Nothing came but grunts. Kaufman wasn’t as naive as he’d been an hour before. Very soon the theatre crowd would be emerging. Then, there was a flicker of light outside the window. Kaufman’s teeth were shaking in their sockets and his face felt numb with the vibration; even his skull was aching. He walked towards the Subway at 34th Street. This is Kitamura’s first American release, and there’s no question that it works. And Kaufman believed in his heart that the monsters to be found in the tunnels were perfectly human. The two wounds spouted little arcs of blood. It was a giant. Ryuhei himself was equally impressed with Jeff: “Twenty years ago I read “The Midnight Meat Train” and it left a real impression on me. Perhaps there were people on the surface -bureaucrats, politicians, authorities of every kind - who knew this horrible secret and whose lives were dedicated to preserving these abominations, feeding them, as savages feed lambs to their gods. The simplest way to dispose of the remains. It was dirty with blood, as was his chain-mail apron, his hammer and his saw. Curiosity is a killer in The Midnight Meat Train (2008), adapted from the short story by Clive Barker (one of the first he wrote) and directed by Japanese style-bomber Ryuhei Kitamura in his American feature debut. Relief made him careless. 1 Kaufman’s gaze followed the pointing finger into the gloom. It smelt stranger than any Kaufman had smelt before: and colder. The origins of the story date to a visit Clive made with his great friend William A. Henry III, the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner and, at the time of his untimely death, Time Magazine’s theatre critic. He won the lottery and died the next day He wanted to see the monster’s face again. His hands still felt the weave of his trousers, however, and the hot splashes on his skin. He jerked his head, signifying that he wanted to go up, into the open air. He’d spend the rest of the journey there. But by the time the cops had worked that out, Mahogany had been about his business a long while. Twenty five pages later, as the Palace of Delights received Kaufman’s adoration without comment, the author whom the rear cover proclaimed was ‘rapidly establishing himself as one of today’s most stunningly original masters of the horror genre’ had set the bar high and challenged readers with perhaps the most overtly gory tale of all that were to follow. His gaze fell on the pile of clothes beside the Puerto Rican’s body. No matter, he told himself, there was time yet. Maybe the driver was keen to be home, wrapped up in bed with his wife. It wouldn’t matter if he died. Kaufman had reached the door. Nobody got in. When the train halted at 96th the Police were waiting to arrest the Subway Butcher. How long had he been dozing? Kaufman fell to his knees, spewing up his sandwich. It’s the energy of that, the inevitability. Every part of his body seemed to be weeping but his eyes. No other movie in the past twenty years reached that level of an icon right? At his elbow a bearded man knocked over Kaufman’s coffee. A thousand snouts all moving in unison, budding, blossoming and withering rhythmically. Seraphim’s team on the movie of Anthony DiBlasi and Joe Daley remarked respectively that, “We really wanted to make Clive’s movies Clive’s way – hardcore, close to the mythology. “Obviously,” he argued, “the reputation doesn’t bear out on a reading of the books. He couldn’t help wondering, too, about the man behind the atrocities. I’ll lay you anything it’s a cover-up.’, ‘They got the evidence: they’re just keeping us in the fucking dark. She had been completely stripped. But before the lights had completely disappeared the father reached out and took hold of Kaufman’s face, thrusting him round to look at himself in the filthy glass of the car window. Then he covered his head with his hands and closed his eyes as tightly as any child in terror of the Bogeyman. Bradley Cooper, meanwhile, found himself immediately in the zone: “I was excited to work with Vinnie because I was a huge fan and very frightened of him – I was a fan of his from Lock, Stock and when they said he was going to be the villain, I was very excited because I love physical stuff and I knew we had a huge fight scene at the end. It could have been seconds or hours that passed before Kaufman’s eyes flickered open again, and his mind focussed on his new-found situation. The father’s hand still gripped Kaufman’s face, and its forefinger hooked into his mouth and down his gullet, the nail scoring the back of his throat. Whoosh. All in all, he was content. Above all, he must be careful. Somebody was stripping the Butcher’s body, in preparation for dispatch to New Jersey. It was the final triumph of the Butcher’s craft. He has this iconic hammer. He was that much older, of course, and that made the job more exhausting; and more and more the obligations weighed on his shoulders. Until his heel slipped. Probably between the driver’s legs even now, Kaufman thought, his lip curling. They’d resisted with knives, and he’d been hospitalised for six weeks. We’re on the train and I have to keep throwing it in there. Others worked with his visions, with Bernard Rose’s Candyman and Bill Condon’s sequel, strong early entrants to the canon. This is a very, very intense movie; there are no jokes in this movie: this is the real thing. ‘We are the City fathers,’ the thing said. The tired flesh of their faces was pulled tight over their skulls, so that it shone with tension. It transfixed the column and appeared in a little gout of gore on the other side. It was really travelling again. It is my best film to date and I am proud of myself, my crew, my cast and my producers.”, Clive’s appeal to Lionsgate – and the clamour from fans – for a wider theatrical release went unheeded but the DVD release went some way to appeasing his anger, adding two and a half minutes of additional footage as well as three featurettes and an audio commentary.The enduring disappointment for Clive, though, was that the movie’s strangled release effectively ended a grander cinematic vision: “It frustrates me because we would have had a trilogy out of this. Bill Condon would subsequently enlist Clive’s help in getting his Academy Award-winning adaptation of Christopher Bram’s novel about James Whale to the screen in the shape of Gods and Monsters. Still, tonight, like every other night, he had a job to do. Tortured Souls: The Legend of Primordium (2015) Infernal Parade (2017) Nonfiction. The coffee? He would work through until ten, no later. Jeff Buhler took the conductor’s seat for this journey of the Meat Train. To feed the fathers.’. He begins to delve into the city's inner "darkness", and while there, discovers a monstrous serial killer ( Vinnie Jones ) roaming the subways — and then he meets his boss. Poetas españoles]* His mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing beyond the door. Instinct took over. It made him shudder. Behind it, similar creatures were appearing out of the darkness, shuffling into the train. I was 19, maybe 20 years old. As it was he felt it flutter in his chest as he saw what he saw. Kaufman’s face was raised to it, and without thinking about what he was doing or why, he fell to his knees in the shit in front of the Father of Fathers. He kept seeing the grisly brutality of the next car. The bright sky over New York was streaked with filaments of pale pink cloud, and the air smelt of morning.The Streets and Avenues were practically empty. The workers looked at Kaufman. His life seemed to totter on its tiptoes while his fingers grasped at one last sense. Boston was amazing… But I wanted to see New York. The air was about as clear-smelling as it ever got in Manhattan. That explains something. The thing is, I don’t just push the gore, I push everything. This conversation’s ridiculous, thought Kaufman. Film. “Clive claims that he was bespectacled and overweight, but I remember him as he is now, wiry and bright-eyed and impatient to be astonished.” Readers of the first Books of Blood who pressed on after Ramsey’s two page introduction, found that its author first offered “The Book of Blood” itself, a set-up story to explain the wide array of styles, genres and voices in the tales that were to follow, setting them as stories written on the body of Simon McNeal. Ireland (Jorge Luis Borges - Bioy Casares ? Some of them were naked as babies, their pulpy, syphilitic bodies scarcely sexed. Worse, it had made him wonder what his masters would have done with him had he suffered a fatal injury. It seemed to have gathered quite a substantial head of speed. His body shook. Thinking about the influence he wanted to exert on readers, Clive had set down some (ultimately unpublished) thoughts towards his own possible introduction. It shunted off from the station, the lights flickering as it used a surge of power to pick up some speed again. The body was small, and the effort of climbing into the train made its breath coarse. Could there be any doubt as to the intention these things had, coming out of the blackness towards the train? He knew with a nos-talgia for his senses that he would not see or hear again. Before he could prevent himself he felt his hands sinking into the lukewarm flesh, and his fingers grasping the open edge of muscle on the dead woman’s back, his fingertips touching the bone of her spine. And with the great help of Clive, with my wonderful cast and great producers and my crew, I think I have.”. Clive Barker, its author, had arrived. There were one or two bodies he contemplated following, but there was so much dross amongst them: so few worth the chase. What remains – to date – though, is a fiercely inventive and groundbreaking classic of short fiction that changed the horror genre in the early 1980s and continues to shock and inspire, and a work of cinematic vision that captures both the punch and undertow of the source material, while expanding it in fresh and original directions for a modern audience. But his stare caught them, and weighed them up, selecting only the ripest from the passing parade, choosing only the healthy and the young to fall under his sanctified knife. He could still see nothing at all. A look of enquiry came over the face, making a parody of puzzlement. The clumsy bastard was attempting to soak up the coffee with a napkin, which was turning to mush as he did so. Speak no evil. An old man turned 98 The noise of the rails increased, and a wave of dank air, stinking of nothing on earth, came up at him. Mahogany was almost disappointed that the sleeping man had alighted at West 4th Street. He had a journey of thirty-five minutes’ duration ahead of him. Then the train began to slow. I think he deserves to have it seen by the largest audience possible. He was getting old. The meat-packaging plants on the water-front were being watched, the slaughter-houses scoured for clues. There is a twist at the end – it’s the reason why I’m doing it. Clive Barker is best known as the mind behind terrifying on-screen monsters like the Candyman and Pinhead from ... and hell was the story that would become Hellraiser. There had been no rape, nor any sign of torture. Clive Barker's The Midnight Meat Train (2014) The Body Book (2018) with Mick Garris. Midnight Meat Train. A small man of European extraction, wielding a hammer and a saw, had cornered a young woman in the second car and threatened to cut her in half in the name of Jehovah. The doors hissed closed and the sound of power surged through the train. It was there; the precursor of man. He was a haunter of sleep, and an awakener of terrors. All he could see was the Butcher’s legs, and the bottom of the open cabin door. Over and over, and over and over. He urged himself on, trying to ignore the horrors, and concentrate on the door that would lead him back into sanity. He was not terribly fearsome, just another balding, overweight man of fifty. This was a line that provided only one service: The Meat Train. Worse sights than the naked amongst them were those who wore a veil of clothes. His teeth chattered. The trickle of theatre-goers had begun, but there was nothing likely so far. So I was like a kid in a candy store any time we filmed the scary bits. It was a conspiracy theory the oaf was trotting out. Tales of Mystery and Imagination. 18+ Starring Bradley Cooper, Leslie Bibb, Vinnie Jones. I’m reading Books of Blood by Clive Barker and “Dread” might be the best short story I’ve ever read. But Kaufman smelt nothing. He took off his coat, shook the rain off it as best he could, and hung it up. He was quick, though, to defend the accusation that he was only interested in a single genre – or of evoking a single type of reaction from readers. Now three more bodies had been found in identical circumstances; though the work had clearly been inter-rupted on this occasion. The driver had licked his fingers, and was rubbing Kaufman’s swollen lips, trying to part them. Cut!’ and I went, ‘Oh yeah… we got the shot…’ – meanwhile, I was terrified, and I ran over to the producers and said, ‘He’s it, he’s Mahogany!’”. He was only small in his dream and was looking up at her radiant face while she worked. The handle was grasped; and he slid the door open. Kaufman could resist looking no longer. But so far he's fucking scary, yeah, and visually he's great...”. Lovecraft). " He was in the same train as the Subway Butcher, the monster who strung his victims up by the feet from the straps, hairless and naked. Unfortunately too many producers, directors and writers just want to do it the easy way. ‘I mean, it’s a cover-up isn’t it? And the butcher was still loose.The City Fathers, in their wisdom, declared a complete close-down on press reports of the slaughter. And I wanted to go – don’t ask me where this comes from – but I wanted to go there on a bus. They know who did it.’. In film, though, horror was very much the order of the day – Hellraiser and its sequels made his reputation, Nightbreed’s siding with the monsters confused a studio but found a huge audience that demands a forthcoming director’s cut fully twenty five years later and Lord of Illusions is an underrated treatise on magic and illusion. Stephen King’s initial ‘endorsement’ was made during a panel discussion at the October 1984 World Fantasy Convention in Ottawa at a time when he’d not read a single word of the books! He was in a great tradition, that stretched further back than America. ‘It disgusts us no less than you,’ said the creature. The kind of horror that is all suggestion, and undertow, and the ‘it’s what you don’t see that terrifies you’ kind of stuff, that doesn’t do a thing for me. It was eleven-fifteen when Kaufman got on the Express through to Mott Avenue. The Butcher was close, Kaufman knew it. He let his eyes slide closed, reassured by the rhythmical rocking of the train. The carcass closest to him was the remains of the pimply youth he’d seen in Car One. The women who cleaned the offices were chatting down the corridor: otherwise the place was lifeless. Kaufman looked around for a weapon, his eye steady and calculating. There was so little of quality around it was dispiriting. The film (starring Bradley Cooper, Vinnie Jones, and Brooke Shields) was distributed by Lionsgate, and released directly to the secondary market on August 1, 2008. He checked his appearance in the mirror. There was another, more significant difference in the discovery: it was not a tourist who had stumbled on the sight, it was a reporter from The New York Times. He bided his time, like any wise hunter. I sent it to Clive and he said, ‘Pardon me for asking, but where is the Candyman in all of this?’ However, I love that script and I’d really like to make it soon. There was a tiny hole. A few more yards, he said to himself, ten steps at most, less if he walked with confidence. He lay under one of the seats now, sprawled along the vibrating wall of the car, hidden from view. Kaufman turned his head on one side to look at their faces. Costume designer is Christopher Lawrence (Crank, S.W.A.T.). It wasn’t until three-thirty in the morning that one Captain Davis, coming on duty, recognized the man as a retired flower salesman from the Bronx called Hank Vasarely. He’d seen photographs of murder victims before, of course, but these were no common murders. He couldn’t expect fame. I like imagining horrors in detail. He would bleed to death, he decided, where he lay. The voice was as wasted as the lips it came from. Click. He shrank back against one of the seats, and was about to take refuge under them when a hand, thin and frail to the point of transparency appeared around the door. God knows, I have no appetite for it.’. He wasn’t dead. Bodies destroyed by excess and by indifference. The Midnight Meat Train starts off with a fascinating hook that will appeal to fans of true crime and enjoy stories involving serial killers and the authorities who hunt them. ‘Before you were born, before anyone living was born.’ As it spoke the creature’s fingernails were running up under the skin of the split body, and were peeling the thin elastic layer off the luscious brawn. Saw? The impact half-severed the leg and the weight of the body opened the gash even further. His head was saying: blood. Hank, it seemed, was regularly arrested for threatening behaviour and indecent exposure, all in the name of Jehovah. He glued his eye to it. Except that he already knew. Kaufman had no reply to the idea. ‘Lay you anything,’ he continued and lumbered out without another word. After recounting a true story about the impact he’d seen a book of tattoos have on others, he noted: In large part, the placing of “The Midnight Meat Train” right up front was an overt statement of intent. Oh, so he’s the divinely-inspired type is he? Nobody had boarded the train. Some people see things that others cannot. The tricks of his extraordinary trade. Was he dead at his controls? It was small, more with a confusion of feelings than with fear. He took off his spectacles and pocketed them: the bearded face was no longer in focus. He went to the door and opened it, used to walking in blackness. That's it! ‘Subway Slaughter’ was the catch-phrase of the month. Lay you anything.’ Kaufman found the man’s certainty attractive. Not that terror froze him as it had at the window. He stood in silence, hand to mouth, for what seemed a lifetime. It would have climaxed with a meeting of all the stations, all of the lines. My creatures are not shadowy, ethereal things – you can count their tentacles, you know where they’ve got snot running from their noses. The Butcher had slaughtered the men and women as meat for these cannibals, they were coming, like diners at the dinner-gong, to eat in this restaurant car. Maybe, at the back of his dozing mind, Kaufman half-registered that the doors between the second and first cars had been slid open. When I was fifteen, he came to my school to deliver an informal talk on his passion for horror in the cinema and on the printed page. Clive Barker’s short story, The Midnight Meat Train (from his Books of Blood collection) is a brutal and unflinching look into such a world. The door closed. This was going to be a primitive confrontation, two human beings, face to face. Regular. The smell of the tunnels was in his nostrils now. Outside the windows, everything was as dark as ever. The victim was a well-built, attractive thirty-year-old woman from Brooklyn. Motes of dust hung in the beams, turning over and over. “I remember the first night of shooting: I stalk him a lot in the movie and I was walking around and there’s a scene where I come round the corner and he stops me and, no kidding man, he grabbed me and I’m trying to act, he stops me and, first of all he’s very strong and he grabs me and just looks into my eyes – and I forgot I was in the scene, that we were doing a movie…  All I thought was, ‘Shit, this guy is going to kill me!’ and they went, ‘Great. But there was no nausea now. It was nine now. The Midnight Meat Train is a 2008 horror film based on Clive Barker's 1984 short story of the same name, which can be found in Volume One of Barker's collection Books of Blood. There was a horrible familiarity about this ritual. Like Freddie's claw, Jason's machete, whatever. There were stains of decay and disease on their skin, and in places the muscle had withered to a black pus, through which the bone of cheek or temple was showing. Clive Barker, Illustrator (1991) with Fred Burke and Steve Niles; Illustrator II: The Art of Clive Barker (1994) with Fred Burke; Visions of Heaven and Hell (2005) Every hair had been removed: from the head, from the groin, from beneath the arms; all cut and scorched back to the flesh. The face that was looking down at him was black, and not unfriendly. Here they hung, these shaved, bled, slit slabs of humanity, opened up like fish, and ripe for devouring. At a distance an occasional cab crossed an intersection, its engine a whisper; a runner sweated past on the other side of the street.Very soon these same deserted sidewalks would be thronged with people. He would have asked what kind of train this could be. Stepping back on board “The Midnight Meat Train” today, it’s clear that this brutal but lyrical short story retains a narrative power that has not been dimmed by time. Nevertheless, being human, he could not entirely ignore the gory details on the page in front of him. For me it was completely a turning point because suddenly this seemed within reach…  Ramsey’s presence in the world validated the possibility that I might try it.”, Ramsey himself recalled the school visit when introducing a later edition of the Books of Blood, saying, “I can’t now recall much of what I rather clumsily said, but I remember the delight of the sixteen-year-olds when I pointed out that one might take Machen’s ‘White Powder’ to deal with venereal disease, and the dismayed retreat of some members of the teaching staff when I played Zappa’s parody of Schoenberg from Absolutely Free. It was always – from its title onwards – it was always, ‘Okay, here we go. In it, Leon Kauffman ( Bradley Cooper ), a photographer, is attempting to find the "real" New York City . ‘Coffee. By 2003, though, Clive had turned his thoughts back to the darkness with plans to produce a series of movies based on the Books of Blood from his company, Seraphim Films. It rejected the spectacle as preposterous, as a dreamed sight. It was a topic of conversation in every Deli and bar; and, of course, on the subway. That's why I had a discussion with my costume designer Chris Lawrence, and with Vinnie himself. The man spoke. But be warned the movie is full of gore and disturbing imagery. In fact he had a woman’s mouth. In the utter blackness he reached out for support and his flailing arms encompassed the body beside him. He stood on the platform and scanned his fellow-travellers critically. All beneath the streets of New York City. It was now almost half past ten and he had not seen a single creature who was really ideal for slaughter. ‘Bastards,’ he said. But it was not financial necessity that drove him, but the demands of history. Cart All. It looked a little small beside the Butcher’s paraphernalia. At the same time, this would be, 1971, something like that, there was some kind of slasher guy going around the trains. People were streaming out of their offices and into their automobiles. ‘You were asleep,’ he said, recognizing Kaufman. ‘Three people like that. He had just worked with Clive on the TV movie, Saint Sinner, and Clive noted, “He was the special effects guy who did Independence Day and he’s a really cool guy. Frete GRÁTIS em milhares de produtos com o Amazon Prime. This was a highly-organized mind: a lunatic with a strong sense of tidiness.Further, and yet more bizarre than the careful stripping of the corpse, was the outrage that had then been perpe-trated upon it. His body became rigid with terror. I made notes when I got back to Boston. It was a good feeling. But exasperation and ennui were making the job more difficult, and the sheets of figures were beginning to blur in front of him. He wondered, now and then, if it wasn’t time to think about training a younger man for his duties. The car rocked and rolled. I never wanted to drop the ball in terms of Leon’s journey throughout the film. ‘Tried to make a fucking hero, made a fucking monster instead.’ He grinned grotesquely. I set to work to develop, in note form from way back, the back story of the city fathers. The people who walked, ran and skipped past him on the streets: who collided with him without apology: who met his gaze with contempt: who smiled at his bulk, looking uneasy in his ill- fitting suit. His face was smeared with blood from her leg. The article was unsensationally written, but the simple clarity of the style made the subject seem more appalling. Skip to main content.ca. He was sure that if the slaughterer didn’t finish him, expectation would. Hello Select your address Books Hello, Sign in. Every shred of clothing, every article of jewellery. The bodies had been discovered in one of the subway cars on the AVENUE OF THE AMERICAS, hacked open and partially disembowelled, as though an efficient abattoir operative had been interrupted in his work. They had a scent all of their own. That’s it. References: Movie File by Shawn Adler and Larry Carroll, MTV.com, 28 March 2007Barker’s Midnight Meat Train On Track by Dave Alexander, Rue Morgue, No 47, July 2005Bernard Rose talks Candyman 4, www.horror-movies.ca/horror_4396.htmlNight Train To Terror, SFX, No 158, July 2007A Little Bit Of Hamlet – A Conversation between Clive Barker and Dennis Etchison, UCLA Extension Writers Program, 25 February 1987Jump Tribe Panel, San Diego Comic Con, 14 July 2005Ramsey Campbell : An Appreciation, Essay by Clive Barker, 1986 World Fantasy Convention ProgrammeSpeech by Clive Barker in Tribute to Stephen KingWeaving Words with Clive Barker by Leigh Blackmore, Terror Australis, No 1, Autumn 1988Clive Barker Speaks Out About The Mistreatment Of Midnight Meat Train by Tom Blunt, AMC, 24 June 2008Introduction by Ramsey Campbell, Books of Blood I, Sphere Books, 5 May 1983The Barker in Darkness by Ramsey Campbell, Scream Press BOBWeaver of Wonders by Ramsey Campbell, Shadows in Eden, 1987The Crazy Train by Sean Decker, Fangoria, No 275, August 2008Bloodletting by Elijah Drenner for The Horror Channel, September 05, 2006Clive Barker by Nigel Floyd, Samhain, No 4, July 1987Jeff Buhler Gets Crazy With Insanitarium by Brian Gallagher, Movieweb, 16 July 2008The Cannibal Express by James Grainger, Rue Morgue, No 81, August 2008Production Report: "Midnight Meat Train" by Jason Guerrasio, indieWIRE, 1 May 2007It’s Only When He Talks About Hollywood That The Evil Comes Out by Paula Guran, The Spook, Issue 6, January 2002Clive Barker by Nick Hasted, Creature, No 4, 1985The Author of Blood by David Howe, Starburst Winter Special, 1987/88Bradley Cooper Talks About His Role In Midnight Meat Train by Rizal Johan, The Star, 5 August 2008Interview with Clive Barker by Johanna Juntunen for Book of Blood DVD featuretteJones Rides the Meat Train by Patrick Lee, Sci-Fi Wire, 20 March 2007Lionsgate ComicCon Panel, 26 July 2007JoBlo Visits The Set Of The Hangover by Johnny Moreno, JoBlo.com, 1 May 2009Jones Spills Mucho Blood in Meat Train by Ryan Rotten, Shock Till You Drop.com, 20 April 2007The Midnight Meat Train Trilogy by Ryan Rotten, Shock Till You Drop, 13 February 2009Meet Horror’s Heir Apparent by Matt Roush, USA Today, 22 August 1986In Anticipation Of The Deluge: A Moment At The River’s Edge by Phil and Sarah Stokes, 1 and 12 July 2004Interview with Clive Barker by Phil and Sarah Stokes, 26 March 2004Gore Aboard The Midnight Meat Train by Ryan Turek, Fangoria, No 273, May 2008Horror In Training by Ryan Turek, Fangoria, No 268, November 2007Interview with Clive Barker by James Whittington, Horror Channel (zonehorror), 8 March 2009A Meaty, Bloody Film by Kevin Williamson, Sunn Media, 1 October 2008Clive Barker's Midnight Meat Train - Exclusive From The Set by Staci Layne Wilson, Horror.com, 5 September 2007Talking Terror with Clive Barker by Douglas E. Winter, The Twilight Zone, June 1987, © Phil & Sarah Stokes, The Clive Barker Archive LLP. He was past being terrorized by this gross, shambling hulk. He could hear the noise of its anatomy: ticking, crack-ling, sobbing. It was a thin reflection, but Kaufman could see quite well enough how changed he was. I love the original story and admire Clive Barker and I said to them, ‘I would love to do this, but I cannot believe the script is going to be any good. ‘Old anyway,’ it said, its watery eyes back on Kaufman, studying him with care. In the story Leon Kaufman makes a mistake when he falls asleep on a train and wakes up to find himself caught up in something he had no clue existed. He tried to scream, but no sound came. That was some improvement at least. He rubbed his hot eyes with the cushions of his palms till his head filled with colours. In Mark’s words, “I did a treatment for Clive Barker, “The Midnight Meat Train,” but he thought it was too dark! 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