands steady. Her aim sure. She’s looking for a reason.
As he stops dead in his tracks. He plays it cool. This is nothing new.
Mrs. Jenkins, I take it?
State your business.
My name’s Riley–James Riley. I’m sorry for calling on you at such a late hour. But I rode some twenty miles to see you.
A silence passes between them. And then…
Riley turns to face Mrs. Jenkins, slow and steady.
S’nice little farm ya’ll got.
(looking at Mrs. Jenkins’ rifle)
Uh… nice rifle, too.
Mrs. Jenkins silently answers with a gesture of her rifle. Get on with it, or else…
Riley takes the hint.
Right. Of course.
Mrs. Jenkins? I… I ain’t quite sure how to–well, how to say this…
(stops, reconsiders this)
No, that ain’t true. That ain’t true one bit. I’m sorry.
Mrs. Jenkins. My name’s James Riley… and I’m the man who killed your son.
An uncomfortable silence falls between them as we FADE OUT.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Tonight, CHILL with an absurd twisted romance between a photographer, a housewife, and her husband–a surgeon who enjoys getting a little blood on his hands! READ “Pale Horse,” a pulp-inspired play of tragedy and supernatural justice.
Tracks I’m currently chillin’ with. Tonight, other nights. Follow the Playlist on YouTube to keep up with all the changes.
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YOU ARE NOT ALONE
THE NIGHTLY CHILL