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The Twisted Biography of the author

ANTON VON STEFAN

Part six  - mr needles  comes to mind

From three in the morning until an hour after sunrise, on the morning following that memorable, raging storm, ANTON VON STEFAN’s pen bled ink as the ghostly tale flowed upon the blank page, word for eerie word.  No food passed the author’s lips, the tent was torn down and stowed in haste, the rent paid for the site, and the Triumph roared to life on a most beautiful, sunny, summer morning.  The supernatural story was taking on a life of its own within his mind as each future sentence formed a new paragraph which appeared clearly, and chronologically, within his head.  Little or no heed was paid to negotiating the road as the author’s small sports car traversed the narrow mountain pathway, retracing its trail back to the edge of the lake.  Yet, the origin of the Gothic Horror story’s name, the bizarre tale our traveller had begun to write shortly after he woke that fateful night, had not yet become apparent.  That mystery would only become evident once ANTON VON STEFAN boarded the cable ferry that crossed this interior lake.

His mind was still in a virtual fog as he negotiated the ramp while following the directives of the officer on deck.  Assigned a spot near the very centre of the ferry, the author pulled the park brake, placed the vehicle in neutral, and shut off the motor.  The Triumph was the only automobile on the ferry on that early crossing, and Arrow Lake opened up its long, narrow shape before them as the cables pulled the small vessel over the water.  The sun glistened off the mirror like surface, giving a remarkable radiance to the surrounding coast.  As the shore receded from view, small swirls of mist rose from the lake’s surface, and danced in revolving, upward spiralling columns, adding a new dimension to the spectacular scene.  Nature, in full contrast to the tempest of the previous night, radiated in the serenity of the new day, whilst the dark, inner thoughts of ANTON VON STEFAN were equally opposing to the beauty he was surrounded in.

It was a time before the internet had even been thought of, and a time when Kodak produced a 35mm film that came in a metal canister, and digits still referred to how many fingers and toes an individual had.  In such a strange world our author stood that day, pocket camera in hand, as he leaned upon the ship’s varnished, wooden handrail, snapping a few pictures that would some day be developed and remain a permanent log of his journey as a Gothic Horror writer.  Stepping back and crossing over to the stern of the vessel, his eye caught the name of the ferry.  'MV Needles' was clearly written on the brass plate amid ship and also on the two life rings that hung in their brackets, one on each side of the vessel.  Bizarre!  Incredible!  ANTON VON STEFAN had never been on Arrow Lake in his life, had no premonition or desire of ever writing a Horror Story, and had never even thought of taking this route until the storm drove him eastward.  Yet, here he stood, on the deck of a small ferry that had left him behind the night before, and he, ANTON VON STEFAN, was writing a Gothic-Horror Story called “The Passing of Mr Needles”.

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