#also the scene where they dance. Jesus Christ I was stumbling over myself watching that it was so goddamn sweet

[cassmouse]

That scene in the woods when Violet and Clementine are walking back to Ericson's and talking about like the treehouse and renaming the school and stuff after Clementine comes out of the cave has got to be one of my favourite parts of the game ever its incredible

[howtosingit]

Fic: The Nightmare That I Call Myself

His t-shirt is sweat-soaked and twisted around him, refusing to allow his chest to fully expand the way he desperately needs it to. He tears away at it, trying to get it off, and a sob climbs up his throat and out of his mouth when it starts to feel hopeless. Finally, after an hour or a day or maybe even a year, it comes off. TK throws it across the room with a yell before he wraps his arms around himself, his fingernails digging into his sides.

He just wants to feel something. 

But that’s not really his problem right now. He’s feeling too much, all at once. It’s a stark contrast from the nightmare that he found himself trapped in moments ago; a nightmare where he felt absolutely nothing. Because he was absolutely nothing. 

Because he was dead. 

+

Or, five times TK wakes up disoriented and confused, and one time he wakes up knowing he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Mature | 5.1K | Also on AO3

A/N: Haven’t written a word in two months, got this idea when I woke up this morning and now here we are, 10 hours later. The muse does what the muse wants. Hope you like it!

------

Someone’s screaming.

TK’s eyes fly open, the red and blue lights from his lamp in the corner adding to the confusion that he’s currently feeling. It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest, and when he closes his eyes again to try to make it all disappear, all he sees is smoke and dust and collapsing buildings on fire.

It’s the same thing he’s been seeing on TV for the past few days, even though his mom changes the channel as quickly as possible whenever he’s in the room.

“TK!”

His eyes open again, finally focusing on his mom as rushes into his bedroom, the sudden lights causing him to blink against their harsh brightness. Before he knows it, there are arms wrapped around him, firm hands on his back, and a soft voice in his ear.

“It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay. You’re okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

That’s when he finally realizes that the screams are coming from his own mouth.

He stops instantly, his throat raw, but he can’t quiet the sob rising in his chest. He buries his face in his mom’s shirt, pressing against her, kind of hoping that he can disappear into her, where he knows he’ll be safe. 

He closes his eyes again, and a new image appears behind his eyelids:

His dad. Covered in dirt and dust and blood, his firefighter’s helmet falling from his head, his eyes dark and empty and so different from their normal blue.

“Dad,” he croaks, his voice weak and full of pain. His heart hammers in his chest, thud thud thud. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?”

“Oh, honey, he’s okay,” his mom says, her fingers running through his hair and scratching his scalp gently, a shiver running through him. It helps to pull him out of his head, the fear disappearing at her touch. “He’s just in the other room, he’s okay.”

“Can I go see him?” he cries, the words getting lost in another sob. She understands him, though, like she always does. She’s his mom, so she always understands him.

“Of course, sweetie,” she says, holding him closer. “Let’s calm down a little bit though, before we go see him. We don’t want to scare him, do we?”

TK shakes his head, following along as she shows him how to breathe deeper. He can still feel his heart pounding in his chest, but it doesn’t feel as heavy now. The elephant has been replaced by something smaller. A gorilla, maybe, or something like that. He gets so distracted thinking about all the different animals that he’s seen at the zoo, that he almost doesn’t notice when a different pair of arms find their way around him. 

He does recognize the smell, though. His dad’s soap has a really special smell.

“Daddy,” he cries, more tears finding their way to his eyes as he pulls his head back to see those familiar blue ones. They aren’t as bright as they were before, but they’re more alive than they were in his nightmare. His dad gives him a small smile, pulling him into his arms and against his chest. 

“I got you, buddy. I got you. I’m right here.”

He focuses on the sound of his dad’s heartbeat, hears the way the soft words rumble through his chest. His mom is still there, too, her own fingers crawling up and down his back. 

Eventually, they all lay back down, his body tucked between the two of them. He reaches out, grabbing on to each of them, pulling them even closer. 

He hears them whispering above him, but their voices sound like they’re at the far end of the big, long tunnel, so he doesn’t really know what they’re saying. He watches the lights from his lamp slowly dance across his ceiling, watches as they catch on the corner of the twin-sized firetruck bed that surrounds them on all sides.

The next morning when he wakes up, he tells his dad that he wants to change his room. There’s a sad look in his eyes, but he just gives him a hug and helps him pack some things away.

-----

Someone’s knocking on the door.

TK lets out a groan, his stomach rolling. Even through his eyelids, he can see that the sun is up and pouring in through his bedroom windows, his mother’s sheer curtains doing little to keep the daylight at bay. The air around him is stale, sweaty, and smells like sex and weed. He scrunches his face, trying to stave off the nausea. 

The knocking gets louder, and that’s when he realizes that it’s not at his bedroom door, but further away. Probably on his mom’s front door. Fuck. He’s going to have to get up and answer it before the neighbors complain. He really doesn’t want to have to deal with his mother when she gets home. 

He throws the thin sheet off of himself, the blast of cool air making him aware of his nakedness. The back of his hand comes in contact with something solid to his left and he opens one eye to see tanned skin covered in various back tattoos under a head of shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. His gaze moves lower to take in the bare ass resting on top of his mother’s 800-thread count sheets, the outline of a handprint barely visible on one cheek. With a disgusted scoff, he pushes himself up to sit at the edge of his bed, the stranger now behind him and out of sight.

He instantly realizes his mistake as his stomach somersaults and he barely has time to notice the empty vodka bottle on his nightstand next to a little bag of white pills before he empties it onto his rug-covered floor.

He’s stumbling naked down the hallway towards the bathroom to stand under the water for the next hour or so when his brain refocuses on the knocking on the door. Now that he’s out of his room, he can hear his phone vibrating incessantly from the pocket of his jeans where they lay on the floor by the couch. He can now also hear a familiar voice yelling through the door to accompany the knocking. 

“TK! I know you’re in there, I tracked your phone,” his dad yells, his knocking turning into an intense pounding. “Open the damn door!”

With a “Calm the fuck down, Dad,” TK stomps towards the door, throwing it open. He can’t help the satisfaction that crawls through him at his dad’s shocked face as he takes him in. TK doesn’t know why he’s so surprised; it’s not like this beats the time his dad accidentally walked in on him having sex with his high school boyfriend a few years ago. 

“Jesus Christ, TK,” his dad huffs, pushing him back into the apartment and slamming the door behind him, obviously trying to maintain some sense of privacy. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

TK doesn’t reply, just stands before him with his eyebrows raised and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well? You gonna say something?”

“What are you doing here, Dad?” TK scoffs, rolling his eyes. He immediately regrets it, as the action causes a sharp pain to flare up behind his eyes. Remembering his previous goal of drowning himself in the shower, he turns to walk back down the hallway. “Mom’s out of town, you don’t have to pretend like you give a fuck about me. There’s no one around to impress.”

“Yeah, I know your mom’s out of town, that’s why I’m here,” his dad says, and TK can tell from the consistent volume of his voice that he’s following him towards the bathroom. “You obviously can’t be trusted by yourself for more than a day.”

“Oh, fuck off,” TK yells, rounding on him. “I’m right here, aren’t I? It’s not like I’ve gone missing and you’ve found me dead in an alley or something.”

His dad glares at him for a moment. Then, with a raise of his eyebrow, he points a finger at TK’s face. “You’ve got some vomit on your chin.”

TK feels a blush crawl up his neck, but before he can say anything, his dad turns towards his room, pushing open the door and walking in like he’s been invited to do so.

“Dad, wait!” 

It’s too late. His dad has already stepped inside, taking in the scene. TK cringes as the smell of vomit hits his nostrils. 

“This a new boyfriend of yours?” his dad asks, gesturing to the naked guy still passed out in his bed. TK says nothing, having no desire to share that he has no idea who the guy is, or that he can’t even remember his name. 

His dad circles around the bed, his hand coming up to cover his nose as he spies the puddle of puke on the floor. 

“You’re paying to have that rug cleaned,” he says, turning towards the large bay window and throwing it open. 

“Where do you get off telling me what to do? This isn’t your house anymore, Dad,” TK spits out, but it comes out with less fire than he had hoped. The smell is really strong here, and the room has started to spin again. He starts backing away towards the bathroom, knowing he’s going to need the toilet in just a minute.

“Not a boyfriend then,” his dad says, ignoring his question. He’s made it over to the TK’s side table, where the evidence of his drug-induced evening sits. He watches as his dad grabs the bag of Oxy, waving it around before pocketing it. “Your mother is going to kill you when she finds out you brought your drug dealer into her house.”

“That’s mine, I paid for that,” TK says weakly, his heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t want to be here right now, he doesn’t want to be anywhere right now. He wants the room to stop spinning, he wants the stranger in his bed - the one he let touch him in ways that make him suddenly feel incredibly unclean - to disappear, and he wants his dad to stop looking at him like he’s regretting the day he was born.

(But hey, TK thinks, the familiar nasty voice in his head taking center stage, at least you finally got his attention.)

His dad is across the room and standing in front of him by the time he mentally checks back into the present moment. Before TK can say another word, he’s shoving a pair of clean boxers into his hands, a look of intense disappointment on his face.

“Take a shower, son. You stink.”

And with that, he steps out of the room, leaving TK to stare at his vomit-soaked carpet, his unwanted hookup, and every other regret he doesn’t have it in him to name.

------

Someone’s pounding on the wall behind his bed.

He comes to with a gasp, lurching forward in his bed. His breathing is out of control and he claws at his chest, trying to get a grip on his lungs, to squeeze them until they burst. It’s not like they’re working correctly anyway, he thinks as he struggles to breathe through an airway that he swears can’t be any wider than a coffee stirrer, so what’s the point of having them at all.

His t-shirt is sweat-soaked and twisted around him, refusing to allow his chest to fully expand the way he desperately needs it to. He tears away at it, trying to get it off, and a sob climbs up his throat and out of his mouth when it starts to feel hopeless. Finally, after an hour or a day or maybe even a year, it comes off. TK throws it across the room with a yell before he wraps his arms around himself, his fingernails digging into his sides.

He just wants to feel something. 

But that’s not really his problem right now. He’s feeling too much, all at once. It’s a stark contrast from the nightmare that he found himself trapped in moments ago; a nightmare where he felt absolutely nothing. Because he was absolutely nothing. 

Because he was dead. 

The image of his prone body on the floor, unmoving, just a mass of useless limbs and wasted potential, flashes through his mind, unbidden. He chokes out another sob, reaching up to fist his hands in his short hair, his nails scratching at his scalp. He recalls a time in his life when his mother would run her fingers through his hair, grounding him with love-laced scratches. How it would settle him, how it would focus him, how it would remind him that he wasn’t alone.

He’s alone now. She’s not here. It’s just him, and the addict screaming and pounding on the wall in the room next door. 

Her face comes to him, the one she wore the last time she saw him, the lines of graceful aging marred by fear and hurt and hopelessness. All for him. All because of him. All because he couldn’t get his shit together. All because he couldn’t handle his cushy, privileged existence, with his middle-to-upper class accepting parents. 

All because he didn’t want to do it anymore. 

Except, he does. He really fucking does. He’s felt that high of life, the one that he can get without the help of pills. He’s loved before, he’s given his all to love, and sure, it didn’t last, but it was good. It was freeing. It was worth it. 

He wants to find that again. Find the people that make it worth it again. Find his purpose. He knows it’s out there, he knows it’s waiting for him to get his shit together. 

He’s twenty years old and he’s nearly killed himself, but he’s not dead yet. He’s not done yet. 

He’s not fucking done yet.

So, yes, he’s here and he’s alone, with only thin walls and an uncomfortable mattress to call his own. But, if this is what he needs, if this is what is going to help him find out where he goes next, then it’s worth it. It’s all going to be worth it. 

He cries himself back to sleep, back into the darkness, back into the moments that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This time, though, as he gives himself over to rest, his lungs expand to fill his entire chest, his airways now clear and fulfilling their purpose, reminding him just how alive he is.

------

Someone’s shouting.

There are a lot of voices, but they all sound muddled and confused. There are hands on him, pressing down hard against his chest, and now that he’s noticed them, he also notices the most intense fucking pain that he’s ever felt in his life, right below his collarbone. It hurts so bad that he wants to scream, he even goes as far as opening his mouth to do so, but he’s not sure if anyone hears him; he’s not even sure he hears himself.

His eyes flutter open when he’s suddenly lifted into the air, the pain spiking to new heights. He sees shadows crawling across his vision, shapes that amount to nothing more than blobs of mass. There are so many of them, and they’re all moving so fast. Too fast for him to really pinpoint. 

“TK!”

Those two letters - the two letters he knows better than any others - swim through the molasses to punch him in the eardrum, and he instinctively looks towards the sound. He finds his father there, his face pinched and sweaty and terrified. It’s a familiar face, one he saw just a few months ago actually, one that he never, ever wanted to see again.

Fuck. Another overdose. 

But even that doesn’t explain the sharp pain in his shoulder. He looks around, trying to figure out his surroundings, trying to make sense of all of this. He’s clean, he knows he is. It’s been hard, but he’s in a better place now. He’s with better people now. He’s truly felt like he’s finding himself, finally, after all of these years.

There’s no way he threw that away. There’s no way.

He forces himself to focus, to figure out what the fuck is going on. He turns to see Captain Blake on his left - well, his left, her right, maybe, he doesn’t know. She’s barking orders, and he follows her arms down to find her hands pressed to his chest. He wants to shout at her, tell her that she doesn’t need to push so hard, that she’s really fucking hurting him, but he can’t speak. Just like his scream before, his voice is trapped inside of him.

He looks up to see Marjan above him, lines of tears running down her face. She doesn’t bother to wipe them away, just lets them fall as her bottom lip trembles. He focuses on it, wants to tell her that it’s going to be okay, wants to reach out and rub her shoulder gently. But, as hard as he tries, he can’t seem to do that either. 

He’s stuck in a world where he can’t do a single damn thing.

Suddenly, the blurry ceiling above him gives way to what looks like a wood-covered porch, which quickly gives way to the night sky. It’s all fuzzy, but he swears he can see stars up there; he never really got to see stars before moving to Austin, save for the inconsistent trips he would take outside of the city. 

He likes seeing the stars. He likes the open vastness of it all. It makes him feel equally too large and too small, which is honestly a really freeing, confusing feeling.

There are blue and red lights painting the trees overhead, and he’s reminded of his childhood room, with his firetruck bed and his color-changing lamp that would soothingly move from red to blue, just the way he liked. It feels so long ago, but he remembers it so clearly. It’s the only clear thing he can see right now.

He can tell he’s fading away again, his short reprieve to the land of the living coming to an end. The voices are still both loud and muted, but he no longer cares what they’re saying. The pain is reaching his maximum capacity, the edges of his vision turning white. 

It’s okay, he thinks. It’s all going to be okay.

He feels his head drift to the right, and he swears he sees a familiar face, proud nose and perfect lips under a head of soft brown curls and soulful eyes that have seen deep into the very heart of him. 

He smiles, perfectly content with Carlos being his final thought before he goes. 

------

Someone’s coughing.

It takes him no time at all to realize that it’s him, that he’s the one hacking up a lung. He feels like his chest is on fire and he can’t take a full breath. There’s heat all around him, flames painting his surroundings an unrecognizable, hazy orange. The bed is gone, the dresser is gone. It’s all vanishing, lost to the fire. 

But that’s not what causes him to panic, that’s not what stops his breath. That’s not what threatens to shatter him completely.

Carlos is among the flames.

They’re crawling up his body, latching on to his blue shirt, the one that TK thinks makes him look completely unreal. Well, truly that’s anything he wears, but blue always makes Carlos look soft. 

It makes him look like home. The greatest one that TK has ever known.

And now, TK watches as his home catches on fire, unable to move, to step forward, to pull Carlos to safety. His boyfriend watches him as the flames rise up between them, his eyes wide and full of fear, his chest heaving from the breaths that he just can’t seem to catch. TK wants to yell out, tell Carlos to come to him, that they can get out of this together if they just hurry, but every time he goes to speak, a cough climbs up his throat, burying the words inside of him. 

He knows he’d be crying if he could, but the flames have stolen his tears from him, too. The flames are going to take everything from him. Everything that matters, packaged inside one wonderful, miraculous, unexpected person.

And before he can even blink, Carlos is gone, swallowed whole, no trace of the man that TK chose to give his entire heart to. He’s gone, and TK desperately wants to follow him. 

There’s a creak above him and he has just enough time to look up before the entire ceiling comes down on top of him, granting him his final wish.

He jerks awake, the coughs relentless as he folds himself in half, trying to remove the smoke and ash from his body. It’s dark in the room now, the fire finally extinguished. Except, no, that’s not right, because as he looks around, he sees that everything is intact. Nothing burnt, nothing broken. 

He reaches out blindly, trying to find Carlos in the dark, but he’s met with only air. He turns, taking in the empty space on the mattress beside him, the untouched pillow.

“No,” he gasps, shaking his head, and finally the tears come, no longer frightened of the untamable heat. “No, Carlos, no,” he sobs, pulling at the sheets, hoping that he can find him hiding somewhere in their depths. He claws at them, desperate, unhinged. 

“TK!”

The voice is salvation, the timbre unmatched in its miraculousness. TK whips around, searching and scanning for the source. He lets out a cry when he finds him, standing in the doorway, dressed in nothing but athletic shorts, a bright white towel pressed to his curls, water still trailing down his bare chest.

Whole, untouched, safe. His home.

And TK just loses it.

In seconds, he’s in Carlos’s arms, his firm hands pressed against his back as his shoulders close around him, encasing him. His lips press to the shell of TK’s ear, his voice pouring into him like lava, filling all of his cavities and crevices left behind by the nightmare that took Carlos away from him.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m right here, it’s okay.”

TK sobs, clinging to him, his voice piercing in the quiet of his dad’s guest room. “You were there and you were surrounded by the fire and I couldn’t get to you, I couldn’t move, and I had to watch you, I just had to watch you go and then you weren’t there anymore, and it was like you were never there at all, but I couldn’t do anything, I just--”

“Hey, hey, Ty, breathe,” Carlos says, drowning out his voice with his own, pressing closer. “It was just a nightmare, we both made it out, we’re both here and we’re both okay. We’re both okay.”

“I… I can’t… I just…” 

“Baby, you’re shaking, you’ve gotta calm down, okay.”

“I don’t… I can’t…”

“Here, lay back down,” Carlos says, loosening his grip a bit. TK shrieks, holding tighter. “It’s okay, trust me. TK, I need you to trust me.”

It takes him a moment, but finally TK lets him go. He closes his eyes, feeling the way Carlos lowers him back down onto the mattress. TK can still feel himself shaking, but before he can really start to panic again, he feels a weight on him, one that presses him firmly down, grounding him, holding him steady, from head-to-toe.

His eyes flutter open to take in Carlos above him where his face is pressed into his neck. He breathes, taking stock of their bodies, the way their hips rest against each other, the way Carlos firm thighs bracket his own. He brings his arms up around him, wrapping them around Carlos’s wide back before dragging one hand to the back of his neck and burying them in the soft curls there. 

It’s a position he’s intimately familiar with, though unlike other times there is nothing remotely sexual about this situation. Carlos turns his head just enough to press his lips under TK’s jaw, dragging his nose along the light stubble there. 

All he feels, all he sees, all he hears, is Carlos.

“Just breathe, baby. I’m right here. I’m all around you. I’ll keep you safe. Just like you kept me safe in the fire, just like you kept me grounded, just like you brought me back down when I felt scared and hurt and lost. I’m here for you now. It’s you and me, keeping each other safe, just you and me.”

He nods, letting Carlos drown him in his own form of a sermon, allowing the words to wash over him like a verse. He lets each syllable piece him back together again, remade in the image of the man he’s deemed worthy of loving him. The only man he will ever trust to do so.

He doesn’t need anything else, doesn’t want anything else. This is all he needs. This is all he will ever need.

Just him and Carlos, like this, forever.

-----

Someone’s snoring.

He comes to slowly, letting the world reintroduce itself to him. He hears music first, though it sounds tinny and, if he’s being honest, kind of grating. He shifts his hips a bit, feeling how the movement pulls against some tension in his lower back. He realizes he’s on a very hard surface and not at all on the very expensive mattress that he and Carlos splurged for a few years ago, when his husband started having his own fair share of lower back problems.

He opens his eyes, watching blue and red lights dance across the ceiling from the TV in the corner. A smile pulls at his lips as he shakes his head slightly, amused for no specific reason. Blue and red, he thinks. He’ll never escape them.

He lifts his head just enough to see the children’s TV show currently playing to an audience of none. He remembers when Carlos, fully offended at Netflix asking if he was still watching the same show after a few hours, finally figured out a way to turn that setting off. TK will have to tease him about not turning off the autoplay function tomorrow morning.

He finally focuses on the snoring off to his right, a sound so familiar that he hadn’t really registered it before, his brain just accepting that it was there. He turns his head, his smile growing as he finds his husband asleep next to him, his head resting on TK’s outstretched (and now very painfully numb) arm. 

Carlos’s face is so soft, so serene, his brows slightly furrowed, his crease between his eyes just a little more pronounced. His lips are parted just barely, allowing his shallow breaths to escape and fill the living room around them. TK stares at him, overwhelmed by his beauty, overwhelmed by the feelings that are spreading throughout his chest at the sight of the man before him. 

Even in sleep, Carlos is mesmerizing.

TK glances down, his heart leaping at the sight of their little boy asleep between them, his face buried in Carlos’s shirt, his light brown curls resting against the pillow beneath him. Carlos has an arm draped over him, his fingers grazing TK’s arm. 

A memory flashes in his mind, one from when he was much younger, of his parents surrounding him in much the same way as they all lay together on his firetruck bed. He remembers how safe he felt between them; how between their bodies, he knew he could never be hurt.

He’s surprised to find that he feels that way even now, even as a father himself. He knows it’s because of the man before him; Carlos’s presence has always meant safety to him. He doesn’t see that ever stopping. He wouldn’t ever want it to.

He scoots just a little bit closer, groaning slightly at the numbness in his arm. He holds his breath as his husband shifts, his eyelids fluttering open. Brown eyes meet green, and TK feels the entire world shift into focus in that single moment.

“Hey,” Carlos whispers, dragging his fingers gently along TK’s side.

“We fell asleep on the living room floor,” TK whispers, scrunching his face as he shifts again, feeling the strain on his hips.

“Actually, you fell asleep on the floor, in the middle of Paw Patrol,” Carlos corrects, his hand leaving TK’s side to boop his nose. “We just decided that we would rather stay with you than sleep in our incredibly comfy beds.”

“Your back is going to kill you in the morning, you know that, right?”

“I could say the same thing about your hips,” Carlos replies, raising an eyebrow. TK says nothing, just nods his head and rolls his eyes. 

“Grace is taking him tomorrow night, so we can run a bath, work out each other's kinks.”

“The fact that you are saying that and it’s not about sex makes me feel so incredibly old.”

“I never said it couldn’t be about sex.”

TK feels his jaw drop, watching as Carlos’s eyes twinkle in the blue light from the TV. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his husband’s lips. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Strand-Reyes.”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t, Mr. Strand-Reyes.”

TK drags the tip of his nose along the ridge of Carlos’s before letting out a sigh. “Now that we’re awake, should we move to our beds, save ourselves from total regret and bodily mutilation?”

Carlos hums, looking down at the bundle of limbs between them. “It’s up to you. I just want to sleep next to you, wherever you are.”

TK takes him in for a moment, the way his long lashes brush against his cheeks, the peaceful smile that pulls at his lips as he looks down at their son. It’s a stunning image, powerful in its perfection.

“No, I think we can handle one night,” he says, scooting closer. He does remove his arm from under Carlos’s head, replacing it with the throw pillow laying on the ground next to them. “Besides, I think this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

Carlos hums in agreement, wiggling a little closer and smacking his lips softly as he drifts off to sleep.

TK stays awake until Carlos’s soft snores drown out all possible distractions, the feeling of absolute love and certainty filling him with a heaviness that drags him back into the darkness of sleep, all nightmares kept at bay for now.

[midtownvaledictorian]

How I Chose to Feel Better

When your relationship with Harrison falls apart, it’s the most unexpected person who comes to your rescue

(2,750 Words)

Warnings: drinking, language, smutty smut

A/N: ok I made Harrison seem like SUCH A BAD GUY but it was the only way to make this request work lmao PLZ DON’T HATE ME

Harrison and I were once the perfect couple. Every single day was perfect, so long as it was with him. Hell, even going to the DMV could be a blast if he would accompany me. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t picture what our life would be like: a bunch of kids, a big country house in Southwest London, and eventually growing old somewhere on a remote beach. That was all before he started prioritizing other things. The two of us would go out almost every weekend, c’mon, we were British for fuck’s sake. We would get completely wrecked, then poor Tom would have to drive us back to our apartment where we would have beautiful, loving, and filthy sex.

But when I went back to school, he started going out by himself more. I understood out first, I was home studying a lot and didn’t expect him to always stay shut in with me. But I couldn’t help but be suspicious when I would see that Tom was home on his Snapchat story, but Harrison was still out. I had asked Tom about it a few times, but he was just as clueless as I was. “He got in an uber the same time I did, did he not go straight home?” Would always be his response. Once, I tried turning the tables, telling him that I was going out with some friends. Things got so ugly so fast. Before I knew it he was accusing me of cheating on him. It was an absolute screaming match before he stormed out. He came back two days later, sobbing for forgiveness which I quickly gave him. He always blamed it on stress, but we both knew what it really was: alcohol. He had a serious problem, but bringing it up only brought more fights, so eventually I just left it be. I was especially worried for tonight. It was Sam and Harry’s nineteenth birthday and Tom was throwing a huge party for them. Huge party meant lots of alcohol and lots of boys, which also meant a very drunk and jealous Harrison. I was finishing my makeup when Harrison walked in, “Jesus Christ Y/n, you’re seriously wearing that tonight? What, are you trying to leave with someone else or something?” I was taken aback out first, but then I saw the bottle in his hand and it began to make sense. “No, I’m trying to let you have the hottest date at this party. Ready?” I asked standing up from my chair. We were walking out of our bedroom when I noticed his phone still sitting on the dresser, “Oh, babe,” I said grabbing it. The screen lit up to display a new text from a girl named Liza: you’ll be at the party tonight right? maybe we can sneak off for a while ;) “You almost forgot your phone.” I gave him a fake smile as I handed it to him,  even though my heart was breaking. Tonight wasn’t the night to start a fight like this though, the boys would be so disappointed if we didn’t show. The car ride to Tom’s felt like an eternity. He tried placing a hand on my thigh, something that used to make me beg him to pull the car over so that I could have my way with him, but this time it made me want to throw up. I simply crossed my legs, causing his hand to fall of my thigh, and continued staring out the window. Finally, we reached Tom’s. Before we went in, Harrison grabbed my arm, “listen, no funny business in here okay? I know how you can get when you’re drunk, and I know how other guys will get with you in that dress.” “Of course, babe,” I cooed, fluttering my eyelashes at him, “if there’s one thing we have, it’s loyalty.” I gave him a quick kiss before swinging the door open. He had know idea what was coming for him. Sam and Harry greeted us with open arms. I gave them both a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, but I made sure to kiss Sam closer to his ear, a sweet spot of his that he had admitted to me at a party once. I could feel him gulp at the feeling of my warm lips against his skin, pulling away I gave him a suggestive smirk. I’ll admit, it was kind of evil of me to do this to Sam, but everyone knew that he had a huge crush on me, and I was in the mood for revenge. “You look amazing,” Sam stuttered out. “Well thank you, baby. Harrison here doesn’t like my dress much. Do you?” I asked innocently. “Yeah it’s great,” he was practically drooling. “Watch it, mate. It may be your birthday but I’ll still kick your ass.” Harrison joked, but I knew the warning was more directed at me. “I’m gonna go talk to Sarah, have a good time babe.” I made sure to swing my hips a bit more than normal as I walked away from them. I quickly found my girlfriends who were already completely wasted. They were handing my shots left and right, and before I knew it, I was completely wasted as well. Every once in a while I’d glance at Harrison who was almost always on his phone. The idea of him texting Liza made me livid. Out of no where, I stormed out to the balcony. I was on the verge of tears as I realized there was nothing I could do at this stupid party that would hurt him as much as he had just hurt me. 
“Everything okay?” I spun around to see Tom. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I stated bluntly, praying he would just leave me alone. But instead, he came and stood next to me. “How are you and Harrison?” There was such a long, awkward silence. Was I supposed to lie? Normally I would have, but the vodka in my system gave me the confidence to be honest. “He’s cheating on me, isn’t he,” he looked at me with the saddest look in his eyes. 
“I don’t know for sure, Y/N. I’m sorry, and I know I shouldn’t say this, but you deserve better.” “Yeah, I do.” I said coldly, walking back into the party. I could hear Tom sigh behind me, I could tell he felt bad for me, even he knew that Harrison wasn’t treating me properly. And that was all I needed. All bets were off. Harrison was going to pay. Somebody Come Get Her was playing as I got inside, a genius idea popped into my head. I found Sam and grabbed his arm, leading him over to my group of friends who were standing by the dining table. “I have a birthday present for you,” I whispered in his ear before grabbing a few of my friends and hopping up onto the table. Three of us were dancing on the table, specifically taking advantage of my short dress, I made sure that Sam would be able to see right up it. His cheeks were getting red, watching the spectacle. Eventually Harrison saw me, he’s never looked so angry before. He started making his way over to me, I was so focused on watching him that I didn’t realize how close I was to the edge of the table. Eventually, my heel slipped off and I fell right into someone’s arms. They had two tight grips on me as they tried to help me stand, one on my arm, and the other on my ass. I looked up to see Tom, half smiling at me, but then— “What the fuck man?” Harrison had finally made his way to the scene, and we were in an incriminating position. “Harrison chill it’s not at all what it looks—” Before he could finish his sentence, he was sent stumbling backwards from Harrison punching him. “Harrison!” I screamed at him, but I could tell he was completely blinded by jealousy and beer.
“I don’t wanna hear a damn word from you.” “You can’t just do shit like this, what the fuck were you thinking?”
“What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Dancing on a table like a little slut. What, were you trying to fuck my best friend and all his brothers? You’ll have to wait a few years for Paddy but I wouldn’t put it past you.” “Who’s Liza?” At that, Harrison’s face fell. He knew I knew, and there was nothing he could do to get him out of that situation. “Have fun with her, it won’t take long for her to find out that you’re a pathetic, cheating drunk.” Harrison stepped towards me with an indescribable rage in his eyes, and I was terrified. But luckily Tom grabbed my arm, pulling me behind him. He looked Harrison dead in the eyes. “Get out of here mate.” Harrison scoffed before walking towards the door, before leaving everyone at the party with a nice, “Fuck all of you,” and smashing a beer bottle on the floor and walking out. I was in complete shock of the actions of the man I used to love so much. “Lets go calm down,” Tom said to me quietly before leading me down the hall. He sat me down on his bed and kneeled in front of me. “Are you okay?” I just shook my head. I couldn’t even find the words. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He has a serious problem right now, but you shouldn’t have to deal with that.” “I loved him, Tom. I really did.” “Did?” “Not anymore. You don’t even know the half of what usually goes on.” Tears started welling up at all of the horrible memories. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. No actually that was shitty of me, you can cry if you need to, I’ll stay with you.” He sat next to me and put his arm around me, letting me fall into his chest to cry. “Why are you so nice to me? Shouldn’t you be calling me a slut with Harrison somewhere?” “I love Harrison, but I love you too, Y/N. And I know who’s right here, and I know who needs me more, and that’s not him. And to be honest, I’m pretty pissed at him, I always thought he was better than that.” “So did I. God I made such a fool out of myself trying to get back at him.” “Nah, you’re fine. Besides, you really did make Sam’s birthday.” He said chuckling. “One down, three to go,” I joked. “God, can you imagine?” “Imagine what?” “If we… ya know,” I don’t know if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the sense of comfort he was giving, but in that moment, I needed him. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. He seemed startled out first, but temptation gave in and soon he was kissing me back. He let his hand rest on my thigh, the other making its way up my body to cup my face. He pushed us back onto the bed and started kissing me harder, I could feel the need behind his kiss. “I’ve always wanted this,” he whispered in between kisses. I furrowed my eyebrows, “You’ve always deserved better than him, you deserve someone who could treat you like I could.” I was certain that it was the alcohol talking, but the feeling of him latching his lips to my neck made me want to believe him. He pulled himself on top of me, situating himself between my legs. I didn’t even bother trying to suppress my moans when he started grinding against me. Each movement of his hips caused my dress to hitch up further, and soon the only thing separating us was the thin fabric of my panties. His hand barely brushed up my thigh has he moved my panties to the side, just resting on my entrance. He broke the kiss to look me in the eyes, looking for my approval. All it took was a nod for him to push inside of me. The feeling sent me reeling, I threw my head back into the bed and clawed at the sheets above me. Harrison and I hadn’t been intimate in so long, so the feeling of him pumping roughly inside of me left me seeing stars. I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, “wait, wait, wait, Tom,” his face left the crook of my neck to give me a confused look, “I want you.” I started palming his erection through his jeans, but he definitely didn’t need anymore help to get hard. I tugged at the hem of his jeans, he got the hint and began unbuttoning them frantically. He kicked his jeans and boxers off before pulling my dress over my  head. “Holy shit, you’re so beautiful.” There was a smile on his lips as they pressed against mine. Reaching between us, I stroked his length a few times before guiding him to my entrance. “You’re sure you want this?” He asked, I could tell he was being sincere, and this unfamiliar kindness made me want him even more. He slowly pressed into me, I had to bite at his shoulder to keep from screaming. I wasn’t used to being with someone as big as Tom, and I let out a loud whine when he finally bottomed me out. His abs were clenching, I could tell that all he wanted was to slide out and slam back into me, but he was waiting for my go ahead. “Give it to me,” I breathed into his ear. He shuddered before ramming into me. Damn, dancers really know how to use their hips. It didn’t take long for the first orgasm to wash over me. “Fuck, Y/n,” he moaned as I clenched around him. But he wasn’t done. In fact, the moans of my orgasms only motivated him to go harder. My nails were dragging down his back as I bit him roughly on his neck and shoulders. His grip on my hips tightened, enough to leave me with faint purple bruises in the morning. Curses slipped through his lips as his thrusts became harder and lost his rhythm. He pulled out quickly and collapsed into the crook of my neck. His hot liquid pooled on my stomach before he flopped onto his back beside me. “I’ll grab you a towel,” he chuckled before disappearing into his bathroom. He tossed me a towel before he slipped into a pair of sweats. When I got cleaned up and offered a sweatshirt which I happily pulled on, putting that tight dress back on was the last thing that I wanted to do. “There are still people in your living room, you know.” I reminded him as he laid down next to me and pulled the covers over the both of us. “Yeah, Harry will kick them out eventually, lets just stay here.” I knew I should’ve left, guilt started washing over me, but the light kisses Tom kept leaving on my cheek as we fell asleep were enough to push the guilt away.

I woke up with a start. I remembered what had happened last night, but I kept trying to convince myself that it was all a bad dream. “What the hell have I done?” I muttered to myself. Tears started welling up at the reality of it all. My light sobs woke Tom up. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Tom asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “God, we’ve fucked up, Tom. We’ve really fucked up.” “No, we didn’t. He hurt you, you can’t blame yourself for how you chose to feel better.” It was true. What did I owe him? He cheated on me. He treated me horribly. He was the one who ruined us. I let out a defeated sigh before searching for my phone. It was nearly noon and I had a new text from Harrison: I don’t expect you to forgive me, ever. But you deserve to know that I’m checking into a rehab center tonight. I have a problem, Y/n. I see that now, and I wish I would’ve seen it sooner. I’ve ruined the one thing that mattered most to me. I love you, Y/n. Tell Tom thank you for taking care of you last night, and that I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll see you guys in a couple of weeks, goodbye. What the fuck have I done.

[in78weeks-blog]

Adventure in Coachella Valley

About a month ago I found incredibly cheap roundtrip tickets to Palm Springs and instantly bought my tickets. While I began planning my trip, I realized that my college friend Lor-Shing lived in LA - only an hour and a half drive away. She was free for half of the weekend so she decided to come join me in the desert.

I arrived on Friday at 11am. I was planning on working remote for the day and Lor-Shing had some work to get done, so we found a coffee shop nearby and stopped in for the morning.

Though we had work to get done, we were both so eager to catch up and talk about all that had happened in our lives since the last time we saw each other. Giving ourselves more work and study breaks than we deserved, we found little moments to share anecdotes and eventually dove into a informative and self-reflective conversation about our personality traits and enneagrams.

Realizing that we were doing more talking than working and that we weren’t expecting to get too much work done for the rest of the day, at 4pm we packed up our belongings and sat in her car figuring out what to do next. We decided to venture into the snowy mountains of Mount San Jacinto via the Aerial Tram. We drove through the canyon leading to the base of the clouded mountains that towered over the town. The steady incline was proving to be a challenge to Lor-Shing’s sedan, but we let our conversation about life and love drown out the sound of the high rpm gear shifts of the car.

We beat the tour bus by a couple minutes and avoided waiting in the painfully long and restless line of tourists eagerly awaiting their trip up the side of the mountain. We entered the tram and as we began our ascent into the misty clouds above, we were surprised to feel the platform begin to turn. The circular platform made three rotations on our 15-minute ride to the mountain, giving us a view of both the mountain station ahead and the valley below.

For a 5 minute segment of our ride, we entered into a Jurassic Park like scene as the thick fog kept us from seeing only a couple hundred feet around us. My childhood fear of pterodactyls appearing from a dark fog crept back into my heart until we broke through the fog and were enlightened to see a wintery landscape atop the eerie cloud blanket.

We stepped off the tram into a cold wintery wonderland, much like the snowy Colorado mountains I had just left hours ago. Around us were unprepared Californians fashioning their flip-flops and short sleeves and Lor-Shing mentioned that this was the first time she had seen snow since living in Washington years ago. We wandered among the shaded forests on the mountainside, occasionally sinking into the deep snow and stepping back in shock as my stylish booties and Lor-Shing’s cloth sneakers weren’t built for cold and wet conditions.

We made our way back to the warm cabin and found a secluded corner to enjoy our hot chocolates and continue our conversation about where we were headed in life. In between our reflective conversation, we lulled into long spells of silence, where we turned our face to the sun and let the self-reflective thoughts sink into our hearts. The sun was beginning to set so we decided to make our way back down to a more favorable warm climate 10,000 feet below.

We were both tired from the travels and adventures of the day so we stopped in at our AirBnb and took a long nap to recover. I was jerked awake, and in a panic checked my clock to the surprise that I had slept for two hours. We were both incredibly hungry so we quickly found a Mexican restaurant to fill our stomachs. By the time we were done eating, it was too late in the day to do anything else so we went back to the AirBnb with a pint of dairy-free ice cream and called it a night.

Lor-Shing needed to leave by 12:30 to make it back to Los Angeles, so we decided to get an early start to Joshua Tree National Park to make the most of our remaining time together. I had visited Joshua Tree National Park once while I was a college student, but the drive was completely unfamiliar to me. We arrived as the ranger was getting to the entrance station so we were hopeful to be some of the first people in the park.

We had no rigid plan so we drove through the park and stopped at unique spots along the way as they peaked our interest. We climbed among the rocks, wandered through the Joshua Trees, leisurely enjoying the warm sunlight against our skin.

We stumbled across some boulderers in the park, so even though I wasn’t properly dressed, I borrowed a pair of shoes from the friendly climbers and jumped on a couple easy climbs. I caught myself saying “I definitely need to make a climbing trip out here” several times and made a mental note to reach out to climbing friends later to gauge interest.

We spent most of our time at the Jumbo Rocks area, wandering among the massive tan-colored rocks, laying out on the surface of the rocks and letting the sun warm our skin and hearts. There’s something about carelessly wandering around a foreign landscape, throwing my arms in the air and twirling with and against the wind, that makes me connect with my whole self. Letting the emotions of my heart manifest in frustrating screams, a fit of laughter, or uncontrollable tears, creates space for my heart to show her true colors, and gives my brain the opportunity to catch up and recognize where my heart’s at.

This time, twirling to the beat of the joyful music in my heart, I laughed and smiled, and thanked God for friends like Lor-Shing that ground me and remind me of the gifts He has granted me in this stage of my life. I thanked Him for granting me the opportunity to experience freedom like never before, and trusting me to share my story with the world.

We walked, we danced, we laughed, but it was soon time to say goodbye. Goodbyes are difficult, especially when you don’t feel like you’ve had enough time to properly catch up. I still had so much I wanted to do with Lor-Shing, but she had to return to her ever-changing life in Los Angeles so at 2pm, she dropped me off in downtown Palm Springs and she was on her way home.

My plan was to wander around the town of Palm Springs until it got dark, then return to the airport to pick up my rental car. I had four hours to kill, and an entire town to explore, so how bad could it be? I didn’t realize that Palm Springs was a very bougie town, and unfortunately didn’t find anything that interested me as I walked around town. I also wasn’t hungry so stopping into a restaurant to enjoy a meal wasn’t an option. I found a quiet spot on a side street and took a moment to enjoy people watching and sitting in silence.

Finally it was time to return to the airport to pick up my rental car - a sweet silver Toyota Corolla. It was already dark, but I wanted to try my hand at night photography so I drove back out to Joshua Tree National Park and spent two hours in the cold trying to capture the light of the stars against the beautiful desert landscape.

Instead of finding a place to sleep for the night, I decided that I would car camp in my rental car so I could be more flexible with my schedule. My next destination was a two hour drive away and my plan was to car-camp in the desert area surrounding it, but after an hour of driving, I was too tired to continue driving. So I stopped in at a 24 hour fitness parking lot and called it a night.

I slept surprisingly well in the Corolla, a much smaller vehicle than my Highlander that I’m used to, but made it work by putting down the back seats and sticking my feet into the darkness of the trunk. I woke up awfully early to take quick shower at 24 hour fitness before heading out to my next destination. After getting freshened up, I drove south along the Salton Sea and witness a beautiful sunrise. The pink and orange sky silhouetted the palm tree farms in such a way that I felt like I was on the beach.

I arrived at Salvation Mountain just as the sun was beginning to peak over the hill. As I was driving up, I could see a couple hundred feet ahead of me the massive lettering on the side of the hill that read “GOD IS LOVE”. The excitement in my heart grew to a skip-and-a-hop toward the vibrant mountain that proclaimed the love of Christ to the world. There were a group of girls taking photos of each other and admiring the 50 foot display of faith and love.

After the girls left, I was the only one remaining and proceeded to walk around the property, examining the hallowed out vehicles that were plastered with the same messages of faith and love. While wandering around, a voice in the distance called out “Good Morning, how are you doing today”? I turned around toward the voice and tried to make out the person who it belonged to. After a couple seconds, I saw a man with crazy curly hair in the shadow of an RV waving and walking in my direction. I answered “I can’t complain. I get to worship Jesus on a Sunday at the most magnificent place in the world”.

He introduced himself as Ron, one of the caretakers of the mountain. He told me about each of the cats that lives on the property, their different personalities and a couple anecdotes about each of them. As other visitors came to have their look, he stayed by my side, shouted a quick greeting and continued on with the conversation we were having.

We didn’t talk too much about faith, although I wish we did. It seemed he was happy to have someone around to listen to stories from his daily life. He was very proud to be part of the salvation mountain family and being a part of the movement to share the love of Christ with others.

For some context, Salvation Mountain lies in a off-the-beaten-path desert town called “Slab City”. Slab City isn’t much of a city at all really, it’s just a collective of vehicle-dwelling folk. Most of the population lived in RVs but it didn’t seem these vehicles were used for transportation at all. Run down tarps and steel sheets held up by wooden posts were makeshift porches outside the entrance of campers ironically decorated with the colors and designs of the desert.

As a charcoal grey Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van sped down the dirt road adjacent to Ron’s home, he let out a snarky comment about “those people” and how they glamorize living out of a vehicle. Oh if only he knew that I was “one of those trendy car-dwellers” too. He’s right though, I don’t understand the lifestyle of the vehicle-dwellers in Slab City, and I hope I don’t seem like I claim to be. That honest comment that Ron made gave me a lot to think about on my drive back to Palm Springs.

Per Ron’s suggestion, I made a quick stop at East Jesus - a whimsical art installation just down the road. From the fuselage an old Cessna plane to a huge wall of old tube televisions, this interesting destination did not disappoint. Here I met a man of many names, but apparently the people here call him “Wizard”. His long beard, excessively tall and crooked wooden cane, and long tattered trench coat suggested that the nickname was founded from his appearance rather than his mystical powers. Wizard aimlessly pointed at several parts around the property and claimed creative genius and manual effort on several of the art pieces. Free from his wizardly mysterious speech about the purpose of the East Jesus art installation, I walked around to each piece to appreciate the handiwork.

After a morning of interesting conversation and much to think about, I drove back to Palm Springs, enjoying the Palm Tree farms along the way.

Next stop was the Moorten Botanical Garden. I heard about a beautiful cactus greenhouse and was excited to see it for myself. The botanical garden held all kinds of desert plants, from the dense fountain-style leaves of the Aloe Vera plant to tiny button cacti. At the entrance of the garden and final stop of the botanical garden loop was a shop with an array of succulents and desert plants that were for sale. I desperately wanted one but my small living space and airplane baggage limitations held me back from making a spontaneously rash decision to purchase a new plant friend.

With a couple hours remaining before I had to head to the airport, I decided to head out to Indian Canyon to see the biggest California Fan Palm Oasis in the world. I didn’t bring any athletic shoes so I wasn’t going to be able to go on a very aggressive hike, but I found two short hikes to explore.

The loop hike at Andreas Canyon was a living, ecological dichotomy. In the desert hills of Agua Caliente Nature Preserve was a lush green oasis sustained by the stream formed from the snowmelt of mountains many miles away. Walking into the valley of the dry barren mountains, I felt my lungs being coated with the moisture from the oasis surrounding me. To the right of the trail was a rock wall carved out from years of steady water erosion, and to my left was the flowing of a crystal clear stream that supplied the nutrients for the massive palm trees that provided my shade.

The loop took me on on the canyon on the south bank of the stream where I could get a aerial view of the oasis against the backdrop of red stone. Back when I would go hiking in the Pacific Northwest, I would be in awe as I looked at a mountaintop view of dense forest around me and ask the daunting question “How many trees do you think we can see from here?”. Asking this question at this particular spot on my hike didn’t seem so daunting. In fact from where I stood, I could probably give you an accurate number within the hour.

It was growing dark and the time to return the rental car was creeping near so I began my drive back to the airport. With a camera full of photos and a happy heart filled with new memories with an old friend, I was heading home to Denver with a smile on my face.

[framedepth]

The Wicker Man and the Horror of the Natural World

One of the most unfortunate facts of film history is that The Wicker Man (1973) is going to be forever overshadowed by its unfortunate 2006 remake, in which Nicholas Cage plays a living joke of a character. If you only know of that movie and the countless memes it has spawned, then watch the original Robin Hardy directed film and discover a real horror classic that really stands the test of time.

Set on the secluded Summerisle off the coast of Scotland, The Wicker Man stars Edward Woodward as Sergeant Howie, a police officer summoned to the island by a mysterious letter asking him to investigate the disappearance of a young islander girl, Rowan Morrison (Gerry Cowper). Immediately upon arriving, Howie discovers a strange town-wide conspiracy rooted in the towns Pagan religious practices that die-hard Christian Howie intensely disapproves of. In an a career best performance, Christopher Lee plays Lord Summerisle, the political and religious leader. Only minutes into the film do things start feeling uneasy and disturbing, as haunting folk music opens the film with beautiful landscape shots of the Scottish island, and the terror only begins to build as Howie discovers how the village really works.

It is not a groundbreaking plot, but what sells it and makes the whole thing so tense is the way the island and its residents are shot. They are rarely not grouped up with at least one other resident, so that Howie is constantly outnumbered. In the case of his scenes with Christopher Lee, Edward Woodward is so dwarfed by the 6′5″ actor that he feels so out of class at all times. It feels so much like a documentary at points not just because it looks out of date, but there are many times where we are just watching the residents of the town living their strange lives. It even opens with the producers thanking the residents of the Summer Isles, which are real islands, but it almost serves like the opening text of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in which the filmmakers claim that these events are real. Christopher Lee, Edward Woodward, and Britt Ekland as Willow are the only actors that really seem like actors. All of the other characters seem like real people that were gathered to record a documentary about their strange island life.

Another classic but underappreciated horror film that came to mind while I was watching this movie is the 1961 film The Innocents with Deborah Kerr. A memorable scene in that film has Deborah Kerr stumble upon a cherubic statue crawling with the most disgusting insects you will ever see, and it is a horrifying image. It is scary due to the fact that it is a perversion of something meant to be child-like and maybe comforting. This juxtaposition with the undesirable and sickening bugs turns it into something of almost pure evil. This type of imagery is all over The Wicker Man, in all of the various seemingly innocent symbols we know, like that of their sun god. A lot of this movie is just people having fun, dancing around, and having the best time of their lives. But because we see the movie through the eyes of the intensely Christian Sergeant Howie, everything they do is the embodiment of heresy and evil. We start to feel this way as well, despite this style of living almost coming off as preferable to how anyone else in the world lives.

The most shocking thing about this film to me is that it is basically a horror-musical. There are at least four extensive singing scenes, or times like the opening when the focus of the scene is the song about the country and the harvest. The scene in which Willow dances nude in her bedroom, singing, in an attempt to seduce Howie is a great musical number and maybe one of the most unsettling seductions ever put to film. Maybe even worse is the song the children of the island sing around the maypole, another case of a corruption of an innocent symbol and activity. Not only do these songs just really creep you out, but each of them also helps push the theme of the natural order of life on this Earth being inherently tied to both death and rebirth.

The most interesting point that this film evokes is relationship that the islanders form of Paganism and Christianity have with the concept of death. Sergeant Howie, despite being a devout Christian who believes that he will be resurrected by his savior Jesus Christ upon his second coming, fears death and sees it as final. The islanders use the evidence of the lush world to affirm their beliefs that the death of a person, animal plant is only the beginning of life for the others. Christianity’s focus on resurrection paints death as something to reject and overcome, as the worst fate that can befall someone. But the islanders Paganism celebrates and embraces death. The children’s song lays out the cycle of nature that is true for all things: some form of life is born, procreates, dies, and becomes nourishment for another form of life that is going through the same cycle. This inherently more optimistic view leads the islanders to be more cheery and lively people, while Howie is a grumpy virgin who can’t stop insulting the villager’s way of life. The film is ambiguous enough in its stance on these two beliefs that it does not come off as if Robin Hardy and writer Anthony Shaffer are abdicating that we all become Pagans and have creepy orgies in the park, but it is clear that they think that that lifestyle has its upsides.

Famously, this film was once described as “the Citizen Kane of horror films”, and I honestly see a lot of merit in that statement. I found myself very scared and disturbed by this film, and when it ended I had a lot of questions running through my mind concerning how the worlds cultures and religions view death, and which one could maybe lead the the best life. This is not totally obscure film, but it is so unfortunately forgotten in favor of laughing at Nicholas Cage being killed by bees enough that it needs to be brought up at any appropriate time.