#i am struggling to find pictures for the latest missing pieces chapter

[lucawrites11]

i'm dying 😭😭...

[orangeoctopi7]

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below. 

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing. 

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves. 

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device. 

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth. 

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford. 

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

 European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything. 

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth. 

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark. 

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands! 

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about. 

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days. 

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet. 

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence. 

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically. 

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You’ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!” 

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

[rue-king]

Family Found, Family Taken

(AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32892439)

Previous Part, Next Part

Summary: Gavin jumps right into the case that drives his brain in circles. He ignores and pushes RK900 to the side, determined to pretend he doesn't exist, but RK900 has had enough and makes a move.

Warnings: descriptions of a crime scene, cursing, kidnapping

Chapter Two:

“For someone whose handwriting is so messy you are quite organized” RK900 starts coming out of his interface trying to make conversation.

Reed rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore his attempt. Of course I’m organized, I am a fuckin good detective.

“You know partners need to actually work together” He continues on.

“You know I don’t actually give a fuck right” Reed snaps back lazily.

“Captain Fowler instructed that you cooperate”

“No he told me to accept it, not that I have to hold your fuckin hand”

“Aw you guys talking about holding hands already” Tina Chen jibes as she walks up from the direction of the break room.

“Real cute Chen”

“Haha, oh come on Gav. Anyway, move I wanna meet my new best friend. Hi I’m Tina Chen! Nice to meet you!” She says enthusiastically, putting her hand out for RK to shake.

“Hello, I am RK900.” He says, not accepting the handshake. It doesn’t seem like his ignorance is done in disdain but rather not really feeling quite comfortable enough to do that. Awkward.

Reed laughs quietly under his breath, Tina shoots him a dirty look taking back her hand.

“So new guy, you just go by RK900?”

“That is correct, I have no formal name given to me by cyberlife”

Stiff. Is he even deviant?

“Oh okay! Well it was nice seeing you!” She turns to the side to be dramatic “don't worry about this kid he’s like that to everyone.”

“I am not sure that’s a good thing” He says in a flat tone.

Gavins jaw drops a fraction, “alright, alright get out of here Chen.”

She blows a kiss and walks away with flourish. There is a moment of silence and Gavin starts to go back to work.

“There are multiple cases that are assigned to you and are marked as open.”

Gavin nods his head sarcastically, waiting for the RK unit to get to the point.

“Was that it?” Gavin asks coldly. “4 out of 5 of those cases are already closed, but our computers were down last week so paperwork is slow. I am currently assigned the string of double homicide cases.”

“We” RK corrects.

“The fuck did you say to me?”

“We- you mean, we are assigned to”

“Hah, you fuckin wish. I am assigned to the case, you are here to make the station look pretty.” Gavin bites back.

“Really? Well it seems to me that you are struggling with this case. Perhaps you need my assistance, Detective”

“I don’t need to ask you for shit”

“Well-”

“No fuck this, I’m leaving.” Gavin grabs his jacket, his luke-warm coffee and storms off.

Gavin hops in his car and starts it quickly, taking a deep breath, he pulls out of his spot and toward the latest crime scene.

As he drove he thought about the case's details. His knuckles curl around the steering wheel, stinging as he reopens the slight scabs and cuts that linger there.

Husband and wife, Christina and Mike, found dead in their home at 11:30 AM on September 21st 2039.

They are suspected to have died about 10 to 11 hours prior to their bodies being discovered.

Christina is suspected to have been killed first by strangulation and then Mike by blunt force trauma to the head. (Officers on scene noted that it may have been the corner of the coffee table).

Murder - suicide?

…...No, that's not probable men statistically are more likely to go with a quicker method.

…...Also, Christina showed no signs of defensive wounds and Mike would have shown some sign that she fought back. Regardless of relationship, when your life's on the line people normally try.

….the murderer is significantly stronger than both?

… enough for the main threat to be taken out last?

…..was the female victim used as leverage ?

There was no suspicious activity or persons around the scene reported by neighbors.

The two have a history of loud fighting, but have recently been reported as “doing well.”

The bodies were discovered by Mike’s sister, Cathy, who was supposed to come over for breakfast on the 21st.

Gavin growls under his breath and frustration creeps back up his spine. This case is relatively new but the bodies have already been moved to the morgue for a more conclusive autopsy. The CSI guys on site are shit and nothing they do is quite up to Reed’s standards, so he normally tries to get a look at the crime scene himself.

“Those fukin CSI guys and no name beat cops have probably contaminated my crime scene” Reed grumbles as pulls into the neighborhood.

The crime scene is still pretty fresh as it's a day old. Cops control the area as the press covers the story.

Reed grabs his ancient dark brown leather jacket and slings it over his worn body. He likes autumn, but he's much too grumpy right now to acknowledge it.

He’s too angry and bitter to look at the warm colored leaves that saturate his peripherals and breathe in the crisp air. He would enjoy it too, what a bummer.

Guarding the main entrance to the home is some random beat cop that Gavin has seen around the office. He passes him quickly and brushes off the press’ questions with a stern, cold shoulder.

As he enters the house the first thing he notices is the cold draft of air. The house itself is decorated in a very homey manner. With each piece of furniture and decoration being slightly mismatched, everything is brought together in a sense of warm belonging.

The cold draft makes it feel like he’s gazing into the past. Gross.

He walks further into the house, breaching the archway that separates the foyer and the living room. There he sees the blood. It spatters across the floor, centering around what would have been the back of Mike’s head. It leaks out toward the rug and stains that homey blue color into an ugly dark red.

Gavin takes a deep breath, ready to find whatever the reports left out.

He looks up and calls over to the nearest officer, “are you the only one in here?”

“No, it's me and my partner, who's out back.”

“Oh, well get out I don’t need you guys walking all over my evidence” Gavin states bluntly.

The officer is taken back. He recognises Gavin, the department asshole. He scoffs a bit and walks off to get his partner and leave anyway. Fighting with the DPD’s detectives is a losing game, everyone knows that.

It's as if a switch goes off in Gavin’s brain. He begins to analyze his crime scene.

Blood splatter on the wall and furniture suggests that Mike went down facing the inside of the house.

….he was pushed. There is no way to throw yourself backward with enough force. Murder-suicide.

....there had to been enough force for him to go down fast enough at that exact trajectory to cause a deadly blow

...Mike has a violent(-ish) history, he would have fought back.

….no defensive wounds? (Note: check autopsy reports, maybe go down to morgue?)

At this point, Christina is already dead by strangulation. Her body was found facing away from the front of the house slumped toward the coffee table.

….looking in. What were they looking at? She is used as leverage and her husband is next, why does she die looking away from him? It takes about 4 minutes for a person to die of strangulation (unless the assailant was exceptionally strong).

…. If it took so long, why did Mike not try to fight as his wife choked?

...Something is not adding up. There's a missing piece somewhere.

Reed walks around the living room languidly. He wanders over to the innermost corner of the room, from this position he can see both “bodies” perfectly, along with a view of the front window.

The two victims are facing this corner, this is where the murderer stood. That's where they were when they strangulated Christina and where they pushed Mike. Gavin hums to himself, his brain works in quick and efficient cogs. Moving from thought to thought and connecting each tidbit with a string of concentration.

Mike’s wound should have taken another 5 minutes to become critical enough for him to bleed to death. But he is still looking right here. At this corner.

...what is he looking at? What am I missing?

Reed spins around wildly, looking at the piece of the room behind him. All that lies behind him is a single arm chair and a small circular picture frame that hangs above it. This corner of the room takes up no space and is a V-shape that connects the living room entrance to the kitchen entryway.

He stares hard at the little chair. Little chair.

A door opens in his head, but he can’t quite pin it down.

A sparkle catches his eye. He bends down to get a closer look, reaching his hand under the little chair. He pulls out a dusty untied bow with a few colorful sequences hanging off.

Little chair. Bowtie.

...Child. They are staring at a child.

He breathes out a hard puff of air. He hates cases with children.

They aren’t reported to have any kids.

He walks into the kitchen with a little more energy. He spots the tall white fridge that's adorned with colorful magnets. Magnets at child height with nothing attached to them and one higher up holding an empty, unmarked envelope.

That's so fake. Rigged. Staged.

He pulls open random drawers in search of the junk drawer. He knows there is always at least one in every household.

When he finally finds it he pulls out a slightly bent piece of printer paper. It's a drawing, a child’s drawing. A tall figure drawn in light blue holds the hand of a smaller green figure in a dress who is linked to a taller purple dress clad figure.

A little cloud to the left and a big tree to the right. It’s their family.

They were hiding evidence of a child, their child. Why? They were killed unexpectedly, it wasn’t to hide from the murderer. Who then?

…”Mike’s sister, Cathy, who was supposed to come over for breakfast on the 21st.”

...hiding evidence of a daughter from the sister? Why?

Gavin’s head hurts, he doesn’t even notice he's clenching his jaw in anger. Cases with kids make him angry. He is on a roll now, he can’t stop his momentum.

He pries open the fridge.

Mostly empty. One carton of eggs, one jug of milk, and various vegetables in the drawer. Don’t kids have like snacks or something. This is the fridge of a bachelor.

He moves on, going upstairs. He figures that they can try to hide little photos, but a kid in a house of this size would have her own room.

The parents room check out, nothing special. It’s just as homey as the rest, left as if they were just out running errands.

He moves on to the door at the end of the hallway to the left, facing the street. Jack pot, it's the kids room. Though at first glance it looks like a normal neutral guest bedroom.

He takes a peak under the bed, small toys like dolls and stuffed animals are tucked in the farthest corner. The sheets are new and the bed is freshly made. (As fresh as a day old can be anyway). He walks over to the window and peaks out.

He can make out the big tree that blocks some of the view. From the drawing.

Reed can also make out the image of his freshly dubbed partner stepping out of an automated taxi. RK900’s stark white uniform shining under the overcast weather outside.

Fuckin perfect. Gavin huffs, even more determined to finish quickly. He doesn’t need some pristine plastic to walk in and ruin all his work. He can do it on his own. He doesn’t need help.

He goes to the closet and opens it up. Hangers are crooked and a few pieces of child’s clothing are sprawled on the floor.

Taken in a hurry. Fuck.

That solidifies it. Cristina and Mike had a child, or at least one living with them at the time of the murder. There is no other victim, so it is safe to assume that this double homicide has upgraded into a kidnapping.

“Fuck. FUCK”

Gavin pulls out his phone and dials Captain Fowler's number as he leaves to meet with the officers outside.

As the phone hits the second ring he is met with the face of his brand new partner.

“I will be assisting you on this case De-”

“Shut the fuck up tin can. Get out of the way” Reed rushes out. RK resists getting out of his way, determined to spit his own insults at the rude detective.

The captain doesn’t pick up. Reed moves past RK anyway.

Gavin reaches the officers outside. “Hey you, come here” he calls over the officer he sassed earlier in the house. “How many officers are on scene, right now?”

“Four. My partner and I, and Ortis and his partner as well.”

“Okay, listen up. I need you to stay here and keep the press under control and in the area, get the other three to comb through the neighborhood and alert me if they find anything. Our murderer may have kidnapped a little girl and we don’t have any other information.” Gavin commands in a low tone.

The officer's eyes widened, opening his mouth to say something.

“No, shut up. We can’t let the press know, so you stay here, stay quiet and make sure your buddies do their job. Got it?” He nods, and Reed shoos him off.

“How did you come to that conclusion, Detective?”

RK900, right, perfect.

“None of your business, RK900” he overprounances the unit’s name to be condescending, but his partner stares at him with cold, uncaring eyes. So naturally Reed continues on.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a competent detective or something? Figure it out yourself.”

“Oh I did, I just wanted to know how you got to that conclusion.”

Flames heat up Reed’s body. He is quick to anger.

“You piece of shi-”

“Oh and while you were off being an ass I already contacted Fowler about the situation and the search for the young girl continues on at the office.”

Gavin clenches his jaw again, his tongue flicking over his teeth in quiet rage. RK900 stands there with an unfeeling look on his face, peering down at Gavin.

Reed would swear that there is a hint of a smirk teetering at the corner of that bastard's mouth. The shadow RK’s high brow creates on his eyes makes the distance between them seem daunting, widening the gap between them. Further smushing Gavin’s fragile ego into the bits and pieces between the dirt.

Dramatic, he knows.

Gavin from a couple months back would have ripped forward and swung on RK900, but this Gavin is tired. Resigned from the fight against his inferiority. He takes a breath, though it does nothing to relieve him of his anger, and walks off with nothing but a dirty look.

He has to solve this case, he has to. It is his last chance.

[fallingin-like]

november 16

l’amour parle en fleus by @scribbleb-red [requested by @fuzzballsheltiepants]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post! 

this is a wonderful and heartbreaking fic that deals with grief and the beauty of life. it is soft and sweet, while dealing with hard topics and loss. this fic is incomplete.

disclaimer: i reviewed this fic when it had 7 chapters, so no comments on chapter 8. sorry!

this fic was stunning and i was blown away by your amazing descriptions and imagery. everything is so vivid and feels real. i was so interested in the little pieces of andrew and neil’s stories and how they pieced together to bring them to this story.

parts that stood out to me:

”he had cut himself free of the roots of his past and planted new ones, blooming in a country that should never have belonged to him, yet matched the varying shades of his soul” wow, this is such a beautiful beginning to the story, the wording you used makes it read like poetry, especially the last part of the sentence

”not on that sun-drenched afternoon” oh this is wonderful

”bruises had stiffened his face into a mask” i love the way that you wrote this

it breaks my heart to see how affected andrew is by aaron’s death. although he tries his best to show it outwardly, andrew gave up so much of himself to protect aaron

ooh the house/property you’ve described sounds so nice. do you have something specific (like an existing house) that you’re referencing?

”maybe he’d make it a challenge to sleep in all of them” whatamood andrew

”the air was clean and full of grass, as if it had only ever been breathed by wild things” oh, this is so nice

cats! sounds like a dream, to be in a bnb and find out they have cats

it sounds like fun to read a book that someone has annotated. so much that you can learn about them through how they react to the events in the novel in comparison to what you feel or think

”liked how steady and quiet king was, how sir vocalised every time they wanted something” love that you had andrew highlight these characteristics, it seems very in character

”the sound of footsteps approaching an unlockable door” EXCUSE ME DID YOU THINK YOU COULD JUST SLIDE THIS IN AFTER “a number plate, a smile, a mist rising over a river” AND THINK I WOULD NOT NOTICE. LIKE IT’S NOT A DEVASTATING SENTENCE.

”his was a skull full of a thousand momento mori. aaron was just the latest” woah what a powerful two sentences

how cute that andrew keeps all of neil’s notes! sounds like something i would do haha

ohmygoodness neil singing is bringing me back to my french classes from a long long time ago (i can remember enough to kind of work out the english translations loool)

”because worst of all, nathaniel never seemed to notice him back. it rankled… didn’t the idiot care that he was killing the world over with that voice?” yeah okay andrew, you keep thinking that’s the reason you hate that neil doesn’t notice you.

woah you descriptions of the outside is absolutely gorgeous. the colours, descriptions, and imagery are so wonderful and overwhelming and beautiful. i get so lost in the sheer volume of it all, i forget about andrew’s anger (as i’m sure he also does, a little)

andrew picking up his cigarette butt is so lovely and fitting for this section of the story

AH IT’S NEIL

”and, as the folds of material were plucked at by the wind’s childish fingers, andrew followed the sharp lines of his collarbones, the smattering of freckles, strangely warped and wefted flesh” I LOVE THIS. the wording you used is absolutely amazing

NEIL HAS PIERCINGS AND HE KEEPS LAVENDER IN THEM THIS IS THE BEST

oh, the story of aaron giving andrew his hat is so soft, such a wonderful thing shared between the two of them. it’s so small, but for us who know how much of a struggle everything is with them, a constant push and pull, it’s everything.

neil’s loft sounds so nice, how did you come up with this idea?

also prickly neil is great, i love that you have this shortly after andrew goes to touch a plant and gets pricked because of it

”a stab of hatred lanced through andrew’s stomach, white-hot, easy. sweat rolled down the centre of his back, a sour coating filled the back of his throat” ahh your descriptions are so so good

”andrew replied, popping the ‘p’ like an eyeball under a thumb.” exCUSE ME LIKE WHAT??

also i am very much a fan of neil being super strong

uhhHHHH neil has a tongue piercing?? i think andrew actually vapourized in that moment

orange! tractor! adorable!

”apathy, his brain supplied, the opposite of anger, the inverse of hate” oh this is interesting. i guess i always automatically thought of love, but when i think of this, it seems so right. hate, anger are such strong emotions, overtaking everything, making it hard to think, feeling so so much, but the absence of that feeling? oh

”and neil was leaning forward, plucking the cigarette from andrew’s fingers and taking a drag, smoke spilling between his teeth when he grinned a grin like a knife blade. andrew felt it in his gut” !!! this!!!

”addiction left people brittle. left them dry as kindling and just as easy to burn” woah

i really cannot handle these boys

NEIL IS MISSING PART OF HIS FINGER, OH MY GOODNESS I AM LOSING IT HERE. 

amazing bit about the garden, never thought about it that way. it’s so true

honestly, there is just so so much to unpack. love your description of the buzzing andrew is feeling, i really like hearing andrew’s thought process, how everything turns back to aaron, love the way that, even now, he can read neil so well

THE TWINYARD EMBRACE. THE WAY THEY HOLD EACH OTHER. “‘you killed him,’ andrew said. ‘you killed her,’ replied aaron.” THIS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT THAT THEY HAVE PROTECTED EACH OTHER. THE BEGINNING OF JOINT THERAPY. THEY WAY THAT THEY SLOWLY LEARN TO LOVE EACH OTHER IN A WAY THAT’S MORE HEALTHY.

ahhhhh andrew talking to neil? this is so so good to see his progress, to see how he’s working through his grieving

oh boy, loving the little rivalry that eduard brings, the kind of tension heh

this town/market sounds amazing, so beautiful

IN THE GAME. OH DANG EDUARD YOU ARE NOT THE FARMER BOY WHO HAS THE HOTS FOR NEIL THAT I THOUGHT YOU WERE

”’well… like an american,’ said neil, like it explained everything. and it did, like a fire hissing out in the rain, andrew felt his shoulders relax, his ire cool” ahh so nice.

”because neil was so much give, when andrew needed to take” oh this is so interesting!

”neil shouldn’t be allowed to just vanish” AHH

”andrew shouldn’t have lashed out, sneered at neil’s story and spot on his honesty” NOOO ANDREW WHY

”his scars were the noughts to andrew’s crosses” oh this is so nice (like, not nice, but you know)

woah it’s really interesting hearing neil’s story while also having andrew’s commentary available with his knowledge from school. to see the personal side of it and also what was portrayed to the public

as much as i love neil with long curly hair, him with a buzzed look has me interested. paired with his cheekbones and his eyes, woahhhhh

”it looked like he’d been bled of life, colours fading until he became a negative of himself or an older version of the hollow-eyed teenager from the newspapers all those years ago.” i think this is my favourite sentence of this fic so far. makes me hurt.

AARON USED TO CALL ANDREW A TURNIP THAT IS SO ADORABLE I WANT PEOPLE TO CALL ME TURNIP (wait i just looked up what it means and although it is true i have no brains i was thinking in an affectionate way. turnips look really cute and are tiny lol)

ahhh neil in his bed in the barn during the storm ;-;

i love how you incorporated consent into andrew anchoring neil from his panic with the hand on his neck

ohmygoodness i cannot believe that neil has a PALMETTO HOODIE WITH A NAME AND NUMBER ON IT AH

”they took long walks through the fields and along the mountain paths, navigating the rocky terrain of andrew’s grief and neil’s jagged history that came so painfully close to intertwining with andrew’s own” oh this is such a beautiful sentence

NEIL HAS WATCHED ANDREW’S INTERVIEWS EXCUSE ME WHAT THAT IS SO CUTE

”he caught his reflection in the mirror and saw only himself” THIS IS AMAZING. what a transition that we get to see andrew experience

”for months andrew’s mind was a jagged thing, not knowing what he wanted or what he needed” !!

ooh love the acknowledgement that younger andrew would have denied his feelings but he’s more mature now and is more in tune with his emotions and wants!! amazing

”dinner with neil was an abundant thing. odd choice of word, but it was the only way andrew could describe it” it is an odd choice, but at the same time i think i understand it?

oh. andrew’s dream of aaron in the field. it’s so sad and soft and makes me feel blurry around the edges. what a contrast to the evening with neil. i like it though. you don’t just get over grieving. it gets better and it gets worse. it comes back again and again, even when you think it will not return. “wait for me. wait for me” i love what this adds, it feels so right

”andrew pressed every lane and shady square between the pages of his memory” so wonderful

PARLE EN FLEURS. EVERYTHING MAKES SENSE NOW.

woah aaron’s story was intense and well-told. things make a lot more sense now.

love that andrew sends nicky pictures to show everything, to share without words. they have such a unique relationship, they both care so much but are so different in the way that they show it sometimes it clashes

”it’s not the kind of pain that can be quantified. and it will still hurt in a year, in five, in ten”

i mostly skimmed the last chapter because i know that i easily internalize the thoughts and feelings that come when people write depression. 

i love the way that you structured this fic. the chapter titles are perfect because throughout the fic we see andrew’s healing and grieving. it’s subtle, but he clearly shifts through the different stages that you include and i’m really impressed by how seamlessly you incorporated that into the fic. the fic’s focus slowly transfers from aaron to neil so naturally that you almost don’t notice it until you take a step away for a moment.

you do such a marvelous job with the descriptions of this fic, i liked so so many sentences that i could not possibly mention them all. the town and the fields and the surroundings sound so beautiful and stunning, you made everything so vibrant and alive. all the colours and textures and words that you used really established an amazing backdrop to the story you wrote.

and the story, i loved your approach to this, it’s very realistic. the interactions between andrew and neil are pure and natural and don’t seem forced. you created complicated, intricate relationships between all the characters, brought up the difficulty of expressing emotions and feelings with people, and trust that was built. i liked the way that you wrote the characters, and i adore neil with his flower piercings. thank you so much for writing this fic! i can’t wait to see what comes next!

[dramyhsturgis]

Halloween Countdown 2019, Day 12

It’s film time! Every year about this time I think about good Halloween films (not necessarily horror movies, and definitely not lame slasher pictures, but suspenseful, atmospheric films that put a chill up the spine) that are “off the beaten path” – that is, films that are independent, foreign, direct to DVD or VOD, or somehow under promoted, and thus might easily slip under the proverbial radar. Not the classics. Not the usual suspects.

I’ve already made a separate post in the past with recommendations of Anton Yelchin’s Halloween-friendly films, so I won’t repeat those here.

Now I have a few new recommendations to add to my list, based on this past year’s viewing. (We accessed nearly all of these via Netflix or Amazon streaming.) Here they are in reverse chronological order:

The Hole in the Ground (2019): This spooky little Irish film links a little boy’s strange behavior to a mysterious sinkhole in the Irish countryside. We automatically try any horror film with James Cosmo in the cast, and as usual, this one did not disappoint. Bleak, claustrophobic, and chilling. 

Us (2019): Jordan Peele’s latest wasn’t exactly under the radar, but wow, it was *good*!

Clovehitch Killer (2018): Set and filmed in Kentucky, this film follows a teen’s gradual realization that his father (an amazingly, disturbingly convincing Dylan McDermott) is the local area’s still-at-large serial killer. We loved this one!

The Devil’s Doorway (2018): I’ll start by quoting IndieWire: “The film’s director, Aislinn Clarke, is the first women to helm a horror film in her native Northern Ireland. But apart from making history, Clarke also chose to mine one of Ireland’s darkest chapters for her debut: the Magdalene Laundries, where young women were sentenced to life sentences of hard labor for ‘loose morals’ for nearly 250 years.” This found-footage horror film is one of my favorites of the year, despite (or because of) how wrenching it was to watch. It’s a perfect example of how the genre has the power to raise questions as well as deliver scares.

Down A Dark Hall (2018): This U.S.-Spanish film is based on the supernatural horror novel of the same name by Lois Duncan, and it rises above its trite girl-sent-to-creepy-boarding-school origins to offer something stylish and clever. We weren’t expecting much from this and ended up really enjoying it. 

I Still See You (2018): Not great but not bad, either, this is an adaptation of the teen-centric Break My Heart 1000 Times by Daniel Waters. After a tragic explosion at a top-secret laboratory, the dead victims appear daily as ghostly "remnants” repeating the everyday actions of their lives -- except for the remnant who wants to either warn or harm the film’s young heroine. 

The Little Stranger (2018): I quite liked this claustrobic and disturbing character study, whereas my better half found it to be more style than substance. Either way, Domhnall Gleeson, Ruth Wilson, and Charlotte Rampling wandering around a disintegrating house is as Gothic as it gets.

Our House (2018): After his parents die in a car crash, science genius Ethan drops out of college to care for his younger siblings but keeps experimenting in the family garage. His latest invention may do more than he expects, however... such as establish contact with the dead. It won’t win any awards, but it’s worth watching if you like a little science fiction twist to your horror.   

The Lodgers (2017): This is a standout, unlike any of the others we watched this year. Highly recommended. Gothic, dreamlike (or nightmarish), Lovecraftian to the core. I don’t want to say too much, so I’ll just quote the official description: “In this Gothic supernatural thriller, a family curse confines orphan twins Rachel (Charlotte Vega) and Edward (Bill Milner) to their home as punishment for their ancestors’ sins. Bound to rules derived from a childhood nursery rhyme, they must never let any outsiders into the house, be in their rooms before midnight, and never be separated. Breaking the rules would let the wrath of ‘The Lodgers’ who prowl the corridors at night.”  

Prodigy (2017): A psychologist and a genius girl engage in a life-and-death battle of wits. This tense, smart film is a perfect example of how little expensive sets or flashy effects (or the lack thereof) matter as long  a filmmaker has a quality script and solid cast of actors. Also, here’s further proof that kids are always creepy.   

Jessabelle (2014): Sarah Snook doesn’t get nearly enough appreciation for her acting, and I was delighted to see her in this atmospheric film that ticks all the boxes of the Southern (specifically Louisiana) Gothic. Joelle Carter’s turn as Jessie’s dead-from-a-brain-tumor mother speaking to her through old videotapes also deserves special mention. Well worth watching.

Wind Chill (2007): A woman student (’the girl’) at a Pennsylvania university uses the campus ride share board to find a ride home (”the guy”) for Christmas. You won’t hear “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” the same way again. Not the best of this bunch, but worth a peek.

Dark Water (2005): This is the U.S. remake of the Japanese film of the same name, and it stars Jennifer Connelly, Tim Roth, and John C. Reilly. It’s definitely spooky enough in its own right, but it’s downright terrifying if you know anything about the case of Elisa Lam. Highly recommended.

Below are recommendations from previous years.

Here are my 2018 recommendations:

Cargo (2018): This Australian post-zombie-apocalypse story is a haunting study of family and sacrifice. Martin Freeman is always worth watching, and Simone Landers is fantastic. The film offers compelling depictions of both humanity on the raggedy edge of tragedy and the perseverance of Indigenous Australians.  

Searching (2018): I was so stoked about this film that I saw in the theater, and it didn’t disappoint. Smartly written and tightly plotted, this missing-family-member tale takes twists and turns that echo the best of Hitchcock. John Cho is brilliant. While the story is all about cyberspace and social media, technology is not demonized; it makes both the dilemma and its solution possible. Humans are the source of the scary stuff – and the redeeming stuff. This is one of my favorite films of the year.    

Winchester (2018): Helen Mirren is the haunted Sarah Winchester in the iconic Winchester House in 1906. Don’t overthink this. It’s spooky. It’s Helen Mirren. You’re welcome.

Ghost Stories (2017): This looks like a debunker/skeptic-investigating-unsolved-mysteries anthology film, with each “file” offering a story within a story, but then it goes somewhere else, deeper and darker. This is not the best film we saw this year, but I was fascinated, all the same.  

Marrowbone (2017): This (English-language) Spanish psychological horror film is another standout we strongly recommend. I plan to use this in class the next time I offer my Gothic course. Rose flees Britain with her four children and tries to disappear into her secluded, dilapidated family home in the rural United States. Then she dies, leaving her children on their own to continue hiding from… what? As the mystery unfolds, this film goes from haunting to unforgettable. I will be rewatching this one again and again.

The Ritual (2017): The film is based on the 2011 novel of the same name by Adam Nevill. The Scandinavian wilderness is the real star here, and it delivers a pervasive sense of doom as the reunited college pals, after the tragic loss of their mutual friend, hike their way straight into ancient Scandinavian mythology. Part Lovecraft, part Wicker Man, part guilt-and-redemption morality tale.    

I Am the Pretty Thing that Lives in the House (2016): The live-in nurse suspects her elderly employer’s house may be haunted. This sounds trite, but my husband and I agree that this quiet, elegant, slow-burn masterpiece is one of the best films we’ve seen in a good while. (The film’s director, Osgood Perkins, is the son of Anthony Perkins.) Don’t miss this film.  

The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016): This is director André Ovredal’s first English-language film. What you might assume is a gorefest subverts expectations nicely to become a claustrophobic piece that operates on suggestion more than effects. Father-and-son coroners examine the body of an unidentified woman, and as the autopsy unfolds, so does the sinister supernatural mystery. Did I mention Brian Cox is the father? That’s why we gave this a chance, and we’re glad we did!

Train to Busan (2016): Huge thanks to Ryan for this great recommendation. This South Korean film proves that the secret to an engrossing zombie apocalypse story isn’t zombie-related special effects, but rather compelling characters, their relationships, and their struggles to survive and avoid zombiedom. I think I may have held my breath through at least half of this fast-paced and moving film.

Backtrack (2015): This Australian film is part horror, part mystery, and part dark night of the soul for the psychotherapist protagonist (Adrian Brody), who suffers from nightmares and visions as he mourns his dead daughter. Did I mention there’s a ghost train? And Sam Neill? This won’t change your life, but it’s definitely worth watching.

The House of the Devil (2009): This is a loving tribute to 1980s horror, especially babysitter and “Satanic panic” tales. It was even shot with 16mm film to give the movie a retro look. If you are of a certain age (as I am), this may put a goofy grin on your face (as it did for me).

The Reaping (2007): This is one of the weakest films on this list, but Hilary Swank, Idris Elba, David Morse, and Stephen Rea are all solid in whatever roles they take, and the over-the-top, “What hath God wrought?” nature of the Biblical plagues visiting the Louisiana bayou pushes it to the boundary of so-bad-it’s-good territory.  

Here are my other top recommendations from recent years:

Dig Two Graves (2017): This award-winning indie has big-budget quality thanks to several factors: it was executive produced by actor and director Larry Fessenden, its crew was selected by the Independent Filmmaker Project, and the production involved the Southern Illinois University film department and the community of the film’s Southern Illinois location. We tend to give anything with Ted Levine a chance, and the gamble certainly paid off with this small-town U.S. suspense thriller. It tells the story of a young girl’s obsession with the death of her brother, taking her on a nightmarish journey where she must a face a deadly proposition to bring him back. The title refers to an ancient Chinese proverb: “When you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves!” Recommended!

Get Out (2017): I know, I  know, this is hardly “under the radar.” But it deserves its reputation and success, and I wanted to take the opportunity to say so.

The Girl with All the Gifts (2017): This is also not “under the radar” but worth an emphatic recommendation.

Little Evil (2017): I have a low tolerance for comedies in general, and especially for comedies that laugh at genres I love. On the other hand, I need little persuasion to believe that one of the scariest things on the planet is a kid! Little Evil is such a loving, clever, and knowledgeable send-up of the “evil child” trope that it won me over.

Abbattoir (2016): This dark and imaginative U.S. film follows a real estate reporter as he investigates a mysterious old man who is assembling a haunted house constructed from rooms in which people have died. It’s not a great film, but it has its moments.

Dark Signal (2016): This British film, set in Wales, covers two different but linked tales. In one, a radio DJ and her engineer (Torchwood’s Gareth David-Lloyd) invite a psychic to be their special guest on their very last broadcast, and in the other, a listener of the show is haunted by the victim of a serial killer. Effective atmosphere and chills.

Lavender (2016): This is an imperfect film, but it earns points with me for creepy rural “American Gothic” atmosphere. After losing her memory, Jane visits her childhood home at the suggestion of her psychiatrist – the home where the rest of her family was massacred. She begins to see unexplained things and strange clues within her photos that suggest she may be responsible for the deaths.

The Boy (2016): Although it has its moments of predictability, on the whole this one satisfies. Greta is a young American woman who escapes an abusive relationship by getting a temporary job as a nanny for a British family. When she arrives at the parents’ home, they introduce her to their son, Brahms. Brahms is a porcelain doll who is treated like the living child he replaced after the real Brahms’ childhood tragedy. Things get really weird from there in a mostly satisfying “this is how you go crazy” kind of way. Not perfect, but worth seeing.

The Forest (2016): Natalie Dormer stars as twins in this supernatural thriller about one sister searching for the other, who is presumably lost in Japan’s Aokigahara Forest. My husband and I are on the same page about films about 95% of the time, but this is the one on which our opinions diverged this year. He found this to be trite and mostly short on substance. I was looking mostly for the chilling atmosphere of the so-called Suicide Forest and the acute sense of vulnerability that comes with being alone in an emergency in a foreign country, so I didn’t mind the movie’s (over)reliance on this, and I found the ending twist related to the twins’ backstory to be effective. Your mileage may vary.

Sacrifice (2016): If Rupert Graves is in it, then I watch it, no exceptions. That’s just how I roll. He stars opposite Radha Mitchell here in an adaptation of the novel Sacrifice by Sharon Bolton. Set in the Shetland Islands, this horror film fits in the Wicker Man category of ancient rites surviving intact in remote locales, and it effectively captures a nightmarish scenario: men using women to have sons and then, according to their old traditions, yielding them up as a kind of human sacrifice. Mitchell and Graves relocate to the Shetlands, where Mitchell’s character unearths a “bog body” of a woman who had recently given birth and then been murdered in a ritualistic fashion. Mitchell and Joanne Crawford, portraying a local police sergeant, drive the investigation to bring justice to this woman, and in the process find their own lives at risk. The film has its flaws, but it’s refreshing to see a genuinely spooky film with a genuinely feminist bent, and all of the leads are compelling in their roles. The scenic locations provide atmospheric settings for the eerie goings-on.

The Veil (2016): Twenty-five years after members of Heaven’s Veil, a religious cult, commit suicide, a documentary filmmaker contacts the sole survivor to film a work about what really happened. A Fangoria review describes the premise as the idea “that Jim Jones could have been right,” and that pretty much sums it up. The film doesn’t quite live up to such an ambitious premise, but the whole “investigating the cult after the fact” aspect, on site and with found footage, is so downright disturbing that this supernatural thriller still works well enough in the goosebumps department. Or to put it another way, the film radiates a sense of wrongness – in part, no doubt, because it skirts so closely around tragic real-life events – that it sticks with you.

They’re Watching (2016): This is a film in the blood-soaked horror comedy oeuvre, which is not usually the way I roll, but I found this more palatable than most. The crew of an American home improvement TV show goes to Moldova to film a segment about an American woman who is transforming a run-down, isolated dwelling into an artist’s haven, only to discover that the locals consider her (not without reason!) to be a witch. This isn’t going to win any awards, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously, and its parody aspects are on point.

Amnesiac (2015): This tells the story of a man who wakes up in bed suffering from memory loss after being in an accident, only to begin to suspect that his caretaker, who claims to be his wife, may not be his real wife and may not have his best interests at heart. Wes Bentley won me over as the bewildered protagonist, and good heavens, Kate Bosworth as the “wife” really brought the chills. Stylish, understated, and slow-burn spooky.

10 Cloverfield Lane (2015): Between you and me, this is the scariest film I’ve seen in ages. I’m sure the twists are common knowledge by now, but just in case they aren’t, I won’t say anything except this is absolutely ideal for the Halloween season – or anytime you want your brain turned inside out and goosebumps on your skin. Hats off to John Goodman, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, and John Gallagher Jr. for bringing the tense, claustrophobic script to vivid life. You need to see this!

Estranged (2015): January is forced to return home after six years traveling abroad, because a near-fatal accident has left her temporarily wheelchair bound and depleted of her long-term memory. At the mercy of those who claim to be her loved ones, isolated from outside help, she tries to discover the truth about her past and her present. This is smarter and more complex than we expected it to be, very Gothic in tone and execution.

Krampus (2015): This irreverent horror film, in which a boy who is having a bad Christmas accidentally summons an old-world Christmas demon to wreak havoc, is not for everyone, but if you’re like me, and you’d trade Christmas for Halloween any day of the week, it’s a lot of fun. Think of it as the evil Mirror Universe version of It’s A Wonderful Life.

The Reconstruction of William Zero (2015): A geneticist who wakes up from an accident with only fragments of his memory must relearn who he is from his twin brother. But the deeper he digs, the more he realizes that he may be wrong about who he thinks he is – and who he thinks his twin is. Variety review compared this sad tale of human cloning and human frailty to a story by H.G. Wells, and that sounds about right. It’s not a perfect film, but it’s a good example of thoughtful indie science fiction.

The Similars (Los Parecidos) (2015): If you love the weird, if you are a fan of The Twilight Zone, then you owe it to yourself to see this wonderfully original Mexican movie immediately. We watched this on a lark, and it became one of our favorite films of the year. A group of people are trapped by a hurricane at a bus station around the time of the Tlatelolco massacre in 1968. As the passengers wait for a bus to arrive, they are horrified to find that everyone’s face is changing to match. Why? Don’t miss this!

They Look Like People (2015): The longer we watched this indie psychological thriller, the more we liked it. It builds and builds and builds. It stars MacLeod Andrews as a man who believes that humanity is being secretly taken over by evil creatures (think of a slow and simmering episode of The X-Files in which Mulder or Scully never manage to arrive on the scene), and it won a special jury award at the Slamdance Film Festival.

The Visit (2015): This is a found footage horror film written, produced, and directed by M. Night Shyamalan. I know that Shyamalan can be hit or miss, but this was much more of a hit. A brother and sister are sent for their vacation to visit their grandparents, which is a gesture of reconciliation, as the family has been estranged. While there, the siblings become increasingly frightened by their grandparents’ disturbing behavior. The kids are compelling, and their isolation is palpable. The twist, when it comes, it terrific.

The Witch (2015): This film is like watching a colonial American nightmare come to life (which is not for everyone, but definitely was for me). The production team worked extensively with English and American texts and museums, and they consulted with experts on seventeenth-century English agriculture as well to bring early reports and imaginative depictions of witchcraft alive in a gritty, realistic setting. I’ve read some of the texts that inspired the film, such as those referenced in and created by the witch trials, and I was transported and enthralled by this dark and disturbing work. It rations its moments of gruesomeness for absolute impact and relies heavily on suggestion, underscoring the choking paranoia and claustrophobia of the Puritan existence. Not for those faint of heart or short of attention span.

Stonehearst Asylum (2014) Based on a tale by Edgar Allan Poe and starring Ben Kingsley, Michael Caine, and Kate Beckinsale… need I say more? In the words of Film Journal International, “While the film lacks the macabre humor of the original story, it does an excellent job of conveying the creeping horror of Victorian medicine.” Delicious.

As Above, So Below (2014) I know I’m in the minority here, but I really loved this film. A trip by urban explorers into the Parisian catacombs becomes a journey of alchemical transformation. Okay, this had me at “Parisian catacombs,” but I was delightfully surprised by characters actually being smart in a crisis, having meaningful backstories, and seeking redemption along the way.

Housebound (2014) This New Zealand horror comedy about a woman under house arrest in what may be a haunted house was a morbidly pleasant trip, alternately wacky and spooky.

The Incident (El Incidente) (2014): This fascinating Mexican film follows two parallel stories about characters trapped in illogical endless spaces – two brothers and a detective locked on an infinite staircase, and a family locked on an infinite road – for a very, very long time. This is psychologically, if not physically, a real (and powerful) trip.

Cut Bank (2014) This small-town murder thriller may err on the predictable side, but outstanding performances by the likes of Bruce Dern, John Malkovich, Billy Bob Thornton, and Liam Hemsworth make it memorable.

Oculus (2014): We watched this for Longmire’s Katee Sackhoff and Doctor Who’s Karen Gillan. We ended up agreeing it was one of our favorite movies of the year. A young woman is convinced that an antique mirror is responsible for the death and misfortune her family has suffered. This is beautifully crafted horror.

Alien Abduction (2014): This is the film I mentioned in my post about the Brown Mountain Lights. It’s a found-footage film done right, with scenes that reminded us of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Signs, The Blair Witch Project, and The X-Files. Its restraint in showing very little of the aliens is a strength. Be sure to watch through the credits!

Europa Report (2013): For my money, this is the best science fiction film of the last year. Gravitycan’t begin to compare. This recounts the fictional story of the first crewed mission to Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons. Despite a disastrous technical failure that loses all communications with Earth mission control and a series of dangerous crises, the international crew continues their mission to Europa and encounters a baffling mystery. All SF fans must see this.

The Happy House (2013): It’s the bed and breakfast you always dreaded - and that’s on a good day. This is not a good day. This quirky, clever serial-killer comedy works unexpectedly well thanks to its dark, restrained script and compelling characters.

The House at the End of Time (2013) This Venezuelan horror-suspense film is a must see. I don’t want to spoil it in any way. This may be my favorite pick from 2015. You want to see this. You do.

Haunter (2013): This Canadian film is about teenager stuck in a time loop that is not quite the same with each revolution. She must uncover the truth, but her actions have consequences for herself and others. This one really surprised us (in a good way). Shiver inducing and well worth watching.

How I Live Now (2013): Ably adapted from the award-winning novel by Meg Rosoff (which I really liked), this dreamlike film follows fifteen-year-old American Daisy, who is sent to stay with cousins on a remote farm in the United Kingdom just before the outbreak of a fictional third world war. I don’t know why this haunting apocalyptic work didn’t receive more attention, because it deserved it.

Jug Face (2013): This wins the original premise award. There’s no way to describe the film that doesn’t sound bizarre, but it’s unexpectedly compelling. A teen girl who is pregnant with her brother’s child tries to escape from a backwoods community, only to discover that her people have determined that she must sacrifice herself to a creature in a pit. (Be warned about the subject of miscarriage.)

The Numbers Station (2013): This is a British-American action thriller about a burned-out CIA black ops agent (John Cusack) assigned to protect the code operator at a secret American numbers station somewhere in the British countryside. I suspect the poor reception this received is because it’s more quiet, melancholy, and introspective than the run-of-the-mill action-mystery. Of course, that’s why we liked it.

Mama (2013): This is a Spanish-Canadian treat based on the Argentine Muschietti’s Mamá, a 2008 Spanish-language short film of the same name. Young children can be disturbing. Young children abandoned in the woods for several years and raised by a (territorial and possessive) spirit can be doubly so.

Dark Skies (2013): This wasn’t the very best spooky film we saw this past year, but it was far, far better than I’d anticipated, and it scratched that “alien abduction” itch of mine that’s been troubling me ever since The X-Files left the small and big screens.

Haunting in Connecticut 2: Ghosts of Georgia (2013): This stand-alone story works independently of its prequel. It’s not an unproblematic film, but if you have a taste for Southern Gothic, it’s worth a look.

House Hunting, also released as The Wrong House (2013): What a surprise this psychological horror film was! Quite the mind game. Home-shopping families visit an empty farmhouse… and the house keeps them there.

After (2012) When two bus crash survivors awake to discover that they are the only people left in their town, they work together to unravel the truth behind the strange events. A bit saccharine, but worth seeing.

Citadel (2012) I’m still not sure what I think about this Irish psychological horror film, but months later I’m still thinking about it, so that’s noteworthy in itself. I’m now horrified of high rises for an all new reason.

Extracted (2012): This thought-provoking indie SF film considers a scientist whose consciousness becomes trapped in the mind of a convict who volunteered to be a part of an experimental procedure. This is another cerebral tale well worth seeing.

Last Kind Words (2012): Brad Dourif movies are always a part of Halloween, or at least they should be. Seventeen-year-old Eli has just moved with his family deep into the backwoods of Kentucky to work on the isolated farm of a local recluse. Inexplicably drawn into the strange forest that lies beyond the farm, Eli encounters the beautiful, sweet, and mysterious Amanda, seemingly the perfect girl. But with the discovery of decaying bodies hanging from the trees, he realizes that the forest - and Amanda - are harboring some very dark secrets. If a horror film can be called lovely, it’s this one.

Resolution (2012): Two long-time friends end up in a remote cabin, and I dare not say more. This subtle Lovecraftian film hinges on great characterization and suggestions of an unseen force that “manipulates reality to create interesting stories.” Don’t expect solid answers to the mysteries of this tale. This is a personal favorite.

The Wall (2012): This elegant Austrian-German film haunted me for a good long while. A woman visits with friends at their hunting lodge in the Austrian Alps. Left alone while her friends walk to a nearby village, the woman soon discovers she is cut off from all human contact by a mysterious invisible wall. With her friends’ loyal dog Lynx as her companion, she lives the next three years in isolation looking after her animals. Understated and affecting.

The Tall Man (2012): I love it when a film goes in a direction I didn’t foresee, and this French-Canadian mystery-thriller one did it again and again. In a small, poverty-stricken former mining town, children are disappearing on a regular basis. The abductions are blamed on a local legend called the “Tall Man.” One of the standout favorites of the year for me, this one asks some uncomfortable and thought-provoking questions that keep you thinking long after the film is over.

The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh (2012): This little Canadian film serves up some effective atmosphere. An antiques collector inherits a house from his estranged mother only to discover that she had been living in a shrine devoted to a mysterious cult. Soon he comes to suspect that his mother’s oppressive spirit still lingers within her home and is using items in the house to contact him with an urgent message. Vanessa Redgrave’s voice-overs as the late mother add depth to the spooky visuals.

In the Dark Half (2012): This was the first of three micro-budget movies to be made in Bristol, UK under the iFeatures scheme. Despite its humble beginnings, this is an absolutely riveting and deeply soulful work. Young Jessica Barden gives a particularly brilliant performance. Bad things are happening in a run-down working-class town, where a young woman is convinced that something nasty is out to get her. But she’s also struggling with conflicting feelings toward her hard-drinking neighbor, whose son mysteriously died while she was babysitting him. One of my favorites from this year.

Sinister (2012): After moving to a new town, a true-crime writer discovers a cache of videotapes depicting brutal murders that took place in the very house he just bought. As he tries to solve the mystery behind the crimes, a sinister force threatens his own family. I’m sort of breaking my own rules here, as this wasn’t an under-the-radar film, but merely hearing the music for this movie creeps me out!

Paranorman (2012): Okay, this wasn’t exactly an off-the-beaten-path film either, but it’s so wonderful, I had to list it. A perfect “feel-good” movie for Halloween!

The Awakening (2011): If I had to recommend one new(ish) film for this season, this would be it. Gorgeously done from start to finish. In post-World War I England, a boarding school haunted by a boy’s ghost calls on Florence Cathcart, who disproves hoaxes for a living. But Cathcart senses something truly strange about the school, leading her to question her belief in the rational.

Whisperer in Darkness (2011): You can’t go wrong with the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society’s adaptations of Lovecraft’s stories. This is a “talkie” instead of a silent film (like the HPLHS’s Call of Cthulhu, and it works well.

Sound of My Voice (2011): Wow. I mean, wow. This is high on my list of favorite viewing from this year. In this psychological thriller, journalists Peter and Lorna undergo an elaborate preparation process in order to infiltrate a cult, leading from a desolate road to an unmarked location, but the mystery only deepens when their blindfolds are removed. This is a smart, chilling film with just the right touch of cerebral science fiction.

Ghost from the Machine (2010): After his parents die, Cody, an inventor, becomes obsessed with finding a way to contact them once again. Tom, a local scientist who lost his wife, becomes interested in the project and helps Cody. Together, they discover that Cody’s invention can cause ghosts momentarily to reappear as flesh and blood. What follows is a dark and moving study of human nature.

True Nature (2010): This is another film that really surprised me, to my delight. This tells the story of a family reunited when their college-age daughter is found after a year-long disappearance. With no memory of what happened to her, she soon discovers that her very presence threatens to expose the secrets and fragile lies by which her family has lived.

Womb (2010): This stark, minimalist, quietly haunting film stars Eva Green and Matt (“Eleven”) Smith, both of whom turn in subtle performances. A woman’s consuming love forces her to bear the clone of her dead beloved. From his infancy to manhood, she faces the unavoidable complexities of her controversial decision. I found this to be wrenching, disturbing, and darkly beautiful. Full disclosure, though: my husband found it to have more style than substance.

Extraordinary Tales (2013): Several of my students recommended this to me, and I’m grateful that they did! This is an anthology film comprised of five different animated adaptations of Poe’s stories, namely “The Fall of the House of Usher” narrated by Christopher Lee, “The Tell-Tale Heart” narrated by Bela Lugosi, “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar” narrated by Julian Sands, “The Pit and the Pendulum” narrated by Guillermo del Toro, and “The Masque of the Red Death” – my favorite – which is eerily and beautifully silent. Despite uneven narration quality, due to the age of some of the audio recordings, this is terrific fun for Poe fans.

These Final Hours (2013): Wow, this one unexpectedly blew us away. A meteor has collided with Earth in the North Atlantic, and that leaves about twelve hours before the final global firestorm reaches Western Australia. In Perth, bad boy James leaves his pregnant girlfriend to try to drown his fear at “the party to end all parties,” but his life abruptly changes when he comes across a young girl being attacked. This is a delicate and powerful story of character growth and redemption in the face of the biggest horror of all: the end of all things. Highly recommended.

Woman in Black (2012): This one isn’t “off the beaten path” by any means, but I enjoyed it so much I’m noting it anyway. It’s a rare example of a film adaptation that changes the ending of its source text and in fact improves the story.

Another Earth (2011): On the night of the discovery of a duplicate planet in the solar system, an ambitious young student and an accomplished composer cross paths in a tragic accident. This is one of my very favorite films of 2012.

Absentia (2011): A woman and her sister begin to link a mysterious tunnel to a series of disappearances, including that of her own husband. This is my other top favorite of 2012.

Exit Humanity (2011): A young man struggles to survive in the aftermath of a deadly undead outbreak during the American Civil War. This is a period zombie film with a heart and a brain. There’s zombie-related gore, but it serves the purpose of the story.

Cabin in the Woods (2011): Five friends go for a break at a remote cabin in the woods, where they get more than they bargained for. Together, they must discover the truth behind the cabin in the woods. Joss Whedon wrote this, and that’s probably enough said right there. This turns all the classic horror tropes upside down.

Hobo with a Shotgun (2011): In this satirical film, a homeless vigilante played by Rutger Hauer blows away “crooked cops, pedophile Santas, and other scumbags” with his trusty pump-action shotgun. Warnings for gore and adult content. This is a dark and wry tongue-halfway-but-only-halfway-in-cheek dystopia.

Some Guy Who Kills People (2011): This is a horror-comedy about a small town loser fresh out of an asylum who seeks revenge on those he deems responsible for ruining his life. Unexpectedly poignant and character-driven.

The Last Exorcism (2010): A troubled evangelical minister agrees to let his last exorcism be filmed by a documentary crew. I was unexpectedly enthralled with this; it twisted and turned in directions I didn’t anticipate, and its ending is straight out of a Lovecraft story. Highly recommended. Note(!!!): The 2013 sequel is a terrible mess. Don’t waste your time.

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (2010): “Good old boys” Tucker and Dale are on vacation at their dilapidated mountain cabin when they are attacked by a group of preppy college kids. This is ridiculously clever as it plays into and subverts classic horror scenarios. I laughed out loud.

YellowBrickRoad (2010): In 1940, the entire population of Friar, New Hampshire walked up a winding mountain trail, leaving everything behind. In 2008, the first official expedition into the wilderness attempts to solve the mystery of the lost citizens of Friar. There’s gore here, but far more psychological horror. The premise would’ve made a fine Twilight Zone episode. My husband felt the ending was a disappointing cop-out, but I give it props for originality.

The dark fantasy Black Death (2010): Set during the time of the first outbreak of bubonic plague in England, a young monk is tasked with learning the truth about reports of people who are immune to the sickness in a small village, allegedly made so by “witchcraft.” What follows is a dark fable that considers evil and love, loyalty and death, faith and fate. Excellent turns by Sean Bean, Eddie Redmayne, and a strong supporting cast really bring this to life (pun intended), and I was more than pleasantly surprised by the atmospheric eeriness and thoughtful tragedy of this film. As Alan Jones from Film4’s “FrightFest” said about the film, “This intelligent original represents a commendable break from the genre norm and is one of the most powerful films made about God, the godless and what the Devil truly represents.”

Color Out of Space (2010): This is an absolutely brilliant adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space” set in Germany. We thought this was amazing. Beautiful visual storytelling. Even if you’re not one for subtitled films, do give this a try, especially if you know and appreciate the source material.

Dorian Gray (2009): I don’t believe this was ever widely released in theaters in the U.S. I thought it was quite well done, true to the spirit if not the letter of Oscar Wilde’s story, admirably restrained with the special effects, and graced by compelling performances by Ben Barnes, Colin Firth, and Rachel Hurd-Wood. It’s perfect for the Halloween season, to my way of thinking.

The Brøken (2008): This understated doppleganger film plays out much like a modern-day Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Quiet and disturbing, and I mean that in a good way.

The Burrowers (2008): This is a brilliant independent science fiction/horror Western that was short on cheap gore and long on psychological terror (just the way I like it), and we thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Highly recommended.

You can’t miss the brilliant, quirky, lovingly satirical films of Larry Blamire (thanks to marthawells for the recommendation), which are “must see” material, including The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra (2004) and its sequel The Lost Skeleton Returns Again (2009), as well as the standalone films Trail of the Screaming Forehead (2007) and Dark and Stormy Night (2009) - I simply can’t praise these enough.

The Lazarus Project (2008): A former criminal gets a second chance at life and mysteriously ends up working at a psychiatric hospital where nothing is at it seems. Terrific psychological piece. I don’t know why this didn’t receive more attention and praise.

Painted Skin (2008): This Hong Kong/China production is not the easiest film to find with English subtitles, but it is well worth the effort. Set sometime in the late Qin or early Han dynasty in China, a fox spirit consumes human hearts to maintain her youth and beauty. She falls in love with her human rescuer, however, who already has a wife he adores. This is a beautiful and bittersweet film about love, sacrifice, and deadly magic, with a haunting score… and Donnie Yen. Win, win, win!

Another well worth watching is the Finnish historical fantasy/horror/morality play Sauna (2008 - thanks to mr_earbrass for the recommendation).

We also quite liked the surreal dark fantasy Franklyn (2008), as well as

the chilling, true crime-inspired Borderland (2007),

the Spanish science fiction thriller Timecrimes (2007),

the moody, Lovecraft-inspired Cthulhu (2007),

the gorgeous, silent Lovecraft adaptation The Call of Cthulhu (2005),

the U.S. Civil War-era dark fantasy/horror Dead Birds (2004),

the dystopian psychological thriller Final (2001),

Imprint (2007): Can you hear their cries? Shayla Stonefeather, a Native American attorney prosecuting a Lakota teen in a controversial murder trial, returns to the reservation to say goodbye to her dying father. After the teen is killed, she hears ghostly voices and sees strange visions that cause her to re-examine beliefs she thought she left behind. This is a solid independent film with a gifted Native cast.

Wicked Little Things (2006): This is a film about the Appalachian children who died in a mine coming back to haunt the mine-owner’s descendants. It’s exactly what it says on the tin, no real surprises. What sets this apart is beautifully atmospheric shots of the woods and a spectacular sense of place. Visually memorable.

House of Voices, also released as Saint Ange (2004): This French-Romanian film is a sophisticated mind game that kept me utterly fascinated and glued to the screen. A young cleaning woman is dispatched to tend to a crumbling orphanage called Saint Ange that houses only one child. While going about her duties, the new housekeeper begins to witness supernatural occurrences, causing her sole co-worker, a cook, to question her sanity. Whatever you expect this to be, I guarantee it will surprise you.

Breaking Dawn (2004) No, this is not that Breaking Dawn. This is cerebral little film that rewards careful watching. Dawn is a young medical student is charged with uncovering the murder of a mental patient’s mother. Or is she? Well crafted and satisfying. And spooky.

Below (2002): This is a World War II-era horror film that makes great use of the claustrophobia of submarines to create a chilling mood, very atmospheric. If you like Star Trek’s Bruce Greenwood (and who doesn’t?), you’ll want to see this.

and Last Night (1998): (Thanks to penfold_x for the rec!) In Toronto, a group of friends and family prepares for the fast-approaching end of the world. This apocalyptic film starts out like a dark comedy but ends much more like a serious drama. It won three Genie Awards, including a Best Actress for Sandra Oh, and I see why. She really shines here, and her last scene is stuck in my head. If you like to ponder how you would spend your very last – and the world’s very last – night, try this.

Your mileage, of course, may vary.

Okay, you’re turn: what under-the-radar, off-the-beaten-path, Halloween-friendly films do you recommend?

[libraryoferana]

Welcome to Amanda Schmidt

I have published thirteen books.  I have two stories that are two books (Taken, Solace), one trilogy (The Shadow Dragon), one story that will be two books (Rise of Ansea), and the rest are all stand-alone books (Not Human, Heart of the Emperor, The Huntsman’s Daughter, Project 21, and Adventurer’s Spirit).  They are all fictional adventure stories with a love story entwined.  Each story has two main characters: a strong – or will become strong – female and a male that eventually is the perfect compliment to her.  My published stories so far tend to take place on other worlds because I love using my imagination, although some of my stories talk about Earth, or start on Earth, but only one of them completely takes place only on Earth.  I have one story (my trilogy) that is true fantasy – with dragons, swords, magic, lords, wizards…   The books I publish contain the elements that I like to read: action, adventure, twists and turns, love, heroes, vicious enemies, fighting (weapons and hand to hand combat).

What prompted you to publish your work? My oldest son was about ten when he caught me writing.  He was smiling from ear to ear after I confessed what I was doing and he said, “You’re going to be famous.”  I didn’t believe that, I mean, I was hiding that fact that I was writing.  However, his excitement dwelled in my mind and I began to consider maybe I could publish.  I eventually allowed people to read my manuscript and they encouraged me to publish, which clearly I did.  It only took two years for me to gain the courage to do so.

What have you found the most challenging part of the process? Finishing/not having enough time.  I am constantly being bombarded with a new idea, and the ideas do not wait until I’ve completed the previous idea.  So, I’m constantly changing what I’m working on.  Which takes me even longer to finish a story.  Plus, I don’t read as fast as I’d like, so revising takes forever and then, again, another idea pops in for something not related to this story.  It’s a vicious cycle really (but I love it).

Are you a ‘pantser’ or a plotter? Definitely a pantser.  I have never been able to write an outline.  When I had to write papers in school, I usually did it after I finished the paper/story – or had to change the outline when I was done.  When I sit down to write, the moment I begin typing, the story plays out in front of me, and not always in chronological order.  For example, at least three of my books, I wrote the first chapter after I finished writing the rest of it.

What are your views on free books? I’m personally on the fence about that one.  I do not think it demeans the author or his/her work.  Getting your stories out there is an important part of being a writer, especially as an indie author since all marketing falls on the author.  Free books seemed like a great idea when I started.  I was told to make book one free and then they’ll come back for more.   They didn’t, and I struggled again with the idea that maybe my stories are not “good”.   One day someone said to me that they download free books all the time, and they had read very few of them.  However, they did read the ones they paid for… because they paid for them.  And my numbers seemed to reflect the idea that they probably weren’t that far off the mark.  I’ve never had much luck with selling my ebooks for free, and getting sales off my other books, so I stopped.   However, I do tend to give out my paperbacks, because I have made a few fans that way.

How do you deal with bad reviews? I always take my reviews to heart, even the bad ones.  However, depending on what is said, is how I react to it.  I honestly don’t expect everyone to like my stories, because I don’t like all the books I read either.  A review is a person’s opinion and they’re allowed to have one.  I usually take the bad review as constructive criticism, sometimes I can see their point.  Like with the “Huntsman’s Daughter”, I unpublished it and am trying to find the time to tend to the issues that my “editors” and I missed.   However, there have been times where the review kind of hurt, like when they attacked something about a character.  I wanted to be able to defend that character against whatever it was that they were attacked for, but alas I cannot.  Those are the times I make myself warm cookies, grab a glass of milk, and get back to writing.  Or I talk to a friend and vent a little.  The last time I did this my friend said: “writing with your heart again, I see.”  I shrugged, and let that sink in.  Then I realized that person didn’t understand my character’s behavior because they hadn’t experienced a similar situation to what my character was dealing with – or if they had, they dealt with it differently –  and that allowed me to not be so frustrated.

Order of importance?

Great Characters – If I get attached to the characters in a book I will finish reading that book guaranteed.  If the main characters don’t draw me in, I will stop reading the book.   So yes, when I write, character development is huge to me.

Good Plot – If the characters and their development are great, I will be more forgiving of the plot.  I will finish the story and if there’s a sequel I’ll probably read it as well.   As a writer, plot isn’t something I’ve struggled with, I actually don’t think about it too much because the characters tend to write the plot for me.

Technically perfect – I’m not saying it has to be perfect, but if there’s too many technical issues – then I will stop reading it.  I’ve put down a book before because there were a ton of short sentences and my brain was so fixated on the all the periods that it was not picking up any of the story.  I am pretty lax on typos, and am proud of myself when I catch a homophone error, but I am not a grammatical Nazi by any means.  As long as the errors are not overabundant and don’t pull me out of the world the author created, I will continue to read the story.

Awesome world-building – This is not necessary for me as a reader.  I’ve come to realize there are two types of people, those with active imaginations and those who need to be told what to see.  Which type am I?  I’m the type who gets annoyed if there’s too much description.  I have a very active and strong imagination so I don’t need pages of details to see something.  Give me an idea of what you see and my brain will do the rest unless it is important to the story.   Even when I take the time to read all the details an author is giving me, my brain pictures what it wants.  I would much rather the words be used for moving the story along or building the character than telling me about a tree that has little if any relevance to the story.   As a writer, I do draw the scenery, but I’ve had times where my friends have had to remind me that they are not in my head, so I go back and write to help them see what I see.

  How is storytelling influential to our culture? I believe storytelling is very influential to our culture.  It helps to inspire and motivate people, it gives people a way to escape this world for a while, it gives something for people to relate to.  My older son was not a strong reader, he hated it when he was in early elementary.  We introduced him to comic books and by the time he was in sixth grade he was reading above his grade level, but more importantly, it inspired him to make better choices.  We had a discussion the other day, and he looks at me and says, “Mom, tragedy helps build character.  It sucks, but it’s the truth.  Look at Batman.  His parents were killed, and that’s horrible I know, but look at who he became, look at all the good he did and people he helped.  If his parents hadn’t died he would not have become that incredible man.”   And if you think about Star Trek, and all those devices they used that inspired people to figure out how to create things that were similar… like cell phones.  Storytelling invigorates the mind and encourages us to think differently than we did before.

What is your writing space like? My writing space is anywhere I can sit with my laptop.  In the summer I like to write outside under the trees, but when it’s not nice, I’ll sit on the floor, in my bed, on the couch.  I’ve sat in bleachers waiting for wrestling meets to start, in my car waiting for my kids to get done with class, at the library, at a coffee/tea shop.  I’m really not too picky about my writing space because as soon as I start typing, this world falls away.  Although sometimes if there’s too much talking or the TV is loud, I usually plug in headphones and I’m good.

Tell us about your latest piece.

My most recent story I’ve published is “Adventurer’s Spirit”.  It takes place on another world where two different races of people exist.  Alyxzandra belongs to a people who are in touch with the world they live on, and Jared’s people do not think twice about the planet.  Alyxzandra and Jared meet in the woods when they are young – she was playing a game and he was hunting.  They should have seen each other as enemies, but the moment they saw each other they only saw someone who didn’t deserve to die.  Jared should have killed her that day, and she should have let Jared die when he is attacked by a Zurgala, but instead they keep each other alive not knowing that these two incidents would change everything.  This story follows their journey of friendship as they do their best to protect each other, their sacrifices, and the impacts it has on them and the world they live on.

What’s your next writing adventure? I am always working on more than one thing, but currently I’ve been a bit obsessive over Story 20.  I’m almost 150,000 words in, and the ending is almost complete.  This is an adventure story taking place far from Earth.  It is a story of unexpected love, betrayal, and survival.

Is there a message in your books? I don’t set out for there to be, but they do seem to fall in line with my beliefs that nature is important, that love knows no bounds, that you’re stronger than you know, that men and women are equal and a complement to each other, and survival is possible even in our lowest/darkest moments.

How important is writing to you? The only thing more important to me than writing are my kids.  And they will attest to the fact that when I don’t write it affects everything about me.  I become forgetful and dumb – we joke around that I can’t think straight because of the voices in my head (the story ideas are taking up too much space).  Irritation and sadness tend to take over my mood more easily, and my focus goes out the window.  I love writing, stopping isn’t an option.  It’s my solace, my happy place, my space to challenge myself to think outside the box and become more than I thought I could be.

Links:

Blog: It all started with a dream…: https://amandaschmidt09.blogspot.com Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/amandaschmidt09/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AmandaSchimdtFans/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmandaSchmidt09

Bio

I graduated from Eastern Michigan University and live in Rochester, Michigan. I am a single mother of three amazing children who have helped me rediscover my love of writing. I started writing in 2009 and discovered there were many stories within me that I wanted to share. With the help of my family, friends, and fans, I have gained confidence in myself and in what I love, allowing me to live my dream to be an author who finds inspiration everywhere: my past, listening to music, in laughter, and even random moments while out hiking or practicing Tai Chi.

I discovered the hard way how important believing in yourself and your dreams is. With each story I write, I hope to take my readers into a world that will captivate their attention. I hope my stories remind you to believe in your dreams, allowing you to think outside the box and become more than you thought you could be.

Dirty Dozen – Author Interview – Amanda Schmidt Welcome to Amanda Schmidt I have published thirteen books.  I have two stories that are two books (Taken, Solace), one trilogy (The Shadow Dragon), one story that will be two books (Rise of Ansea), and the rest are all stand-alone books (Not Human, Heart of the Emperor, The Huntsman’s Daughter, Project 21, and Adventurer’s Spirit). 

[lotornomiko]

The Dark Flavor Of Addiction Chapter Twenty Two (mostly worksafe)

New chapter, mostly worksafe...Hook Belle pairing...

There’s a thickness in the air, an unbridled, heavy oppression that bears down on us both. I feel it’s weight clearly, just as I feel that of his stare, those storm dark eyes of his boring into me, seeing past my clothing, past my skin, maybe even past my soul. I prickle with awareness, and with an unease, not trusting this intent focus of his, anymore than I can the man, the pirate, who has brought an unparalleled pain to my heart. It burns that it still has this effect on me, that he is still so good at playing me, twisting me up with that foolish kind of excitement that I should already be beyond. That I am not, is blatantly apparent, the heat that I feel not just born of Hook’s open study of me, but of my own shame and embarrassment. My failure as a woman, that desire that spirals so quickly out of my control, whose flame fans to a blazing inferno at the slightest provocation of his.

I’m a slave to that lust, and if I am not careful, I’ll be one to the pirate as well. I’ve already come so close, this desire and fickle heart of mine marking me as an easy and eager victim for Hook to prey upon. I’ve been his outlet, the target for all his rapturous rage, that lust and that fury laying invisible claims to my soul. Every act and every word, and it was made all the worse because I was nothing more than some game to him. Some sick amusement whose torment and torture he got off on with it’s inflicting.

He’s hurt me one too many times for it to have meant anything else. For my feelings to have ever truly mattered. No amount of story that he now spins, can get me to believe otherwise, my heart so broken and mistrustful. I feel damaged beyond repair, love and it’s hope so far from me, that sometimes I doubt even of it’s existence. Certainly I don’t believe in my own capability for it, my feelings so distorted, so twisted, that it makes me wonder if love and positivity have ever been possible for a woman like me. I feel whole worlds apart from the naive princess I had once been, the girl who had held so many private ambitions where her own heart was concerned. That Belle had wanted love, and she had wanted freedom of choice, and instead had come away with lust and a cynical assortment of scathing emotion. It blurs the line between so much, between the right and the wrong of it, leaving me knee deep in the depths of my own depravity, my heart so greedy and full of pain.

All of it makes me so weak. Every last grasping twinge of jealous and insane want, that inexplicable desire, and it’s perverse thrills, all but crippling me, my heart and my love in tatters. With each broken piece of me I am made all the more vulnerable, the shards of my heart scattered to the winds so that I may never be able to piece it back together. Each time that I try, something happens, HE happens, splintering me apart even more. There’s so little left, so little of me to cling to, to try and remember who I should be. Companion, lover, enemy, my vulnerability such that to Hook I have been all three. Through the few good times, and the many bad, he’s been an ever present fixture, the root cause of so much pain and suffering and yet I still haven’t been able to quit him cold turkey. I have TRIED, have put my best foot forward, and despite all my efforts, Hook still manages to pull me into his orbit. It just takes some heat and determination, and then I melt, all my struggles for naught, determination itself blown away in the face of his kisses.

I burn mortified still over this morning. Over that moment in the kitchen, by the stove, just before breakfast. It’s just another proof of my inability, that weakness inside me, so vulnerable and quick to give in. Against that dogged determination, and that sensual desperation, I had been helpless to truly put up a resistance. I had still tried, had still struggled against him, but it had only taken a matter of moments before that wanton part of me had caved in. With that lusting aspect of my heart, I had started to kiss him back. To do more than just start, but to have actively engaged, pulling him down for more and more kisses, blatantly rubbing my body against his, the need making me so wild and careless. Oh so careless, Hook so effortlessly toying with me.

It had all come crashing apart, within seconds a new piece of me broken, lost to the harsh slap of his words. It didn’t much matter what he had said, what kind of reason he had given me, for I knew better. I’m still just a game, some petty amusement, a doll Hook thinks he can toy with. This is just a new twist on an old trick, some new form of torture designed to steal the last bit of hope and sanity from me. I hate him for playing with me in this way, for trying to make me believe in the idea of him, of us. For making me almost want it, want something that sort of resembles the year that I can’t remember. It’s not fair, and it’s not right, this cruelty a brand all uniquely Hook’s own.

My vision blurs with my attempts to suppress the tears that well up in my eyes. I find myself blinking rapidly, turning from him in an effort to hide this latest effect he has had on me. He’s always been so good at hurting me, but this latest is almost more than my broken heart can bear. All because he tries to fill me with false hope, every word carefully crafted for maximum damage. Everything from his denouncement of Emma and his feelings for her, to the schemes he supposedly makes, Hook wanting us to run away together.

The worst however, might just be the memories he tries to give me. The story the pirate tells of the missing year, and our time together. He doesn’t paint it all rose colored, Hook quick to admit to his faults and mistakes. Or at least he pretends to, this repentant side of him not something I can trust. It still makes me yearn, the longing filing in to the cracks of my broken heart. He makes me want, and it’s not all about sex and envy, this side of Hook that he plays at now, something so far more infinitely appealing. So seductive and heart breaking, this facet of the pirate a man who actually CARES. Who does more than just care, but actually seems sorry. As though he is kicking himself for that which was squandered, the woman whose heart Hook had so trampled.

He’s that more dangerous to me, that much more cruel, the pirate surely having decided on a new way to torment me. He can’t be sincere, can’t mean any of the things that has been said. He can’t have need of me, beyond his revenge and some sex, this side of Hook a complete and total lie. A sham, and it’s all the more heart breaking, this yearning that I have. I want to reach out to him, for him, this kinder, gentler version of the pirate, something so infinitely sweet and appealing.

The beautiful lie of it, of him, can’t stop me from taking a sharp, shuddery breath. He’s besides me in an instant, Hook having heard and reacted to the pain in that sound. I try to hide, try to keep from looking at him, but his hand and his hook is on me. That caress of his thumb against my trembling lip nearly undoes me, a tear actually slipping free. I still won’t look at him, not even when the tip of his hook is used to ease back my hair.

“Hey...” That soft tone of voice is meant to be soothing, but he doesn’t actually ask me what is the matter. I suppose he can hazard a guess, so much of my feelings and heartbreak etched into my expression. I can’t even stop it, can’t keep my inner turmoil and pain from leaking out, my eyes truly the window to my soul that is suffering. I continue to blink, that rapid flutter of motion not protecting me, not from him, and not from the tears, more of that bitter liquid squeezing out down my cheeks. Hook holds my attention, those blue eyes of his taking every sullen and ashen faced moment, and damn him but he smiles. It’s not a full on expression of pleasure, some tight lipped emotion coloring it, the pirate halfway between concerned and a genuine relief. I don’t understand it, I can’t, anymore than I would trust it, the pirate so good at deceit and manipulation.

Resentment flares, all that he is and isn’t hurting me. I jerked away from his supposed comfort, attempt to put real distance between us lest I make a further fool of myself. With crying or with kissing, it doesn’t much matter, Hook the kind of man who would get off on both.

“Belle?”

“We don’t have time for this.” I say, brushing an angry hand over my eyes. “We’ve a job to do.”

He fixes me with the queerest of looks, Hook not at all joking when he says that he wasn’t aware of owing his time to anything else. My tone is withering, as I pointedly remind him of what is at stake here, the town and it’s people in jeopardy.

“And how is that in any way my responsibility?” He’s every inch the uncaring pirate, not giving a damn about anyone, or anything that he can’t somehow use. I’ve known this about him, I’ve almost always known, and yet I still let it bother me. It’s a stinging reminder, a truth glaring straight in my face, screaming fact in my head. Because it speaks volumes on what he really feels—thinks about me, Hook having lied, manipulated, even outright tricked me a dozen times over. He’s played havoc with my heart, twisted me up so thoroughly inside, my body and emotions nothing more than a never ending source of amusement for him.

“I suppose it’s not.” I concede to him. I can’t keep the hurt of my expression at bay, not even with my anger. I look at him and I despise him, caught up in this new flavor of pain he is so intent on inflicting. Those all too brief snippets, the fantasy that he’s spun, and even knowing it must be all some twisted lie, I find myself still craving it. The pirate and the picture he had painted, the life we could have almost had together. That it will never come to pass, hurts all the more, Hook so good at making me want the lie of the kinder, gentler him. It’s not that I would want to change him, it’s not even that I truly try. But there is a part of me that reacts to his newest play, to the act he puts on, so caring and concerned, so focused on me, so possessively intent that nothing and no one, not even Emma Swan, matters worth a damn. The Hook he now pretends to be, is a pirate ever so focused and devoted in his pursuits, in his single minded commitment to me.

There’s an implied intimacy there, every touch and every word, meant to spear gun straight pass my defenses. To make me melt, and yield, and be his fool. I try to be strong, try to at least not outwardly play into his hand, but the effect Hook has on me remains the same. I hurt because HE matters, because there’s a part of me that wants to matter in turn. I don’t mean as a revenge, or as the coping tool he’s used to comfort himself over Emma Swan, my feelings as muddled as they are, wanted to be RETURNED. To have them acknowledged, and it makes no real sense, that thin line between love and hate, such that we can only hurt each other, and that is before someone like Rumpelstiltskin is added into the equation.

It’s not that I don’t fear him. I do, afraid not of the physical hurt that Hook thinks Rumple is capable of, but that of the emotional. His hurt and disappointment, and the feelings of inadequacy that will sure spring up in the face of my betrayals. It’s the idea of the pain I will have made Rumpelstiltskin feel, the havoc it will wreak, my inability to remain true the greatest blow that any one could ever deal him. For that I am sorry, and for that I am terrified, frightened of how Rumple will look at me, bracing my self for a bitter regret that take root in his heart.

I expect him to be angry. I expect him to feel hurt and betrayed, and suffer such an immense sorrow.  But more than that, I expect to make it up to him, my whole life devoted to the pursuit of HIS happiness. In whatever shape it will take, in whatever way that he will have me. I’ll sacrifice everything, my own hopes and my own dreams, even that of my future. I’ll be his friend, his lover, his WIFE if he’ll have me. But before that, I have to save him, have to find some other way to break him free of Zelena’s control. It just means even more work for me, so many different things to research, and so little time for them all.

It makes frustration bubble out of me, some more urgent than most and just as equally important. I had to find out what Zelena was up to, just what sort of magic she intended to cast using Mary Marguerite’s baby, and how it could be stopped. Just as I had to look for a way to get past her defenses, to find a way to save Rumple that didn’t involve true love’s kiss or the use of his dagger.

To that end, whatever it may ultimately be, I need to throw myself into the search. To find a way to save Rumple, and save this town. But my attention is split, and if I am at all honest, at least ninety five percent of my energy is devoted to the internal. To the thoughts and feelings swirling around inside me.   That Hook is at the center of so much of it is no surprise, his very nearness, his presence, distracting me. Focusing is out of the question with him here, with his pointed stare’s weight an oppressive whisper of sensation, my skin itself prickling with unease and with heated color.

“You need to go.” A book is in my hand, some heavy volume of research that I will have to skim through in the hopes of stumbling upon the key, the answer to so many of our problems. There’s an urgency there, the tick of time counting down. I’ve no real way of knowing just how much of it we have left, but tonight’s upcoming duel makes me worried, makes me think Zelena is one step closer to enacting whatever it is that she plans.

There’s not enough known about that, not enough known save for the two ingredients she has already gathered. A talisman of courage, and the fact that she is after a baby, the unborn child of two people I consider my friends. I shiver with unease at that, then gasp, realizing that maybe just maybe we do have SOME time.

“She can’t mean to do the spell before the baby is born.” I speak out loud, my voice almost excited. I am not speaking to Hook, not really, not when I expect him to leave.

“There’s always a way around that.” He mutters, and I start and snap, staring at him with a look of displeasure that screams out about why is he still even here. The pirate shrugs, but is unapologetic, pacing a step closer to me that again has me backing up.

“What do you mean?” I ask, telling myself this little won’t matter. That it might be important, that Hook might know something worth telling.

“There are ways to magically induce a pregnancy.” He explains. “And of course, we are assuming she needs Snow White’s baby to still be alive for this spell.”

My eyes widen at that, my body shaking with my upset. “You can’t mean...”

“I can’t know what she is planning.” Hook tells me. “But we have to be prepared for that possibility.”

I want to shake in denial, in protest of that. Instead I am nodding, loathe as I am to admit that the pirate might be right about this.

“We have to be prepared for more than just that.” I say out loud, glancing down at the book I have opened. It’s a pointed dismissal, or at least it’s meant to be. “We have to be ready for anything.” I try to focus, try to concentrate on the words on the book’s pages, but I am too aware of Hook, too attuned to his every movement.

“There’s not enough time to possibly research everything that COULD happen.” He points out.

“Still the effort must be made.” I retort. “If there is anything I can do to minimize the...the bad that could happen.”

“That’s SO like you.” He says with a fond chuckle. It gets me to look up, my lips pursing around an uncertain question.

“How would you know?” Now he’s the one to fix me with a look, a patronizing rise of his eyebrows, that has me coloring in embarrassment.  “The missing year...”

“Right, the missing year.” He acknowledges. “Loathe as you were about my less than legal dealings, an effort was still made. You wanted to help, and you wanted us safe, no end of hours sacrificed to you pouring over every possible outcome.” He was smiling, and I was caught, listening to him spin another tale of something that I can’t remember, that I almost can’t believe.

“I dare say all that effort and hard work paid off. Your eye for detail, finding every last possible way to escape just about ANY situation or problem that might spring up.”

“Just about any?” I ask, even as it is wrong to engage him in the slightest.

“There’s no accounting for a moron’s individual stupidity.” He sighed then. “I like to think my crew was among the best and the brightest pirates to be found, but...” A shrug of his shoulders then. “But personal greed has a way of bringing out the worst in a person….”

“Don’t I know it...” I mutter, thinking then of MY greed, and how it had driven me. I had never been one for money, never been one for what it could get me, my flavor of greed of a more personal but no less grasping nature. The pirate was at the heart of it, my desire for him, my need to dominate HIS thoughts, transforming me. Making me into a person I very much did not like.

I shook my head then, trying to refocus my attention back onto the research at hand. The rustle of his clothing, that not quite groan of leather and the step of his boots coming closer, was all that I could hear, all that I could devote my attention to. I kept my eye on the page, but not on the words, stiff with displeasure and tension as he fell into place besides me. His shadow was on me, was on the book, and I expelled a breath, trying to turn from him.

“You are in my light.” I accused crossly. Then jumped to feel his hand on the small of my back, the pirate leaning over me as though he was actually interested in the book that I was holding.

“I doubt you’ll find anything in a history book.” He chuckled in response to the pink taint upon my skin, my embarrassment again sparking as I realized the book I had taken wasn’t even one relevant to magic.

“You NEED to go.” I emphasized the words I was stressing, with an angry snap close of the book. A glance Hook’s way, not only showed that he wasn’t anywhere close to leaving, but that infernal light in his eyes, that amusement he so callously displayed. “I mean it. I won’t be able to get any work done with...with...”

He looked way too happy, his hand urging me closer. That sharp and deadly hook of his was ever so gentle, as it touched upon my cheek. “Feels like old times.” Is what he said, eyes twinkling with mirth and something every so much gentler.

“Old times? You mean the missing year?”

“Aye.” One word, but it sent shivers through me. “You said those exact words to me, time and time again.” He was caressing back my hair with his hook now, his voice ever so low and husky. It made me listen, made me focus so intently on him, watching as that sensual mouth formed and shaped every word before speaking.

“Did you pay heed to them?”

“Of a sort.” He acknowledged. His eyes were twin pools of dark heat, some memory triggered in his head. It triggered an answering warmth inside of me, that look very much a precursor to so much, to so many different kinds of intimacies. Half of which I couldn’t even remember, the missing year both a blessing and a curse, the good and the bad of it lost, and still my heart was hurt.

It was a hurt focused on him, on Hook, and I wondered how much worst it would have been, had I been capable of remembering.  

“Most times I drove you to distraction.” He was grinning. “In more ways than one. You’d yell and pout, try to push me away, but that resistance of yours was token at best.” His hook in my hair, caressed downwards, the blunt curve of it locking about the nape of my neck. I was caught, but then hadn’t I already been, so thoroughly enamored of the pirate despite all of his misdeeds against me.

“I suppose I wanted you to behave….”

“Oh no, not that. Never that!” Hook told me. “But you did want me to take seriously my safety.” He sobered then. “You could barely tolerate the slightest of my injuries, let alone the thought of something truly bad happening. To my men, and to me, and I’m afraid I troubled you greatly on that front.” A sigh then, his eyes looking bothered. “I was such a risk taker….even knowing what---who I had waiting for me at home. Your warm and vibrant self, that passionate devotion, that soft and caring heart.” Hook turned disgusted then. “God, when I think what could have happened, the effect it would have had on you...”

My heart must truly be as soft as he had claimed it to be, a sympathetic twang alight inside it. “But it didn’t happen.” I tried to reassure him. “You’re a survivor Hook…and...and so am I!”

“Not for lack of trying otherwise.” He muttered. “You’ve been as much of a risk taker as I, what with the Dark One in your life.”

“Rumple would never try to hurt me.” It was an automatic response, but no less heart felt. “He’s different from the man you knew, from the man who murdered his own wife.”

“That’s not a gamble I want to be taking!”

“It’s not your choice to make.” I started to point out, only to be practically shouted at.

“The hell it is not! Not when it’s YOUR life that is at risk, Belle!” I would have looked away if I could, if his hook hadn’t been holding onto me in that way. “I know you don’t want to believe in anything but the best in him, but the fact remains…he will go ballistic if you were to tell him.”

“If?” I seized on that word. “There’s no if about it. I WILL tell him.”

“Belle!”

I shook my head, actually lifted my hand to quickly press fingers against his lips. “I will. When this thing is all over, when the situation with Zelena had been settled...I will tell Rumple everything.”

His eyes narrowed with that, and I dropped my hand, expecting to hear him argue. His lips parted, an exasperated breath expelled out of him, but no words were forthcoming. He just stared at me, studying the determined sincerity on my face before speaking.

“You are a fool.” Hook proclaimed. “A bloody, beautiful, brilliant fool.”

I couldn’t even argue against that, not when I had so much foolishness attributed to me, my greatest that of the man glowering before me. “I don’t need you to tell me that...”

“No?” He didn’t budge when I tried to push him away. “Belle, let’s just say you do tell him. What do you think will happen? With him, with us, with you?”

“I...” The words lodged in my throat, a new twist to the very real sorrow that I felt. Hook’s laugh was without any real amusement, the man again calling me out on my foolishness.

“He’ll never allow it.” He said. “The Dark One won’t let us live and stay together…”

My brow drew together with my frown. “There is no us, and you KNOW it.” I said. “Stop speaking as though there is, as though you have any intention of a future with me…!”

“Stop speaking as if you know what is in my heart!” He barked back.

“I don’t. I don’t know anything about you, aside from your lust for vengeance, and the feelings you have for Emma..”

“There is nothing there! Nothing positive for her!” I thought him delusional, and told him as much, again pointing out that feelings like that don’t just change over night.

“No, they take time.” Hook agreed. “I’ve had a whole year’s worth, and an even longer struggle to make sense of it. Make sense of what I was really feeling, and what I had been blinding myself to. The woman right in front of me...the woman who lived through so much sorrow and pain, who saw the worst parts of me and embraced it!”

“That woman doesn’t exist! You may have had a year’s worth of pain and memories, but I don’t. I don’t remember...I...can’t...”

“I’ll go on remembering for the both of us until you do!” Hook swore. I put out my hands against his chest, to keep his heated self at bay.

“Hook….”

“Each and every precious moment, the good and the bad...” He was still speaking, to the point I had to shout over him.

“I DON’T want to know!” I shook then, agitation trembling through my frame. “I don’t want to know. Not any of it...not a single second because it doesn’t matter! To me or to you! I...” He was growling, looking so hostile and furious in the moment.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew.” I could only shrug at that, unable to debate the merits of what the me of the missing year would have truly wanted. He was frustrated in turn, Hook touching fingertips to my cheek as his blue eyed gaze bore into me. “You NEED to know.”

“It will only complicate things.”

“Complicate them in the sweetest of ways.” He argued.

“No, in the most hurtful!” I countered back with a snap. I tried to brace myself, against him, and against my own thoughts, my eyes closing to block out the sight of him. “What good is remembering when it won’t change a damn thing!?”

“Won’t change a thing? How can you say that!? Belle, we’ll finally be able to have a future together...a future!”

“No we won’t. Not together.” I state it firmly, and snap open my eyes. “No matter what happens, no matter what you think I can someday remember, it won’t change a thing. It won’t change MY mind, and what I must do.”

“What you must do? And what is that?” He demanded. His eyes had narrowed with suspicion. “Just what are you planning?” I didn’t owe him any explanations, my chin lifting stubbornly. “Belle...”

“You need to go now, Hook.” I’d have turned away if not for the metal against my skin. “I have work to get started on.”

“You…” He was at a loss but only for a second. “I’ve heard you say those exact words in our past as well.” A feral grin then. “And seen you give me that exact look, trying to be so strong and determined. And each time, I broke you down, had you so thoroughly distracted and focused on me that you...”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“Ah but that’s too bad, cause hear it you will. Each and every moment, as many as it takes, for you to….”

“I am going to stay with Rumpelstiltskin!” I abruptly shout out at him. Hook freezes in place, his look one of pure shock and displeasure. “I am going to stay with him.” I repeat. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the hurt that I’ve done him.  And there is nothing that you can say, that you can do, that can stop me!”

To Be Continued Of Course…

[houstonlocalus-blog]

Album Reviews: Jens Lekman, Dirty Projectors + more

Moon Duo — Occult Architecture Vol. 1

When I think of the band Suicide, I think of a feeling as much as I think of a sound and atmosphere. There was an aural native, you were a part of their world, I feel a similar thing when listening to Moon Duo. Their latest, Occult Architecture Vol. 1, encapsulates darkness and the allure of it, sprinkling a dance vibe with danger, the mysteries beneath, silhouettes against throbbing blue and red lights, rock and roll and leather and motorcycles. “Creepin” drives and writhes the drums, the heartbeat pulsing you through the night. “Cult of Moloch” continues the darkness, synths float around like spirits over the séance, guitar leads snake in and out, dashes of color and spark, illuminating the smoke. The songs here work individually, but as a part of the whole they are a feeling, a mood, a world to inhabit.

  Jens Lekman — Life Will See You Now

Pop music is part of the fabric of the everyday, it is the soundtrack to our lives, for better or worse. Jens Lekman understands that within the catchiness and seeming ease of a pop song there is room for discussion, introspection. The first song on the excellent Life Will See You Now album, “To Know Your Mission,” speaks of the routine and mundane interrupted by the idea, what is all of this: “What’s your mission, why are we here, who are you serving?” Taking sounds of pop, soca, disco, and the language of the everyday, and presents an album that is life as life within all its dramas, real and imagined. “How We Met, The Long Version” can and should start the party, a perfect picture of the that moment when two people decide to either enrich or ruin each other’s lives. “What’s That Perfume You Wear” is a love story in a scent, it is the passing of a person in the street or a club evoking the arc of a memory from inception to conclusion. “Dandelion Seed” is the thought as you look into the distance, “blaming the wind and where it carried me.” I kind of dropped the ball on this one, you get albums all the time as a music writer and if they are not something you are automatically aware of per previously piqued interest or familiarity of artist or form, you sometimes get to things slowly, and sometimes those things are excellent and you feel bad. But this album is excellent and I apologize for letting you know so late. My bad.

  Dirty Projectors — Dirty Projectors 

We all know the Dirty Projectors to be a thing, or at least we assume it to be a thing. Anyone who has followed the band knows that Dave Longstreth goes as his wind blows and they kind of got popular in one of those waves, but Longstreth is still Longstreth and so this is the wave now. Let’s call this an R & B album, it is about a breakup, more as a muse than autobiography, and begins with “Keep Your Name,” which has chopped and screwed vocals, a rap section, and is essentially a slow jam. This is how it’s done, Longstreth taking something and deconstructing it, but leaving in elements of familiarity. The Sign O’ The Times horn part on “Up in the Hudson,” yes, it is sort of a D’Angelo song, but it’s something else, too. I won’t, but I could hear this on urban radio, because it is not a rock record by any stretch of the imagination, but you see reputation colors perception in these things so, you know, but Longstreth did a lot of Solange’s last album, too, so he is kind of there already. “Little Bubble” is quiet storm, Longstreth is a better singer than he’s credited. Not sure how people will perceive the direction or the album, it is not what was Dirty Projectors, but it kind of is, faint colors given more dominant colors, less brushes and more full stroke, but it’s all been in the picture before. I’m into it.

  Julian Lage & Chris Eldridge — Mount Royal

Am I a sucker for acoustic guitar-driven albums of the Fahey/Glenn Jones/Elkins and Salsburg tradition? I am. The guitar as an instrument is one of the most expressive, it suggests and testifies to all of the feelings of human emotion. The musical conversation between Julian Lage and Chris Eldridge on their second collaborative effort Mount Royal is one to behold. “Rygar” is masterful in tone and phrase, “Old Grimes” has the all the appeal of bluegrass and folk but a gentle approach to mood and pace, a calm cool breeze on an overcast day, a hum more than whoosh. “Sleeping By Myself” is one of the few pieces with vocals, a sad song about sad things, but tender, a slow tear and exit. “Lion’s Share” is paced beautifully, blues-y, full within its use of space, the emptiness between the notes and the rhythm are all necessary to the whole. A wonderful listen, a voyage, each song a chapter to a beautiful story. A gift.

  John Wesley Coleman III — Microwave Dreams

Every now and then you hear an album that restores yor faith in the spirit of man, that imbues in it a sense of pride and victory. Microwave Dreams is that album for me. I was first introduced to Coleman when he opened for NOTS at Rudyard’s. I felt ashamed that such a jewel resided in my state and I was unaware of his light. “Watching my love become a mom and I am a father, too, turn off the TV and hit the bed, waking up at 7 AM, waking up on the couch again…” Who is this wordsmith? He knows my life and my struggle, and his rock and roll is my life. “Jesus Never Went To Junior High” is an instant classic, it is Buddy Holly, it is Credence Clearwater without the privilege: “Jesus never went to junior high, if he did I not notice, I was sitting on the back of the school bus eating all the acid.” It is America, it is youth, it is brilliance: “Everybody’s got some stories.” Fuck the red hats and the class division, we are all out here, living through the day, arguing about lunch choices, mad about our children’s disinterest in extracurricular activities and missed assignments, waiting in traffic, GPS signal lost, coffee stains on our shirts, selectively remembering our youth. John Wesley Coleman III is here, singing your blues, “dance with me, motherfucker.”

  Tim Darcy — Saturday Night

Tim Darcy’s album Saturday Night is a aptly titled in that it follows the trajectory of a Saturday night from wild to weird. Let’s start at the beginning. “Tall Glass of Water” is the Velvet Underground rocker, evoking the spirit of improvising while playing, moving with the spirit, that joke just hit me, keep singing. Now, let me preface this next statement, I do not promote the use of psychedelics, live your life as you see fit. With that stated, this album is a lot to me like a trip, but not in the obvious way. As it kicks in, shit gets weird, but not outright, just flurries of weirdness that then become full on hysteria. “You Felt Comfort” is a rocker, a toe tapper, but something is happening in it. By “Saturday Night” it happens, a meditation, a dismantling of the outside from the inside, a slow ascent into the otherworld, “let me out.” “Found My Limit” is space, spinning ceiling and drool, “Saint Germain” is where the magic appears, you are finding your core, the purpose is upon us,“Beyond Me” is flight, full ascension hovering into the sun. Saturday Night is a magical album for wonder and discovery, it begins as a jam it ends as the fulfillment of journey, I offer you my hand, let’s go there.

Album Reviews: Jens Lekman, Dirty Projectors + more this is a repost