Story idea:
Title: Glacial Demon.
During an Alaskan expedition to find a path over a glacier to the Klondike Gold Rush, an army captain hears stories of a demon preying on the prospectors. At first, he disregards it as fatigue and mental strain, but he can no longer deny it when the glacial demon begins terrorizing him.
When I moved to Valdez, Alaska in 2018, it became apparent that I’d moved to a town full of stories. The Alaska section at the public library attested to this. I stumbled upon Lone E. Janson’s The Copper Spike, a book about the turn-of-the-century race to build a railroad from the copper mines in Kennecott, Alaska. In a throwaway quotation, Janson led me to hunt down Captain William R. Abercrombie’s report about his 1899 Alaskan expedition.
Abercrombie was tasked with finding a trail from Valdez to the Alaskan interior. His experience with meeting the prospectors left an indelible impression:
This “glacial demon” would stalk the prospectors making their way along the Valdez Glacier, killing loved ones, partners, and lost souls. Abercrombie wrote it off as tall tales and cabin fever. The prospectors created the demon out of their fear and loneliness. But what if it was the other way around?
What if fear and loneliness turned the prospectors into demons?
On top of spurring a story idea, this question inspired my business logo. In speaking to Scott Baisden about the logo design, the idea of these glacial demons found its way into our conversation.
In creating the story of the new isolation I found in Valdez, I have written many demons into existence. So, we etched a question into the image. Is the figure being stalked by the demon or is he walking toward the demon. By descending into the wilderness, what demons do you take with you? What demons do we become?
What stories hidden by history have you stumbled upon?
Start your story in the comments below…
You have touched on something very palpable. In the 80s/90s I wrote a column called YEARS GONE BY for the Cordova Times and discovered both archaic writing style and the resource of a never ending story germination. I SPENT so much time reading old newspapers. A huge amount of time. History is also a path to the sometimes dormant well of primal connect we have inside of us living here. I too, can feel it. So it is left to us to pass it on.
Dreaming assists me, it’s a sort of clearance of the brain. Long ago I learned to value this. It has been labeled “astral” traveling by ancient Tibetian monks.. I sware, in the alpha state, I believe my visions and how they lead me and feed me and guide me and I am very grounded to the history of my area, and comfortably live with it. There is resonance in history that reaches away from where we are now but we also have a responsibility to not play with it too much and fuck it up, and recount some modicum of reality. It can easily be made a mockery of and that only reflects back on our own foolishness and idiocy. So we must be careful as historical writers, with respect being rudimentary. However it manifests, It is so rich magical. Hell yes. I want to ring that bell. I want to write of wonders for whatever reason I cannot live out in real time of my life. This energy is going into my novel Kushtika Cove which becomes a parallel universe to my actual town in both it’s majesty and shithole maleficent mode. In KUSHTIKA COVE the maleficent energy is cannibalistic. The ancients knew it and It preys on modern man as well. In my tale it takes the form of Kushtika for the ancients and in present times, an evil racist dentist enamored of incel culture. I absolutely must write this.