#The Forest Paranormal-Scope

[susanhannifordcrowley]

Not Yet Halloween Paranormal-Scope

[rhetoricandlogic]

Sea of Tranquility by Emily St John Mandel review – time-travel drama

This ingenious follow-up to Station Eleven finds intimate human interest in a future of moon colonies, pandemics and paranormal investigation

Marcel Theroux

Wed 20 Apr 2022 07.30 BST

Last modified on Fri 22 Apr 2022 17.16 BST

Emily St John Mandel’s 2014 breakout novel, Station Eleven, told the story of a global pandemic that originates in the former Soviet Union and decimates life on Earth. A page-turner with an eerie, elegiac quality, it won the Arthur C Clarke award and was widely praised for its fine storytelling and for the unsettling glimpses it gave of our world plausibly unravelling into chaos and the dystopian existence beyond it. Five years after it came out, and with an HBO adaptation in the pipeline, it acquired an aura of creepy prophecy as Covid-19 made us all fluent in the language of pandemics. What made the book’s apparent prescience doubly strange is that one of Mandel’s hallmarks as a writer is noticing the echoes between apparently chance events: the links between distant characters, motifs from art recurring in life, and the historical echoes of long-separated incidents. The coincidence of a book meaningfully anticipating a current predicament could be one of her novelistic devices.

An interest in complex patterns animates Mandel’s new novel, Sea of Tranquility, though, as in Station Eleven, the naturalism and specificity of its opening gives little idea of the strangeness to come. The story begins in 1912 as a young British immigrant, Edwin St John St Andrew, is embarking on a new life in Canada. He’s one of the so-called “remittance men” – wastrel sons of upper-class British families who were packed off to the colonies on a private income to keep them out of further trouble. One day, as Edwin wanders in the woods of western Canada, he undergoes a paranormal experience whose meaning he cannot begin to fathom.

A few dozen pages on, the scene suddenly shifts and we are plunged into the present. At a concert in New York a composer is playing an old piece of video that seems to show a version of whatever Edwin found in the forest. Now that we’re invested in the mystery, the weirdness can really begin. There are two subsequent interwoven storylines. One unfolds in the 23rd century, where a writer called Olive Llewellyn, who was born and raised on a lunar colony, is visiting Earth on a book tour. The other plot strand takes place 200 years later, when an investigator named after a character in one of Olive Llewellyn’s novels begins to piece together the connections between all these different lives.

We’re reminded that humanity’s resting state is crisis – someone’s world is always ending: that’s the keynote of this book

This summary doesn’t do the book justice, but further exposition would, I think, spoil the novel for readers. Hugely ambitious in scope, yet also intimate and written with a graceful and beguiling fluency, Sea of Tranquility even invokes minor characters from another of Mandel’s previous novels, The Glass Hotel, as it gradually shows how all these incidents and people are part of one vast and fractured world.

Sea of Tranquility continues the good work done by Station Eleven in seducing new readers to speculative fiction. In fact, the book uses many more out-and-out science fiction conceits – space travel, sinister scientific institutions – but with a lightness of touch, as though they are intended to be glimpsed out of the corner of an eye that’s focused on the human dramas at the book’s centre. There’s something simultaneously fresh and old-fashioned in the novel’s comfort with omniscient narration, and its relaxed style that can swoop between the history of a lunar colony and the most intimate moments of a human life. It conveys the vertiginous sense of a reality that transcends a single existence and feels simultaneously poignant, celebratory and uncanny.

One of the quietest yet most compelling sections concerns Olive’s experiences on her book tour. As she promotes her novel, Marienbad, about a pandemic, a real pandemic is devastating the 23rd-century Earth and its lunar colonies. “I’ve never been interested in autofiction,” Olive tells one of her interviewers. This feels like a wink at the reader. It’s hard not to see Olive as a portrait of the author, catapulted to fame by the unexpected success of her novel, baffled and distressed by the sudden topicality of her research into pandemics, and fretting over the quibbles of impatient readers. “‘I was so confused by your book,’ a woman in Dallas said. ‘There were all these strands, narratively speaking, all these characters, and I felt like I was waiting for them to connect, but they didn’t ultimately … It just ended.’”

This sounds like a real – if unfair – criticism of Station Eleven. It also seems to have stung: Mandel goes out of her way to make it not true of Sea of Tranquility, which conscientiously draws together all its threads for an elegant and definitive conclusion.

Also on her tour, Olive gives a lecture about post-apocalyptic literature in which she tries to explain humanity’s fascination with the genre. “I think it’s a kind of narcissism,” she says. “We want to believe that we’re uniquely important, that we’re living at the end of history, that now, after all these millennia of false alarms, now is finally the worst that it’s ever been, that finally we have reached the end of the world.” It sounds plausible, but another explanation is offered, one that is both kinder and more profound. Observing a child’s grave, a character notes that to the child’s parents: “It would have felt like the end of the world.”

Just as Station Eleven seemed ultimately to be about mortality itself and how art allows us to step outside the immediate confines of our existence, Sea of Tranquility reminds us that humanity’s resting state is crisis. Someone’s world is always ending: that is the keynote of this book. And the echoes and callbacks that give it its shape reflect the ways we make our own lives meaningful.

[sophisticated-creepy]

Lola wasn’t “technically” breaking her promise later on that evening. After all, she vowed not to go after the figure in the newspaper photo, not that she wouldn’t go investigate a possible location of the Hobblin’ Goblin that also just so happened to be the accident site of a probable demonic attack in the area of the train yard to the old mine shaft on the outskirts of the Dead Forest. She was in search of her goblin---not the entity in the photograph, Lola had to keep reminding herself as she cut the engine to her car, parking the automobile on the street across from the Miners Museum. As much as she wanted to invite Raphael on her little field trip, knowing his passions for all things spooky being on par with her own, he was preoccupied with his work, keeping holed-up at the University’s library preparing for exams. Surely an excursion to an educational museum a half-hour before closing was within her rights to scope out the scene of an allegedly active haunt without breaking any laws or promises.

The street lights had yet to activate, Lola noted as she crossed the pavement on foot, so she was still inside her window of opportunity for pre-spookies, feeling optimistically confident that she would be spared of any “attacks” made by demons or otherwise, regardless of her mission status as a solo investigator. Reaching the doors to the museum, Lola noticed her hands were shaking, and not caused from the chill that nipped the air. Her adrenaline was rising, and she took a deep breath to calm her anticipation to the best of her ability, her imagination flirting wildly with the extreme possibilities of what ghostly things she was about to encounter. Her eagerness to snoop around bubbled up inside her, and she had to fight the urge to burst through the lobby and race towards the train yard.

Walking into the warmth of the closed-in space, Lola spotted the ticket counter and headed in that direction, growing calmer at seeing other small clusters of people making their way through the purchase line as well. She smiled, happy with the idea of extra people taking any suspicion off herself when she would begin her formal examination.

Despite her reputation and antics of being like a firecracker, she had the uncanny ability to disappear when the occasion rose for discretion. Being a loner most of her life lent her the skillset of knowing how to become invisible, embodying the qualities of a ghost, not drawing attention to herself as she silently slipped between crowds of gathered tourists and locals milling about the exhibit halls. Within moments of purchasing her entry ticket and pretending to be interested in the large displays and murals depicting the old coal mine in its heyday, Lola found herself soon outside on the outer grounds mingling yet again with October’s chilly twilight, being in the elements once more setting her heart to flutter with excitement. After making sure to turn the tape over to the fresh side in her recorder and setting her phone to silent lest her copious amounts of picture taking accrue curious observers to her actions, she was ready to begin her investigation.

Lola had no idea how to ghost hunt. Sure, she had seen plenty of television programs of paranormal investigators in action, but when it came to implementing the techniques she so rapidly absorbed, that was there she stumbled in her execution. The last thing Lola wanted to do was unintentionally or otherwise provoke the Hobblin’ Goblin to anger enough to retaliate against her. It wasn’t in her nature to be mean or demanding anyway, and if hanging out with Modesta for nearly twenty years of friendship had taught her anything, it was to treat potential spirits, especially hostile ones, with respect, and then get the hell out of dodge should her gut feelings of panic begin to take over. Thankfully, Lola found the grounds to be of relatively decent size and unpopulated at the present moment, so she poked her tape recorder out of her jacket pocket, making sure the microphone was clear of any interference, and hitting record, began her narration for the night’s adventure.

“Okie dokie,” she started, coming off a sigh. “Let’s get this show on the road. I want to see if I can find the spot where the photographer took that photo.” Knowing the general direction based off the article, Lola began her journey towards the old mine shaft, gravel crunching beneath her boots, the biting sounds of rock on rock echoing quietly in the open space.

The wind was beginning to pick up as well, the cold breezes making the tree branches creak and sway together, the already fallen leaves skittering around in the invisible force that moved them, taking with them the new foliage that became freed from the crooked limbs above, joining the discarded in their flurried dance. She hunched her shoulders up to her ears, protecting them from the cold that brushed through her hair, and picked her pace up slightly. The faster she could find what she was looking for, the faster she could get home and take a hot bath. Rounding a bend in the path, Lola was met with the magnificent sight of the famed steam engine seven in all her black cast iron beauty with the fenced off mine towards the caboose, flanking the outer banks of the forest.

“Now that is a big train,” she whispered in awe, staring up at the beast of the engine, the surface glistening in the last remaining moments of sunset. Lola walked over to the locomotive, placing her hand against the cold metal. “The stories you could tell, I’ll bet,” she smiled, patting the spot in comforting measure. “I wonder if you saw what happened here a few nights ago.”

Pulling out her phone, Lola started taking pictures of the train, keeping up her pretense as an interested guest of the museum rather than an amateur goblin seeker. Making her way towards the back of the train, she continued taking her pictures of the mine shaft entrance as well. Finally, unable to tamper down her eagerness for a second more, she turned her full attention to the destination of her desires: the Dead Forest.

Carefully, she placed one foot in front of the other, scanning the line of trees for a sign of any oddly shifting form or shadow. Half of her yearned to find the Hobblin’ Goblin, while the other half was terrified if in fact she would find him, the unknowns and what ifs of the situation churning her stomach into a terrarium filled with butterflies practicing flip-flopping somersaults. She was on the other side of the train, the large machinery shielding her from the museum itself, and placing her back to the engine, faced full on in the direction of the thick and ancient trees. In the back of her mind, she knew she was probably standing in the vicinity of the attacked security guard, but quickly pushed that thought down as she raised her phone to begin taking pictures from one end of the forest on the grounds to the other, talking quietly to herself while she snapped away.

“Hello, out there,” Lola nervously called. “I don’t mean any harm. I’m merely looking for the Hobblin’ Goblin. Is he here with me right now?” She paused, knowing from her shows that a proper length of time was needed to be given between each question in case a spirit was trying to answer, the hopes of some sort of ethereal communication being captured on her tape recorder.

“There’s been a lot of excitement here in the train yard these past few days. Was that from you?” Again, she paused, continuing to scan the forest with her camera’s eye as well as her own. “Did you mean to push that man down?” She shifted her weight, pausing in her questions while she rocked side to side, listening closely for any unusual sounds.

“If you aren’t the Hobblin’ Goblin, who are you? Can you tell me your name?” All Lola could hear were the sounds of evening approaching, the lulling chirps of crickets singing their night song, serenading the stars as they began to twinkle into existence. The wind, too, though chilly, was a constant comfort, and the forest seemed naturally pleasant as the evening shadows began to swallow the earth in a gentle embrace, and Lola couldn’t help but feel bored.

She sighed, frowning somewhat disappointedly, for there were no signs of eerie beings lurking in the thicket, no feelings of warry caution or foreboding winds to warn her to keep away. It was just another normal, ordinary, plain October evening.

“I mean, I guess it’s good there aren’t any spookies?” she questioned aloud. “But that doesn’t solve the mystery of what, exactly, was in that photo. Look, I don’t want to be a bother, but, if somebody is out there, could you please make some kind of a sound? Hello? Hobblin’ Goblin?” Lola called out into the forest, desperate for some kind of activity, for if she could document a confirmation of the famed goblin, not only would that make her time spent at the museum worthwhile, but she would then have the best piece of inspiration any writer could hope to cultivate; a real personal experience with the supernatural.

“Maybe if I got closer…,” she thought, biting her lip in indecision. She checked her watch to gauge her time left before the museum closed, and made up her mind to try and communicate with the unknown entity one last time in the few remaining minutes she had available to her. “I’m not trying to be pushy,” Lola began anew, making quick steps towards the forest, “and I don’t mean any disrespect, but I have to speak to the Hobblin’ Goblin. I only want to tell his story. Please, are you out there?”

As Lola approached the edge of the grounds, a high-pitched pinging sound came from the bell on top of engine seven. The noise was loud and brash enough to clash with the harmonies of nature to catch Lola’s attention, and she halted in her tracks, scuffling in the gravel from her abrupt stop. She turned over her shoulder, surveying the train and surrounding area, seeing that she was still alone. To her ears, Lola equated the startling sound as if someone had thrown a rock to strike the bell. The atmosphere shifted in that moment, the nightlife songs of crickets and toads dissipating into quiet nothingness, the lack of sound creating an uneasy vacuum that prickled the small hairs on the back of her neck.

The air became unnaturally frigid, Lola being able to see her breath form into thick, puffy fog as she stood in place, shivering from the charged pocket of energy surrounding her. A twig snapped behind her, and she whirled towards the dense woodland, her senses acutely aware and on guard, making her jumpy to any random sounds or movement, her adrenaline ramped back up to its peak, fight or flight instincts in conflict within herself. She swallowed hard, staring deep into a forest that had grown suspiciously darker than the rest of the surrounding area. Another twig snapping caused her to flinch, where she retreated from her initial pursuit, taking two shaky steps back, her eyes continuing to stay transfixed upon the darkness. Yet another twig snapped, followed by another, and an unsettling fear entered Lola’s mind: footsteps. Someone, or something, was walking towards her from deep within the forest.

Lola wanted to be brave and stand her ground, but all she could hear running repeatedly through the forefront of her mind were Modesta’s words back at the shop: not safe. She took several cautious steps backwards as the snapping and rustling of the brushes in the forest shifted as mass moved through them, but for what it was that disturbed the foliage, Lola could still not see. On a shaken voice, she warbled out, “Who’s there?”

A hard blast of wind was her reply, as a cold, swirling torrent slammed into her, her hair whipping around her head and face viciously, knocking her about haphazardly to the point she tripped over her own feet, falling over to land heavily on the path of dust and gravel. Her hip collided with the ground hard, Lola knowing a bruise was instantly forming due to the harsh impact of her tumble, her phone, as well, bounced several feet out of reach as she fell. The wind, having fulfilled its purpose, promptly vanished as she righted herself to a sitting position, groaning slightly against the protest of her tussled body. She was unprepared for the sight that waited her as she fixed her eyes upon the tree line.

A dark, ominous, hunched over clump of shadows wobbled unsteadily in the thicket of brambles and weeds. It was of human form with broad, wide shoulders, its head fixed to be staring straight at Lola as she sat frozen upon the ground, wide-eyed and breathless, petrified as the figure from the newspaper photograph crouch physically there before her. She waited for the creature to attack, feared that without warning it would pounce, but the figure, to Lola’s confusion, stayed where it was, swaying gently on bent legs, as if in waiting, merely observing her rather than displaying aggression. In that brief moment of silence between the two, the terror ebbed from Lola’s heart, curiosity taking its place the longer she remained staring.

“Mr. ---Mr. Goblin?” As soon as she made her trembling inquiry, the shadow figure in the thicket ceased its swaying, and much to Lola’s surprise, began to slowly straighten its spine, lengthening the hunched over, wobbling posture into a firm, solid, proudly standing individual, shirking off the charade of the feeble, crooked creature into one of a kingly, authoritative presence. Gone was the cloud of menace and trepidation as the now much taller than average figure stood wrapped in shadows, what looked to be antlers from a stag sprouting from its head, nearly blending into the night. Before Lola could utter another word, the flood lights overhead snapped on to light the grounds of the museum, the loud popping of the high voltage incandescent bulbs both scaring and blinding her in the sudden burst of light.

She shielded her eyes, blinking rapidly to try and readjust to the new lighting, momentarily losing sight of the forest as light flooded her vision. When she was able to once more look upon the forest, the shadow figure was gone. Panicked over the disappearance of what could have been a once in a lifetime chance encounter with the spectral figure of the Hobblin’ Goblin, Lola bolted to her feet, snatching up her phone, and clumsily took several hurried steps towards the spot the shadow figure last stood, wanting to get closer, and answers, to what she had witnessed. A voice, however, from behind, called her back.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you all right?”

Lola stopped her progression of trying to reach the forest, and turned around to see the security guard who had been addressing her standing a slight distance away.

“Yes,” she stammered. “I’m fine.” She cut her gaze back towards the forest, frustrated she wasn’t able to go chasing after what she knew she saw.

“Good,” the security guard said, breathing a sigh of relief. His answer confusingly drew Lola’s attention once more to the guard. “I was worried it was happening again,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was happening again?” Lola asked. The guard hesitated before answering, not wanting to make eye contact as his gaze flickered between the train and the forest, eventually returning to her face.

“I saw you start to approach the forest after taking pictures of the mine entrance from the security cameras,” he admitted at last. “Then the video feed cut out on the monitors, just like last time, before ol’ Charlie fell.”

Lola gave a little gasp. “Were you here the night the attack happened? Please, may I ask you some questions? Did you see anything unusual in the forest when---.”

“Anything I saw, I already answered for the newspapers,” the guard cut in, halting Lola’s attempts to gather information. “The museum is closing now. It’s time for guests to leave.” Begrudgingly, Lola nodded, following the direction his outstretched arm directed. Her steps were slow as her mind weighed heavily, processing and cataloging the events of what she experienced in the short span of five minutes.

“Ma’am?”

Lola looked back, hopeful he had reconsidered and was willing to answer some of her questions. “Yes?”

“Don’t go looking for trouble,” he warned instead. “Dark things reside in that forest. You’d be smart to leave well enough alone.” Clear that he would continue to remain tight-lipped about what he saw that night, Lola nodded again, heading for the museum’s exit, leaving with more questions than she had answers.

~~~~~~~~~~

[arazialotis]

Winchester & Co. - Part 4

Pairing: Dean × Reader

Word Count: Around 3100

Summary: When most people run away, they join the circus; but the Winchester boys were running from it. They wanted more than their father’s business; a paranormal circus of horror and delight. Dean Winchester thought he would never step foot here again but John’s death obliged him to return. Now that he’s back, the only thing that may tempt him to stay is you. The girl with white hair and a gift to see the future. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Violence, Language

Beta’d by the wonderful @misguidedconqueress

As the days passed, you were nowhere near closer to solving the mystery surrounding John’s death. Snippets of the future from staff lead to more questions than answers, loose strings that you and Dean couldn’t tie together. Your stolen moments in the field shortened as Dean dove further into his father's office, looking for hints; but soon the demands of the business pulled harder. Balancing books, distributing salaries, ordering supplies. The witch Celeste by far had the most extensive list, requiring ingredients for the potions she peddled. 

The ledgers were sprawled across his father’s desk as Dean attempted to recall the past weeks of spending and income. He scratched up his own writing and mistakes, muttering to himself at his hopeless attempt. A rapping knock at the office door stirred him from the concentration. 

“Sorry to intrude.”

Dean smiled and sighed in relief. His kid brother, now taller than he. Sam entered the room, greeting Dean with an embrace.

“Man, am I glad to see you.” Dean gently beat against Sam’s shoulder. 

Two years prior to Dean’s own departure, Sam had left the circus after a furious confrontation with John. He packed his bags and took a train out to the East Coast, landing a spot at some pretentious institute and coming out with a law degree. It was far from accounting, but as far as Dean was concerned, Sam could handle the bookkeeping far better than he. 

“It’s been too long.” Sam matched the sentiment, lightly patting Dean’s jaw, taking in his exhaustion. “An event such as this shouldn’t have to force us together.” 

“Agreed.” Dean went back to the scribbles of his books but paused again. “How much do you know?” 

Sam furrowed his brow. 

“About Dad’s death?” Dean clarified. 

Sam nodded his understanding. “I met with Crowley at the tent. He caught me up to speed, leaving out a few key details I’m sure.” 

“Call me crazy.” Dean wrung the back of his neck. “But I’m beginning to trust that son of a bitch.” Dean could see the confusion painted on Sam’s face. “He’s motivated by greed. Being Dad’s second in command was the best thing going for him. Without knowing what was in the will and a hefty pay increase last quarter, I just don’t see it.” 

“And the girl?” Sam pried. 

“What of it?” 

Sam sat down in the office chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk. “Is your judgment surrounding her clouded?”

Dean clenched his jaw. Sam had his own past here. “Why were you really at the tent?”

Sam cleared his throat and brought his feet down. “Point taken.” He shuffled through the papers. “And the will?”

Dean pointed towards a ledger and Sam found the slip underneath. “It’s pretty straight forward. Not much legal jargon you need to sort through.” 

Sam leaned back, running his hand through his untrimmed hair, verging on a length the courtrooms wouldn’t find acceptable. “What the hell are we going to do?” 

It was a question Dean found himself asking over and over again this past week. It was no longer a home to him, but a home to so many. Home to you. “I have no idea.”

***

The warmth building in the caravan transmitted into your dreams, making it hard to breathe. Looking up, two unfamiliar figures loomed above you, heated in an argument. Her hair, the color of fire sparked with her temper. And he, a modest man, a cooling dark against her hot spirit. His hands were calloused from hard labor. 

“You have to keep a better eye on her!” The woman yelled. “You know it’s not safe for her to go out.” 

“What would you have me do, Eileen? I work two shifts so you have a place to live. I need to sleep sometime!” He defended. “You're not the only one who works!” Showing her hands, colored from dyes and chemicals. 

Tears slid down your eyes, though you didn’t know why. It felt like your fault. 

“All that talk? It’s all just rumors! If they see her… they’ll understand.” He begged. 

“You can’t believe that’s true. Look at how they treat us! Our people! They’ll treat her just the same. Even worse for what she is.” A kettle screamed from the kitchen, she threw her hands up and left the conversation to take it off the stove. 

He followed, the words becoming blurred as you looked out the window to towering buildings stretching for miles, wishing to fly over them and breath fresh air. 

The sound of heavy boots stomped outside the hallway. You ran to her, burying your face into her skirt. A knock sounded on the door. The couple looked at each other. The man went for a fire poker while the woman bent down to meet you. She pushed white hair out of your eyes. 

Her voice filled with worry, hissing like the kettle. “Hide. Hide, Moonchild.” 

In the small apartment, there were few places to hide. You ran to the bedroom and slid under the bed. You peeked out from the sheet, hanging an inch or two above the floor. Muffled voices and the sound of scraping feet. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe you should come out. Your heart thudded against your chest. Bang! A shot rang out through the air. A scream escaped your lips and your hands went to your ears, covering them from the woman’s cries. 

Her feet scurried into the room and her plea’s protested against the attacker. Another shot. Red dots speckled the floor where she fell with a thud. Her eyes open, staring at you. Your hands covered your mouth this time, backing up further under the bed until you hit the wall. Boots thudded around the room. You couldn’t breathe. They were right next to you. ***

You woke up in a panic. Your mouth and eyes dry, panting in the warm air. Sunlight crept through the cracks of the caravan. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. You repeated over and over to yourself until the panic subsided. 

Scuttling around your little caravan, you went for some water to quench your thirst but were out. A trip to the well then. You grabbed a large wooden bucket and rag; leaving the house, not bothering with a shawl or shoes. 

The circus was already up and bustling. They were all up earlier to be first in line for a trader from town. He came around monthly, selling goods and trinkets. Items for purchase that were not made available by John. You fancied a lotion he sold, that smelled of amber and vanilla. You took it in your hand. Strictly to use for your desire, not because you wanted to entice a certain someone. A smirk crept over you at the thought of him. Inspecting other items, you settled on just that and tossed him a few coins, before continuing on your way. 

You weaved through the stalls and shacks, waving to familiar faces as you went. You waved to Castiel who was meeting with Celeste, though he didn’t seem to notice your presence. Pausing to wait, it seemed they were having something of a debate. 

“Celeste, pull your act tonight. We’re running out quicker than I anticipated.” His arm leaned against her small home, watching as she brewed away some type of potion. “Things are going to get out of hand.”

“There are too many.” Celeste hissed. “I can’t remember them all.” 

“I’m working on it.” He assured. “Just do what you can. With both boys…” He stood straight when he noticed you. “Y/N, pleasant morning for a walk.” 

You swang your bucket back and forth, as if you only just arrived, hoping he didn’t realize you were eavesdropping. “Ay.” You agreed. “What brings you out to these parts?” You eyed Celeste suspiciously. 

Castiel pushed up off the house and joined you in the path. “Customers complaining that the love potions are too weak, making sure the next shipment has all of Celeste’s ingredients this time.”

“That seems more up Crowley’s alley.” You stood your ground, not being so easily fooled. 

Castiel sighed as your eyes darted between him and Celeste, working out what they had been discussing. “Walk with me Y/N.” He instructed. You followed him along the path to the well. The wooden shacks that passed as homes began spacing out and grass filled in the gaps. “Listen Y/N. I know how fond you are of Dean.” A blush filled your cheeks, you looked down to your feet and kicked a loose pebble. Had it already traveled that fast around the circus? He continued. “And Dean, he’s like a brother to me, but he’s been out of this a long time. With John gone, there’s a lot of gaps Crowley is trying to fill. I’m trying to help, is all.” 

You clicked your teeth, and shrugged away your suspicion, mostly. “Well, I’m not doing much of anything, so I’m happy to help.”

Castiel stopped as the path split and rested his hand on your shoulder. “That means a lot. I’m sure once we understand the scope of things, there’ll be something for you to do, no doubt.” His hand dropped as he looked down the path. “Well, I’d better get a move on it.” “See ya, Cas.” You headed down your own. “Oh Y/N.” Castiel turned from his direction. “How are you? From our last reading?” 

You chuckled. “Oh, fine. Just fine. It seemed like just a fluke. Maybe I’m only supposed to read humans, not angels.” 

Castiel nodded. “Makes sense. Take care.” He waved goodbye. 

You waved him along, silent with your thoughts; sorting out the whole ordeal. You pushed it away. Celeste and Crowley, now that would be a pair to be leery of. But Cas, no. You had seen the stress trying to run the operations had caused Dean. He needed all the help he could get. Not that he would ask for it. From what Castiel had said earlier, Sam was back. That should calm things down for the foreseeable future.

The well broke away from the surrounding trees, a small clearing in the forest. It was quiet today, others were not gathered around. You lowered your bucket in and brought it up, the water sloshing as it went. 

You smiled, finally being able to quench your thirst and cool the heat of the day. You cupped your hands and brought a drink to your lips, before splashing the remainder on your face. You wrung the rag, now damp and worked it behind your neck and down your arms. Pulling up your skirt and revealing your bare legs underneath, you scrubbed away at sweat and dirt. Finally satisfied, you indulged in the sweet scent of the lotion. The sun glistened against your skin as you rubbed it up and down your legs, humming as you went. 

A whistling tune joined your melody. Your cheeks flushed and you whipped down your skirt to cover yourself, turning towards the noise. “Ah.” You scowled at Dean and tossed the rag at him. “How long have ya been there?” He chuckled and came closer. “Only a bit, didn’t want to spoil the view.” He was standing over you, smiling ear to ear. As much as you tried to suppress yours, a smirk still came through. “You rotten scoundrel.” You playfully accused.

He sat down next to you on the edge of the well. “We do have facilities with running water, you know.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “I find this more soothing, and typically more private. Though I do realize it may not be as effective, hygienically speaking.” 

He took your chin in his hand, turning you to face him. “You smell lovely.” 

Your lips turned up devilishly. “Perhaps I taste even better.” 

Dean leaned in. His soft lips working against your chapped skin. He trailed from your lips down your neck. You moaned from the pleasure, your hand snaking through his hair, pulling him further into you. His name faintly escaped your lips as his hand clutched at your waist. The crash of the wave settled as he finally came up for air. 

“Inconclusive.” He stated. “Further testing will have to be done.” He teased. 

He leaned in, yet you pushed him away, giggling as you did. “Rotten.” You repeated before lowering your voice to a sultry whisper. “As for further testing, you’ll have to come by later tonight.” 

“So actually…” As he spoke, you huffed in defeat. “With Sam back home, we were planning a small ceremony for dad tonight.” Your pouty-ness melted away at the good cause. “Of course you’re welcome to attend.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

A full-length mirror was one of the very few items that adorned your caravan. Looking at it now you were displeased. Not because of the chipping gold varnish, or the discoloration in the glass, splotchy, and in need of a polish. No, it was because of what was looking back. You had ditched your traditional garb for a tea-length black dress. It was John’s funeral, after all. But the material picked at your skin. The dress itself made you appear darker, more sinister than you cared for. Like you were the demon-witch they all accused you of being. You swallowed the memory. This wasn’t about you or your comfort. You’d make a respectable appearance, you convinced yourself while pulling on stockings and sliding into shoes. It was suffocating, but you could deal with it for a few hours. 

Dean, Sam, Crowley, and a few others were gathered at the Winchester’s home. You greeted Sam with a hug, keeping the moment somber, but making a mental note to tease him about his astonishing height later. Dean and you kept close but avoided direct affection in the crowd. You made your way past the garden to an oak that matched the pair at the circus’s entrance. A white picket fence surrounded the area of stones within. John’s parents, brother, and Mary before him. A deep hole now in the earth for him to join them. 

Dean held the box, wrapped in parchment, close as a local minister led the group in solemn words of prayer. Words of comfort, healing, hope. None of which you felt. You tried to picture John now. What he had meant to you. A rescuer, a savior, a home. Blood speckled across his face. You gasped, your heart picking up pace. No, that wasn’t… you pushed it down, refocusing on the minister. 

Dean’s pinky wrapped around yours. You gently squeezed against it, conveying you were there for him. When instructed he let go of you and placed the box of ashes into the ground. He took a shovel and sprinkled on a covering of dirt, followed by Sam and then others. The shovel passed to you. You dug into the mound, hovering over the hole for a moment. 

Anger flushed against you and a thought crossed your mind. ‘Rot in Hell.’

You blinked away the feeling, the emotion, and without sprinkling dirt over him, you passed it off to the next person. You shouldn’t be here. Aimlessly, you began wandering away, your head spinning with confusion. 

“Y/N. Hey.” Dean called for you, his voice out of breath. You looked back, realizing you had made it farther away than you thought. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean regained your attention, his voice filled with concern. 

“I…” Your voice faltered and chest heaved for air. 

A scream ripped through the air, both of you whipped to the direction of it. Shouting rang afterward, coming from the fairgrounds. Dean took off in a sprint; you followed quickly behind, shoes flying off as you ran. 

You slowed your pace as you neared. A large crowd circled around. Fire spitting up into the air. Dean and you pushed your way through to the front. Danny, the vampire, and a fire-spitting side act were riled up in the middle of it. Danny’s hair was noticeably singed. “Hey!” Dean’s voice boomed, with none of the gentleness you had previously known. “What’s going on here?” He demanded. 

The dragon spoke first, defending his actions “He stole it! I know he did. Saw him sneaking around earlier this morning.” 

“I did nothing.” Danny hissed. 

“Stole what?” Dean asked. “My watch. My golden watch.” The dragon begged for its return. Danny rolled his eyes. “I have no need for useless trinkets.”

“Take that back!” The dragon snarled, his throat turning red from the heat.

“Hey!” Dean pushed himself into the middle, separating the two. “Knock it off!” When he felt assured the dragon had calmed, he looked at Danny. “Turn out your pockets.” 

“I don’t take orders…” He started. 

“Turn out your pockets!” Dean yelled again. 

Danny obliged. Nothing but an empty vial, a paper parchment, and a spare string. 

Sam caught up, pushing his way to the front, but not interfering with Dean’s authority. 

“Sam, round up a few volunteers and search Danny’s belongings.” Dean heard the vampire growl behind him. “If he is innocent, then he should have nothing to hide.” 

Sam nodded and called on a few to follow him. “As for the rest of you!” Dean’s voice boomed over the crowd. “We have a business and show to run, now get back to work!” The group began to disperse but Dean grabbed the dragon by the collar of the shirt. “Don’t make a habit out of quarrels.” He threatened in a hushed tone. “Come to me before taking it into your own hands. Understand?” The dragon nodded and Dean pushed him away. As a few straggled behind, he found you, himself at a loss for words or explanations. 

“Since when did the dragons here give a shit about treasure?” He asked you, perplexed as if he had forgotten the past. 

“They don’t.” 

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead, waiting for the next disaster to strike. He was off to follow Sam to ensure Danny wasn’t causing any additional trouble.  

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester!” A shapeshifter ran through the grounds calling after him. “It’s the werewolf. She’s transformed. On her own!”

“What?” Was all he managed to mutter. 

“The angels have her cornered, trying to corral her into the cage.” 

He caught up to speed. “Is anyone hurt?” She shook her head no. 

“Fetch Crowley, have him meet me there.” He instructed. 

She jolted off. 

He looked at you, a young innocence shining through his eyes. He didn’t sign up for this but it was in his hands now. 

“Go!” You waved him on. “Go.” 

His feet sprung before he intended to, swinging into motion, running towards the tent. He didn’t look back. You thought about joining him, but a werewolf on the loose was out of your element. You’d just be another body in the way. 

Taking in the faces on the grounds, you slowly spun around as they got back to work. Sweeping steps, practicing tricks. Their faces, shallow and sunken. Stress and tensions high. The circus no longer felt like a sunlit field, a refuge from the world. No, this was dark. Gloomy. A horror people perceived your kind to be. 

 “Are we all going mad?” The panicked question caught your breath, rushing out unexpectedly, to no one in particular.

----

Tags:

Forevers: @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @jotink78 @blushingdean @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @carryonmyswansong @atc74 @superapplepie @cassieraider @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67 @monkeymcpoopoo @adoptdontshoppets @maddiepants @onceuponathreetwoone @thisismysecrethappyplace

 Dean x Reader: @akshi8278 @boxywrites @its-not-a-tulpa @tacklesackles @aubreystilinski @iamabeautifulperson18 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @ria132love

Winchester & Co: @flamencodiva​ @shamelesslydean​

[sugar-petals]

:: BTS ◇ Being Their Werewolf Girlfriend

NOTE › @.btsxdoll​ reblogged a ‘where are the female werewolves in fantasy?’ post which inspired this. enjoy ♡

↳ warnings 🌙 dom/sub, smut, angst, marking, dash of humor

[ jimin ] ➝ He definitely knows that catchy Shakira song, even the Spanish version. But what a real she-wolf roaming his garden at 3 AM ends up being like will blow his mochi mind. Oh yes. It really is a whole new world. And holy shit, you are one hell of a gnarling beast on that lawn. Jimin will be honest with you: If he could, he’d probably brag on twitter all day that you have gigantic claws. That he’s allowed to touch them when you aren’t particularly wilding out somewhere in the local forest scratching pine trees or off to hang out with a fifteen-member, cigarette-smoking ghoul gang. 

But since it’s classified who you are, no tweets allowed. Sadly, he can’t meet the cool ghouls either. For obvious reasons though, he’d be too tasty a dinner, and he understands that you want to protect him. It’s already hard on you to have a kind of parallel life far from your control. Something so covert, scary, and taboo. Mingling with dangerous cemetary creatures for a night, only to return to a completely normal life. As if nothing happened! But cordial Jimin reassures you. Doesn’t make a hidden werewolf identity make someone the most interesting person ever? He couldn’t be a better boyfriend.  

[ taehyung ] ➝ It’s no secret that sweet Tae loves everything fluffy. The boy can’t lie, he likes your fur and muzzle. Every time you transform, he even keeps a diary entry on it. Keenly documenting everything he observes from characteristics to variations of behavior depending on the environment. You really could say he’s a werewolf biologist. He even discovers that if you eat red cabbage the with the moon waning, the transformation happens a lot faster than usual. Seriously, who could be better at dealing with any canine activity — large-scale, small-scale — than dog lover Taehyung. 

What he’s scared of and prevents a lot of cuddles are your, um, well. Huge dripping fangs and a bite force of five-hundred pounds per square inch to back it up. He has a reason to be careful. However, you’d rather devour some random suburb animals even in your worst of moods. Yeontan excluded. He likes you. It’s fun communicating with him. The world is interesting through werewolf eyes, but since it’s only for one night or two, Yeontan’s perspective is even more interesting since his form is permanent. Rascal sure knows a lot of gossip that would otherwise have never seen the light of day. 

[ jin ] ➝ Now, let’s set the record straight. If there’s one man on the face of this sordid planet who loves sizzling danger? It’s Worldwide Fearless on duty. Jin is the chosen one to have as a designated boyfriend. All his life he dreamed of eerie thrills like that, and it became true. Fate! The first night you were shocked to see your ears grow all fuzzy out of literal nowhere, but Jin knew he made the right dating choice. Your final form has the guy all fired up. He desperately wants to be bitten, growled at, paw-slapped, tossed around, walked on (!), licked head to toe. Long story short, he’s your #1 biggest were-fan.

But at the end of the day, no sexual feelings and acts involved. You’ve talked about that at length. To him, such conversations are normal, but which other couple ever talks about something as touchy. Jin would totally be a monster fucker if you weren’t completely beside yourself after transformation. So there is surely be no guarantee of what could happen. Especially with you being a very hungry lycanthrope raiding the basement. Which he neatly stocks up three days before the big event, and you can feast on it instead of turning this whole party into a literal “EatJin”. God forbid, you’d rather walk on him.

[ yoongi ] ➝ As cool as a cucumber. His mother raised a level-headed boy. When the moon is out there taking its monthly liberty to go off I guess, he sits on the porch with his phone’s lunar calendar and Rolex out, only waiting for shit to go down. Yes, he’s mastered all predictive methods. Sweet technology has made it easy for him. You always joke how Yoongi might as well open a ‘Were-Watching’ tourism business if the world were just a bit more open-minded and capitalism an ethical thing. Anyways. In the meantime, you’re busy hulking out in the cornfields and howling like there’s no tomorrow. 

Usually coming back for breakfast, hornier than the local elks in heat. Still with all rabid instincts half active, ready to pounce on what smells so good lying in your bed without pajamas on. Yoongi thinks he’s just one lucky dude not just getting all marked up, but occasionally salivated on when he’s waking up. Normally, sex would end up casual, but post-transformation banging is guaranteed to be energetic and sweaty beyond what he believed was possible. Which guy has his girlfriend plant herself on top of him baring her teeth like, well yeah, a fucking wolf? And he thought life would be endlessly boring.  

[ hoseok ] ➝ When you first approach him with your secret five months into the relationship, he thinks that you want to act out some hybrid fanfiction or roleplay. You say no Hoseok, I really am, y’know, huge and a dangerous ball of fur once in a while. But to no avail. To him, out of sight, out of mind. The oddly not-like-you-but-actually-you-shaped footprints around the garage don’t convince him. Hell, even the two-day ‘mountain vacation’ you take every four weeks doesn’t make Hoseok question that something very wolfy could be going on. “A wolf? Just drop by then!” he says, all nonchalant. 

So it takes the big wolf lady to knock on his window to prove that she’s not kidding and this is what he signed up for. He will take a while to digest things, reconsider his priorities. Is he prey, is he not? Tongue-in-cheek, you assure him that you only munch on the super built hikers who throw their trash into nature. You surely wouldn’t feel saturated eating a skinny guy. That does help Hoseok feel off limits in an unexpected way. There’s still much to get used to, but his chef talent can deal with your strong appetite surging every once in a while and he helps to remove the footprints so the neighbors don’t worry.

[ namjoon ] ➝ It’s like Fox Mulder seeing actual aliens land on earth. Hardly surprised. “Knew it!” is the final verdict when you confess to RM what’s going on. After some lightheaded pre-full-moon feelings make you rip up a sofa pillow at night. Entirely in a daze and pretty much close to howling already. Namjoon quickly understands the scope of peril and eventually opts for sleeping at Jimin’s if it gets a little too animalistic. Other than that, he’s well-informed. He might as well read ‘Mystic Creatures of Moderity′ in his favorite chair while you’re busy gnawing on a raw steak locking yourself in the kitchen.

Namjoon is happy to have something weird going on in his life to shake things up. It feels like a movie to him. Arguably, to others, it would be bizarre and both of you have to hide everything properly. Blasting funky disco music during your noisier transformations and such. Or pretending you’re a very well-crafted 3D robot Halloween costume which people do buy into. But some paranormal stuff happening in his backyard once a month? A whole lot of shed grey hair clogging the shower the day after transforming? Who gives a fuck, it’s just Joon’s girlfriend having a jolly good time. X-Files case closed. 

[ jungkook ] ➝ Admittedly... a bit obsessed. With seeing your full eight feet tall incarnation, doing some unhinged shit out in the woods. That’s sexy. But JK is also caring — you’re hypersensitive to anything silver and most other human interference, after all. Sure, his scent has been up close for a long enough time not to trigger you anymore, even in your full wolven form. But there are still risks involved. The angel promises to stay by your side regardless. And indeed: He’s gonna camp in a raised blind with binoculars to watch over you in the forest moonlight. No zookeeper will get their hands on you, promised. 

Jungkook really admires you in every aspect. No judgment. The animal enthusiast in him just can’t help it. Wolves in and of themselves are a huge interest to him, now he gets to know that you can grow paws, a tail and all that, the full package? Wow. He will never not be stunned. Jungkook wants to know everything about your kind. What you eat, how your heightened senses work, how you navigate your territory, what you feel. He also loves the thrill of adrenaline because boy do you go apeshit in the first couple hours of moonlight exposure. JK is a positive type of overwhelmed. The guy’s in love.

© 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved. Do not repost, translate, or modify.

[swyllh]

If you're still up for requests! 33 + seungcheol thanks in advance 🙆🏻

premise: falling in love with a god is never easy. 

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: magic au

note: sorry this took super long!! 

think of it as a lesson in folly: to love is not the same as falling into it. to love a god means worship; prayers padded between clasped palms, lavish offerings from dollar stores, incense so thick that devoted eyes never fail to weep.

to fall in love with a god, however - 

the boy, cryptic and muddy, stumbles up to you. his hair is the deepest shade of black you have seen, but also the lightest, when it gleams blue under the tilt of the forest light. 

"who're you?" he says.

you frown, because a) that's kind of rude of him, and b) you were here first, so shouldn't you be asking that?

"you first."

"i asked first!"

"yeah, but i was here first."

"yeah, well this land is mine!"

you pause at that, and the boy flushes up to his ears. he murmurs a correction you don't really hear, and folds his arms resolutely.

with a blustering sort of pride, he says, "so?"

"[y/n]. now you have to tell me yours."

"...seungcheol," the boy says softly, and then perks up. "hey, wanna see something cool?"

narrowing your eyes, you shake your head. "nope."

"what?" his face falls. "why?"

"because you're all muddy, and i don't know you." you throw your nose up in the air, reminiscent of all the statues you've seen in the nearby temple.

seungcheol frowns. "but you know my name!"

... well, he's got a point, and you're sure you can always kick him if he's one of those weirdos. but at least he found you first, so that's a plus for him.

"fine." you concede.

seungcheol's grin stretches wider, and you can't help but smile along.

"then close your eyes and hold out your hand!"

you pause, wary. but he's just a child, like you, and you do think you could really kick him where it hurts. if anything.

so you do, pursing your lips and making a show of how generous you are to trust him. the leaves beneath you crinkle, and his warm hands close over yours. the thing is... hard. but also kind of light and fragile and you open your eyes

"aHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-" you let go, shaking your hands frantically. "what- is that a bug?"

seungcheol's kneeling on the ground, grubby hands searching for that godforsaken monster. he's almost as upset as you are.

"why'd you let go!" he huffs. "that was a really, really rare beetle!"

so he wasn't playing a prank then. "i'm sorry... but you scared me!"

seungcheol looks up, and notices the watery well of your eyes. jumping up, he presses his muddy thumb to your cheeks, wiping away the wetness. you shove him away, and press your face against your shoulder.

"i'm sorry too. i didn't think you would be scared."

you pout, but relent. "let's go catch more then."

"what?"

"bugs. those things. but you're gonna catch them. not me."

his eyes widen, shining bright in the afternoon light. the black of his pupils seem to gleam, shifting into browns and bronze.

when his muddy hand reaches out for your arm, the rest becomes history.

-

seungcheol stays for the summer, coming up to you with his weird beetle collection (that he eventually set free under your nagging insistence). but after that, you don't really see much of him - more people come to pray for a shorter winter, and some paranormal investigators come to scope out the local temple. you figure they're feeding off local gossip and supposed sightings - when really, it's just you and seungcheol marching around laughing, playing stupid pranks on tourists. there's also the talk of some big city corporation investing in this place, so all that adult interference kind of makes sense. in its odd little way.

meanwhile, you replace the burnt-out joss sticks and tidy up the temple a little, keeping things clean and neat. maybe next time seungcheol will come here too and look at the statues that grin the way he does. time passes so differently when he's not around.

-

as the trees start falling, your body begins to ache, accommodating all the new changes of growth. you spring up a little, but your knees still hurt - the extra length leaves you awkward, and you feel a little faint and disoriented with the changing angle.

there's also the dizzy grind of machinery rounding up the area, but you suppose the temple's safe for now.

seungcheol comes back in the summer again, and the two of you marvel at the cooling calm of the forest. it's less noisy, like a secret between the two of you.

seungcheol frowns at your growth. "why are you so tall?"

you shrug. "you've grown a bit too."

"but you look so different," seungcheol continues to grumble.

a sudden stab of fear drives itself through your chest. "did you forget about me?"

"no!" seungcheol looks up, and flushes up to his ears again. "i wouldn't. never."

you pout, childishly folding your arms - except they don't really fit, and 

seungcheol's trying to hide a giggle. "don't think i didn't notice that you never said my name!"

seungcheol shrugs. "[y/n]."

you don't see it, but you can definitely feel a bit more colour coming into your face. there's a rush of something clambering in your chest, fast and wild.

you think you like it when he says your name. "say it more."

seungcheol jolts. "w-what?"

"you should," you trail off, realising exactly how awkward the request sounds, "say my name?"

seungcheol is a bright pink this time. but he nods.

"it's like, something goes on inside me, and," you pause, trying to articulate the sort of life that springs within you when he says your name. "like, it's warm, and makes me awake."

seungcheol nods, and lowers his gaze to pick at flowers. (flowers, that he will eventually press into your hands. that you will fumble with, and feel the burn of something bright bloom within you. the sudden stream of excess energy threatens to overflow, but you hold it in. everything is electric, and preens in short, powerful flashes.)  

-

everything dulls when he leaves, but sometimes you feel a stinging thrill run down your back - it leaves you much more alert and receptive and ready.

you ignore the gnashing - of townsfolk, of invaders - from the borders of the land. even the speculation of tearing down the temple doesn't get to you.

-

"you're here," are seungcheol's first words to you - in equal parts relief and fear.

you raise an eyebrow. "why wouldn't i be?"

he's later than usual, and decked out in the stiffer lines of a suit. you try not to stare. instead, you pluck the joss sticks out of their pots and dust away the ashes.

"you shouldn't be," he says. "they'll get you for trespassing, and besides, the temple's going down."

"what?"

"didn't you hear? they were already working on -"

"no, 'trespassing'. why would i be trespassing?"

seungcheol shoots you a disbelieving look. "my family owns the land. we bought it a few years back."

you shake your head.

"you can't keep coming back," seungcheol presses on, clearly uncomfortable. 

"you have to go home soon."

"i was here first," you say.

"don't be -"

you glare, daring him to continue. "i was here first. i was always here."

he looks at you strangely. and opens his mouth to say something.

"seungcheol? what are you doing alone?"

the both of you turn to face a new intruder. the lady's also in a suit, except she's got a few leaves trapped in her hair.

seungcheol, confused, glances back at you, and then towards the exit. "what do you mean alone?"

the lady quirks her head. "what, there's no one else besides us."

suddenly, everything clicks into place - the gnashing, the talk, the falling trees. you really don't want to see seungcheol again. the winds roar, pushing the two out of the temple, sealing its doors with a resounding crash.

-

his doubt takes a toll on you.

but gods do not die so easily - they live on even after their temples fade.

-

"[y/n]. [y/n]." and then, "[y/n]."

looking up is a little hard, but you manage. pushing a palm against the ashes, you rise. greedily, you drink in the sound of your name, even if it is a little hesitant.

"please come out," seungcheol says. "i don't - [y/n]?"

you look him over, and pull a leaf from his hair. "losing your touch."

seungcheol scoffs, and makes to retort, but thinks the better of it.

you laugh, not uncruelly. "so what, construction's going well?"

"i -" seungcheol pauses. "i'm going to stop it."

"how?" you draw yourself to your full height. "by directing it towards another god?"

he swallows. "no, i-"

"you mortals," you say softly, silencing him, "come and go, but you never learn to stop."

seungcheol looks up at you, doe-eyed and worried. the boy from so many summers ago has never changed.

alright then. "fine. i'll let you have the temple. but i want an offering worth my consideration."

-

no one really comes around anymore. there's the occasional prayer from some of the workers around, but ever since seungcheol came around, the temple fell into disuse. maybe that's why you shrunk so small then, and slowly built yourself up then.

you're dusting away the finer bits of dirt on the top column when someone lights a bundle of incense and stabs them into place. the group of people invading the area seem to be from seungcheol's company, but he's not there.

you scoff at their minute offerings of tangerines and other flammable paintings. someone mutters a prayer about letting the deconstruction go smoothly.jealously, sulkily, you blow out their candles, and huff the ashes into their eyes. a few run out of the temple, convinced of their guilt, and the rest soon follow in less dignified stammers.

-

"so?" you raise an eyebrow, glancing at the clear night sky before you. "are you here to offer something?"

seungcheol turns to you. he's not proud of the carnage before him either - fallen trees, ugly metal scraps sprouting from the ground.

"close your eyes and hold out your hands," he says calmly, but you can hear his hesitation.

maybe he's here to kill you - you know of people who've tried to kill gods. but maybe not. you shut your eyes, even if you're listening hard.

his palms are warm as always, but this time he closes your hands together, and presses - what?

"[y/n]," he mutters against your fingers, and doesn't stop.

"what are you doing?" you try to pull away, but his grip is relentless.

"praying?" seungcheol says, and then falls into the softest chant of your name.you fall silent. a part of you, once tethered, crumbles, and scatters like sand. behind you, there's the barest of quakes, rumbling deep beneath the earth.

seungcheol starts, glancing up into your eyes and then behind you. his eyes widen, and your name falls from his parted lips in a quiet, reverent gasp.

the temple has fallen. you are free.

he clambers to his feet, faced with nothing but the remnants of a childhood memory slipping away. 

[karingudino]

Grad student navigating water flows and algae woes

Rising up in Gainesville and gliding via Florida’s rivers as a kayak information, Kacy Rodriguez has at all times been drawn to water. Spending the summers exploring the luxurious rainforests of El Yunque Nationwide Forest within the mountains of Puerto Rico and swimming in Mosquito Bay, the brightest bioluminescent bay on the planet, solely strengthened that affinity.

A direct Taíno descendant, Kacy Rodriguez carries the religious vitality drawn from nature into her analysis as a water warrior. Photograph: Katy Hennig/FGCU

“Ever since I can bear in mind I’ve at all times needed to be outdoors, whether or not that was right here in Florida or in Puerto Rico,” Rodriguez says. “The best possible reminiscences that I’ve are going out to my nice grandfather’s permaculture backyard and working round, hiding underneath the leaves when it rains.”

Obsessed with all elements of water analysis, environmental science graduate pupil Rodriguez discovered her approach to The Water College at Florida Gulf Coast College via algae. A direct Taíno descendant, she carries the religious vitality drawn from nature into her analysis as a water warrior.

“My Taíno ancestors felt that it was a religious connection to be round these bioluminescent bays.” Rodriguez says that the algae, or dinoflagellates, that create the bioluminescence is dissipating partly resulting from air pollution, giant storms and hurricanes and impressed her to concentrate on studying extra to preserve and reinvigorate the paranormal bays. “I really feel it’s nonetheless a sacred place for me. The supreme goddess, Atabey, can be the goddess of contemporary water, which is analogous to the work that I’m doing.”

After finishing her undergraduate research in coastal environmental science at Flagler Faculty in St. Augustine, she set her sights on charting a analysis path that may broaden her scope of research in freshwater algae and the interconnected nature of water well being and the atmosphere.  Whereas exploring choices to pursue a grasp’s diploma, Rodriguez stored Florida within the foreground whereas on the lookout for connections to school advisors.

“I got here throughout Dr. Barry Rosen. I noticed that he had a really broad resume of working with completely different companies, working with several types of algae. I believed that was actually cool as a result of I used to be excited by algae however didn’t know what specific vogue or side that I needed to work with them in.”

Drawn to the college for comparable causes, Rosen arrived at FGCU in 2019 as a professor within the Division of Ecology and Environmental Research, and introduced voluminous expertise working with universities and companies throughout the state and nation.

A number one skilled in figuring out freshwater algae, Rosen emphasizes the advantages of graduate and undergraduate college students working synergistically collectively to conduct analysis. He notes that Rodriguez is concerned in almost all the analysis grants which have come into the lab this final 12 months. “Within the lab, Kacy has taken the lead on working via the strategies for toxin gene detection, coaching a number of undergraduates on this effort,” Rosen says.

Rosen’s lab works with phytogeography or figuring out algae via photographing microscopic slices of the samples. Photograph: Barry Rosen/FGCU

Along with learning myriad elements of water and environmental analysis via The Water College, together with a scientific scuba diving class, Rodriguez is focusing her thesis work on the seasonality of algae and toxins in Lake Trafford.

The continuing restoration effort to revive the well being of the lake east of Estero consists of measuring nutrient ranges and modifying seagrass progress. Rodriguez is measuring the toxicity ranges of assorted varieties of algae that develop within the lake over time to assemble information to tell about wholesome environments to swim and fish.

With the array of algae analysis being carried out within the lab, the objective is to find out which sort of algae are producing the toxins, establishing toxin profiles and measuring the variants, comparable to seasonality and turbidity, that impact the expansion and manufacturing of several types of algae. This could permit scientists to detect, deter and develop options for future impacts of poisonous algal blooms.

The inspiration for pursuing information in a area that may assist to tell, educate and encourage others is why Rodriguez selected the water path. As a laboratory assistant in Rosen’s lab, Rodriguez has the chance to show others whereas she continues to study. “Kacy is sort of a sponge, absorbing and studying after which sharing the information with fellow researchers,” Rosen says. “I really feel very lucky to have Kacy as a graduate pupil and revel in her enthusiasm and dedication.”

Rodriguez particulars how her dedication for safeguarding the atmosphere was impressed by a movie she noticed in the El Yunque National Forest museum as a toddler – the story of the iguaca, or Puerto Rican parrot, and the efforts that conservationists contributed.

Rodriguez participated in a scientific scuba diving class as a part of her work at FGCU.

“They’d solely about 40 birds left within the wild,” Rodriguez says. “They had been capable of breed them in captivity and produce the numbers again up so that they wouldn’t be extinct and so they continued to populate out within the wild.”

Rodriguez says this modified her perspective and steered her journey towards conservation. “I believed this was a really inspiring story as a result of many of the issues that I had heard concerning the atmosphere as much as that time had been doom and gloom – that all the rainforests had been being destroyed and I don’t know what to do about it personally.”

That zeal pours into understanding how dangerous algal blooms develop and figuring out triggers that trigger catastrophic injury to pure environments.

Since new lab strategies for discovery are developed fluidly, Rodriguez says that the vary of science experience converges with a objective for bringing sampling strategies into the sector. This could permit researchers to activate the algae progress cycle earlier to find out what toxins could happen, how extreme they could develop into and what potential impacts they could have on human well being.

Scientific diving rounds out the course curriculum, enhancing Rodriguez’ curiosity for exploring and photographing Florida underwater environments and dealing with FGCU researchers to guard them.

Sharing scientific imagery to encourage and assist to coach the neighborhood about conservation attracts curiosity and creates change. “I feel that visuals are actually vital to assist talk completely different data,” Rodriguez says. “A whole lot of instances if folks can’t see one thing they aren’t going to care about it. If there’s a manner that we will carry the knowledge that we have now as scientists out to the world and actually get these impactful adjustments to occur then I feel that we have now hope.”

Video by Katy Hennig/FGCU

Tags: algae, Barry Rosen, fgcu, florida gulf coast university, marine science

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source https://fikiss.net/grad-student-navigating-water-flows-and-algae-woes/ Grad student navigating water flows and algae woes published first on https://fikiss.net/ from Karin Gudino https://karingudino.blogspot.com/2021/04/grad-student-navigating-water-flows-and.html

[steelfireinc-blog]

Research Found So Far

The following is the information that I have gathered on the creature know as the Shadowman and his minions. I will then begin blogging my daily interactions with the creatures. If you have anything to add, please contact me.   

Definition - A shadow person (also known as a shadow figure, shadow being or black mass) is the perception of a patch of shadow as a living, humanoid figure, particularly as interpreted by believers in the paranormal or supernatural as the presence of a spirit or other entity. Shadow people are said to be conscious, intelligent, interdimensional beings that can shapeshift into various forms and figurations, and move back and forth between dimensions. 

People who have died from an attack have experienced cardiac arrest, no abnormalities found

25 -44 is the typical age off the victim, mostly men and age 33 is the most common

Description

A shape that is generally male, aware of us and react to us, see us all the time, react mostly when we notice them.  Black mass that may have glowing red/yellow eyes. These beings are dark, inorganic, phantom-like bipedal figures that look just like a dark black shadow of a figure, but don't seem to quite have full human form or facial or bodily delineation. They feel very masculine and oppressive and like something that is beyond human and out of our scope of understanding. Often people report them as being really tall, about 7 feet in height, though they can configure and transform  into  different sizes and shapes. Often their limbs (arms and legs) seem quite long, and occasionally fingers seen. 

They kind of look two-dimensional (though sometimes appear sort of 3D) and seem to be made out of some kind of dark, etheric substance. They appear as one mass that is completely black and opaque, but it doesn't quite look solid in the way that we perceive usual physical form. Hence they are called shadow beings. No light goes through them at all.  They are known to dematerialize very quickly and even shape-shift into other forms such as in the figure of a cat, dog, rodent, oddly-shaped spider, insect or other creature or even formless shape. ​

It has been suggested that their darkness is a form of camouflage and perhaps they take on a rough humanoid outline in order to mimic and blend with us. Maybe we are not ready to fully understand who or what they are, what they represent and where they are from. Thus appearing as shadow forms is their way to be mysterious and incognito. They might also appear different according to their own stage of development.  We can also speculate that it is possible they are unable to materialize into any other kind of form or color, like that is all they can muster. You could apply that principle as it is the same with ghosts and spiritual apparitions - they can only use energy to appear certain ways and only for short periods of time, and it does take a lot of energy!

There has been a recent increase in sightings over the past few years. Some believe this is because these creatures are drawn to electromagnetic energy. And the modern world now has more electromagnetic energy then ever. This would explain why many people have seen them while they are watching TV, on their computer, using a device, or around electromagnetic equipment. It also answers for one of the reasons why they'd come into your room at night, apart from the fact that you are more accessible in your dream and sleep state. This also explains why they sometimes come during very bad weather like when there is lightning storms. This is because of the electromagnetic discharge being dispelled. ​

 Types

Classic Shadow Beings-

               The Lurker/The Watchman: - Keep their distance, tend to lurk in the shadows from afar, not very confrontational, drawn to a single individual and will follow them. Don’t appear to be pure evil in nature, but will feed off a person’s energy. Gives off a creepy vibe.

               Shadow stalkers – Shadowy Figures that stay mostly outdoors or in forests. Believed to be protecting nature and the elements. Not believed to be harmful . mimics people they see (like a true shadow) They are able to move thru the forest without making any noise.

               The Ghost- Some people think that shadow figures are ghosts or especially evil spirits, that don't manifest into a human appearance as sometimes seen in apparitions. I would say that this is indeed possible. But others disagree and instead believe that all shadow beings  originate from another dimension or planet all together.  

               The Hat Man- He is just like the classic shadow figure, but also different in appearance and energy vibe. This one wears what appear to be a cape or trench coat and a hat which can range from a top hat to a fedora or cowboy hat. Why he is in this attire is unkown.  Some think hee is an alien, time traveler or from another dimension Like the other shadow beings, this entity could be observing us, collecting data and so on. Interestingly, many report having seeing him when they were very young, such as around 5 years old. He does like to watch and  instil terror and give off an extremely scary and intimidating vibe which has been described as evil, terrifying and unforgettable. It is said that he leaves witnesses with a horrible feeling that is haunting and can last for years. He sends a kind of signal and vibe making you feel like he will return. It is possible that hat man is a leader of the shadow figures. Watches silently from doorways. He’s always watching and always comes back

               The Hooded Ones- Doesn’t attack directly, stand in doorways, bedsides and stares silently. Puts off a feeling of hatred to the victim, causing full body fear. A dark cloak with no features. Some think that this creature is the Grimm Reaper.  This scary figure is the death collector, known in the Cherokee tradition as 'Stalking Death'. This is the kind of ominous being that will be after a person's soul, their death being the ultimately dark victory. 

               Elusive Shadow Person- Hide in the shadows and try not to be seen. Spy on you (they act as a scout) for eviler shadow people. Believed to be a lower being that malicious entities use . Some believe that these may or may not be evil themselves but forced into this role. Are rarely noticed, but can briefly be seen out the corner of your eye.

               Black Mass- A giant black mass with no real shape or form. Less human, more fuzzy and blur when gazed upon. Can change shape at will. Very Negative creature.

               Demonic- Most Dangerous, avoid at all cost. Typically tied to a single location or person. Forms retain a very tall humanoid shape, known for long limbs, horns, wings, glowing red eyes. Pure Evil. They cause chaos and fear. They love to break people down and terrorize them.

Other Forms-

                               The Old Hag- Looks like an elderly woman with a sunken face and eyes. She is a damned woman,belived to be cursed and is evil in nature. Is known for attacking a person while they are asleep. She causes paralysis on the victim and then climbs onto the victims chest( she is known to have a sizeable weight) where she causes nightmares and feeds off your fears. When you are in a weakened state she then tries to choke the life out of the victim, killing them.  Tall skinny old woman, long dirty nail, dried toes, white tangled hair, long nose, may have glowing eyes. Evil, cackling voice

               Jinn- It is said that in the beginning, three were created: man made of clay (earth and water), angels made of spiritual light, and a third made of fire. Beings known as 'Jinn' are actually not talked about much in the western world as they seem to be more of a middle eastern tradition.  They are said to be created before man, and are mentioned in the Quran as malicious, wicked beings with supernatural powers created by God from a pure, smokeless fire, which would explain why they are often seen with smoke coming out of them: They are analogized as genies (and are depicted  in hidden ways in stories such as Aladdin) and present themselves in different forms, including humanoid and animal. Hence it is possible that they could appear in a kind of shadowy form too. They dematerialize quickly and are able to appear dark, animalistic, and even in strange contorted figures, vapours mists or cloud-like forms. It is said that they are created out of free will as we are, and live in a parallel world to ours and in communities (much like humans). Because of their free will, some are good and some are evil. They feel themselves to be superior to humankind, and thus it is said that God cast them out of this world until 'judgement day.'These beings have an agenda against us, and cause a lot of chaos and havoc much like demons do, and it is believed that they are a part of the army of S---n. They have shape-shifting abilities and use them in order to create deliberate confusion.

               Astral or Time Travelers- Some people think that shadow people are other humans astral projections that are floating around. Some Believe them to be time travelers .

 Physical Harms that has happened to victims are beaten, choked, picked up and dropped by aggressive shadow people

The more terrified the victim the stronger the Shadow Person becomes. A common reaction that people experience in these encounters is that they become absolutely frozen,  shocked, and in a state of fear. They feel like they are momentarily paralyzed or can't move. They have a sense that these entities are triggering immense states of terror and feeding off their energy.

Have appeared thru out history and in different cultures

Native American

Some believe that we are not seeing these creatures with our physical eyes. The Cherokee believe you are seeing with what ​is called the 'fifth eye" or 'dream eye' which is in the location of the soft spot of a baby's head when it is born. That's they eye which gives you extra sensory perception when you dream (during that 'rapid eye movement in your sleep). There is also your 4th eye which is behind the base of the spine, and that is where you get the sensation that you are in danger as animals do, and have the hair stand up or that chilly feeling at the back of your neck. He goes on to explain that at night in your dream-state you have heightened energetic sensitivity and awareness, and therefore you will be more likely to experience supernatural phenomenon (both good and bad) and see such beings. This would explain why many people see them in their dreams while sleeping or as they awaken in the middle of the night.

​They are said to be a vampiric energy which feeds off our "emotional chaos and discharge of energy."

So what happens is that when you see them, you expel a whole lot of shock and fear energy in your straight of being alarmed and momentarily frightened, and that is the energy that they feed off. So you are like an energetic battery or food to them. Just like a vampire sucks blood and then takes off, so too does a shadow person. They never stay around for long.

The Choctaws have stories about shadow beings. Nalusa Chito, also known as a Impa Shilup, was the soul-eater, great black being.[3] If people allow evil thoughts or depression to enter their minds, it would creep inside them and eat their soul. Nalusa Falaya (long black being) resembled a man, but with very small eyes and long, pointed ears. He sometimes frightened hunters or transferred his power of doing harm. Some believed that Nalusa Falaya preferred to approach men by sliding on his stomach like a snake. Hashok Okwa Hui'ga (Grass Water Drop) was believed to have a connection to what is termed will-o-the-wisp. Only its heart is visible, and that only at night. Hashok Okwa Hui'ga leads astray anyone who looks at it. It was also believed that every man had a shilombish (the outside shadow) which always followed him, and shilup (the inside shadow, or ghost) which after death goes to the land of ghosts. The shilombish was supposed to remain upon the earth, and wander restlessly about its former home, often moaning, to frighten its surviving friends, as to make them forsake the spot, and seek another place to live. It was also supposed to assume the form of a fox, or owl; and by barking like the one, and screeching like the other at night, cause great consternation, for the cry was considered ominous of bad things. The Choctaws could tell between the shilombish and animals it imitates. When a fox barks, or an owl screeches, another fox or owl replies. But when the shilombish imitates the sound of either animal, no response is given.

Hindu

Chhaya- goddess of shadow and shade. She is a shapeshifter (may be the old hag) When threatened cast spells and curses. Scorned by husband and lover. Now here and children own the shadows and torment people.

Shadow Dimension Theory. A concept closely related to projection is the casting of shadows. If a light is shone on a three-dimensional object, a two-dimensional shadow is cast. ... Going the other way, one may infer that light shone on a four-dimensional object in a four-dimensional world would cast a three-dimensional shadow.

It is believed that only beings of the world of the living have a shadow. While drawn to depressed and tormented people the shadow man can torment whomever her chooses.

Mythology of shadow people dates back to early 600 BCE. Ancient Egyptians believed in shadow people, and called them the "khailbut." Romans believed these people came from the Underworld. Greeks thought shadow people were literal shadows of themselves, which they often gave up to Zeus as a gift. All of these cultures, though, had a common belief: these shadow people were both part of the real world and the metaphysical one. In Ancient Egypt, in particular, shadow people often went and did the bidding in the spirit world for humans who couldn't reach it - sometimes for good and, sometimes, for evil.

The Roman word for shadow was umbra, also meaning ‘the shade’

In Europe, people believed that the shadow beings desired blood and without it, couldn’t be reborn. 

In Old English these creatures were called Mares and this is where we get the term Nightmare.

Mara was a Demon in Buddhism

Mare was a demon in Germanic/Slavic folklore that rides on people's chests while they sleep, bringing on bad dreams (or "nightmares"). Similar to a succubus or incubs

Polish called them amora or mara and believed they were the souls of living people that leave the body during the night

Russia - the mara means a female character, similar to kikimora.( a legendary creature, a female house spirit Can be good or bad) Mara is usually invisible, but can take the form of a woman with long flowing hair, which she combs, sitting on a yarn. According to other sources, the mara is black, shaggy (And also a terrible and disheveled creature

Croatian – Mora or Mara is one of the spirits from ancient Slav mythology. Mara was a dark spirit that takes a form of a beautiful woman and then visits men in their dreams, torturing them with desire, and dragging life out of them.

Serbia- Mora – the night creature

Romania – Moroi a vamapirc ghost or could be a phantom of a dead person that leaves the grave to draw energy from the living  

Mare is its name or possibly type of creature it is

 Reported ways to get rid

****Must identify what the creature is before you can get rid of it or risk backlash****

Cleansing of a home with sage, by a Shaman or Priest (Didn’t work)

Saying Jesus or Archangel Michael name (Didn’t work)

Tell it to leave (didn’t Work)

Use Protective Crystals Agate, jade, obsidian (didn’t work)

Salt the house (didn’t Work) be carful salt line can easily be washed away or weakened. If you mix brick dust and clay with the salt, it can form a more permanent barrier

A banishing ritual

Medication (didn’t work)

No one to date has ever fully gotten rid of a shadow person

Stay in lighted areas, more light the better

 Precautionary Things:

Turn Lights on before entering a space

Sleep with back against wall

Have someone who is awake with you while going to sleep

Never be in the dark alone

Never be in a closed room alone, especially in the dark

Always have the lights as bright as possible, stay away from low light

Most vulnerable the later it gets at night

Less power while the Sun is out

look at the window or to turn the pillow and make a sign of cross on it

leaving a broom upside down behind the door, or putting their belt on top of their sheets, or saying an elaborate prayer poem before they go to sleep

Old German Folklore Prayer to ward of Mara (Shadow People)

Here I am lying down to sleep;

No night-mare shall plague me

until they have swum through all the waters

that flow upon the earth,

and counted all stars

that appear in the skies.[14]

[Thus help me God Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen!]

On rare occasions family and friends have seen the creature stalking the victim

Shadow People are one of the earliest sighted creatures by mankind, making them one of the oldest crypto creatures worldwide.

[thepalecrawlers]

Crawler sighting 47

"I had never heard of "crawlers" until today, when I posted a story in response to a post in r/paranormal. Someone told me about this sub, and after reading a few stories here, I think y'all may appreciate my tale.

My friends and I used to camp a lot in the El Dorado National Forest. We had a spot along Sopiago Springs we used to camp at a lot.

One weekend, we decided to go for a three day foraging camp. We brought in MREs in case we couldn't find anything, some guns, and some supplies to set up shelter, but that's about it. First night was chill, we cooked a bunch of crawdads and a squirrel my buddy shot, drank a few beers we'd brought, and slept fine.

Next day, something felt off to me. One of my friends who was with me and I had had some really creepy experiences in this part of the forest in the past, and it felt a bit like those; forest was dead silent, and you felt like something was watching you. I grew up in the woods so I know the signs of a predator, but this felt different than a bear or a mountain lion. When night fell, my friends went two hundred yards or so up the stream to do some stuff, and I was alone in camp. The feeling got even stronger, so I built up the fire nice and big and grabbed a gun. I kept hearing faint voices from the woods in the opposite direction of where my friends went. They were low, indistinct sounds, but they were creeping me out majorly, and my buddies had taken the only two flashlights (poor planning in hindsight). As I peered out into the darkness, I caught a glimpse of something moving fifty yards or so out in the trees. I snapped the rifle to my shoulder and got the scope on it. It was pretty dark, and the only light was from the fire, but I could see the outline of what I was aiming at. It looked human, but was on all fours, and its arms seemed a lot longer than they should. It stood a bit like an ape but very low to the ground. I only saw it for a second before it loped off deeper into the woods.

After I lost track of it, I'd hear light rustling in different directions around the camp; leaves scuffling, the occasional twig breaking. Always away from where my friends went, in the 180% on the other side of the camp from their departure. I got the sense that whatever it was, it was stalking me. I kept the fire high and was staying sharp looking out into the woods, but I didn't see it again. My buddies came back about ten minutes later to find me a paranoid wreck glassing the treeline with the scope. I told them what happened and they got quiet, then told me the reason they came back when they did is they started hearing the same shit I did over by where they were at and it spooked them.

We spent the second night of our trip with a big ass fire and three lookouts. Nobody slept that night. In the morning we broke camp as quick as we could and high tailed it out of there. We never camped in that spot again."

[scary-movies-on-netflix]

MISSING 411: THE HUNTED (2019)

This is a “documentary” about a former “cop” who is investigating people who have “disappeared” in “forests.”  I’m vaguely interested in weird forest stories, and I actually ended up being mildly spooked!

Production values are pretty good, and the narrator is confident and authoritative.  He interviews family members and friends of the missing, along with some local figures, such as newspapermen and police people.  There are subtle recreations, such as people walking into the distance, and nice graphics.  We start off our tale with an elderly gentleman who disappeared in New York State whilst hunting with friends in 2015.  He completely disappeared!  One of the other hunters heard something strange, which he couldn’t really describe, but no sign of the old man has ever been found.  Apparently, the FBI showed up, and they don’t normally become involved with “normal” missing person cases.  This segues to another local disappearance, where another elderly gentleman just up and vanished from his home.  

The scene then shifts to Santa Fe, NM, where we learn about two more people who have died.  The first was a woman who wandered away from her husband while hiking and was found dead later.  Her death was attributed to hypothermia, but the narrator finds this implausible, for reasons.  The second was a hunter who disappeared.  This last bit includes some advice for hunters on outdoor survival, which I guess could be useful.

We then move on to a somewhat overly-long section about the disappearance of Aaron Hedges in the Crazy Mountains, in Montana.  They found his boots in one location, his backpack (apparently filled with supplies) in yet another, and some of his remains at a third location miles away from his boots! His death was attributed was hypothermia, but how did he manage to trek so far away from his boots?!

We’re not done yet! We next go to Sonora, California, where we learn about a few people who have disappeared, never to be found, from a vista point in Stanislaus National Forest.  Apparently, this is close to other local areas where people have disappeared, and right here the documentary starts to get a little weird.  First, we spend some time with local hunters who have set up a camp somewhere between Yosemite and Tahoe, so in California.  They basically state that they have audio recordings of Bigfoots (Bigfeets?) from the 1970s, which we hear!  At first, it sounds like hooting, maybe canine, but then the noises expand to a wide variety of other weird vocalizations, like laughing and talking!  Shit!  A text scroll providing some “expert analysis” states that no person could have made the sounds.  After that, we end up in Lima, Ohio, where a woman straight up says that while sitting in a hunting blind she saw a cloaked “Predator” moving through the trees.  Um...shit?  She provides a blurry cell-phone picture of…something.  That same day some kids say they saw a UFO floating over the local football field, so…AYYLMAO.  

We end up with the narrator pontificating about how strange it all is.  According to him, the disappearances are “beyond the scope of normal scientific understanding,” and then the word PARANORMAL shines on the screen.  THE END.  

Forests are weird, and there is certainly a deep American (if not human) trepidation about nature most primeval.  See “The Witch” (2015).  It’s not necessarily crazy to think that uncontrollable things happen to people in the forest when they’re alone.  I’m not sure I’m sold on the premise that these disappearances are due to something paranormal, as opposed to causes unfortunately mundane, and the Bigfoots and aliens come out of nowhere, but it’s all very entertaining.

[susanhannifordcrowley]

Please, Don't Eat the Tree! Paranormal-Scope

Please, Don’t Eat the Tree! Paranormal-Scope

[juniperandmagpie]

SoCal's Most Haunted Hiking and Camping Spots

Since Juniper is a HUGE Halloween fan, we decided to put together our list of paranormal hot spots in the great outdoors. From lost souls, to grizzly murders, to mysteriously abandoned towns - there is something for everyone this spooky season...

Anza Borrego Desert | Borrego Springs, CA

We've talked a lot about how much we love this State Park before, but we just recently discovered some of its haunted past (right in time for Halloween). We always link this desert to alien activity since the thin atmosphere and clear skies make it is easy to spot a potential UFO, but thanks to the activity of death, robberies, and duels of the Gold Rush days, this desert has plenty of other paranormal activity.

One particular sighting is that of the Ghost Lights over Oriflamme Mountain and the Borrego Valley. Since 1892 there have been reports of fireball like objects that rise into the air and then explode like a firework or sometimes fly in an arch formation. Could it be spirits signaling buried treasure? Or as science might suggest, static electricity created from wind blown sand against quartz outcroppings? Either way, it is worth it to check out the desert for yourself and scope out spirits, phantom fireballs, or just some Bighorn Sheep.

Book a spot Tamarisk Grove Campground, and hike over to the haunted trail at Yaqui Well where legend has it skeletons dance together in a frenzied gold celebration under the full moon on hot summer nights.

Vallecito Stage Station County Park | Julian, CA

In the days of the Gold Rush settlers traveled through the desert in search of the luring gold of the West Coast via stage coaches, and this was the only wagon route available in to Southern California. Obviously the harsh climate did not make for an easy trip and many died along the way. One particular haunting in this area is that of a girl who died on her journey in the 1850s by the name of Eileen O'Conner. She was on her way to Sacramento to meet her fiancé who just struck gold, before she fell ill. She was buried in her white wedding dress near that station, and is still seen at night restlessly wandering the area.

Another infamous sighting is that of the phantom stagecoach in the Carrizo Wash as it hesitates past the old station and then disappears, supposedly leaving wagon trails and hoof prints behind. There is also the galloping white horse that rushes by at midnight, linked to a story of an armed robbery in Gold Rush days that spooked a horse's spirit into a looping purgatory in the desert.

So snag a primitive camp site and settle in for an eventful evening before hitting the trails. Make sure to celebrate with a slice of the famous pie in the quaint town of Julian before you leave!  

Elfin Forest Recreational Reserve | San Diego, CA

With 11 miles of hiking, and tons of Urban Legends, Elfin Forest is undoubtedly a haunted hike you don't want to miss! The Spiritualist community of Harmony Grove is located nearby and there are rumors of rituals, seances, and the occult being practiced on the lands. There is also archeological evidence that Northern Diegueno Indians once occupied the area believing it to have beneficial vibrations and used it is a peace meeting ground. The area is also thought to have an ancient Native burial land, and much of the spiritual activity has been tied to these unrest spirits. The most common sighting reported is that of the Lady in White (it's always a lady in white). She supposedly floats about the forest, and many reported car crashes site her presence in the road as their reason for their crash.

So check out the mysterious forest for yourself. Even if you don't see the lady in white, you are sure to see plenty of wildlife and natural beauty. Trail head begins at Escondido Creek and popular hikes include the steep Way Up Trail or the Elfin Forest Olivenhain Reserve Loop Trail. All trails here.

Lake Morena Campground | Campo, CA

A woman in white (of course) lingers around campsites (especially those of men) at this peaceful campground along the lake in the wooded Laguna Mountains. She is said to pace as if waiting for something, and campers hear loud footsteps outside of their tent that just disappear instead of fading away. There are also reports of a woman singing, laughing and dancing around 3am. After your spooky night, hike the challenging Morena Butte Trail within the park.

Buena Vista Lagoon | Carlsbad, CA

This 223-acre wetland is an Ecological Reserve and makes for a beautiful hiking area. But what most people don't know is that Oceanside's Buena Vista Cemetery once existed on the North East end of the lagoon from 1885-1906. Unfortunately by the 60s and 70s the bodies were rezoned, though many were left behind and commercial property and apartments have now been built on top of the old burial grounds, leaving disturbed spirits to wander. Residents report sightings along the lagoon, voices around their apartments, and haunted hotspots at the local businesses included Hunter's Steakhouse. Read more about the burial grounds here.

In the meantime, the trail head begins at the Buena Vista Audoban Society. See the trail map here and have a spook-tacular time exploring the marine life and occasional apparition.

Crystal Lake Campground | Azusa, CA

Nestled in the Angeles National Forest outside of Los Angeles lies the ghost story of the Majors family who were attacked and killed by a Grizzly Bear in 1934 and continue to supposedly haunt Crystal Lake. The family was working in the area and Grizzlies were thought to have been long since extinct. Their bodies were found shredded, dismembered, and disemboweled after the attack. To this day there are still reports of seeing 2 adults and 2 children lingering around the campground around September 19th every year.

Side note: The story of Friday the 13th's Jason also occurs at the fictitious Camp Crystal Lake - coincidence? Probably. Enjoy these hikes while you're there!

Calico Ghost Town & Campground | Yermo, CA

Calico is an old West mining town 2 hours Northeast of LA that has been around since 1881 during the largest silver strike in California. When silver lost its value, Calico lost its population as everyone just packed up and moved on, leaving the town completely abandoned.

One of the most haunted locations in California, shadow people, orbs, full-bodied apparitions, and ghost lights have all been spotted here. Although this town now serves as an amusement attraction, there is still plenty of hiking trails nearby in San Bernadino County. So snag a spot at the campground (which is conveniently located next to the town cemetery), get cozy, and brace yourself for a creepy evening!

Happy Halloween, Wild Ones!

[minijenn]

For the angsty art, could you please do 🍄 (Poison) for Dipper?

(So it just dawned upon me that I have never reallywritten anything about Dipper and Ford bonding before, even though that’s like,one of my favorite dynamics in the entire show, so its crazy I’ve never donanything with it before! So I figured what better way to do that than with sadas fuck angst like this. Though quick note before we get started, this one isn’tfinished either. In fact, it kinda ends really abruptly (in that it doesn’tactually really end at all), mostly because I don’t really feel like working onit anymore right now. Still, its an idea I wouldn’t mind coming back to tofinish up someday and hey, I already wrote this much of it so I figured why theheck not post it *shrugs* hope you can still enjoy it for what it is!)

Any time Ford decided to bring him along on his researchoutings, Dipper considered himself to be incredibly lucky. Admittedly, he wasstill rather beside himself over the fact that the previously unknown author ofthe journals was his own uncle, but getting to go on expeditions and assist himin tracking down and documenting the oddities of Gravity Falls was on a wholeother level entirely. Which was why he always eagerly jumped into action at theauthor’s call, and today was no exception. Their trek into the woods had takenthem past several paranormal creatures and spots, all of which Ford already hadnear encyclopedic knowledge of, seeing as how he had written on all of them inhis journals. However, the further they got into the forest, the less familiarthings became, until it became clear that they were exploring previouslyuncharted territory, something that immensely excited both Ford and Dipper asthey thought of all of the potential discoveries to be made.

In fact, Ford happened to make one such discovery not verylong into their exploration, and the moment he saw it, he made sure to pullDipper off the path they were forging before he could even really see it.“Great Uncle Ford, what-” Dipper tried to question the author’smotives for dragging them both into the nearby brush, but he was quickly cutoff.

“Dipper, shh!” Ford tersely quieted him, hisexpression tense as he peaked over the shrubs they were now hding behind.“Look over there—but be very quiet about it! See that odd, pricklycreature scoping out that clearing?”

“Uh… you mean the porcupine?” Dipper ventured,nodding to the animal Ford had pointed to, which was currently meandering nottoo far away from them. Something did seem a bit off about it however, namelythe fact that its needle-like quills were coated with a bright, red,almost-bloodlike liquid.

“Not just any porcupine,” Ford pointed out, stillwhispering. “That’s a Poison-Quilled Porcupine, one of the rarest and mostdeadly woodland creatures on Earth! When I first found out about theirexistence, I personally wanted to call them Poisupines, but it looked far lessimpressive written out than it does spoken aloud. But disappointing namingpractices aside, the incredibly powerful poison from just one of that thing’squills is enough to kill a man in just a few hours.”

“Whoa…” Dipper mused, both amazed and ratheralarmed by this information. “That… sounds kind of intense… Should wereally be researching something so… potentially lethal?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Dipper,” Ford assured with acalm wave of his hand. “I’ve been to dimensions where even the veryatmosphere itself is poisonous, so needless to say I’ve managed to build up afair level of immunity to most toxins. You, on the other hand, have not, whichis why you’ll be staying right here while I go in to get a closer look.”

“A-are you sure?” Dipper asked, quite concerned asFord slowly and quietly rose to stand.

“Yes,” Ford nodded firmly, his tone gravelyserious as he placed a steady hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I’ll beright back. Just remember what I said and stay put until I get back, no matterwhat happens, alright?”

Dipper nodded tentatively, still quite on edge given theirclose proximity to such an incredibly dangerous creature. Still, thePoison-Quilled Porcupine didn’t seem to notice as Ford stepped out of the brushand into the clearing, slipping journal 2 out of his lab coat as he began toquietly sketch the creature. Regardless, Dipper continued anxiously watchingfrom his hiding spot, trying to keep Ford’s assurance that he would be safe inmind yet having trouble doing so as he took another look at the porcupine’ssupposedly poisonous quills. But for the most part, the author kept a levelhead, staying out of the creature’s detection. That is, until he inadvertentlyhappened to step on a small, discarded branch, the abrupt noise instantlycatching the poisonous porcupine’s attention. The creature simply glanced overits shoulder, letting out a short, feral snarl as its beady eyes found Ford,who knew from experience that it was best to remain perfectly still insituations like these. Dipper, on the other hand, was not as well informed.

“G-Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper exclaimed in aworried whisper, peering over the shrubs just a bit.

“Dipper, I told you,” Ford retorted somewhatsharply, his hands raised in a defensive position as he stood his ground.“Stay put.”

“B-but… but you’re-”

“I’m fine,” Ford said, finally glancingback and failing to notice as the porcupine poised its quills to attack,something that Dipper caught onto immediately. Time seemed to slow to a crawlas he acted without thinking, panic overriding rationality as he fell out ofthe brush, scrambling to his feet as he rushed over to Ford as fast as hecould. The author didn’t even have any time to react as a million things seemedto happen all at once; the porcupine launched its attack, its eventually deadlyspikes darting right at Ford, only for all of them to completely miss as Dipperpushed him out of the way. They both fell together a distance away, seeminglyunscathed, as the creature let out another, petulant growl before saunteringback into the woods sullenly. It took a moment for both Dipper and Ford togather their bearings again after such a rush of adrenaline, but when they did,it was instantly clear that the author was far from pleased.

“Dipper, what in the world were you thinking?!”Ford scolded harshly as he stood and brushed himself off. “I told you tostay behind the bushes!”

“I… I know…” Dipper muttered, flustered as hegripped his arm and looked away. “I’m sorry, I just… y-you were… Thatthing was going to-”

“I’m well aware of what that thing was going todo,” Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as histone softened a bit. “And like I told you, I would have been perfectlyfine if one of its quills had struck me, which was a fate we were bothspared from, fortunately.”

Dipper said nothing to this as a brief expression of alarmflashed across his features. All the same, he was quick to hide his arm behindhis back a bit, still averting his uncle’s gaze out of both fear and guilt thistime. Of course, it didn’t take Ford very long to pick up on this as heregathered his fallen journal, and while the first inkling of suspicion wasquick to pour into his mind, he staunchly refused to believe it until he knewfor sure. “Dipper, let me see your arm,” he said, his tone incredibly seriousas he held out his arm to his nephew. He didn’t comply, however, as he insteadkept his arm hidden behind his back as he took in a tight, anxious breath, hisexpression awash with growing dread. “Dipper,” Ford tried again, much moreinsistent as his own fear began to rise. “I need to see-”

“Y-you can’t,” Dipper said stiffly, taking a stumbling stepback.

“Why not?” Ford asked, still not relenting, especiallyconsidering just how dire this could be.

“B-because…” Dipper began, his eyes wide and starting tofill up with tears that he desperately tried to suppress. “You’ll get mad…”

Upon hearing this, Ford didn’t waste any more time. Instead,he knelt down, reached out and grabbed Dipper’s arm himself, pulling it forwarddespite his nephew’s distraught protests and allowing him to see exactly whathe had been fearing. One, and only one, of the Poison-Quilled Porcupine’sspikes had managed to, against all odds, strike him squarely in his lower leftarm, its poison-painted tip buried deep and creating a wound that was already bleedingand starting to swell. Ford’s initial reaction to this was one of stunnedsilence, his eyes wide as his grip on Dipper’s wrist tightened just theslightest bit. He was unable to hold back a small, unsteady breath, but the forthe most part he did his best to remain calm, his years of conditioning himselffor dealing with situations like these taking over while at the same timefailing him. After all, he was used to handling going through inevitably deadlycircumstances like this, not having to watch his nephew go through- “A-acure,” the author barely managed to choke out before he could even let hismind finish that thought. He was quick to regain is composure, though he nearlylost it all over again as he finally looked up to meet Dipper’s distraught,absolutely terrified gaze. “We… we’re going to find a cure,” Fordsaid, his tone a bit firmer and more certain as he rose to stand.

“T-there’s a cure?” Dipper asked with newfoundhope as he gripped his injured arm once more.

“I don’t-” Ford abruptly cut himself off, knowingthat he couldn’t very well tell his nephew that he actually had no idea whetheror not the toxin currently infecting him was even treatable at all. In truth,very little research existed on the Poison-Quilled Porcupine or its poison, andwhat little reading the author had done up on it had been years ago. As much ashe was loathed to admit it, he knew almost nothing about what they were upagainst, a lack of knowledge that could end up costing Dipper his life if hedidn’t act quickly. Which was why Ford decided to rely on what he did know asopposed to wasting precious time trying to discover something new, seeing ashow that was the very thing that had gotten them into this mess in the firstplace. “There’s a type of plant, a flower called the sunset orchid, that’sknown for being a powerful anti-toxin. If we were to find one and grind it upinto a medicine that might be enough to neutralize the poison’s effects.”

“Might be?” Dipper frowned worriedly.“W-what if it isn’t enough?”

“It will be enough,” Ford corrected, evenif he wasn’t entirely sure himself. Still, seeing as how Dipper was alreadystarting to panic as it was, the last thing he wanted to do was alarm him evenmore. “We just have to find one first. But… there’s a problem. Thesunset orchid is incredibly rare, to the point of near extinction.However…” The author paused, pulling out one of his journals andflipping through it. “They have been known to grow in this area in thepast…”

“So… d-do you think we’ll be able to find one?”Dipper asked, his grip on his arm tightening as he cringed from the pain thatsuddenly shot through it.

“Y-yes,” Ford nodded, hating that he had to keeplying to his nephew and to himself like this. It was out of necessity though,seeing as how such impossibly optimistic thinking was the only thing keepingboth of them calm at the moment. “But first things’ first. We need to getthat quill out of your arm. As long as it stays in there, is going to keepspreading the poison inside of it throughout your bloodstream, which itprobably already has a good start on…”

“Ok…” Dipper said, tentatively holding his armout as Ford knelt down and took it once again. “Is… is this gonna, youknow, h-hurt?”

“Oh, um…” Ford frowned, quickly pulling a clothout of his pocket and handing it to his nephew as he prepared to remove thequill. “Let’s just say you might want to bite on that while I dothis…”

While he was rather concerned by this, Dipper complied, andfortunately so as Ford succinctly pulled the quill out, which was more thanenough to elicit a loud cry of agony, one that was only muffled by the cloth hehad shoved into his mouth beforehand. As Dipper did his best to cope with thelingering pain, Ford was quick to tear a piece of his lab coat off and create amomentary bandage from it as he wrapped it around the puncture wound to staunchthe blood already pouring from it.

“Um… Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper began waveringly,not looking to his arm as the author patched it up for him. “I… I’m sorryI didn’t listen to you… I should have known better than to just… run outthere like that. I-I guess there’s no better way for me to learn my lesson thanthis, huh?”

He let out a small, almost bitter laugh at this, one thatFord didn’t join in on as his expression as his expression darkened instead. Heknew exactly what Dipper was trying to do: make light of what was, by allaccounts, a horrible situation; after all, he had seen Stan do the same thingcountless times when they were kids over matters much less serious. Honestly,Ford wouldn’t have been that surprised if his nephew had picked up such adepreciating attitude from his brother, and while that was something the authormade a mental note to scold Stan over later, he knew there were much morepressing matters to attend to now.

“There will be plenty of time for apologieslater,” Ford remarked staunchly as he stood, knowing he had more thanenough apologies of his own for his nephew. “For now, we have a flower tofind. How are you feeling?”

“Uh, mostly ok, I guess,” Dipper shrugged. “Imean, I’m not gonna lie, my arm still hurts a ton, and, um… I’m sortof lightheaded, b-but I’m fine! Really, I’m ok, I promise.”

Ford nodded, not entirely convinced but deciding to trusthim for the moment. “Very well, let’s hope it stays like that. To myunderstanding, we only have a few hours before…” He trailed off, takingin a somewhat shaky voice, unable to bear finishing such a grim thought.“L-let’s get going. And let me know the moment you start to feelany different. Understand?”

“Y-yes,” Dipper agreed, knowing that he was in noposition to disagree with the author’s words this time. And so, without anyfurther discussion, the pair set off, their mission weighing heavy on both oftheir minds, as well as what could happen if they weren’t successful. Ford ledthe way, journal 2 in hand as he kept the page on the sunset orchid open, withDipper following a short, somewhat hesitant pace behind him. While the authorwanted to assure his nephew that he would be fine, that they would find theorchid and cure him in record time, but he had never been too keen on suchhopeful sentiments, especially if he had no idea if they were true or not. Soinstead, with neither of them really wanting to discuss their frighteningpredicament, they pressed on in silence, combing through the forest for aboutan hour or so, until Ford happened to hear the footsteps behind him graduallystart to slow before stopping altogether, but before he could even turn around,Dipper spoke up first.

“G-Great Uncle Ford…” he said, his voice so small and raggedthat it was barely even audible. Ford spun around in an instant, his heartsinking as soon as he took in the discouraging sight of his nephew. In a shorthour alone, Dipper’s condition, which had previously been seemingly stable, hadcompletely deteriorated as the poison started to do its work. His skin hadpaled alarmingly, the veins on his arm that the quill had struck showing updark purple as a sign of the poison’s spreading. He had managed to prop himselfup against a tree, leaning against it heavily as he struggled to even keep hishead up, his breathing shallow and rough as he clutched his chest, hisexpression twisted in agony and fear. “I… I-I’m not… I…”

(Aaaaand that’s all I wrote. Yeah sorry again for ending it so abruptly like this, but I got burnt out on it and felt the need to just go ahead and post it anyway so I could finally have all these angst prompts done and over with, so that’s just waht I did. Maybe I’ll come back to this idea again sometime though, we’ll have to wait and see :P )

[oosteven-universe]

Beasts of Burden: The Presence of Others #1

Beasts of Burden: The Presence of Others #1 Dark Horse Comics 2019 Written by Evan Dorkin Illustrated by Jill Thompson Lettered by Nate Piekos of Blambot     A team of paranormal investigators poking around Burden Hill disturb the graveyard where the ''Master'' lies, setting off a chain of events that will have serious consequences for the animal defenders of the haunted town.     This is one of those franchises that is completely underrated in just how darn good it is. The concept is utterly sensational and Jill’s interiors are stunningly gorgeous so I find it hard not to become enamoured with it. This issue starts off beautifully and we get to see the how and why this family is in the area. I will say that if you haven’t read any of the stories yet then you should pick this one up it is completely new reader friendly. The story and the characters are introduced in such a way that to me is quite impressive. Evan’s ability to structure this so to create this ebb & flow throughout the pages is silky smooth.     There really is an interesting cast of characters here and each one has their own unique personality. It is fun, interesting, cute and damn creepy so yeah it’s everything you could possibly want when it comes to haunted town, paranormal investigators and a family of extremely smart animals. I call them a family and to me they are, as an adult I have learned that the family I surround myself with isn’t the family I was born into and for a lot of folks this is true and even those who are close to their biological family have a second family of their choosing too. This makes this so relatable when it comes to seeing how these lads and lasses have each others backs no matter what!     So very early on we see that Sabina is the family member here who is going to be the centre of attention. She is fleshed out beautifully for us here and yet the room for growth is still there and I can see this adventure changing her mindset completely. I have no idea what Evan has in store for her or her family but from where I am sitting their world is about to change dramatically and I am looking forward to seeing how she deals with this. We all (should) know it is the event it’s how you react and handle it that shows what kind of person you are.     Jill’s work on the interiors here is absolutely gorgeous. I mean there are no two ways about it what she can do and how she brings what is in her mind to life is amazing to see. The way we see Sabina, her father and brother is great and they have their idiosyncrasies sure, Pop’s smoking for example, that helps to flesh out their characters even more using facial expressions and body language. The attention to detail here is marvellous and how the linework and colours work in concert to accentuate features is mind blowing stuff. The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels shows off a season and stellar eye for storytelling. The way we see backgrounds utilised really fleshes out where they are and give us this incredible size and scope to the forest. ​     So talking animals that aren’t anthropomorphic isn’t a usual thing to see, well outside Animosity, and to see them this intelligent and willing to do whatever it takes to save their town, anonymously at that, is admirable and delightful. This is such an impressive book from how well the story & plot development work with the pacing and the characterisation to really engage the reader and make them think not only outside the box but inside themselves. Then add into that Jill’s artwork and boy howdy does this make you smile.

[mrlawrenceamick]

Survive The Hollow Shoals (2018) – Movie Review

Hidden in the dark depths of a Putlocker site, I stumbled upon a movie named Survive The Hollow Shoals. If I’m honest – the cover of it was so shit I just KNEW it had to be a Found Footage film (why do they have such poor DVD/poster covers?). 

Anyway, far from being a nasty surprise, this was quite an enjoyable one (so you’re safe to keep on reading the review without too much disappointment!).

It’s listed as having a budget of $100,000…which is complete BS in my book, but it still had enough about it to keep me glued to the screen…

The Plot

Zach sets out into the wildness of the Georgia Shoals to prove his survival skills for 60 days. Before too long, finding clean water and sufficient scavenged food are the least of his worries when disturbing noises and events disturb his lonely challenge.

The Blair Witch Strikes Again!

Yeah, many elements, and even scenes, in this film were direct rip-offs from The Blair Witch Project – but that didn’t seem to bother me this time.

The movie is constructed around a sort of indie production of a survival series/journey – which frequently seems to work pretty well in this genre.

I’m not experienced in survival AT ALL, so I know pretty much fuck all about it (if I don’t have a lighter on me I ain’t getting a fire!). But, Survive The Hollow Shoals managed to get me a little interested in the subject – I enjoyed the survival aspect of it as much as the paranormal angle!

I can’t really put my finger on it – maybe it was the performance of Zack Weiland? Maybe the setup was as natural as possible without going over the top?

All I know is that I was able to look past the Blair Witch element with ease, and enjoy the movie for what it was.

Conclusion

It’s not all plain sailing I’m afraid folks – there are a few cons to this movie that stood pretty tall.

First off the bat is the length – 78 minutes.

In my opinion, this film could have been about 10 minutes shorter – that would of eliminated some of the ‘forest wandering’ scenes that got a little repetitive. These duplicate-feel scenes also managed to point out that the filmmaker, Jonathon Klimek, was struggling with the location side of the movie.

It’s easy to find a decent stretch of forest/woods to film one of these movies…but the key is to then pick sections of the forest that do not look like what you’ve already filmed.

I know this is easier said than done in most cases – but if you manage it, you get rewarded with a broader scope of movie.

Unfortunately, this movie seemed to have been shot in a very small area of the forest location (no idea if it was the Georgia Shoals – I’ve never been there!).

But these downsides were quite easily outweighed by the positive elements of the movie. Mainly – it was easy to watch and easy to enjoy!

I only counted three characters on-screen throughout the whole project – two of which were only there for a matter a minutes. The lead role of Brent McGhee was portrayed really well by Weiland – I had no problem with following his journey without any other characters being involved.

I had a quick look into his background on IMDb and there’s pretty much fuck all there – so keep an eye out for him (the boy did good!).

Oh, I did forget to mention that the movie makes use of some of the loudest soundtrack effects I’ve ever seen on a Found Footage project – they make you jump, but sadly they take the realism out of the finished article.

All in all – I have no problems with this film.

The Blair Witch rip-offs will be obvious enough to every Found Footage fan out there, but they are so obvious they must have been put in there as some sort of homage to the great movie, maybe?

Not a classic – but definitely decent enough to fill up 78 minutes of your life!

from Top Found Footage Films http://ift.tt/2HRhbyT

[lxkvd]

287 Red Grove Ln

Class four.

That probably meant something with talons or teeth.  And itching to use them.

Maldron unlocked his car door.  The call of the abrasive, darting saxophone filling the interior held him briefly; he wasn’t gonna miss this solo in case he ended up smeared on the walls.  After a moment, satiated, he turned the car off and opened the door, stepped around the hood of the car and up the cracked curb.  Pieces of Fall lay strewn in gutters and on dead grass; the old chain link fence was rusted and warped, posts tipping.

He itched at the nicotine patch on his arm.

The oddly colored eviction notice was his indicator.  The house had been scoped and mapped--marked by one of the Company’s Seers as a “Place of Problems,” or a “pop.” Even by paranormal standards the Seers were shaky navigators, not quite correct a lot of the time.  Not quite correct was just as bad as absolutley wrong.

Mal inhaled deeply (catching a lot more gasoline fume than anything else) and walked between the two dilapidated fence posts that had once, presumably, held a gate.  The old porch squealed and warped in protest as he walked over it.  The paint on the siding and door had long since capitulated to the sun and wind, shrinking and cracking in unseemly patterns.   All the windows were unceremoniously broken, mostly completely gone save for wicked looking shards still grasped tightly by the frame.

Mal knocked. 

He always did.  It had saved him one time, years ago, in a situation of purely unforeseeable chance and it had become a habitual routine, a cherished luck charm.  He’d let no one tell him otherwise because he was still alive. 

No answer. 

A small push with the top of his hand opened the door. The deadbolt had been sheared through cleanly, and a series of maglocks had been placed around the frame, opening automatically at the signal from Mal’s ID card.  Class four meant corporeal, but reclusive--it wasn’t going to try to escape, but better to keep anyone else out.  Sometimes a lack of food would put it in hibernation, but not likely. The best he’d be hoping for would be a creature weak from hunger.  Like any normal animal, however, desperation would make unpredictably dangerous; unlike any normal animal, however, there was no basis for behavior.

The front parlor was a mosaic of detritus.  Rotting cardboard and crackling plastic relented under his boots like the floor of some damp forest.  There was little else in the room, surprisingly.  It was devoid of any kind of furnishings (expensive or improvised), and despite the amount of refuse choking the floor nothing indicated much human traffic.  Recent traffic, anyways.  He continued on and peered into two adjacent rooms and saw much of the same before passing into the kitchen. Someone had dragged out the appliances after the house had fallen into disrepair, indicated by the irregular coloring on the back wall.  A fissure in the old plaster had snaked up the discolored wall and into the ceiling, rather innocuous given the state of the rest of the house. 

Mal didn’t like it.

He gave the wall a light touch.  Gloved, of course.  The wall had a convex area around the damage, almost like inflamed skin near a wound.   Very dry.  A harder press and his hand pushed through completely, the plaster crumbling easily, much thinner than it should have been.  He pushed a few more times until a decently sized hole gaped in the wall about chest height.  He briefly searched for his flashlight by slapping pockets until locating it on nearly the last one, clicking it on and letting the painfully bright LED illuminate the damage he’d done to the house.  Craning closer, without getting too close, Mal took in the detail he could discern.  No kind of significant webbing, gouging on the interior, and given the thinness of the wall it was a pretty ominous indicator. 

Something was moving in the walls of the house.

The room held nothing else of consequence or concern, so he continued into two others, briefly.  Neither held anything other than the same rotting garbage the rest of the house had, and that led Mal to the staircase.

Mal was not paranormal sensitive.  He had no more discerning perception than the average human; not acute sense for danger or for precognition, nothing like Seers of Mediums the Company employed, not even really a penchant for good hunches.  Every human, however, has a nearly indescribable wit--through whatever millions of years of evolution, of being maimed and eaten by creatures no longer around, of being hunted and stalked, humans had developed the slightest perception of danger.  The gnawing dread.  And Mal felt it right then, right there.  There stairs were unremarkable, quiet, filthy and unlit, and it was absolutely unsettling to Mal,