#Dawn McDowell

[uwlmvac]

Bill Gresens’ Archaeology Book Review for March 2023

The Book of Two Ways by Jodi Picoult (four trowels) 

Dawn McDowell’s dreams of becoming an Egyptologist crash when tragedy strikes and her life takes a dramatic turn.  Fifteen years later she struggles to return to that past life and a past love.

Read the entire review at: https://www.uwlax.edu/mvac/book-reviews/?review=251550

[clubhoops]

South Carolina women’s basketball secured a major win on Thursday afternoon as Ayla McDowell, a five-star recruit, announced her commitment to the Gamecocks via Instagram Live.

McDowell, a 6-foot-2 wing from Cypress, Texas, is ranked No. 20 in the 2025 class by ESPN. She currently plays for Cypress Springs High School, just outside of Houston, and is known for her versatility and athleticism on the court.

Coach Dawn Staley's squad beat out powerhouse programs like LSU, Mississippi State, Georgia Tech, Florida, and TCU to land the talented recruit. McDowell’s decision highlights the continued momentum and influence of South Carolina’s program under Staley’s leadership.

[roxysretrodrive-in]

Retro Trailer: Tales from the Dark side: The Movie (1990)

Disclaimer: I am not associated with the uploader nor the creators of this trailer.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 2

 ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~5,300

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Seventh Year, Female MC, No Y/N, Slytherin MC, Enemies to Lovers, Trope-y, Slow Burn, Humor, Coming of Age, High School Drama

The faint light of dawn filtered through the emerald curtains of your bed in the Slytherin dormitory, casting muted shadows across the stone walls. You blinked, disoriented for a moment before remembering: Hogwarts. Your first night in Slytherin had been fine—overwhelming, but manageable.

The dormitory was more extravagant than expected, its arched ceilings and serpentine décor exuding an eerie elegance. The soft green glow from the enchanted windows overlooking the Black Lake gave the room an otherworldly atmosphere you were still adjusting to. Thankfully, you already had Imelda, whose blunt humor and confidence were comforting, as well as Grace and Nerida, who’d stood by you earlier when Sebastian had been insufferable.

Of course, there were others.

Violet McDowell introduced herself first, her polished demeanor and neatly tied hair making it clear she came from an old wizarding family. “So, what’s Beauxbatons really like? Is it as uptight as everyone says?” she asked, her tone almost challenging.

Before you could respond, a petite girl with chin-length curls and bright eyes chimed in. “I’ve heard their students dance everywhere instead of walking. Is that true?” Clara Vane, bubbly and chatty, seemed more interested in myths about Beauxbatons than the actual answer.

Ethel Prescott, quieter but no less curious, had glanced up from her spellbook just long enough to add, “Do they really care that much about posture, or is that just Witch Weekly nonsense?”

The questions came in waves: Was perfect penmanship enforced? Could you actually speak French? Croissants or pumpkin pasties?

Later, the common room was no less daunting. More Slytherins introduced themselves, their names and faces blending together in a blur: Marcus Flint, Ava Vaisey, Natalia Gardner, Quincy Lloyd. Each seemed more self-assured than the last.

Still, you were grateful for Imelda and Ominis. Imelda’s sharp wit and unapologetic presence acted as a shield, while Ominis’s smooth interjections subtly steered conversations away from anything too intrusive. Between them, the chaos of your first night felt just a little less overwhelming.

You were thankful they were both already at the table when you entered The Great Hall for breakfast, the hum of conversation mingling with the clatter of silverware. You slid into the seat beside Imelda, who was already halfway through a plate of toast and bacon.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” she observed, not bothering to pause mid-bite.

“Thanks for the reassurance,” you said dryly, pouring yourself a cup of tea. “I’m fine. Just adjusting.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Imelda said with a shrug. “Or you won’t, and you’ll spend the whole year complaining. Either way, you’ll survive.”

Your lips twitched in reluctant amusement.

Across the table, Ominis glanced up from his copy of The Daily Prophet. “First class is Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he said, his tone polite but matter-of-fact. “It’s with Professor Hecat. She can be... something.”

“Something?” you asked, curious.

“You’ll see,” Ominis replied cryptically before turning back to his paper.

Imelda grinned, clearly enjoying your curiosity. “Hecat’s a hardass,” she said. “But if you’re good, she’ll respect you. If you’re bad, well…” She trailed off with a wicked smirk.

“Sounds promising,” you muttered, taking a sip of tea.

Imelda shrugged, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth. “Hecat doesn’t coddle, that’s for sure. You’ll either love her or hate her by the end of the week. No in-between.”

Ominis lowered his paper slightly, his pale eyes flicking toward you. “She values precision and discipline. If you’ve got those, you’ll manage.”

“Good to know,” you said, feeling a small flicker of relief. If there was one thing Beauxbatons had drilled into its students, it was discipline. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Imelda tilted her head, studying you as if trying to gauge your confidence. “You’ll be fine,” she said finally, nudging your arm. “Just don’t let her catch you daydreaming or slacking off. She’s got eyes like a hawk.”

“Duly noted,” you replied, though your thoughts were already wandering as your gaze drifted across the Great Hall.

The morning sunlight streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting warm golden hues over the long tables and filling the room with an energy that felt almost tangible. Conversations ebbed and flowed, bursts of laughter punctuating the steady hum of activity. You spotted a few familiar faces at the Slytherin table, but there were dozens more you didn’t recognize, their faces blurring together in a sea of green and silver robes.

Your eyes swept across the other tables, where students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff mingled in their own lively clusters. The sheer number of them was overwhelming. After six years at Beauxbatons, where you’d known nearly everyone by name, Hogwarts felt like an endless sea of unfamiliar faces, each with their own stories and alliances. It left you feeling adrift, like a visitor who hadn’t quite found her footing.

And then, across the room, your gaze caught on a familiar shock of red hair.

Garreth Weasley sat at the Gryffindor table, his easy grin lighting up his freckled face as he animatedly recounted a story. The girls beside him—Cressida among them—listened with rapt attention, laughing at his punchlines. He leaned in closer, hands gesturing broadly, clearly basking in the attention.

To his left, Leander Prewett lounged in stark contrast, his chair tipped back at a perfect angle that somehow didn’t upset the impeccable press of his robes. Not a crease marred the fabric, and his hair, combed with meticulous precision, caught the light as if it had been styled moments ago. He sipped casually from his goblet, his gaze flicking toward Garreth now and then, a smirk playing at his lips like he was waiting for just the right moment to interrupt—or outshine—the scene.

When Leander’s eyes landed on you, the smirk shifted, softening into something warmer, more playful. He tilted his goblet in your direction—a subtle gesture of acknowledgment—before turning back to Garreth, leaning closer like the two were conspiring about something.

Imelda, ever observant, caught the exchange and smirked. “Looks like Prewett’s already taken a shine to you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and quickly looked down at your tea. “I doubt it,” you said, trying to sound dismissive. “Bu um… Am I allowed to go over there, or... is there some kind of unwritten rule about Slytherins and Gryffindors fraternizing?”

Imelda chuckled, leaning back in her seat with an air of amusement. “Allowed? It’s not like you’re sneaking into their common room. Unless it’s a formal meal, you can sit wherever you want, Chouette.”

Ominis lowered his paper slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching with a faint smile. “The rivalry is overstated,” he said smoothly. “Mostly about Quidditch and family legacies. It’s not as though there’s a ban friendship and conversation between houses.”

“Conversation, no,” Imelda added with a smirk. “But someone might throw a roll at you if you bring up Quidditch stats. Just don’t start a fight over breakfast.”

“So… you wouldn’t mind if I went to say hi?” you asked cautiously, your fingers fidgeting with the handle of your teacup.

Imelda waved a hand lazily. “Why would we care? Go on. Socialize.”

Ominis tilted his head, the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But do be careful. If Garreth ropes you into one of his brilliant ideas, you’ll end up spending your first class in the hospital wing.”

Imelda snickered at that, but you ignored her, carefully picking up your tea and rising from your seat. With a small nod of acknowledgment to the pair, you turned toward the Gryffindor table, your heart beating a little faster as you crossed the room.

“Hi,” you said, your voice slightly breathless as you stopped near the edge of the Gryffindor group.

Garreth’s head shot up, his freckled face breaking into an immediate grin. “Chouette! Fancy seeing you over here.”

The girls beside him looked up as well. Cressida smiled warmly, scooting over to make room. “Garreth mentioned you,” she said kindly. “Join us!"

“I’m Natty,” The other girl added, her lilting accent kind. “It’s lovely to meet you. Sit down!”

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Leander sitting across from them. He offered you a polite, easy smile.

“I’m Leander Prewett,” he said, his voice smooth as he extended a hand. “You must be the famous Chouette.”

The nickname coming from a stranger made you falter for a moment, but his expression was open and friendly. You shook his hand briefly. “That’s me,” you said, sliding onto the bench next to Cressida. “Nice to meet you, Leander.”

“Likewise,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Weasley’s been talking about you nonstop since last night.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to Garreth.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Garreth said with a laugh, spreading his hands in mock defense. “After Natty, you're the only other new student we've ever had in our year.”

“It’s true,” Leander chimed in, leaning back slightly with an easy grin. “You’re something of a novelty, Chouette. Fresh blood in a group that’s been together since we were eleven? Naturally, everyone’s curious.”

“Curious, sure,” Natty said with a smirk, her tone teasing as she glanced at Leander. “Some more than others.”

Leander shot her a playful glare, his grin unwavering. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Right,” Cressida said, dragging the word out as she exchanged a knowing look with Natty. “Friendly.”

You felt your cheeks warm as the group’s attention lingered on you, and you quickly looked down at your teacup. “I didn’t realize I was such a big deal.”

“Modest, too,” Garreth said, grinning. “Anyway, don’t worry. Hogwarts has a way of making people feel right at home—sometimes a little too much.”

Cressida nodded, her expression softening. “Give it a few weeks, and it’ll be like you’ve always been here.”

“Hopefully,” you said, smiling faintly. The warmth in their words eased some of the tension in your chest, though the weight of being the new face in a tightly knit group still lingered at the edges of your mind.

“Chouette is such an interesting nickname," Natty said, turning to you with a curious expression. "Where does it come from?”

“Oh,” you you laughed awkwardly. “It’s something Imelda started calling me when we were kids. I wrote an essay about owls when I was in a Muggle primary school because I was fascinated by wizard post... she thought it was hilarious, so the name stuck.”

“That’s adorable,” Cressida said with a laugh. “Better than some of the nicknames people come up with around here.”

“Agreed,” Leander said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he grinned. “It suits you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks again, and you quickly turned to Natty. “Are you all taking Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning?”

Natty nodded. “We are. First period.”

Relief flooded you at the idea of not having to navigate the castle alone. “That’s good to hear.”

“Stick with us,” Leander said, his smile easy. “We’ll make sure you don’t get lost—or end up in detention.”

As you sipped the last of your tea, your thoughts began to wander toward Defense Against the Dark Arts. You, of course, had six years of class under your belt from Beauxbatons, but it had always been carefully structured and precise, with students practicing spells on enchanted dummies or theoretical exercises. Actual dueling had been rare, restricted to the secret dueling association you’d been fortunate enough to join during your later years.

Would Hogwarts’ approach be different? You hoped so. Everything about this place felt rawer, less polished than Beauxbatons, and you hoped that extended to its curriculum.

The trek to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was brisk, the corridors of Hogwarts teeming with students. You kept close to Garreth, Natty, and Cressida, your eyes darting around as you tried to memorize the layout. The castle was as sprawling and maze-like as you’d expected, every turn revealing another staircase, corridor, or portrait that moved just enough to throw off your sense of direction.

“It’s like a labyrinth,” you muttered under your breath, glancing up at a painting of a knight who waved enthusiastically as you passed. “How does anyone find their way around here?”

“You don’t,” Garreth said with a grin, leading the group confidently down a corridor. “Not at first, anyway. You’ll get lost a few times, end up in a secret passage or two, maybe even a broom cupboard...”

“Reassuring,” you said dryly, though his cheerfulness was infectious.

Natty smiled, walking alongside you. “The trick is to remember key landmarks,” she offered helpfully.

Cressida chimed in, “And never trust Peeves to give you directions.”

You nodded, trying to take mental notes, but the sheer size of the castle was overwhelming. You were grateful to have them guiding you, especially as you climbed a narrow spiral staircase that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. By the time you reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, your legs were burning, and you made a mental note to pace yourself better in the future.

The classroom itself was impressive. Rows of desks were arranged in neat lines, and tall windows let in streams of golden light, illuminating shelves filled with spellbooks, artifacts, and jars of peculiar ingredients and specimens. A faint hum of magic seemed to linger in the air, subtle but unmistakable.

Professor Hecat was already at the front of the room, her presence commanding as she surveyed the students with sharp, hawkish eyes. There was an air of expectation about her, the kind that made you straighten in your seat without thinking.

Garreth nudged you lightly as you slid into a spot near the middle of the room. “This is going to be fun,” he whispered, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

You raised an eyebrow. “Fun?”

“Trust me,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice conspiratorial. “First class with Hecat is always good. You’ll see.”

Natty and Cressida sat nearby, offering encouraging smiles as the last of the students filed in. Before you could settle completely, your gaze was drawn to the back of the room where Sebastian sauntered in just before the door swung shut. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his posture was as relaxed as ever, though his sharp brown eyes flicked across the room like he was sizing everyone up. He slid into a seat near the back with the other Slytherins—Ominis and Imelda among them—and leaned back in his chair as though the classroom belonged to him.

You couldn’t help but notice the brief look exchanged between Sebastian and Leander as the latter slid into the seat behind you. It was subtle but unmistakable—the narrowing of Sebastian’s eyes and the sharp tilt of Leander’s head, his easy grin firmly in place but carrying a faint edge, almost like a challenge. The tension between them hung in the air, unspoken but palpable.

Your thoughts drifted to the carriage ride with Imelda the day before. Sebastian Sallow—Hogwarts’ most persistent heartbreak. Next to Leander Prewett, of course.

The faint smile that tugged at your lips was involuntary. Beauxbatons had its own version of this rivalry—Étienne, the effortlessly charming Quidditch captain, and Hugo, the razor-sharp dueling star. The two had been locked in a constant battle, always trying to outshine one another in accolades and romantic flings. It had been amusing to watch from the sidelines, though exhausting to imagine being caught in the crossfire.

Now, watching Leander and Sebastian, the similarities were uncanny.

Professor Hecat stepped forward, her voice cutting through the room like a whip and breaking you out of your thoughts. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she said, her tone clipped and no-nonsense. “If you’re expecting an easy year, I suggest you rethink your priorities. This class is not for the faint of heart or the lazy. You will be tested, challenged, and—if you work hard—rewarded.”

The room was silent, every student sitting up a little straighter under her piercing gaze.

“Today,” she continued, pacing slowly, “we will begin with a practical demonstration. Theory has its place, but to kick off the semester, you will learn by doing. Wands out.”

There was a collective rustling as everyone reached for their wands. Your pulse quickened as you gripped yours tightly, the weight familiar and reassuring in your hand. Garreth was right. This would be good; it was the moment you’d been hoping for. Real practice, real dueling, not just theory or practice dummies.

Professor Hecat’s sharp eyes swept the room, her gaze lingering on each student as if she could see straight into their thoughts. When her eyes landed on you, they narrowed slightly, a spark of curiosity flickering in their depths.

“You,” she said sharply, pointing her wand in your direction. “Miss Beauxbatons.”

You blinked, startled at being addressed so directly. “Yes, Professor?”

“I’d like to see what you can do,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s get a sense of where you stand in comparison to the rest of the class.”

The room murmured softly, a ripple of interest running through the students. Garreth shot you an encouraging grin, but you could feel the weight of every eye on you as you stood.

Professor Hecat flicked her wand, and the room transformed in an instant. Desks slid to the edges of the room, creating an open space in the center. The floor shimmered briefly before solidifying into a raised dueling platform.

You climbed onto it, your wand feeling heavier than usual in your hand. The hum of magic in the room seemed louder now, or maybe it was just the pounding of your heart.

“Now,” Hecat said, turning to the back of the room, “we’ll need someone to test her mettle.”

You had a sinking feeling you knew exactly who she was going to call on. Mister Duelling Prodigy himself.

“Mr. Sallow?"

Sebastian, who had been lounging in his chair with all the grace of a cat stretched in the sun, straightened slightly. His expression shifted from mild boredom to faint interest as he stood and strolled toward the platform with a slow, deliberate gait.

The room erupted into whispers, a mix of excitement and curiosity rippling through the class. It was clear this wasn’t the first time Sebastian had been called upon for a demonstration, and judging by the looks on his classmates’ faces, he had a reputation to back up his arrogance.

You shifted slightly, your grip tightening on your wand. The platform suddenly felt much smaller as Sebastian turned his attention to you, his brown eyes sharp and assessing. His smirk widened just enough to set your teeth on edge.

“Try to keep up," he said lightly, his tone almost teasing.

You could feel the weight of the class’s collective attention pressing down on you, their excitement palpable. He was clearly used to this—being the center of attention, being the best.

But you had something to prove.

Professor Hecat stepped between you, her voice cutting through the whispers like a blade. “The goal is to disarm your opponent. No spells beyond fifth-year curriculum, no excessive force. Do I make myself clear?”

“Bien sûr,” you said firmly, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and determination.

Sebastian gave a lazy nod, his smirk never faltering. “Crystal.”

Hecat stepped back, raising her wand. “Bow.”

You both dipped into formal bows, though Sebastian’s was laced with a mocking flourish that made your jaw tighten. As you straightened, his wand was already at the ready.

“Begin!” Hecat commanded, and the duel was on.

Sebastian struck first, quick and confident, his Expelliarmus streaking toward you like a red arrow. You twisted your wrist, deflecting it with a sharp Protego, the spell rebounding harmlessly into the air.

“Not bad,” he said, moving fluidly into a Flipendo, the knockback jinx aimed squarely at your chest. You sidestepped, countering with a precise Stupefy that forced him to block with his own Protego.

The spells came fast and relentless, the platform crackling with magic as the duel intensified. Sebastian was good—no, he was excellent. His movements were smooth and calculated, each spell flowing seamlessly into the next. He pressed the offensive, forcing you to rely on quick reflexes and defensive spells to hold your ground.

But he wasn’t the only one who’d mastered his spellwork.

You quickly found your rhythm, slipping into the familiar flow of a duel. At Beauxbatons, the secret dueling association had taught you to think two steps ahead, to anticipate your opponent’s moves and exploit their weaknesses. And Sebastian, for all his skill, had one glaring flaw—his arrogance.

He expected you to falter, to stay on the defensive. So you didn’t.

A well-timed Depulso sent him skidding back, his balance momentarily compromised. Seizing the opening, you cast Arresto Momentum, slowing him just enough to fire off a rapid Stupefy. He blocked it with a grunt, his smirk slipping as he realized you weren’t just keeping up—you were pushing him.

The class murmured in astonishment as the duel raged on. You could feel their energy feeding into yours, the thrill of the challenge sharpening your focus. Sebastian’s smirk was gone now, replaced by a look of concentration, his brown eyes narrowing as he adjusted his strategy.

“You’re full of surprises, Chouette” he said, his voice slightly breathless as he dodged a Rictusempra.

“And you’re full of yourself,” you shot back, firing a precise hex that grazed his shoulder.

He retaliated with a powerful Incendio, the flames licking dangerously close, but you countered with a quick Aguamenti, extinguishing them mid-air. The crowd erupted into cheers at the display, their excitement fueling the competitive fire burning in your chest.

Sebastian lunged forward, attempting another Flipendo, but you deflected it, your wand moving like an extension of your arm. With a sharp flick, you cast Expelliarmus again, putting every ounce of precision into the spell.

This time, it hit its mark.

Sebastian’s wand flew from his hand, spiraling through the air with a sharp twirl. Without thinking, you reached out and caught it mid-flight. The room erupted into cheers and gasps, the sound crashing over you like a wave as you stood there, both wands in hand.

Sebastian froze, his expression flickering between disbelief and something far more reluctant. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his sharp brown eyes locked onto you. The smirk he so often wore was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the hum of victory vibrating in your veins.

"Holy shit," Imelda’s voice cut through the cheers and murmurs, loud enough to carry across the room. “Sebastian just lost a duel.”

The words seemed to ripple through the crowd, and the excited murmuring grew louder. Students leaned toward each other, exchanging wide-eyed whispers, their gazes darting between you and Sebastian.

“Has that ever happened?” someone asked.

“No way,” another voice replied. “Sallow’s supposed to be the best in our year.”

“Well, not anymore,” a Hufflepuff piped up, her tone equal parts amused and impressed.

Sebastian didn’t move for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you as though trying to reconcile what had just happened. Slowly, he extended his hand, his expression shifting to something you couldn’t quite place.

You stepped forward and handed Sebastian his wand, your fingers brushing briefly against his as you leaned in, your voice low but clear. “Try and keep up next time.”

The words hung in the air and Sebastian’s frown deepened. For a moment, you thought he might fire back a retort, but instead, he closed his fingers around his wand, his jaw tight as he stepped off the platform, his shoulders stiff.

The room was still buzzing with chatter as Professor Hecat raised her voice, attempting to restore order. “Enough,” she barked, her sharp tone cutting through the noise. “This is a classroom, not the Quidditch pitch. Pair up and prepare to spar. I expect focus, not theatrics. Otherwise, I'll have to read for the rest of class."

The class scrambled to comply, but the energy in the room was electric, the whispers continuing in hushed tones. You stepped off the platform, the adrenaline still thrumming through your veins, and made your way toward Imelda and Ominis.

Imelda was grinning from ear to ear, her expression equal parts amused and impressed. “Well, look at you,” she said, nudging your arm. “First day, and you’ve already knocked Sallow down a peg. That’s one for the history books.”

Ominis, standing beside her, tilted his head in your direction. “I’ve never seen another student best him in a duel,” he said evenly, though there was a note of disbelief in his tone. “Not once.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off as casually as possible, though your cheeks were still warm from the attention. “He’s good,” you admitted. “Really good. But not good enough.”

Imelda laughed. “Oh, he’s never going to live this down. You’ve officially unseated the king of dueling.”

Before you could respond, several students began approaching, their eagerness evident as they jostled to catch your attention.

“That was incredible,” one Ravenclaw boy said, his blue robes swishing as he stepped forward. “Would you mind partnering with me for practice?”

“Partner with me!” another Hufflepuff chimed in, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “I want to learn how you pulled off that Arresto Momentum combo.”

“I called dibs first,” a Gryffindor interjected, earning a glare from the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden influx of attention as Imelda smirked, crossing her arms. “Looks like you’re in demand, Chouette.”

Ominis inclined his head, his tone dry. “If I were you, I’d choose carefully. Some of these students are less… coordinated than others.”

Professor Hecat clapped her hands again, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. “If you’ve found a partner, take your positions. If not, you’ll be paired randomly.”

You glanced around at the eager faces vying for your attention, but your gaze ultimately landed on Ominis. “Would you like to pair up?” you asked, keeping your tone casual but hopeful.

Imelda let out an exaggerated gasp, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “What’s this? You’re skipping over your oldest friend?”

You shot her an amused look. “No offense, Imelda, but you’ve always been better on a broom than in a duel.”

Imelda laughed, clearly not taking it personally. “Fair point,” she said with a grin. “I guess I’ll go find someone who can appreciate my ‘less polished’ technique.”

Ominis quirked an eyebrow in your direction, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you sure? I’m certainly not as talented as you and... I'm not exactly flashy.”

“That’s perfect,” you replied, your voice low enough for only him to hear. “I’ve had enough theatrics for one day. Besides, I get the feeling you’re more talented than you let on.”

His smirk widened slightly as he inclined his head. “Well then, I'd be happy to partner up.”

Together, you stepped into the center of the room, finding a spot to practice. Unlike the duel with Sebastian, there was no buzzing anticipation from the class or weighty pressure hanging in the air. This was practice—a chance to focus, to refine.

As you anticipated, Ominis moved with deliberate precision, each spell measured and exact. You quickly fell into a steady rhythm with him, the exchange of spells flowing smoothly. There was no animosity, no urge to win—just the shared goal of improvement, and it was almost relaxing, except for the occasional awareness of being watched.

You could feel Sebastian’s eyes on you.

Though you didn’t look in his direction, the weight of his gaze was impossible to ignore, like a smoldering ember pressing against your back.

You hardly noticed how much time had passed until Professor Hecat called out, her voice sharp and commanding, “That’s enough for today. Well done, everyone. You’re dismissed.”

The room filled with the clatter of students packing their bags and murmuring amongst themselves, the electric energy of the earlier duel still lingering. You lowered your wand, offering Ominis a small smile. “Thanks for pairing up with me,” you said, genuinely appreciative.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone warm but composed. "Perhaps we can do it again next time we have duelling practice."

Imelda sauntered over, slinging her bag over one shoulder. “So, Chouette, are you planning to take over the whole school, or just Defense Against the Dark Arts? Because at this rate, you’re going to have everyone eating out of your hand.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m just trying to survive my first week, Mel.”

The two of you began making your way toward the door, the noise of the dispersing class surrounding you. You were almost at the exit when a voice cut through the chatter.

“Wait.”

You turned to see Sebastian standing a few steps behind you, his hands shoved into his robe pockets, his expression carefully neutral.

Imelda raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “This should be good,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the doorframe.

He ignored her, keeping his attention fixed on you. "Has anyone told you about Crossed Wands yet?”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “No.”

“It’s a dueling club,” he said, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth just enough to feel like a challenge. “Unofficial, but it’s where the best duelists go to push themselves. If you’re looking for more of what you got today, it’s the place to be.”

You hummed noncommittally, tilting your head as if weighing his words. “And I suppose you’re the reigning champion?”

His smirk deepened, leaning fully into his usual arrogance. “Naturally.”

Imelda scoffed from where she stood beside you, arms crossed. “And yet, someone just knocked you off your throne.”

Sebastian shot her a look, but it lacked his usual bite, as though he couldn’t be bothered to engage. His gaze returned to you, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. “Well, not officially,” he said, his smirk tugging wider. “But I’m always looking for a good challenge. If you’re interested, introduce yourself to Lucan Brattleby in Gryffindor. He runs the club. Just tell him I sent you.”

You raised an eyebrow, studying him carefully. “I’ll think about it."

Sebastian nodded once before turning back toward the remaining students, his usual self-assured air firmly in place. Imelda wasted no time tugging on your arm, leading you out the door with a grin tugging at her lips.

As soon as you were out in the corridor, she let out a low chuckle. “Well, well. It seems Sallow likes you, after all. You've been here a day and the school's most coveted guys are all over you.”

You scoffed, glancing at her like she’d grown a second head. “Come on, Mel. Get real.”

“I'm serious,” she said, her grin widening. "Seb’s definitely interested. Did you see the way he kept looking at you?”

“I don’t care how he was looking at me,” you shot back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Within five minutes of meeting him, he insulted me. I’m not holding my breath for some big redemption arc.”

Imelda raised her hands in mock surrender, though the mischievous glint in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t dropping the topic anytime soon. She opened her mouth to retort, but you cut her off with a shake of your head, your tone firm and exasperated.

“Believe whatever you want,” you said, “but I have zero interest in trying to figure out what’s going on in his head. I’m here to focus on school, not Sebastian Sallow.”

“Alright, whatever you say,” Imelda replied, her grin still firmly in place. “But don’t come crying to me when he’s suddenly dueling other guys for your honor.”

“That’s not happening,” you said flatly, quickening your pace to move ahead of her. “End of story.”

Imelda trailed after you, her smirk firmly in place but, for once, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself. For now. Instead, she focused on guiding you through Hogwarts’ maze-like corridor.

Sebastian Sallow might have everyone else’s attention, but as far as you were concerned, he could keep it. You had far more pressing matters to focus on—like making it through your first day unscathed.

 ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

[tavolgisvist]

With A Little Help From My Friends

Monday, Sept. 14, 1964: Ringo was first off the plane. He emerged from the darkened doorway of the chartered Lockheed Electra around 4:40 p.m. and stepped into the bright sun, which highlighted his sad eyes, rakish sideburns and, of course, that glorious nose. Even from a distance, he was instantly recognizable. The world’s most famous drummer. The shrieking, which had begun long before the plane stopped, reached new heights. Thousands of teenage girls held back by the Greater Pittsburgh Airport’s snow fences squealed, screamed, shoved closed fists into their mouths, grabbed handfuls of their own hair, wept, and generally fell into fits of hysteria. Behind the crowd, a blond boy of about 12 shimmied up a light pole to see the spectacle: The four young men known throughout the civilized world as the Beatles - John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr - were invading his hometown. Ringo started down the stairway to the tarmac. Behind him stepped John, cool in sunglasses and a flashy blue-and-white polka-dot shirt. Then George and finally Paul, who paused at the top of the stairs to point at something. Ringo kept moving, five steps down, the other Beatles following close behind. Then something came flying through the air. Something red and the size of a fist. Ringo moved instinctively. He ducked, covered his head with his left arm and, less than a second later, sprang back upright as if nothing had happened.

He never paused in his descent, or changed his expression. He simply continued down and then calmly waded into a crowd of reporters, photographers, police officers and guys in work shirts and hard hats. A reporter named Al McDowell from KDKA-TV approached Ringo. “What’s that stuff they were throwing?” McDowell asked. “Looked like a tomato, to me,” Ringo responded, pronouncing it toe-mah-toe in his thick Liverpool accent. “It’s always the same, you got a couple of lunatics in a couple of thousand … .”

(The Beatles in the 'Burgh, 1964, Steve Mellon for Pittsburgh Post-Gazette)

The song 'With A Little Help From My Friends' was written specifically for me, but they had one line that I wouldn't sing. It was: 'What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and throw tomatoes at me?' I said, 'There's not a chance in hell am I going to sing rhis line,' because we still had lots of really deep memories of the kids throwing jelly beans and toys on stage; and I thought that if we ever did get out there again, I was not going to be bombarded with tomatoes.

(Ringo Starr, The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

Poking a little fun at Ringo was actually a lof of fun. ‘What would you do if I sang out of tune?’

(Paul McCartney, The Lyric, 2021)

Actually, John and I wrote this song within a vocal range that would cause no problems for Ringo, who had a style of singing different to ours. We tailored it especially for him…

(Paul McCartney, The Lyric, 2021)

…There was an unusually late start for that night’s session because the Beatles had spent the afternoon and early evening overseeing preparations for the upcoming album cover photo shoot. <…> Despite the late hour, all four Beatles were wide awake, excited by the events of the day; I remember them animatedly discussing the set that Peter Blake had built for them and talking about how much they loved their satin Pepper costumes. After hurriedly consumed cups of tea, we finally got to work. The backing track for the new song—initially called “Bad Finger Boogie” for some reason—had a real spark to it, and an inspired Ringo was really smacking his tom-toms… Ten takes were required to get a “keeper”; it was nearly dawn by that time. Richard and I watched an exhausted Ringo begin to trudge up the stairs. That was our signal, as usual, that the session was over, and we began to relax. He was at the halfway point when we heard Paul’s voice call out. “Where are you going, Ring?” he said. Ringo looked surprised. “Home, to bed.” “Nah, let’s do the vocal now.” Ringo looked to the others for support. “But I’m knackered,” he protested. To his dismay, both John and George Harrison were taking Paul’s side. “No, come on back here and do some singing for us,” John said with a grin. <…> Fortunately for all of us, Ringo got his lead vocal done relatively quickly: perhaps the shock tactic of having him sing when he was least expecting it took the nervousness away, or perhaps it was just how supportive everyone was being. All three of his compatriots gathered around him, inches behind the microphone, silently conducting and cheering him on as he gamely tackled his vocal duties. It was a touching show of unity among the four Beatles. The only problem was the song’s last high note, which Ringo had a bit of trouble hitting spot-on. For a while he lobbied to have the tape slowed down just for that one drop-in, and we tried it, but even though it allowed him to sing on pitch, it didn’t match tonally to the rest of the vocal—he sounded a bit silly, almost like one of the Goons. “No, Ring, you’ve got to do it properly,” Paul finally concluded. “It’s okay; just put your mind to it. You can do it,” George Harrison said encouragingly. Even John added some helpful—if decidedly nontechnical—advice: “Just throw yer head back and let ’er rip!” It took a few tries, but Ringo finally hit the note—and held it—without too much wavering. Amid the cheers of his bandmates and a Scotch-and Coke toast, the session finally ended.

(Geoff Emerick, Here There and Everywhere, 2007)

[brokehorrorfan]

Scream Factory has revealed the specs for its Tales from the Darkside: The Movie 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray. Based on the TV series of the same name, the 1990 horror anthology will be released on November 28.

John Harrison (Dune) directs from a script by George A. Romero (Night of the Living Dead) and Michael McDowell (Beetlejuice), including adaptations of Stephen King and Arthur Conan Doyle. Debbie Harry, Christian Slater, David Johansen, William Hickey, James Remar, Rae Dawn Chong, and Matthew Lawrence star.

Tales from the Darkside: The Movie has been newly scanned in 4K from the original camera negative. It's presented with Dolby Vision as well as DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 and 2.0 audio. Special features are listed below.

Disc 1 - 4K UHD:

Audio commentary by director John Harrison and co-writer George A. Romero

Audio commentary by co-producer David R. Kappes

Audio commentary by film critics Emily Higgins and Billy Dunham (new)

Disc 2 - Blu-ray:

Audio commentary by director John Harrison and co-writer George A. Romero

Audio commentary by co-producer David R. Kappes

Audio commentary by film critics Emily Higgins and Billy Dunham (new)

Tales Behind the Darkside – Feature-length documentary with director John Harrison, actors James Remar and Rae Dawn Chong, producer Mitchell Galin, director of photography Robert Draper, production designer Ruth Ammon, special effects artists Robert Kurtzman, Greg Nicotero, and Howard Berger, creature performer Michael Deak, and editor Harry B. Miller

Behind-the-scenes footage 

Theatrical trailer

TV spots

Radio spots

Behind-the-scenes gallery

Stills gallery

To keep from being eaten by a modern-day witch (Deborah Harry), a young paperboy weaves three twisted stories to distract her. In “Lot 249,” a vengeful college student (Steve Buscemi) resuscitates an evil mummy to teach unsuspecting student bodies (Julianne Moore, Christian Slater) a lesson in terror. Then, “Cat From Hell” is a furry black feline who cannot be killed… he may have nine lives, but those who cross his path are not so lucky. Finally, in “Lover’s Vow,” a stone gargoyle comes to life to commit murder.

Pre-order Tales from the Darkside: The Movie.

[kimberly40]

Dearest North Carolina,

Through your glistening winters, blossoming springs, colorful falls, and hot southern summers full of lightning bugs and cold sweet tea, it dawned on me that I was HOME. Flourishing fields, Christmas trees, and the dear conversations with kind neighbors begin to feel my heart with joy.

Tarheels, Cheerwine, Krispy Kreme, hot boiled peanuts, sweet potatoes, and happy local farmers captured my soul.

North Carolina, you are gooder than grits...honey to my heart. Oh my stars I love you so!

-Unknown

•Pictured is the Brown Farm in North Cove, McDowell County, North Carolina

[dchan87]

"The Union Must Stand", a song from Lincoln: A Punk Rock Opera

Background: A few years ago, when visiting the Lincoln museum in Springfield, I had an inkling for a Hamilton-inspired punk rock opera. I was too lazy to write it. Until today! Well, one song, at least.

My fellow Americans Our house fights against itself I fear we cannot stand

The south fired on Fort Sumter yesterday but no one died My administration is following the situation The army will be mustered, to kick the south’s backside They will pay for their attempted insurrection

FIGHT FOR US! Our boys in blue FIGHT FOR US! Our cause is true FIGHT FOR US! To save our land FIGHT FOR US! Now take a stand!

The union must stand, the union must stand! It’s a civil war, us against US The union must stand, the union must stand! Brothers fight brothers, for justice! The union must staaaaaand!

We march on Virginia at dawn, McDowell to lead They’ll be sure to keep foundation steady Justice is coming for Jeff Davis and Bobby Lee Hear the battle hymn singing and be ready

FIGHT FOR US! Our boys in blue FIGHT FOR US! Our cause is true FIGHT FOR US! To save our land FIGHT FOR US! Now take a stand!

The union must stand, the union must stand! It’s a civil war, us against US The union must stand, the union must stand! Brothers fight brothers, for justice! The union must staaaaaand!

A house divided against itself, as I said before Cannot stand upon a wind-swept shore The ground itself is shaking with a mighty roar Must I be the one to meet the moment in this hour I don’t have a real mandate to exercise my power I fear mine eyes will see the glory of the Lord

FIGHT FOR US! Our boys in blue FIGHT FOR US! Our cause is true FIGHT FOR US! To save our land FIGHT FOR US! Now take a stand!

The union must stand, the union must stand! It’s a civil war, us against US The union must stand, the union must stand! Brothers fight brothers, for justice! The union must staaaaaand!

[seasideretreat]

The world

When we occupy ourselves with the essence of the world, something dawns on us that may or may not be totally apparent. The world is insane. Still, we may say that the world obeys its own inner logic, and this means that we can see the world as a transcendental place of meditation and valour. What we know, is that the world can be understood through logical reasoning, and this makes us ponder the world in ever greater and greater depth. The things that occupy our direct attention are lurid and weird in the last analysis, but something may happen that constricts us in the most cosmological way, and this gives us an immediate attention to the little things that corresponds to true knowledge and intrepid focus. All these things are knoweable.

John McDowell speaks of a "bald naturalism" that permeates the history of philosophy. It is truly a tremendous thing, that makes us wonder about the meaning of life. It seems there is a God in heaven that told us what to do and how to live; but in the world of bald naturalism, this God has no say, there is not any true movement in the entirety of the world. We might call this the ontological disputation. Ontic essences are absolute and may be seen in the light of veiled discernments or sense-data, but the essence of the world remains obscure to the vehement elements of discernment-in-thought. When we live in ordinary ways, bad things happen to us, or our life is not beautiful. The things we do are limited by being arcane or weird, but the assertion of real things happens in the constancy of the universe, and this shows people what the truth might be, in the last analysis. A world consists of subject and object, and when we engage in proper thought, the little things become apparent. But a truly holy or miraculous order has yet to be discerned. It seems God is outside of the things, but the better things, or quintessential things, can be found only the real truth, which is just the analysis and synthesis of proper articulations of the higher order of beings.

The view of normal science is that there is no higher being, no difference between God and man, or nature and the symbolic realm of things that determine the existence of life here. We can posit a force that permeates the whole of reality, but that is not going to explain anything: we just have to look at the world the way it is, and there is no escape from the drudgery of life and the mundanity of everyday phenomena. Nevertheless, we can see there is a level of reality in which things happen, a soul world so to speak, or perhaps a spirit realm, that makes us needful of reanalyzing the known concepts of the world, and to reconsider the validity of the values that science relies on. I am not saying that there is magic, or that supernatural things will happen, I am only saying that we can be fascinated beyond the ordinary by thoughts and humanities in the vast infinity of the world in a way that prompts us to speak of a greater calling or vocation for thinking to happen. I personally do not find this present in stuff like process philosophy, and it is also mostly lacking in Heidegger's work, although both these schools presumebly have their own peculiar charm: I do find it in the work of great thinkers in general, although I find it hard to point at a particular person. Philosophy means something, and I believe philosophy can help discover a meaning to life, even if rational thought can never provide such a meaning. Verily, it seems that if we want rational meaning - in this world - we'll have to look at religions. Religions all provide, to some extent or other, a mystique that fills us with the proper need for real gratification, and that allows us to ponder existence in a very real and meaningful way; and to feel like the world makes sense. Philosophy, because it is so logical, cannot do this: it will always stumble and find itself at a loss for words - after all, our preference for philosophy over religion is a wholly personal choice.

[sunnydalescoobiies]

THE SCOOBIES AND FOES !!

BUFFY SUMMERS.      /     twenty-four.     she/hers.      bisexual.       sarah michelle gellar.

FAITH LEHANE.      /     twenty-four.     she/hers.      bisexual.       eliza dushku.

TARA MACLAY.      /     twenty-four.     she/hers.      lesbian.       amber benson.

WILLOW ROSENBERG.      /     twenty-four.     she/hers.      lesbian.       alyson hannigan.

XANDER HARRIS.      /     twenty-four.     he/his.      heterosexual.       nichloas brendon.

RUPERT GILES.      /     fifty-nine.     he/his.      heterosexual.       anthony stewart head.

SPIKE.      /     one hundred fifty plus.     he/his.      bisexual.      james marsters.

DAWN SUMMERS.      /     eighteen.     she/hers.      bisexual.       michelle trachtenberg.

ANYA JENKINS.      /     thousands.     she/hers.      bisexual.       emma caufield.

DANIEL OSBOURNE.      /     twenty-six.     he/his.      pansexual.       seth green.

ROBIN WOOD.      /     thirty-four.     he/his.      heterosexual.       d.b. woodside.

JOYCE SUMMERS.      /     fifty-two.     she/hers.      heterosexual.       kristine sutherland.

BUFFY BOT.      /     not available.     she/hers.      spikesexual.       sarah michelle gellar.

THE MASTER.      /     unknown.     he/his.      asexual/aromantic.       mark mettcalff.

GLORY.      /     unknown.     she/hers.      bisexual.       clare kramer.

RILEY FINN.      /     twenty-nine.     he/his.      heterosexual.       marc blucas.

JENNY CALENDAR.      /     thirty-six.     she/hers.      heterosexual.       robia lamorte.

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS !!

JOAN SUMMERS. /     twenty-two.     she/hers.      heterosexual.       ashley benson.

LOCHLAN SUMMERS. /     eternally eighteen.     he/his.      heterosexual.       hunter parrish.

ZOEY SUMMERS. /     twenty-one.     she/hers.      heterosexual.       dianna agron.

ALEXIS 'LEXI' AUGUSTINE. /     twenty-five.     she/hers.      heterosexual.       lyndsy fonseca.

SAMANTHA 'SAMMY' MCDOWELL. /     twenty-one.     she/hers.      bisexual.       victoria justice.

MORGAN RUSH. /     twenty-six.     she/hers.      lesbian.       alycia debnam-carey.

JORDAN ROBINSON. /     thirty.     she/hers.      heterosexual.       lauren german.

DESTINY MCMILLAN. /     twenty-four.     she/hers.      bisexual.       nina dobrev.

[killed-by-choice]

Loretta Morton, 16 (USA 1984)

Loretta Morton was 16 and pregnant in December of 1983. She underwent a legal abortion that month and was sent home with birth control pills.

Loretta’s health quickly declined. By January 3, she was struggling to breathe so much that her mother called 911. An ambulance came to Loretta’s home and assessed her. When they decided she was stable, they left.

10 minutes later, the ambulance was called again because Loretta’s condition had drastically deteriorated in just that short amount of time. Loretta lost consciousness only minutes after the first time the ambulance left. This time the paramedics rushed the teenager to the hospital.

Loretta deteriorated even more and had to be resuscitated. All efforts to save her life failed and she died less than an hour after she passed out.

An autopsy on Loretta’s body identified her cause of death as a pulmonary embolism caused by the abortion. Outside of abortion clients, a pulmonary embolism is an extremely rare condition for a teenager, especially one who had been healthy a few days before.

Other Black teenagers killed by the American abortion industry include Katrina Poole, Kia Jorden, Dawn Ravenell, Deanna Bell, “Daphne Roe”, Imari Lawson, Teresa Causey, Roselle Owens, Laniece Dorsey, Latachie Veal, Erica Richardson, Rita McDowell, Antonesha Ross, Angela Belinda Scott, Delores Jean Smith, Diamond Williams, Sharon Floyd, Christella Marie Forte and Sharonda Rowe.

“Fatal Pulmonary Embolism During Legal Induced Abortion in the United States from 1972-1985,” Lawson, et al., American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology, April 1990

Oregon Certificate of Death 84-000045

Multnomah County (OR) Circuit Court, Case A8503-01905

[anumberofhobbies]

Sailing On the Canal - Official Music Video.

Jan 4, 2025 Sailing on the Canal - Official Music Video.

Created by Tim Barlow Additional lyrics and music production by Patrick Cull

Video filming and editing by Myles McDowell

To everyone involved in the production at the seasonal yule time feast in plum wood on the 29th of December... thank you.

Lizzie. Rachael. Dawn. Maia. Tamsyn. Jenny. Matti. David. Nina. Olly. Iwona. Croc. Kaye. Leigh. Carol. Em. John. Claire and all our furry friends.

We couldn't have made it without you. Thank you for your enthusiasm and singing.

[moviereviews101web]

Lessons in Love (2014) Movie Review

Lessons in Love – Movie Review Director: Tom Vaughan Writer: Matthew Newman (Screenplay) Cast Pierce Brosnan (GoldenEye) Salma Hayek (From Dusk Till Dawn) Jessica Alba (Sin City) Malcolm McDowell (Halloween) Duncan Joiner (Tales from the Loop) Ben McKenzie (88 Minutes) Plot: A drama about a Cambridge poetry professor who begins to re-evaluate his life of Byronic excess. Runtime: 1 Hour…

[niibaataa]

Appalachia, Mon Amour

[Note: there are more extensive lists out there, but through personal criteria, this is what I came up with.]

Map of Appalachia:

Frank X Walker, born in Danville, Kentucky, coined the term "Affrilachia" to refer to African-Americans in the region and give a name to their experiences. He also co-founded the Affrilachian Poets. He offers educational training on his website.

Here is a list of his books. These include known titles like Love House, Affrilachia, and Black Box.

Lisa Alther, from Kingsport, Tennessee, is a prolific fiction writer whose work often contains lesbian and bisexual characters. Several titles are linked below.

Other Women, Kinflicks, Swan Song.

Harriette Simpson Arnow was born in Wayne County, Kentucky. She worked as a teacher and principal in rural Appalachia for two years. She would go on to write her first novel in 1936, drawing on her experiences in the region. Future works would carry story tones of moving and fraught lives which would strike cords with Appalachian readers.

Hunter's Horn, The Dollmaker, The Weedkiller's Daughter.

Pinckney Benedict is a short-story writer, playwright, and novelist. He was born in Greenbriar County, West Virginia. His work is strongly influenced by his Appalachian background. His first novel, Dogs of God, was published in 1995 and he has gone on to publish three short story collections.

Dogs of God, Town Smokes, Wrecking Yard.

Harry M. Caudill was born in Whitesburg, Kentucky. Caudill was a World War 2 veteran critical of the approaches taken in Appalachian mining. He was also critical of the power wielded by northeastern investors in these mines. In his later years he became a eugenicist, believing William Shockley's theory of dysgenics (the idea that "unintelligent" people weaken a race over time). He published multiple books concerning law and his home area of the Cumberlands Plateau.

Night Comes to the Cumberlands, The Watches of The Night, A Darkness at Dawn.

Wilma Dykeman grew up in Buncombe County, North Carolina. She married her husband, James R. Stokely Jr, two months after meeting him. This occurred shortly after her graduation from Northwestern University. She authored multiple novels and family epics, tracing decisions through time. The Wilma Dykeman Award exists to promote writers discussing connection, Appalachia, and religion. Urban News provides support for writers of color.

The Tall Woman, The Far Family, Return the Innocent Earth.

Denise Giardina was born in Bluefield, West Virginia. She grew up in the Black Wolf coal mining camp located in McDowell County. Her family's survival was heavily dependent on the mine's prosperity. Politically active and frequently writing about Appalachian labor conflicts, she experienced clashes with the superiors of an Episcopalian she attempted to lead in West Virginia over her labor views.

Storming Heaven, The Unquiet Earth.

Homer Hadley Hickam Jr was born in Coalwood, West Virginia. He is a Vietnam War veteran, author, and former NASA engineer. His 1998 memoir Rocket Boys was the basis for the 1999 movie October Sky. He has a diverse body of work. His Coalwood series is about Appalachia and consists of memoirs about his hometown.

Rocket Boys, The Coalwood Way, Sky of Stone.

Silas House was born in Corbin, Kentucky, and grew up in nearby Laurel County. He also spent much of his childhood in Leslie County. He is one of the most prominent voices of LGBTQ+ Appalachians and Southerners in Southern literature.

Clay's Quilt, A Parchment of Leaves, The Coal Tattoo.

Sharryn McCrumb is a Southern writer. Born in Wilmington, North Carolina, she is best known for her Appalachian Ballad series, which weaves folklore in with historical events.

If I Ever Return, Pretty Peggy-O, The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter, She Walks These Hills.

Mary Noailles Murfree was born near Murfreesboro, Tennessee on a cotton plantation. She is considered to be Appalachia's first significant female writer. Her work does reinforce negative stereotypes of the region and the influence of her social standing on her work is notable. She wrote under the pen name Charles Egbert Craddock.

The Windfall, In the Tennessee Mountains, In the Clouds.

Karl Dewey Myers was born in Tucker County, West Virginia. He was physically disabled, never walked, and required a special typewriter to write. He was denied formal education, resulting in him being self-taught. His first poetry collection was The Quick Years, analysis of which exists in literary journals.

The Quick Years. Little is written about his second poetry collection, Cross and Crown, published shortly before his death in 1951.

Breece D'J Pancake was a short-story writer born in Milton, West Virginia. The location is the inspiration for his multiple short stories, published in The Atlantic Monthly and other periodicals during his lifetime. He passed due to suicide at age 26. Chuck Palahniuk claims him as an influence.

Stories of Breece D'J Pancake (collected short stories), Trilobites, Time and Again.

Ann Pancake was born in Richmond, Virginia. Her family has strong roots in West Virginia and Appalachia. She grew up in Summersville, West Virginia. Her family includes filmmaker Chet Pancake and actor Sam Pancake. She is a distant relative of the writer Breece Pancake. Writing stories centering rural poverty and the historical roots of poverty in general. She teaches Appalachian fiction and environmental criticism. She recently resigned from West Virginia University in protest of budget cuts.

Strange as This Weather Has Been, Me and My Daddy Listen to Bob Marley (short stories and novellas), Given Ground.

Carter Sickels grew up in Ohio and, as an adult, moved around to various cities. His work captures a homesickness for the place one grew up while balancing any complicated feelings one may have about the area. An interview on the subject by Megan Kruse can be found here.

The Evening Hour, The Prettiest Star.

Hubert Skidmore was a writer born Webster Springs, West Virginia, his twin brother Hobert Skidmore was also a novelist. He is best known for his social protest novel Hawk's Nest. He died in a house fire in 1946.

A list of his other books can be found here.

Crystal Wilkinson was born in Hamilton, Ohio. She is a member of the Affrilachia collective. With experience in media and public relations, her transition to poet and professor of creative writing was smooth. She is the first Black woman to be Kentucky's Poet Laureate, a position she was appointed to in 2021.

Praisesong for Kitchen Ghosts, Blackberries, Blackberries (poetry collection), The Birds of Opulence.

Jim Webb was born in Jenkins, Kentucky, he was an Appalachian poet, writer, and essayist. He was a founding member of the Southern Appalachian Writers Cooperative. Transcriptions of the interviews with founding members can be found here. He spent three decades managing the radio show, "Ridin' Around Listenin' to the Radio With Wiley Quixote", a literary persona he created of a mountain character critical of strip-mining for coal and used self-deprecating humor. Much of his literary output has been destroyed due to three house fires.

Radio component of Appalashop.

SPECIAL FEATURE — CHILDREN'S LIT

Rebecca Caudill was born in Cumberland, Kentucky. She graduated from Wesleyan College in Georgia and received a degree in international relations from Vanderblit University. Her stories about Appalachia are filled with warmth and focused on the pioneer era of the 19th and 20th centuries. She loved the culture of Appalachia.

A list of her books is available here.

Cynthia Rylant was born in Hopewell, West Virginia. She was sent to live with her maternal grandparents in Coal Ridge, West Virgina after her parents divorced. She eventually moved back in with her mother in Beaver, West Virginia. After university, she worked as a librarian and became acquainted with children's books, something absent in her own childhood. She has written dozens of books for children and young readers.

A list of her books is available here.

[brokehorrorfan]

Tales from the Darkside: The Movie will be released on 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray on November 7 via Scream Factory. The 1990 horror anthology is based on the TV series of the same name.

John Harrison (Dune) directs from a script by George A. Romero (Night of the Living Dead) and Michael McDowell (Beetlejuice), including adaptations of Stephen King and Arthur Conan Doyle. Debbie Harry, Christian Slater, David Johansen, William Hickey, James Remar, Rae Dawn Chong, and Matthew Lawrence star.

Special features are in progress and will be announced at a later date.

To keep from being eaten by a modern-day witch (Deborah Harry), a young paperboy weaves three twisted stories to distract her. In “Lot 249,” a vengeful college student (Steve Buscemi) resuscitates an evil mummy to teach unsuspecting student bodies (Julianne Moore, Christian Slater) a lesson in terror. Then, “Cat From Hell” is a furry black feline who cannot be killed… he may have nine lives, but those who cross his path are not so lucky. Finally, in “Lover’s Vow,” a stone gargoyle comes to life to commit murder.

Pre-order Tales from the Darkside: The Movie.

[frnwhcom]

Jane Todd Crawford: The Pioneering Patient Behind the Dawn of Abdominal Surgery

Jane Todd Crawford's life story is not just a tale of medical marvel but a testament to the indomitable human spirit. Born in 1763 in Virginia, Crawford's early life was marked by the pioneering challenges of the American frontier. Moving to Green County, Kentucky, she embraced the rural life of the early 19th century, a period characterized by limited medical knowledge and scarce healthcare facilities. However, it was her extraordinary encounter with Dr. Ephraim McDowell in 1809 that immortalized her in medical history and transformed the trajectory of surgical practices forever. Life Before the Surgery Before making medical history, Jane (nee Todd) Crawford led a life typical of a frontier woman, marked by hard work and the challenges of rural living. She was a wife and a mother, deeply embedded in the fabric of her community. In 1809, at the age of 46, Crawford faced a dire medical predicament. She developed a massive abdominal tumor, initially mistaken for a late pregnancy. With no advanced medical facilities or diagnostics available, her condition not only posed a significant threat to her life but also became a source of immense physical discomfort and societal misunderstanding. The Life-Saving Surgery Crawford's journey took a pivotal turn when she sought the help of Dr. Ephraim McDowell, a surgeon from Danville, Kentucky. After examining Crawford, McDowell concluded that she had a large ovarian tumor. He proposed an experimental and highly risky surgery, a decision that required Crawford to travel 60 miles on horseback to McDowell's residence, where he had his surgical practice. On December 25, 1809, without any form of anesthesia and under primitive surgical conditions, Crawford underwent the first successful abdominal surgery. McDowell removed a 22-pound ovarian tumor, a procedure that lasted about 25 minutes. Crawford's recovery was remarkable; she was able to sit up in bed by the fifth day and fully recovered within weeks, living another 32 years after the surgery. Impact on the Medical Community The success of Jane Todd Crawford's surgery had a profound effect on the medical community and the practice of surgery. At a time when abdominal operations were unheard of due to the high risk of infection and mortality, this successful procedure challenged prevailing medical beliefs and practices. It demonstrated the potential of abdominal surgery, paving the way for advancements in surgical techniques, the importance of surgical cleanliness, and eventually the development of anesthesia and antiseptics. Dr. McDowell's success with Crawford's surgery earned him international recognition and the title of "father of ovariotomy." However, it was Crawford's bravery and trust in McDowell that allowed this monumental step in medical history to occur. Her willingness to undergo an untested procedure under such precarious conditions displayed a level of courage and faith that contributed significantly to the advancement of medical science. Life After the Surgery Following her recovery, Jane Todd Crawford returned to her life in Green County, where she continued to be an active and beloved member of her community. Her remarkable story of courage and survival was shared widely, inspiring confidence in the potential of surgical interventions and contributing to a more profound public understanding of medical challenges and innovations. She and her family moved north into Indiana and remained until their deaths. Legacy Jane Todd Crawford's legacy extends beyond her personal story of survival. Her experience contributed to a shift in medical paradigms, encouraging more open-minded approaches to surgical experimentation and the development of new medical techniques. Her story is a reminder of the human capacity for resilience, the importance of patient trust in medical advancements, and the transformative power of a single act of courage on the broader trajectory of human health and well-being. Today, Jane Todd Crawford is remembered not only as a patient who underwent the first successful abdominal surgery but as a pioneer who played a crucial role in the evolution of modern surgery. Her life before and after the surgery encapsulates the essence of human endurance and the relentless pursuit of knowledge that continues to drive the medical community forward. Read the full article