“In the eyes of true horror aficionados… Japan is considered one of the most haunted places on Earth.” ~ Joel Rose, Hungry Ghosts
Just when things could not get more exciting in the world of The Ash, the Winters family and those battling for control of their drug empire have a few surprises in store.
The '80s were awesome: Dungeons & Dragons, government conspiracies, secret labs held by evil corporations, parallel universes, strange paranormal powers, monsters escaping into our world, Midwestern small town mysteries involving children, and rad synthesized music scores.
Strange monsters and unusual creatures, eye-widening legends and creepy fairy tales, and the worst of all: human nature. These are the things that frighten us most, but what most American horror junkies don’t realize is that there is a world of terror out there just waiting for new victims.
Bone Parish #2: Shadows continues the story of the Winters family and their booming drug industry selling The Ash, a hot, new hallucinogenic made from the ashes of the dead. One of their drug dealers has died from an overdose, their family isn’t always in-sync about how to handle their future, and some drug cartels are eyeing their rising empire. And, a plot like this wouldn’t be complete without a couple of detectives investigating the drug-related deaths – even if those detectives may be on opposing sides of the law.
I think that just about every comic book fan alive in 1993 knows where they were when they found out Superman died. I was in a grocery store checkout line, jaw scraping the floor, and wide eyes that wouldn’t go away for weeks. How was it possible that one of the biggest heroes of my childhood could die? It wasn’t like we were talking about Aquaman (who wasn’t so cool back then – poor Aquaman). This was the Man of Steel. Heroes like him just didn’t die.
Who doesn’t want to be cool? It’s something we strive for from our earliest years, once we realize that we have a self-imposed responsibility to impress others and be the center of attention. The cool ones, after all, have the best lives, with the best things, and the most awesome friends… or so we let ourselves think.
Small, family-owned businesses are inspiring, heart-warming, and make the average consumer root for them to succeed . . . unless they are selling hallucinogenic drugs made from the ashes of dead people.
I’m a sucker for a great, small English village murder mystery. I much prefer those over American television crime dramas. There’s just something so much more real about them than what we do here, and not everyone is a size negative two with perfect skin and hair, plus there’s the difference in culture, so that’s a huge draw for a criminal justice fanatic. I’ve even got the English version of our Miranda warning memorized. (It’s possibly a disease.)