Monstrous! Part 2 — Night of the Firebeast, 1979–1983

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about some of my old artwork I turned up while turning my old homestead inside out for renovations (Monstrous! Part 1 — The Ultimate Godzilla [or Not]). If you were willing to slog through that, I reckon you might be willing to slog through this as well.

In the early 1970s, I composed a silly but fun little SF monster story called “Night of the Firebeast,” which featured a giant winged reptilian critter (see illo above) from the planet Venus called Damiron (or Damarron, in at least one of the tale’s numerous revisions). I drew a ton of pictures of the monster, and friend Bill Gudmundson, who regularly constructed detailed, articulated models (and animated them, à la Ray Harryhausen), built a couple of different versions of Damiron for me. I still have one of those models, a bit worse for wear, but still holding together.

In my final year of college (1981), having discovered the writings of H.P. Lovecraft — and by now entertaining grandiose notions of becoming a famous horror writer — I rewrote “Night of the Firebeast” as a weird hybrid of daikaiju and Lovecraftian lore, still featuring Damiron but under the name “Pachacutec” (the actual name of a Peruvian king, which I considered apt, since the story was now set in Peru). I went full bore illustrating scenes from it, mostly in pen and ink. Although the tale was hardly the masterpiece I had envisioned in my budding little brain, it felt pretty solid (and at some much later time — early 2000s, I believe — I sent a copy of the tale to J.D. Lees, editor of G-Fan magazine, who up and published the thing). “Pachacutec” became the first chapter of my first honest-to-god novel, again titled “Night of the Firebeast,” which I finished in 1983 — just after I moved to Chicago to live with Bill G. The novel rightly never saw the light of day, but I have long considered it a valuable practice run for my novels that eventually did come to fruition.

In later years (2006), Pachacutec appeared again in a short story, this one entitled “The Transformer of Worlds,” published in an Australian anthology of giant monster stories, simply titled Daikaiju, edited by Rob Hood.

Again, for the sake of future history — if any — I am posting the complete set of drawings and paintings I created for Night of the Firebeast, if not for your entertainment then for mine, as I do find these personal chronicles useful for looking back to figure out what the hell I was thinking at any given point in time. These are pretty much in the order of events in the novel, so feel free to draw your own conclusions regarding the context. I don’t have it in me to compose a synopsis for the old beast; as it is, I’m not sure I could even remember, as these go back forty years and more. Click on these little fellows to enlarge.

Please note that I warned you yesterday that this might happen!

Conflagration

Back in high school, inspired by my love of miniature sets in the monster movies of the day, I constructed a model city of cardboard and miscellaneous scrap material on a roughly 3' x 4' section of drywall. I made all kinds of buildings, tiny cars, telephone poles (out of broom straw), electrical towers (also of broom straw), road signs...all manner of details in tiny scale. I owned a few custom-made monster figures — Godzilla, Rodan, Angilas, and Damiron (a critter from one of my early short stories, titled "Night of the Firebeast") made by my friend Bill Gudmundson, and the city made a great display setting. At one point, I caught a large praying mantis, which I set loose in the miniature streets. It seems like I took some photos at the time, but if I did, they are apparently long gone.

For my age and skill level, the mini metropolis was a reasonably accomplished effort, but it wasn't long before I found it wanting. So I set it on fire. That part was fun, and I decided that, someday, I'd devote time and energy to constructing a new, far superior miniature city.

Well, it didn't happen right away. Almost twenty years later — 1992, to be exact — during an extended hiatus for Deathrealm magazine (a result of being laid off from my job), I found myself with more time than money. So, between job hunting and writing fiction (I also wrote my first novel, Balak, during that period), I set to work constructing a new miniature city. This one was smaller than the original — I built it on a 2.5-foot square of heavy cardboard — but considerably more elaborate. I planned it meticulously, designed fairly complex buildings, many with semi-detailed interiors visible through windows made of acetate sheets. There were tiny cars, trucks, parking meters, traffic lights, even wires strung from the myriad broom straw power poles. I used many of the same type of materials as the original little city — cardboard, bristol board, broom straw, plaster of Paris, faux foliage from hobby shops... any kind of scrap I could turn into miniature city features. I spent most of year on the project. And looking back, it turned out to be a pretty fair piece of work. I displayed it proudly for a long, long time — often with one or more daikaiju figures towering over its streets and buildings.

Over the years, though, the delicate structures began to deteriorate. Roofs occasionally collapsed, walls came apart, signs fell... and layers of dust accumulated two cars deep in places. It truly looked like the setting of some low-budget post-apocalyptic film.

And now, with Brugger moving in, space at a premium, and massive remodeling happening at Casa de Rodan, it just seemed like the old city had gone too far past its prime. So, last night, after a long bout with making room for new flooring throughout the house, Brugger and I took the old thing out back and set the match to it.

I have to admit it was kind of tough letting go, considering how much time, effort, and creativity I had put into it, but at least there are pics. And the conflagration is documented on video. Here it is in all its fiery splendor.