COMAVILLE
SOMETHING IS VERY WRONG IN
COMAVILLE…
In the vein of Pleasantville & Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind comes a story by actor/author Kevin Bigley about a man trapped in a reality that seems too good to be true
COMING FROM CLASH BOOKS
SPRING 2020
Nostalgia can be severely corrosive. This is what thirty-six-year old Josh will come to find out as he wakes up in his childhood bedroom with no recollection of how he got there. As he ventures out into the world, he’s dumbfounded to discover that he is ensconced in a city of memory with people from his past: teachers, camp counselors, beloved sitcom stars, and they relish Josh's presence, celebrating everything he does. He is in a personalized paradise.
In reality, Josh is in a coma. Intercut between his story, Steph, his younger sister, quarrels with their parents in a hospital room over what is to be done with her vegetative brother. Their various conversations manifest physically in his coma. The longer Josh is submerged, the more peril his brain is in as neurons die off. The familiar faces that once brought comfort will be replaced with ghoulish masks. He’ll learn this place has malevolent intentions as it threatens to devour his soul.
COVER BY MATTHEW REVERT
matthewrevertdesign.com
EXCERPT FROM COMAVILLE
CHAPTER 1
Josh Husk awoke in a bed that had once belonged to him. The sun peered through the nearby window, gently stroking his face. He lay there for a brief moment, feeling the textures enveloping him. The bed was much too small for him, his legs dangling over the side at mid-shin. He sat up, confused and alert as if he had just left a nightmare behind. He took in the room. It was foreign, yet familiar.
The floor was a sprawling, orange, shag carpet; a disgusting sea of burnt pumpkin. Sparse blotches of brown were mixed in, which seemed more like accidents than artistic choices. The length of the shag bordered on experimental, reaching almost two inches in height.
A dial television set sat on the floor, surrounded by an old gaming console. The controllers sat amongst the shag, their wires tangled in unsolvable knots, snaking through the carpet. Action figures were scattered about like the bodies of fallen soldiers. The walls were blanketed with posters from Saturday morning cartoons and beloved video game characters.
It became apparent to Josh, at that moment, that this was his childhood bedroom.
He was thirty-six-years old, but was somehow sitting in a room from his childhood; from when he was ten, to be exact.