Tag Archives: horror

Cabin In the Woods

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*sigh*

Much as I love Joss Whedon, _Cabin in the Woods_ reminds me of exactly why I don’t much care for gory horror flicks. Part of the problem is that I have too much empathy for the characters, and their suffering messes with my head (and heart). Some people get off on this; I’m not one of them. That said, there were, in typical Whedon form, some seriously laugh-out-loud moments in the film, especially in the first half hour. And also in typical form, he’s not afraid to torture the characters he makes you love, all while putting his own particular spin on the horror genre and throwing in twists that take the story places you don’t necessarily expect. But this is probably the only Whedon creation that I’ll watch only once.

I had to use James Cameron’s Avatar as a palette cleanser aftwerward.

Vessel

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This is a very nicely done short sci-fi/horror flick that capitalizes on the psychological factor of the genre and avoids unnecessary gore.

VESSEL – A short film by Clark Baker from Clark Baker on Vimeo.

VESSEL is a very ambitious scifi / horror short in the vein of Alien, The Thing and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. VESSEL features a blend of old school, practical creature effects and slick, modern day VFX. The story focuses on Liberty Airlines' Flight 298 and its passengers. Shortly after takeoff, the passengers encounter an otherworldly force and are thrown into a fight for their lives!

Director/Producer: Clark Baker
Producer: Ashley Friedlander
Writers: Matt and Ross Duffer
Director of Photography: Kyle Klutz
Composer: Austin Wintory
VFX: Jeremy Hunt
Creature FX: Mark Villalobos
Editor: Brad McGlaughlin

Please contact vesselshort@gmail.com or visit www.vesselmovie.com for more information!

Murder In Her Eyes

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There was murder in her eyes. He saw it clear as day.

Problem.

He rubbed the tender spot where she’d hit him with the blunt — and his heart skipped a beat when she pointed the barbaric weapon at him.

“You’re not actually going to use that thing, are you?” he stammered.

“Oh, I should,” she seethed. “I should use it to take you apart piece by piece.”

He licked his lips nervously and cast about for an escape, but she clearly had the advantage.

“C’mon,” he pleaded. “Can’t we be civilized about this?”

“Ha!” she laughed mirthlessly. “We’re way beyond civilized here, Robert.” She paced around him, where she had coldcocked him.

“Bastard!” she hissed. “All this time I was looking for my boy, I came to you for comfort! All this time…” She gasped, trying to catch her breath. “I looked everywhere for my boy — and all this time you were feeding him to me, a piece at a time!

“I should kill you!”

He smiled, then, a psychotic glint to his eyes.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but didn’t he taste wonderful?”

Rumination and Horror

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He vomits, on all fours and stomach heaving. Long, ropey strings of fluid slide from his mouth to the ground, wet and glistening. It is the color of infected phlegm, the smell powerful, overwhelming. His belly clenches again, and he vomits more of the greasy strands into the dirt.

They puddle before him, a gelatinous mass that slowly congeals into a single entity. He kneels over it, weak from the effort of puking and panting heavily, struggling to take in air again. Sweat falls from his face and forehead, the salty droplets landing on the yellow, stinking mass. He thinks that he has never felt so badly as this.

It pulses — once — a wet squick of sound, like an infant sucking on a pacifier, and stills.

He is breathing more normally now, still feeling shaky but gaining strength — and now the mass is pulsing again, faster than before, still making that god-awful sucking sound.

And then it leaps, sealing itself to his face, and he realizes he was wrong.

It is possible to feel much, much worse.

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Flight

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He soared.

He had always wanted to fly, and now he was doing just that. He had no feathers, no wings, but he was flying just the same. The special magic that fathers possessed had made this possible. He laughed with the euphoria of the moment.

The wind blew his hair back, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the pure joy of the experience. He threw his arms out, tried to catch the air, tried to use it to his advantage. It was a thrill beyond belief.

Tumbling over, the last thing four-year-old Jacob Brown saw before the ground broke his tiny body was the figure of his father standing at the top of the cliff, arms still outstretched.

[Originally posted on Ficly.]

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Skin Deep

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He works quickly, his deft hands flitting over the instruments with a skill that comes from a vast history of experience. He talks while he works.

“You are my failure,” he says. “I blame only myself.”

He sets one tool down on the tray, picking up the next.

“I raised you better,” he sighs. There is melancholy in his voice. “But alas, the damage is done.”

He pauses for several long moments, intent on his work. Large beads of sweat stand out on his brow. He pays them no notice. He grunts with the exertion of one particularly difficult area, and after a moment he resumes his narrative.

“Do you know,” he asks, “that vanity is considered a deadly sin? Well, it goes with pride, at any rate.” His chuckle is raw and coarse. “I tried to break you of it, but of all my daughters, you were always the one most taken with her looks.”

He makes one final cut and the last of the girl’s skin springs free, stretched taught on the frame above her.

He gestures. “And you see? I warned you. Beauty really is only skin deep.”

[Originally posted on Ficly.]

Flight

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Lightning flashed, and the boys ran, pumping their legs as hard as they could.

“Did you see that?” the first cried.

“No, and neither did you! Keep running!”

“I can’t,” came the reply. “I’ve got to stop for a sec.”

They dropped behind a fallen log and sucked air in ragged gasps, the panic of their flight showing its toll on them. Blood roared in their ears as their scared and exhausted bodies tried to compensate for the brutal run.

“Was that what I think it was?” the first asked. The reply came as a nod. “How can that be? I thought they were just legend?”

The second shook his head. “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter now. We just have to get away. Ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. We’re almost there.”

They stood to run again, and another flash of lightning illuminated the shadow looming over them, arms outstretched, a wooden pole shoved up its back. They screamed, and the thunder boomed.

In the morning, the ring of scarecrows circling the town had increased by two.

[Originally posted on Ficly.]

The Midnight Road

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Drive faster!

Rain lashed, wipers slashed, Cort plowed through the pouring rain, the demons of his past – both real and imagined – pursued him close behind.

Wind whistled, debris whirled into the road ahead of him, utility poles fell behind him. That’s how he knew they were still chasing him.

Stomach tied in knots, sweat pouring down his face.

A bump, thump, and the car died. The tension in Cort’s body ratcheted up another few notches.

Gotta run, gotta get away.

Then, They’re here!

He leaped from the car even before it could come to a complete stop. Left the road – that’s where they were – and dashed into the open field beside it.

Gotta hide. Oh, god! Can’t shake them. They’ll find me, anyway, his fevered mind screamed.

Shadows whipped about him, flittered, fluttered. Low hisses of eagerness issued from the assailing darkness.

Skin prickled; invisible claw briefly caressed the back of his neck and was gone. He ran harder.

Out of breath, out of time, out of options.

He screamed in fear and pain. Red ribbons slashed into his back.

Stumbled. Fell.

They were on him in an instant. Dozens of them. Tearing. Clawing. Ripping. He’d never had a chance to get away, even on the highway. Their claws had already been too deeply embedded.

Moonlight filtered through wind-driven clouds. And he was alone, then, as ever he had been.

But the damage was done, life leaking from his savaged body as it lay sprawled there in the moon-washed openness.

Originally posted at Clarity of Night.

7th Son Concluded

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I finished up listening to 7th Son this morning on my way to work, and it was a little like what I imagine it must feel like to come down off a high. Three novels’ worth of hard-hitting, gut-wrenching action ends with a bittersweet goodbye to our heroes and a feeling of loss that says, _Oh, great. What am I supposed to listen to_ now_?_ I just wanted to keep on listening, to stay with these characters that I’ve come to love so well. J.C. has certainly done a fabulous job of weaving his tale of science fiction, horror, and intrigue, and I hope that he is successful in getting the trilogy into print. I know I’ll have a copy of the set on my bookshelf as soon as he does.

And the man is just sick in the way he doesn’t let up on you. Even in the final chapter, he doesn’t let you find complete resolution. It’s close, but not close enough. And the epilogue, of course, just leaves the lid off of _that_ can of worms ever so slightly. Leaving your foot in the door for a possible follow-up are we, J.C.? Hm? Man, that _would_ be a joyride of undoubtedly epic proportions.

If you haven’t checked out _7th Son_, then you’re missing out. Go click on the link above and start downloading and listening. Or grab J.C.’s iTunes feed from his website and pull it directly into your iPod. It’s good stuff – just like shooting up on heroin. (I’m guessing…)

Book Reviews for an Alien

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“Check it out”:http://www.apexdigest.com/Online/review071203.shtml – my first set of book reviews for someone other than myself. Awhile back, Jason Sizemore, the editor-in-chief of “Apex Digest”:http://www.apexdigest.com put out a call for a part-time book reviewer. I responded, gave him some past samples of a couple of books reviews I’ve done here, and then he shipped a book to me. It scored a bonus because it was actually one of those two-books-in-one deals. The results of that can now be seen at the link above. Hopefully, this will work out well on a monthly basis. I enjoyed reading the books and writing the reviews, so I’m looking forward to doing more of them in the near future.