Memories Dreams Reflections 20: The Book/End of the 1980s

In the meanwhile, I continued writing. During the years 1991-1992 I began my tenure at Thundermist Middle School where, in the sixth grade, in January of 1992, I took part in a contest for young authors. The story I wrote revolved around the exploits of my beloved pet lizard Spiky: in fact, the name of this story was “The Adventures of Spiky.” To make a long story short, my story won. This wasn’t the first time I had won it: earlier, in the second grade, I had won the award as well, for an adaptation of the Frosty the Snowman tale I had written that year (and by adaptation I mean that I had added in myself and my family members as characters). In the summer of 1993 (the summer before I entered the eighth grade, which was my last year of middle school), for my 13^th birthday, one of my aunts gave me, as a gift, a 130 page hardbound blank book. In some ways this was one of the greatest gifts that I ever received, and that summer I wrote my first novel in that blank book, the name of this novel being The Hole of Doom, book one in the so-called “Adventure Series” (I only ever wrote one other book in that series). The plot was some nonsense about a magical hole being discovered on the side of a mountain in Montana, and how a government spy is sent into this hole to investigate, and how he discovers an entire subterranean kingdom both inside and beneath the mountain, and how he finds himself getting tangled up in a bizarre war between the peaceful mountain-dwellers and the evil snakes (who, despite their name, are actually more like dragons). Dwarves figure into the equation as well because of course they do.

In the eighth grade my English teacher was very supportive and encouraging about my writing and for the first time I began to see myself as a writer, with dreams of one day being published. It had taken me 13 years, but I had finally taken my first steps onto the road to Er.

Memories Dreams Reflections 19: Random Memories of the 80's

Other random memories I have from the late 1980’s: reading some of H.G. Wells’ books, mainly The Time Machine (which began my lifelong interest in the theory of time travel) and The War of the Worlds. Spending time with Rusty, our pet cat. Playing games with my siblings in the large field behind our house. Looking for Waldo. Reading Calvin & Hobbes collections (my favorite newspaper cartoon strip at the time: the first Calvin & Hobbes comic strip I ever read was the one that appeared in the The Providence Journal newspaper on January 10, 1988, in which Calvin hits Susie in the back of the head with a snowball and, to get back at him, she pretends he knocked her eye out. When he frantically bends over to help her find it, she kicks him in the ass and calls him a “poop head.” Hobbes appears in the final panel and asks Calvin what he’s doing, and Calvin grumbles that his eye was knocked out. I was a little confused as to why Calvin was speaking to a walking and talking tiger, and one that was wearing a scarf no less, but for me what made me a fan was that the strip had used the word “poop head”). Some TV shows my siblings and I enjoyed watching included Perfect Strangers, Family Matters, and The Wonder Years. We were probably just getting into the whole Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle craze at this time period as well (it wouldn’t be until the early 90’s that we all became Batman fanatics). 

Some other things I remember about childhood in the 1980's, during the first decade of my life: the creepy clown painting hanging up on the wall of the waiting room of the office of my childhood pediatrician (in terms of scary-looking clowns, this one was less Bozo and more Pennywise: my mother would usually have to drive to the back of the building and let me in by the back door so that I would avoid the waiting room altogether). I recall that the walls of the actual examination rooms of this doctor’s office were painted with characters from Sesame Street and the Muppets, the better to lull one into a false sense of security. Playing The Legend of Zelda on sultry summer afternoons (after all these years, the first Zelda game remains my favorite in the series: the vibrant color scheme of the game is a thing of beauty). Walking around the playground of Bernon Heights during recess in the winter and watching my breath freeze into shapes resembling transient castles of ghostly ice, frozen fata morganas. The wrestling game my siblings and I used to play with our dad, where we would play-wrestle on the bed and try to knock each other off. Watching my mom working on a new quilt. Playing Clue with my family (I always played as Mrs. Peacock because she was blue, my favorite color: of course, Clue was just one of many borad games we played). Class field trips to Rocky Point Amusement park (where my favorite ride was the haunted house one, the so-called House of Horrors; no great shocker there). Playing video games at the Dream Machine Arcade at Lincoln Mall (an annual birthday treat). 

Here are some more pictures of me from the 1980's:

Christmas 1981 (age 1)

1982 (age 2)

1982 (again) (age 2)

Christmas 1984 (with my mom in the background) (age 4)

King's Castle field trip 1985 (age 5)

With my parents and my brothers Tom and Bill, plus Andrew, who had just been born that year (1986). The stuffed animal I'm holding is Shark Puppet, who was my favorite stuffed animal as a child 

Birthday 1986, surrounded by gifts (age 6)

Christmas 1986 (one of my favorite childhood pictures of myself)

1986 Kindergarten Graduation 

Mystic Aquarium 1986

With my mom and 3 younger brothers, sometime in the mid-1980's

1987 Birthday, with my brothers Tom and Bill (and my dad in the background)

1987 Birthday, with my grandparents 

1987 Birthday: my grandmother made the Ghostbusters-themed cake

A better view of the cake 

1987 Birthday: in my hands are two of my beloved shark hand puppets, the gray one being Shark Puppet and the teal one being Sammy 

June 1987 (age 7)

With my brothers on Halloween 1987. Our mom made the costumes

Birthday 1988 (age 8)

At Mystic Aquarium in 1988. Notice again the aforementioned Shark Puppet and Sammy. Yeah, I was obsessed with sharks when I was a kid. 

With my dad and 3 younger brothers, probably sometime in the late '80's 

October 1988, with praying mantis. This is from the backyard of our old house: we moved to our current location the following year, August 1989

With my brothers on Halloween 1989. I'm the vampire; again, our mom made the costumes 

Memories Dreams Reflections 18: John Bellairs

“I write scary thrillers for kids because I have the imagination of a ten-year-old. I love haunted houses, ghosts, witches, mummies, incantations, secret rituals performed by the light of the waning moon, coffins, bones, cemeteries, and enchanted objects.”

-John Bellairs, Locus 1991

In an earlier entry in this series (#7) I mentioned some of the books I enjoyed reading as a child, and one of the names I briefly mentioned was John Bellairs. I'd like to go into a bit more detail about that in this entry because he pretty much was the first author I really gravitated to. 

When I was young, I was a huge fan of the gothic novelist John Bellairs (b. January 17, 1938– d. March 8, 1991), who pretty much wrote books mainly for kids and teenagers, though he did a few adult novels as well (these adult novels of which I have not read). Not only were they my entryway to the world of Gothic/horror fiction, but also to the art of Edward Gorey, as his illustrations would usually grace the front cover, back cover, and frontispiece of the books of John Bellairs. I was especially obsessed with Bellairs' series of supernatural mystery/thriller novels featuring Johnny Dixon. Those books take place in New England in the 1950’s, and revolve around Johnny Dixon, a lonely and quiet bespectacled boy who, though he likes nothing more in life than to read his books in peace and quiet, always finds himself being drawn into inexplicable adventures, often revolving around cursed objects, undead wizards, killer robots, time travel, and so forth. Usually accompanying him on these adventures were his best friend and classmate Fergie, his neighbor Prof. Childermass (an elderly man who is Johnny’s second best friend), and Father Higgins, the town priest. The titles of these books were quite evocative: there was The Curse of the Blue Figurine (1983), The Mummy, The Will and the Crypt (1983), The Spell of the Sorcerer’s Skull (1984), The Revenge of the Wizard’s Ghost (1985), The Eyes of the Killer Robot (1986), The Trolley to Yesterday (1989), The Chessmen of Doom (1989), and The Secret of the Underground Room (1990). Following Bellairs’ death in 1991, further Johnny Dixon mysteries were written by Brad Strickland, but I never read those. I think I responded to Bellairs' Dixon books more so than any of his other series was because in some ways I identified with the main character: a shy, bookish kid living in a small New England town, with a Catholic upbringing, but who was also obsessed with the occult and anything creepy (now that I think back, I believe that Johnny was also very interested in the Ancient Egyptians), and who preferred the company of adults rather than kids his own age. I never wore glasses, though. 

The first Dixon mystery I read was the third one in the series, The Spell of the Sorcerer’s Skull: I got it through my school’s Scholastic book club sometime around the 4th or 5th grade. I loved it so much that I began collecting the other ones in the series.

Having said that, I also found the books of John Bellairs to be very scary at times. Take The Spell of the Sorcerer’s Skull. In this novel, Johnny Dixon and Prof. Childermass visit an old inn in a little New Hampshire town. The owner of this inn just happens to have in his possession a clock that had been built years ago by Prof. Childermass’ father, a clock that is said to be haunted. In the bottom half of the clock there’s a small dollhouse room, decorated like the parlor of a Victorian house from the 1870’s. Inside this parlor are various objects, including a tiny skull and a doll of a man that’s supposed to represent Prof. Childermass’ granduncle, who was murdered by a sorcerer many years ago. That night, Johnny sleepwalks down to the inn’s basement, where he has a vision in which he sees the doll come to life, only to get smothered to death by a tall, gaunt shadow. That scene is creepy enough, but things get worse. When the Professor touches the skull, he unwittingly is cursed, and later on vanishes. When Johnny visits the house of his friend, he encounters this creepy scene (the fact that it involved a face in a mirror made it doubly nightmarish in my mind):

“Halfway to the window Johnny froze. He had seen something out of the corner of his eye, a sudden image in the small rectangular mirror that hung over the bureau. He turned and looked. In the mirror he saw the professor’s face, looking haggard and disheveled. His eyes pleaded and, as Johnny watched, his lips formed silent words. ‘Help me.’”

Another of the spookier Dixon mysteries is The Eyes of the Killer Robot. The plot for this one is pretty silly: it’s been years since I’ve read it, but I think the story revolved around this: the town that Johnny Dixon lived in was holding some kind of baseball contest where if you could strike out a major league batter, you’d win $10,000, and some evil inventor planned to win the contest by building a robot that resembled a man in a baseball uniform and using “an ancient magical formula” to bring it to life. The crux of the story was that the robot could only be brought to life when a pair of dead man’s eyes are placed within the robot’s head. The inventor had a grudge against Johnny’s grandfather, so to get back at him he plans on using Johnny’s eyes to bring the robot to life. As I said, pretty silly stuff. Still, there are some unsettling moments, such as this one, where Johnny spots a ghost lurking outside his bedroom window:

“But just as he was turning to pull down the bedspread, he froze. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen something.

There was a figure crouching on the porch roof outside his bedroom window.

An icy breath of fear blew across Johnny’s body. In a flash he knew that the creature was someone who shouldn’t be there, someone who couldn’t be there- it was a visitor from another world. Slowly, Johnny turned to face the thing. The flashlight’s beam cast a ghostly sheen on the window, and beyond the glass Johnny saw a fearfully thin shape shuffling forward on his knees. As Johnny watched, rigid with terror, the shadowy form groped at the window… and then Johnny blacked out, and he fell in a heap on the floor.”

By this point, one would think that Johnny should just stop looking at things he notices at the corner of his eye."

Here’s another of the spookier scenes:

“Not far from the back door of the house stood a bench covered with peeling white paint. It was a garden seat, the kind people used to make so they could sit outdoors on hot summer nights. The bench stood in a patch of wild rosebushes not far from the rugged wall of the mountain, which towered overhead. A man was sitting on the bench- a man Johnny had never seen before. He wore baggy, dusty overalls and a faded plaid shirt, and he had a big mop of straw-colored hair. The man sat hunched over with his face in his hands, and he seemed to be crying. Johnny stood dead still. The bunch of pieweed stalks fell from his numb fingers, and he took a couple of shuffling steps forward. And then, as Johnny watched, the man stood up. He took his hands away from his face and he stumbled. Johnny gasped in terror- the man had no eyes. Streaks of blood ran down from empty black sockets.

‘They took my eyes,’ the man moaned. ‘They took my eyes.’

Johnny opened and closed his mouth, and made little whimpering noises. He shut his eyes tight to block out this horrible vision, and when he opened them again a second later, the man was gone.”

Granted, that’s the kind of scene that, when I read it over now, makes me giggle, but when I was a kid, I thought that was pretty scary stuff.

More info on John Bellairs and his work can be found here:

http://www.bellairsia.com/

Memories Dreams Reflections 17: Childhood Writings

During my grade school years, I began to show an early aptitude towards creative writing. In the second grade, I even won a Young Author's Award, for a story I wrote that was essentially a retelling of the Frosty the Snowman narrative, only co-starring myself and my family. Sadly, I can't seem to locate this story in my archives: if I ever do I'll repost it on here. 

A big influence on my early writings was actually world mythology. This interest began in grade school, and started with the myths of Ancient Greece. I neglected to mention it earlier in the entry related to my grade school's library, but another of my favorite books growing up was D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths, by Ingri and Edgar Parin D’Aulaire (Delacorte Press, 1962). There are so many delightful illustrations in that book: the family tree of the Greek gods and goddesses that serves as the book’s frontispiece is a nice touch, but my two favorite drawings from the book would be firstly the illustration on page 18 of Echidna (Typhon’s hideous mate) glowering in a cave and nursing her monstrous offspring (the Nemean Lion, Cerberus, Ladon, Chimera, the Sphinx, and the Hydra), and, secondly, the big drawing at the top of the pages 172-173, where we see Jason and the Argonauts sailing the Argo through the narrow strait guarded by the monsters Scylla and Charybdis. 

Generally speaking, as a child I found the myths of the Ancient Greeks far more interesting to read about than the Christian legends I was more familiar with, perhaps because they seemed more exotic… sure, they had some interesting stories like Eve’s temptation by the Serpent, Jonah and the Whale, and (of course) the Apocalypse, but in my mind they couldn’t compare with such tales as Orpheus’ tragic descent into Hades to retrieve Eurydice, Perseus’ battle with Medusa, the follies of King Midas, the exploits of Heracles, Theseus’ adventure in the labyrinth with the Minotaur, Icarus’ doomed attempt to fly to the Sun, Jason’s search for the Golden Fleece, and the Trojan War: all great stories so lovingly illustrated and written about by the D’Aulaires.

As a child I was also fascinated with the culture and mythology of Ancient Egypt. I loved to read about the construction of the Pyramids, the grotesque process of mummification, and of the great pantheon of animal-headed gods and goddesses.  One book that I read (in the 4^th grade) on the subject of Egyptology was Kenneth Allen’s One Day in Tutankhamun’s Egypt, which I later did a short book report on, a portion of said book report which I’ll now type out here:

“The part I liked the most was when it showed a picture of the Hall of Double Justice. On this picture was Anubis setting a huge pair of scales. To his left was Thoth, Ibis headed god. The dead person was allowed to go to the Beautiful West if his heart weighed more than the Feather of Truth, which were being weighed on the scales. If the feather weighed more, he would be eaten by a monster called Ammit.”

Obviously this myth about the Hall of Double Justice has stayed with me throughout my life. Many years later (almost 20 years later to be exact) I mentioned it again, in a short story called "Nihil" that I wrote around 2009. From my first collection Grimoire (Rebel Satori Press, 2012):

“Some people think that when you die your entire life will flash before your eyes. I don't know if this is true or not, but if it is so, there is one memory I hope to see again above all others. A couple of years ago, on a Spring or Summer day, I stepped into the local supermarket, to cash a check at the bank located within the store itself. As I passed through the vestibule, I noticed there was a big butterfly trapped inside, trying desperately to escape through the glass window barring it from the outside world. It had a black body, and its wings were black and blue in color. It was one of the most beautiful butterflies I'd ever seen in my life. After cashing my check, I returned to this vestibule. Gingerly, I reached out to the butterfly and cupped it in my hands. It was the most delicately I had ever handled anything: picture the Virgin Mary cradling the infant Jesus for the first time. When I had it cupped safely within my hands, I took it back outside and released it. I then watched it fly upwards, into the cloudless blue sky, and it kept flying higher and higher until I couldn't see it anymore. But watching that butterfly fly away, I felt an indescribable feeling of peace and joy wash over me, and it was as if my spirit was flying out of my body, following the butterfly into the heavens above. It was one of the happiest and most profound experiences of my life. I've often felt that one act of kindness, no matter how small, redeems even the most useless and meaningless life. And if, after death, I am judged in the hall of Anubis, and my heart is weighed against that of the feather of Maat, may this simple act of kindness make my heart weigh less than the feather, so that my soul will be saved from the hungry jaws of Ammit.

During my Bernon Heights grade school days, I also had a great deal of interest in Native American folklore. In the 4^th grade I did a book report on the Cheyenne Indian tribe, and later on I wrote a bat-shit crazy short story revolving around the exploits of an Indian boy named Eagle Eyes, who I saw as my Indian alter ego. The name of this story was “The Mystery at Troll’s Cave,” and I reprint it below, with typos and all:

 “The Mystery at Troll’s Cave”

 

          A long time ago, about the year 1820, or was it 1500, oh, who cares! It was the time of Indians. It was a bright, sunny, day at the Cheyyanne camp. Birds were flying, flowers were growing, and the woods were whining. That was the weird thing about the woods. The indians at the camp were frightened of the sound. They thought it was a evil spirit. So did I. My name is eagle eye. This is my story of how me, and my friends, Blue Wolf, Mighty Bear, and snake skin, solved the problem. Here’s how we did it. One day the buffalo were running through the field. I decided we should go hunting, because are indian camp was low on food. While we were hunting I caught something at the corner of my eye. That is why they call me eagle eyes. “Look!” I shouted to my friends. They looked to where I was pointing. “It’s the magical Blue buffalo!” shouted Blue Wolf. “Who?” we asked. “It’s the most special Bufflo in the world so lets catch it!” replied blue wolf. Snake skin aimed a spear at it. “I got it!” he yelled! We went closer to it. Mighty bear shuddered. “Blue Blood! Icky!” he said. “I see something!” I yelled. Snake skin pulled out a object. “It’s writing!” he said. We looked at it. It was picture writing. It said: Look for Leave ‘hole at water’s end.’ “Hmm?” I said. “Men, this describes the whining we heard in the woods.” Blue Wolf said. “Let’s go!” said I. We ran into the forest. We went to the waterfall. Suddenly, a giant fish leap out. It bit and dragged blue wolf under the water. I aimed my bow and hit the fish in the back with a arrow. It swam away and let blue wolf go. “Waters end must be behind this waterfall!” Mighty Bear said. We went in and found a leafy room and a hole.

            We went down the hole, via rope ladder. We started serchind through tunnels. “It’s creepy in here!” I exclaimed. Suddenly, a door opened and killer bats started flying out. “Yikkkeeesss!” I screamed. We ran down a tunnel. Then we fell down a hole into the darkness below. “I know!” snake skin said. He threw a rope up. We hung on for dear life. Blue wolf picked up a torch that was on the wall. “Well, at least we can see, what the??!” said Mighty Bear. He had found a stone lever. he pulled it. a door opened on the wall we swung in. Then we saw a treasure chest lying on the ground! “yay! Were rich!” I said. Then I coudlen’t move. I was stuck to something. It was a spider web! We all got caught. Then, giant black widow spiders came down at us, teeth knashing, Legs moving. “Help!” Blue Wolf yelled. Then, a flaming arrow flew through the air. It set the spiders ablaze. Then black figures cut them free. “Thanks!” mighty bear said. The figures stepped into the light. They were trolls! gray skinned, ugly, snarling trolls. They had mouths and eyes, but no nose. “That there is our treasure.” he said. who said that? the leader troll. He had the face of a skeleton on him above that was a ugly, troll face! below the skellton face was a bunch of pointy legs. to the right of that was a giant eye. “We found it first!” I said. “We have

* * * *

And thus the story ends at mid-sentence. I find it depressing that even at the age of 9 I was starting projects that I could never finish. I also find it depressing that back then I was under the illusion that spiders had teeth.

In the 5th grade I wrote another story, entitled "The Creature in a Cave" (interestingly enough, one of Lovecraft's earliest tales was called "The Beast in the Cave"). I think everyone in the class had to write about an animal and I chose the vampire bat. For some reason I seemed to like writing about caves back then: I suppose I was just of a chthonic persuasion.  

The Creature in a Cave

It was the year 1695. New animals were being discovered. Many animals lost their homes. Zoos were built, so the animals could survive. One brave explorer named Michael from Arkansas came to Georgia in search of a new animal. When he arrived he asked a villager if there were any special forests around. “One,” said the villager. She pointed north. Michael trudged through a lonely forest. He soon came to a cave. He switched on his lantern. “It sure is cold in here,” Michael said softly. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a creature attacked him. It flew down at him. He quickly lifted open the door to his steel trap. The thing flew in. “How weird you look!” Michael said. It was all black and had fur. It had small eyes and huge ears. It was now bumping around the cage. “I’ll bring you to Washington to show you to the President,” Michael said. Michael’s arm was drawing closer to the thing’s now. “Ow!” yelled Michael. He had been bitten by the creature. “Have a bug!” Michael said. The creature quickly gobbled it down. They soon was at Washington D.C. Before they entered the White House, a guard stopped them. “What is that thing?” asked the guard. “A new creature to show the President,” said Michael. The guard let him in. Soon they’re in the President’s office. “Is that the new creature I heard about?” he asked. “It is here!” said Michael. Suddenly the bar doors flew open. The creature smashed everything in the room, got stuck in the President’s hair, and bit his neck. “Ow! I shall name this awful, filthy creature a vampire bat!” said the President. So that is how it was named. 

Another story I wrote in the 5th grade was called "The Drug Master" and is too moronic to transcribe, but for completion's sake I did make scans of its two pages, which I'll just leave here:

As a child, I also had an obsession with the planet Saturn, where I pictured my imaginary friend Hammerhead (yes, the alien from the Star Wars movie) lived. Here's a very short story I wrote about Saturn in 1990, when I was in the 4th grade: 

"If I were living on Saturn, I would make my home on its edge. I would skate on its ice rings and I would take pictures to show to people on earth. I would be lonely, so I would make Martians. Then I would teach them to do all kinds of things. We would eat stars, and play all day."

Finally, here's a haiku that I wrote about sharks in the 4^th grade:

 “Sharks

 Mean hammerhead sharks

They have large hammer shaped heads

They swim in oceans” 

Memories Dreams Reflections 16: Valentine's Day

In keeping to the spirit of the holiday, in the 5^th grade I wrote a Valentine’s Day short story, which I now present to you:\

The Weirdest Valentine’s Day

Hi. I am a piece of yummy, mouth-watering, cream candy. I lived happily in a wonderful place named Candyland. One day as I was bounding around a truck came. It picked me up and brought me to a Candy Cream Inc. factory. There, I was put into a piece of wrapping, and put in a box with other creams. “Help!” I screamed. But no one heard me. I was given to a girl for Valentine’s Day. Auggh! She ate me and my friends. It was nice and warm in her stomach. So here I am today, writing this story, for one day the girl got sick and sent us flying out of her mouth. It was plenty messy, sure, but we were free.

* * * *

I’m starting to worry that maybe some readers might be getting a poor impression of me, that maybe they think that as a child I was only interested in gross and disgusting things. But that isn’t entirely true. To prove it, here’s a nice little haiku I wrote about kitty cats (again, from the 5^th grade):

KITTENS

Cute little kittens

I love to see them eating

They are very lovable

Memories Dreams Reflections 15: Some Childhood Art

Towards the end of my grade school era, I found myself accepted into Aspire, which was a kind of creative arts program only open to students who seemed to display somewhat more advanced aptitudes when it came to the arts. What this meant in practical terms was that I was admitted entry to the advanced art classes, which was nice because sometimes we took field trips to the middle school (and, once in high school, field trips to RISD). It wasn't really until middle school in the early 1990's that my art skills started blossoming, but I still have some early examples of the art I was doing in grade school, back in the 1980's. Here's a small sampling of them: 

A Butterfly

A Skeleton (this was from the 4th grade) 

Illustration to accompany a book report on The War of the Worlds

Godzilla! 

Crude illustration of Christopher Columbus 

Where's Waldo inspired scene (this was from the 5th grade) 

Memories Dreams Reflections 14: Alice

Before I can talk about Lewis Carroll's Alice books, first I need to talk about Windham Classics (a company I briefly mentioned back in entry #6 in this series, the one devoted to video and computer games). A subsidiary of Spinnaker Software, this Cambridge, Massachusetts-based game developer was founded in 1984 and had a very short shelf life, going defunct sometime in the mid-1980's. In their brief existence, they still found the time to publish five adventure games for the Commodore 64 and the Apple II (most of which fell into the "Point and Click" category), that were aimed at younger children (and all of which were based on famous children's novels). Their best-known game was their first one, Below the Root, which came out in 1984. Developed by Dale Disharoon (who sadly passed away in 2008) and with some frankly stunning art by William Groetzinger, the game was a sequel to Zilpha Keatley Snyder's Green Sky Trilogy (which I've sadly never read, for some bizarre reason): in fact, she even helped write the game. It's now considered one of the first important open world/Metroidvania games, in that many areas of the game are inaccessible until you obtain new items/powers, meaning much backtracking is involved. 

I won't bore you to death with too many details about the game (as you can easily find such information online: this blog article on it is especially informative: https://blog.stahlmandesign.com/below-the-root-a-story-a-computer-game-and-my-lifelong-obsession/), but I will say that as a kid, playing this game on the Commodore 64 in the early 1980's was a very magical experience for me. The world of Green-sky (as depicted in the game) seemed vast and mysterious to me, and I loved the game's graphical style. I never got very far in it (heck, I never even got below the root itself!), though I did finally complete it many years later, via emulator, and with some help from GameFAQS. Anyway, below is a map of the complete game world (taken from the aforementioned blog), which I still think is a thing of beauty: 

In 1985 Windham Classics released their 4th game, Alice in Wonderland, again for the Commodore 64 and the Apple II (and once again, I got the Commodore 64 version): the game is an adaptation of the two Alice books by Lewis Carroll. Like Below the Root I never got super-far in the game, but many years later (again like with Below the Root) I finally beat it thanks to an emulator and GameFAQS. Here are some screenshots of the game that I took during that playthrough: 

Essentially, you play as Alice. The game is roughly divided into two halves, with the first half corresponding to Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, while the second half corresponds to Through the Looking-Glass. And although some liberties are taken with the story, for the most part it follows the sequence of events in the novels pretty well, and almost all the major characters make appearances in the game in one form or another. To progress various riddles must be solved, items must be gained, and Alice also needs to learn several songs. Like Below the Root this is essentially a non-violent game: there are creatures that are antagonistic to Alice (such as bees and pack rats), but the worse they'll do is briefly knock her down or (temporarily) steal her items. The true enemy in the game is the clock: you have 51 game days to get Alice out of Wonderland, before the Red King wakes up and the game ends. But really, if you know what you're doing, it should take no longer than 15 "days."

Obviously the subject matter of the game was something that appealed to me as a kid: the premise of playing as Alice and actually walking around and interacting with the inhabitants of Wonderland captivated me, and I was fascinated by the bright colorful graphics. This game and Below the Root were the first games I played that really showed me the magic that some video/computer games can achieve: the ability to temporarily step into a world different from our own.

I don't remember exactly what year my parents got the game for my brothers and I: I want to say it was either the year of its release or 1986. What matters is that I loved that game as well, so much so that my parents also got me a small paperback novel containing Carroll's Alice books shortly thereafter (at least, I think I played the game before I read the book). So I must have been around 5 or 6 at the time. The Alice books weren't the first books I ever read, but they WERE the first books I ever loved, and to this day I consider myself a big fan of them, to the extent that I'll give them a reread every couple of years. I just loved Carroll's characters and the overall story, and of course, adored the iconic John Tenniel illustrations.  Over the course of my life I've slowly amassed a decent collection of Alice in Wonderland-related memorabilia, mainly books but also some DVDs, games and dolls/figurines, which I keep atop my bureau (though I have to dismantle it for one month every December to make room for my Cat Nativity manger scene). I thought today would be a good time to share some pictures of my collection: 

A general overview of the main collection

Detail of some of my Alice books

Some more Alice/Alice-related books 

Back in the 80's and 90's, due to lack of space in our living quarters, our father would often break down the boxes of our video and computer games, keeping just the carts/disks themselves, the instruction booklets (which sometimes got lost), and the front box cover. In hindsight, not the smartest of moves, but at the time none of us had any idea how valuable such games would be in an intact state in the future. I still have the front box cover and disk of my old Alice game, but the instruction booklet and the character chart that came with the original game are long lost. However, this month (January 2023) I finally got my hands on an intact version of the old Commodore 64 game, purchased from a Canadian dealer on eBay. Though not sealed, the box itself is still in very good shape, and has all its original contents, including TWO of the character charts! I now consider this to be the crown jewel of my Alice collection. 

Finally, here are two pictures of my very first copy of the Alice books, published by Watermill Classics in 1983. The cover art is somewhat uninspiring and it's missing many of the original John Tenniel illustrations (including the Jabberwocky one!), but I've always said that if one could choose one last book to read at the end of their life, I'd probably read this edition, because I like the idea of the symmetry of it I suppose: Alice was there for me near the start of my life, I'd like the idea of her being there for me one last time at the end of it, to guide me through the Last Dark. 

"A boat, beneath a sunny sky

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July

Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear

Long has paled that sunny sky;

Echoes fade and memories die;

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die;

Ever drifting down the stream

Lingering in the golden gleam

Life, what is it but a dream?"

-Lewis Carroll 

Finally, here's a picture of Siouxsie Sioux as Alice: