“Is this how it’s going to be now? Am I a prisoner in my own home, in my own life?” – Kealan Patrick Burke, Sour Candy
NOW, WE’VE all found ourselves in a public situation where we suddenly hear that piercing shriek, that unmistakable wail of a child in the throes of an unrelenting tantrum. You know the scene: a precious little tyke is flailing and howling, their cries resounding as they demand sweets, a toy, or they just want their way.
Meanwhile, their frazzled parent or caregiver stands by, caught in a tug-of-war between negotiation and resignation, either attempting to reason with the seemingly unreasonable or, more annoyingly, choosing to ignore the bedlam unfolding before them to the detriment of the rest of us with ears and a depleting amount of patience. In these moments, you can’t help but think you’d handle this situation better. You wouldn’t allow your child to behave like a little monster in public. But what if that kid actually was a—! You see where I’m heading here.
Author Kealan Patrick Burke, inspired by a real-life child’s meltdown he once witnessed in a Walmart, uses that scenario as a starting point for a twisted exercise in psychological terror in his supernatural horror novella Sour Candy.
Phil Pendleton lives a happy, albeit ordinary, life with his girlfriend, Lori. He’s spending his Saturday morning in a Walmart candy aisle, below those commercial fluorescent lights, choosing chocolate for him and Lori to enjoy later that day. He couldn’t have known that his mundane errand would spiral into a nightmarish experience that would upend his life in unimaginable ways.
At the far end of the candy aisle, a young boy’s ear-splitting wails slice through the
placid retail ambiance, drawing Phil’s attention. A harried-looking mother, worry etched into her brow, juggles the chaos with evident exhaustion. With a failed marriage in the past due to his unwillingness to have kids, Phil feels instantly grateful that this unruly child isn’t his. Yet, that ease is quickly overshadowed by a profound empathy for the mother, whose burdens are written over her sallow face, appearing to stretch far beyond her tiny tyrant’s current tantrum.
Seeking to diffuse the situation, Phil leans down and engages the boy with a friendly smile, only to find himself accepting a piece of sour candy from the kid. BIG MISTAKE! Beneath that façade of innocence lay a being that would haunt him long after their paths initially crossed in the candy aisle.
This seemingly innocuous encounter with a mysterious woman and a young boy in Walmart ignites an unexpected chain of events that plunges Phil into a harrowing spiral of near madness. After a disturbing fender-bender “accident” on his way home, he’s confronted by an uncanny surprise upon returning: the boy from the store has mysteriously appeared in his house, and in a surreal twist of fate, one that severely messes with his sense of reality, everyone around him insists that this boy named Adam IS HIS SON!
Kealan Patrick Burke’s Sour Candy effectively disturbs readers by blending the unimaginable with the ordinary—a technique many great horror writers use, from Dean Koontz to Stephen King to David Demchuk to Tananarive Due. An elevated sense of dark humour is present, particularly when placing the otherworldly in places like Walmart and the suburbs.
Burke’s skillful blend of misdirection and mania keeps the reader on edge and
amused. Each twist and turn is laced with tension, clever irony, and social commentary. It all adds depth to the chilling atmosphere, creating a compelling read for those who appreciate a solid blend of horror and wicked satire.
The prose flows with an unsettling grace; it’s emotionally disturbing yet stylistically engaging. One of this author’s most distinguished talents is his ability to write short fiction with intelligence and depth, ensuring readers feel satisfied without craving additional exposition.
In this novella, just like in his other short fiction—The Turtle Boy comes to mind—the author demonstrates a remarkable blend of thoughtfulness and creativity. Every Burke narrative is infused with vivid imagery, visceral emotional resonance, psychosis, and the supernatural; Sour Candy’s impact on the reader throughout and long after finishing the story rivals that of his longer works, such as Kin or Guests, despite their significant differences in word count.
There’s a profound and quite ingenious message on parenthood, single-parenthood in particular, at play here; it offers a deep look at a person’s loss of control over their self-determined life, interconnected with what I could call “paranormal gaslighting.” Everything around him has shifted into a realm of the unrecognizable. Still, he’s made to feel foolish with his outlandish rantings of falsehoods, though he knows in his mind, his soul, that this horrific absurdity is not his life, not his truth.
A striking allegory emerges with this story, illustrating how the care and responsibility of children can drain the vitality and enjoyment from a parent’s or caregiver’s adult existence, their self-governing. Where your life feels unfamiliar, even out of control, and everyone you know around you has changed, or at least changes in the way they interact with you. Phil has become a prisoner in this unexpected, even unwanted “parental” role.
Burke masterfully orchestrates the disintegration of Pendleton’s once-ordinary life, weaving in classic horror tropes that echo in the shadows of this man’s new reality. The psychological torment that Phil endures proves to be far more gut-wrenching than even the form of body horror we’re given. We watch helplessly as this man slowly loses his grip on sanity, causing us to ponder this: Should he manage to escape this nightmarish illusion, could he ever truly reclaim the life, the normalcy he once took for granted?
The idea that Adam and the frightening horned beings with skull-like faces (check out the cover!) possess a cunning intelligence is unsettling. Have they meticulously predicted every possible method Phil might use to escape their sinister grip? This aspect of confinement horror adds another layer of terror, heightening the dread as Phil’s world shrinks smaller and smaller, making escape feel increasingly impossible. And it’s not just the prison of space, but of one’s own body.
Why is he letting this happen? I would have made different choices! I would have said THAT!
This underlying frustration persists throughout the narrative because, at its core, Sour Candy explores our choices and their consequences, even when a choice appears utterly harmless on the surface. But make no mistake, this frustration stems from a deep investment in the narrative, for which Burke should be lauded. This story isn’t meant to be an easy read despite its short fiction format.
Sour Candy takes the “bad seed“ kid trope and puts a sinister twist on it that’s incredibly inventive. It may be the spiritual child of William March’s The Bad Seed and David Seltzer’s The Omen, with some flavouring of the wonderfully fiendish gaslighting found in Ira Levin’s Rosemary’s Baby, but Burke’s writing is never derivative. He is a master of the horror genre, remaining contemporary, innovative, and ever-unique to his vision with every story he writes.
A riveting horror novella, Sour Candy strikes the perfect balance in both length and depth of creative content, expertly crafting an atmosphere that is as haunting and sinister as it is compelling. From the very first page, Burke envelopes the reader in a tempest of increasing dread, a palpable tension that intensifies as the creepy story unfolds with each chilling, chaotic twist.
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