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Thanks all. I've been reading the boards for quite awhile, so I'm familiar with a few of you. I def look forward to getting into some great discussions - the Conan board I had been posting on fizzled, so this looks to be a great place to spend my posting energy

"The movie would have benefited immensely from Sam Slade appearing about 20 minutes in and killing them all!"

How right you are...how right you are.

Thanks for the compliments...I look forward to these being sorted out on the voting thread so I can read them again.

Just wanted to say hello to everyone here...I'm glad to find a site that is active, and to discuss comics with people (my wife considers me a nerd to no end). I had been reading 2000AD back in 89-92 when I lived in Scotland, but found it hard to come by when we moved back to the States. I did manage to collect all of the Eagle and Fleetway comics, as well as those (dreddfull, not in a good way) DC comics. But now I've returned to the UK and rediscovered 2000AD in all its glory!

I thought the second story turned out very nicely Van Dom - but of course I don't know what it was before, and I know the feeling that the edited version is second rate...but at least no one else knows, so it doesn't cut down on our enjoyment of reading the story. In any case, I think I liked it a bit more than your longer one (that's only because the bad taste of the new Transformers movie is still in my mouth; nothing to do with your writing). Glad you got one in, though.

Cool story Kerrin - I was wondering if you would get one in. I always dig reading about "mutie freaks". I can't wait to read all of these again when they're in the voting thread...reading them back to back to back will be nice instead of being distracted by other comments.

That cut out scene is pretty nice Mike Carroll. I'm definitely digging it. Great stuff!

I've already managed to find and bye the progs off of ebay, but I'll look out for that graphic novel spooky...I'm heading to Forbidden Planet (Cambridge) on Wednsday, so maybe, just maybe...thanks for the info.

[The Stars Were Bright Over Siberia]

So anyway, here's my long-winded beast. It bears a superficial resemblence to the story that actually qualified for this month's comp in that it deals with a little Lovecraft (and a tentacle or eight).

The Stars Were Bright Over Siberia (1000 words)

The night sky was clear, and the stars in their millions shone brightly down on a countryside stripped bare by  biting wind and sheeted with ice. This was Siberia, a frozen hell on the outskirts of East-Meg One; this was where people lived only to die.

And tonight, someone was going to die.

Judge General Pukov stood in silent contemplation, as grim as his surroundings; these were the elements that sculpted him as a child. Pukov understood this land and the savagery required to survive in it – he had been born in a village not far from this very place – so when he learned where the latest so-called revolution had taken root, he volunteered to deal with the insurgents in the manner only a true son of Siberia could.

With a cruel eye, he watched his Death's Head Judges in their black greatcoats move like shadows in the dark, marching a group of gypsies to the shore of the ice-bound lake that dominated the landscape. There were nineteen of them, including women and children, all dressed in patchwork multi-colored rags.

Behind the procession three Soviet h-wagons were parked in a circle, and in their center a bonfire still burned. His men had discovered the gypsies dancing wildly around the fire in an obscene – and illegal – ritual. These vermin, Pukov decided, would serve as examples of what happens to lawbreakers, rebels or not, now that he governed Siberia.

The gypsies were lined up and forced to kneel.

A Judge approached Pukov.

'We searched the wagons,' the Judge said. 'There were ritualistic materials – bones, candles, incense – but no weapons and no discernable propaganda, although we discovered several old books written in unidentified languages which could be code. Cosmov insists he can have them decrypted by morning.'

Disinterested, Pukov shook his head.

'We also found this,' the Judge held out a small statuette, offering it to his superior.

Taking the figure, Pukov looked it over; crafted from greenish stone, it depicted a repulsively squat octopoidal creature with a bulbous head and tentacled appendages. 'Toss the books in the bonfires,' he said, handing it back, 'and as for this...thing...see to it that it's destroyed.'

'Yes, sir.'

Turning his attention to the gypsies, Pukov motioned to the shriveled old man he presumed to be the group's leader. 'You there, come forward and explain to me what you're doing in a private sector without proper authorization.'

'Every thousand years when the stars are right, the Great Ones awaken. This night we have called to Tlogeth, he-who-dwelleth-in-the-lake, spawn of Cthulhu. Our people have sent us to give him praise and sacrifice our lives to him so that he might favor our tribe to prosper during the winter-season.'

Pukov frowned, perturbed by the lack of fear displayed by the gypsy. His eyes went to the sky, taking in the unnaturally glowing stars and strange constellations. 'And were you successful in your summoning?'

But the man said no more.

'The only 'Great One' recognized by East-Meg One, is Supreme Judge Josef Bulgarin. The sentence for organizing and practicing unsanctioned religions is death, to which you are hereby sentenced.' Removing his pistol from its holster, he aimed and fired. The old man fell backward onto the lake, a ruined heap. Blood ran red against the ice.

'Kalo!' a gypsy woman cried.

A slight smile crept onto Pukov's lips, but he licked it away like a snake tasting the air when he saw that the execution didn't have the desired effect. There were no tears in the woman's eyes, only an odd look of disappointment. The gypsies weren't begging for mercy, weren't pleading for him to spare their children; as one they stood, raising their arms aloft to the sky as though to pluck the shimmering stars from its midst.

And they began to chant.

'Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Tlogeth y'ha-glynwen wgah'nagl fhtagn! I‰!' their voices were bestial whispers as human throats contorted to speak inhuman words. They chanted, and the night seemed to close in around the Soviets; they chanted, and the crushing weight of something immense and otherworldly drew near. They chanted, and Pukov knew by some primal instinct that he must silence them before the recitation was complete.

'Kill them,' he ordered, 'even the women and children.'

Suddenly, an enormous shadow appeared from the depths of the lake, spreading out beneath the ice like spilled ink until the entire surface was blacked out; and that terrible bulk pressed against the ice – the fragile barrier between it and the outer world – which groaned against the pressure as jagged fissures split its face.

The lake shattered, and a gigantic flabby head rose out of the water, searching the shoreline with malevolent yellow eyes. When its gaze fell full upon the Judges, it curled back its pulpy lips to let out a long screeching wail, and a hot stinking wind – the creature's breath – swept over them. A writhing mass of tentacles spewed onto the shore like foetid waves, slopping and slithering and groping along the rocks.

'Tlogeth, spawn of Cthulhu, accept our sacrifice!' the gypsies rejoiced.

The Judges opened fire, their bullets ineffectual against the sheer bulk of the monstrosity. One by one, they were snatched from where they stood and whipped through the air before the creature shoveled them down its slimy gullet. Pukov's face twisted in rage – any rebellion, he would crush any rebellion regardless of entities involved – in the name of the High Command.

He raised his pistol –

A tentacle coiled around his waist, yanking him off his feet, and he hit the ground, tumbling down the embankment to the edge of the lake. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged across the ice towards a gaping maw.

He screamed and screamed.

The cries of Judge General Pukov and his Death's Head Judges lasted no longer than a few seconds. The gypsies carried the body of their fallen comrade away from the lake as the thing called Tlogeth sunk back to its watery domain, pleased with the sacrifice.

The End

This was actually Kerrin's idea, but I thought I'd post it. Several writers came up with stories too long for the latest short story comp, but still want others to read them or comment on them. This is the place to post those wordy outcasts or any other works related to 2000 AD.

Okay...that was tough...like the fellow above me, I wrote a story that was about 1100 words that I hacked down to 1000 but could do no more; so last night I went at it again and came up with my second story. To my dismay, it was sitting at 633. The first 100 words I trimmed out were easy, but those last 33 were agonizing. I must have have spent twice as long editing than writing. Anyway, I'm sure no one is interested in my "hard time", but I thought I'd relate to a few of the other writers that I'm sure ran into the same problem. Thanks for reading!

[Monkey Mythos on Charles Darwin Block]

Monkey Mythos on Charles Darwin Block (496 words)

Charles Darwin Block, a towering stack of concrete-and-steel housing millions of citizens, was a jungle. That morning, as the result of an experiment gone wrong, the residing tenants were exposed to an enzyme that regressed them down the scales of evolution and they were on a rampage, tearing the building apart floor by floor.

But a heavy silence hung over level twenty.

Apartment doors were smashed in, rubbish was strewn everywhere, blood and excrement were smeared on the walls; but the riot had come and gone. Only a single creature remained. The hulking apelike creature with mottled skin and patchy hair lurking in the doorway of apartment 8b had until that morning been a scientist called Norm Hoogendorm, and he had spent the last few hours viciously defending his territory.

Now it was time to get back to work.

Before withdrawing into the apartment he urinated on the welcome mat, marking a warning to any would-be trespassers. Then, lumbering inside, he closed the door.

The flames of Bunsen burners danced in the darkness. The drip-drip-dripping of a separatory funnel and extractor, and the bubbling of foul-smelling liquids lured him to his workbench. There he gawked at the complex apparatus he had built, now reduced by his primitive mind to a 'big thingy with pretty lights and funny-looking doohickeys'.

In a large tray sat, like an obese slug, the oozing tip of the severed tentacle he dimly remembered purchasing from a Chinaman in the slums of Ming the Merciless Block.

'Coooooo-hoooooo-loooooo,' he grunted.

Searching for further answers, his eyes shifted to the notes and occult grimoires laid out on the bench, but it was all unreadable scribble-scrabble. He recalled that he had been combining modern cloning techniques with black magic and that he was on the verge of a breakthrough, but he couldn't figure out what. Frustration rose within him (had he known that his rival, Professor E. Northcote Fribb, was responsible for his current state, he would have gone absolutely bananas).

But he would finish.

By instinct, or trial and error.

Which guided him, he couldn't be certain; he struggled with his thick fingers and clumsy hands, but they moved of their own volition, grabbing beakers, pouring their contents together, dumping the concoctions into the funnel that fed into the apparatus. He flipped several switches, and the machine hummed to life.

A blue glow enveloped the tentacle.

Suddenly a pulpy bulb sprouted at the end of it, growing rapidly. In seconds it was as large as a beanbag. Rolling off the tray, it landed on the floor with a wet thump, continuing its metamorphosis. Eyes opened, a beaklike mouth screeched. More tentacles shot out of the expanding mass, snatching Norm from his feet.

'Bwuh-bwuh!' he shouted in alarm.

Back and forth the thing whipped him. His kicking legs knocked over a rack of Bunsen burners, his flailing arms smashed the beakers. The chemicals erupted, and the inferno instantly consumed Norm Hoogendorm and his cloned Elder God.

The End

I'm with you fellows...pretty lame list if it includes Superman, Supergirl, Superboy and Lois Lane.

I was happy to see Conan and Groo, along with Raphael (I assume the Ninja Turtle), Cerebus and a few others. But characters from 2000 a.d. weren't only shafted, what about ElfQuest? Well, I could go one, but I guess it doesn't matter.

The Megazine ought to publish a list.

Thanks for that infor mikegloady,

I didn't know about the second "crossover". I will have to look for those. As I remember, that period of time was a really fun run for 2000 a.d., but sadly, as I said, all my issues were tossed and I'm busy tracking them down as I collect anew. Thanks for that information!

Wow! That's it! Thanks so much - I am off to ebay now to find it.

I really appreciate the help.

Hello...this may or may not be a tough question, but I was wondering if one of you could help me out with the program numbers I am looking for. I lived in Scotland from 1989 to 1993 and started collecting 2000 a.d., but in her wisdom my mom got rid of all of them. Now I am back in the U.K. and have rediscovered the mag - and it got me to thinking about one of my favorite storylines from back then: it involved Ireland, and the Irish were experiencing another famine and had started to rebel. I remember them having to use potatoes for everything (ha). In any case, if it narrows the prog numbers down, I believe it would have probably been published in 91 or 92. Any help anyone can give me to find out those program numbers would be much appreciated. Thanks in advance!

As someone above me wrote, I'm not a fan of superheroes at all, so I can't help you there. But DC's reboot/continuation of 'Warlord' is surprisingly good, especially being that I feel most of what those two companies put out is garbage. Dark Horse's 'Conan the Cimmerian' seems to be making up for the mess that 'Conan' was, and the new 'Aliens' miniseries started out pretty nicely.