Dark Fiction - Fiasco

Dark Fiction - Fiasco

By Casey Douglass

(Contains gross-out humour).

Fiasco was both his nickname, and a very accurate description of his life to date. Sometimes, it was shortened to Fi. Most of the time, it was shortened to Ass. Which was a bit unkind, to say the least. Some people are coddled by fate, others are held down, ball-gagged and jolly rogered by it. No prizes for guessing which side Fiasco fell on.

Fi always gave the impression of a court jester out of uniform. It was partly why the palace guards ignored him and gave him the full run of the grounds. He used this power to his utmost, enriching his life, using the expansive royal library and, no, he didn’t. He used it to perv at the queen. It should be said that Fiasco lived in a realm in which royalty lived around every corner. Hell, even his postman used to be a king of somewhere apparently. It was just one quirk of the peculiar land of Knell. Another will be catching up with him any moment now.

He sat in the flower bed, a conifer hiding his presence from the roaming officials and guards. There were limits to their amiability. It was his secret place, and, more importantly, a place he could catch strands of the queen’s hair when she brushed it at her window. He didn’t do anything kinky with it, he just liked to hold it and know it was hers. He sometimes sat elsewhere, on those days when she was at a low enough window to see clearly. At other times, she retreated higher up the minaret, and on these days, he settled for the flower bed.

‘Achoooo!’

He was pulled from a deepening revelry by the sneeze. It was her, bless her beautiful nose, her rosy lips and her dimpling cheeks. If he’d been more with it, he’d have known to roll to the side and pray it missed him. As it happened, it landed squarely on his head, pushing itself over his face and body, like a condom slowly being rolled down a cucumber. His shout of disgust popped with a gloop as the goo parted around his mouth.

This is another quirk of Knell. Things that fall from on high grow and gain mass the further they fall. Things on the ground that are propelled into the sky become lighter and less substantial. It’s hell when it rains but very handy for space exploration, if and when they get around to inventing flying machines. I’d say it’s a classic case of swings and roundabouts, but swings really could put undue stress on the body in Knell. Maybe I’ll just say it’s a case of roundabouts, and seem a little strange.

In Fiasco’s case, the queen’s sneeze fell far enough and for long enough to become quite a ball of fluid. Fiasco sat stock still as he realised that he could feel it seeping down his collar. He shuddered. It was still warm. He stood and peered through the conifer. Amazingly enough, no one was around so he ran like he’d never run before.

Sadly, he hadn’t run before, and his epic escape lasted five seconds before he tripped over his own foot and landed face down on the cobbles. Shrill laughter rang from a window to his left, voices calling and jittering. He pushed himself to his feet one more time, and trudged through the palace gate, the guards snotting into their mouth-covering hands with laughter.

It was a long trek. The midday sun seemed to baked the stuff onto him, drying it into crisp platelets that moulded to his form. People pointed and laughed, as he’d expected, but he was lost in thought, which took much of the sting out of their jibes. It was a weighty matter that consumed his mind, one that both troubled and teased him. It was the kind that demanded an answer or would forever tweak his nipples. Basically, Fiasco was assessing if he still fancied the queen. Could he fancy someone who’d covered him in mucus? Or more troubling still, did he desire her even more? And if he did, what did that say about him?

It was because of these thoughts that he didn’t detect the smoke. Or the screams. Or the general scorched look that the brickwork had around him. He snapped out of his mental masturbation well and truly when he saw the body-parts littering the street.

‘Run you bloody fool!’ an old man shouted as he pushed past.

‘What’s happened?’ Fiasco shouted after him.

‘Dillexers! Exploding cask!’ the man yelled over his shoulder.

A whoosh of flame blew the door from its hinges on the next house along the road, hysterical screaming following its flight. Fiasco stood for a moment, things falling into place in his mind and coming up with a course of action that his body felt was feasible. He dashed into the building, the flames that were licking out from the windows hissing as they hit his gooey armour. Then the second explosion hit, and it all went dark for Fiasco at the point.

***

He came to in a comfy bed, crisp white linen dazzling him when he cracked his eyelids open.

‘He’s awake!’ a woman yelled, setting Fiasco’s heart into a frenzy.

‘Where am I?’ he groaned.

‘It’s okay!’ she said, kneeling beside the bed and taking his hand. ‘You’re safe. You’re a hero to boot!’

‘A hero?’

‘You saved that poor woman?’

‘I did? I don’t remember much.’

‘Yes, you saved her! You ran into that burning house and came flying out of the door with her in your arms.’

Fiasco squinted as a memory surfaced. It was the terrified face of an elderly woman. She was being propelled towards him by an explosion behind her. Her forehead had smashed into his face...

‘Ahh, I see.’

‘She was ever so grateful.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘You don’t sound very happy?’

‘It’s just that I didn’t really save her. I was just lucky.’

‘That doesn’t matter! From what I hear, you put yourself in the right position for luck to find you! You were very brave running into that conflagration. I couldn’t have done that!’

‘That was only because I was unlucky earlier in the day.’

‘How so?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m just no hero, that’s all.’

‘You were caked in soot and ash. We had to peel it off you. Strange that the old dear wasn’t as dirty.’

‘Hmm. When can I go?’

‘Anytime you fancy. You seem to be fine, but you might want to stick around awhile.’

‘Why?’

‘The old dear was a relation of queen Silvia. The queen wants to personally thank you for saving her great aunt!’

‘Silvia? As in the queen with a beautiful nose, rosy lips and dimpling cheeks?’

‘Yes, that Silvia! An actual wealthy queen who lives in a castle! Not some washed up has-queen who is washing the stains out of undergarments down the lane!’

Fiasco shifted his gaze to the ceiling as his mind entered overdrive. He had a decision to make, the one that had consumed his mind before he’d been distracted by flying old women and fumes. He hated it when his thoughts became locked onto a topic, it made him feel ill. His nipples began to feel as though they were being squeezed in a lobster’s claws. What should he do? What should he do?

THE END

Ice Daggers as Anxiety Cure

Ice Daggers as Anxiety Cure
(or “shiver me timbers it’s fucking cold out!”)

By Casey Douglass

My heart was doing the thing it does when I start to get anxious and stressed. Often, I can sit with it and mindfully watch it settle again, but yesterday it felt like it was growing into something approaching a “state”. I found myself checking something inconsequential on my phone over and over and realised I needed to break that state. Lacking the patience to sit with it, I swiftly decided to go for a short walk in the biting wind. I pondered how well to wrap up against the elements but, maverick that I am, purposefully left my gloves off. I did this even hearing dad moaning about how cold it was when he came in earlier, rubbing his hands and eager to get them around a cup of coffee. I decided that I was going to focus on the cold in my hands as a pattern breaker. I know, hardcore doesn’t come close to describing me.

The wind hit me like a punch in the face, but the sunlight kissed it better again. Leaves flew as birds hunkered down in the bushes, an ironic exchanging of position. My hands felt the paradoxically hot-feeling bite of the cold, my fingers bending slightly as if trying to curl into the digit approximation of the foetal position. I’m not sure what my balls were doing, but I’d imagine if they had been exposed, I would have needed a search party to find them again once they’d retreated. While I didn’t solely focus on my hands, there were just some parts of my body that I overlooked. Maybe next time...

I paid mindful attention to the sensation of cold, the way it throbbed and ached in my hands, shivers racking my body, my teeth chattering and my torso tingling with pins and needles. I knew that it wouldn’t take long for the carbon dioxide of muscle use to build up and heat me from the inside, but my god it felt like ages. The sunlight was a milky yellow, the orb hanging low in the sky like a pervert trying to look up a short skirt. It was warming, but there were plenty of shadows to scupper its view. I found myself anticipating each strip of glowing luke-warmth as it splayed across my path. I tried to take a more accepting stance by paying attention to my attachment to the warmth, and my aversion to the cold bleak darkness of the shadows; it was as interesting as it was painful.

It wasn’t a long walk, but by the time I had heated up a little and arrived back home, that pattern or mode switch that I was half-hoping for seemed to have happened. I was dog tired though, which brings about other problems, a higher propensity for anxiety not the least of them. Much like my occasional walk, you nearly always come back to where you started when you try to get away from things, or even change them a little. That being said, I quite enjoyed having my mind on sensations that weren’t linked to stress and anxiety for awhile, and I even managed to turn it into something to write about on a day where I am struggling again. It seems to be the walk that just keeps on giving.

Thanks for reading.

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Dark Humour – Spider Warfare Is Just The Beginning...

Dark Humour – Spider Warfare Is Just The Beginning...

By Casey Douglass

Danger ahead.

Living in England has its benefits, one of which is the apparent lack of wildlife that wants to kill you, drag out outside and slowly digest your body in some dark corner of the garden. I say apparent, because there is an insidious threat lurking in every house, shed, woodland and allotment. The creepy-crawlies and bugs are out to get us.

Take the spider as my first example. How many times have you strolled between two objects and felt a strand of web wrap itself across your face? Some think these are just passive support structures for a web not yet finished but these people are so very wrong. Every silken strand across your face is a failed attempt by a spider to garrotte you. Don’t be fooled by the full web nearby, its occupant watching and trying to steer you into the trap. Turn and walk away. One day they will perfect the consistency of the strands, getting them upto a lethal specification for removing heads from necks. These strands seem at their most abundant during the morning, so I would make sure you don’t leave the house until at least midday.

No matter how sceptical you might be, carry on dear reader, the information here just might save your life.

My next warning concerns the humble snail, the proverbial slow coach that leaves a glistening trail like a slippery kiss wherever it goes. This trail is placed in the hope that it will make you slip and break your neck. Snails occasionally team up with slugs in this endeavour but there is a strange class system at work whenever they meet and commune, loosely based around housing permits and residency rights. Don’t be fooled though, if you see a snail and a slug together, they’ve put their differences aside to bring about your downfall.

Now we move onto bees, and their often allies, wasps. These insects are adjusting their own humming, fine-tuning it as we speak to interfere with our Wi-Fi signals. Everyone knows that Internet speed into the countryside is usually a joke. This isn’t just down to slow infrastructure and distance, the hives of these creatures are like our Wi-Fi Extenders but in reverse, crippling phone technology with the mighty humming they produce. Moving to the city might be advisable to avoid this threat, although the mobile networks are likely to become a target too at some point.

An even more baffling scheme now, and this concerns the humble woodlouse, the armadillo of the insect world. For some time now, woodlice have been rolling themselves into little balls and slowly replacing the cavity wall insulation of buildings. To what end I have no idea, I guess that we can only shrug our shoulders and stay vigilant for any sound of mobilisation.

This is only a brief look at the dangers that scurry, buzz and slither around us, but I can’t wrap it up without mentioning the fly. A fly is mainly thought of as being a pathogen spreader and general nuisance, but its real aim is psychological warfare. This takes the form of buzzing around a sleeper’s bedroom at night, tickling their face, and generally doing anything to keep them awake. This is such a common occurrence, nothing is thought of it, but sleep deprivation can cause all manner of issues, from low concentration to paranoia. Sleep with windows closed, even in summer!

I will end this post here as I feel I’ve given enough warning about the perils that litter the ground ahead. I apologise for any spelling mistakes or garbled words, I haven’t been sleeping lately. Take care and stay sharp.

If you've enjoyed this post, that's fantastic. If wouldn't mind, please give it a like or a share on whichever social media you arrived from. Thank you very much and have a great day.

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Dark Fiction – A Stitch in Time Punishes Crime

Dark Fiction – A Stitch in Time Punishes Crime

Written By Casey Douglass

 

You are sat quietly in a train station, the distorted caterwauling of the announcement system informing you that aliens have invaded, that the country actually has a compassionate government, or more unbelievable lies, like the 10:30 train is running on time. It’s hard to tell what the damn thing says, so you just people watch, like you always do.

You realise there is a voice in your head telling you these things, but it informs you that you needn't worry, and it hopes that you will try to be more interested than scared. That’s it. Back to the people watching. Look!

A man in a business suit is striding across the tiled floor. Watch him. He looks a prick doesn’t he! Do you think he’s ramming his pretty personal assistant, the harassed looking woman bustling beside him? Oh look, he stumbled. She’s trying not to smile. How cute.

So what is so interesting I hear you wonder? The man was just invaded by another personality, just for the briefest of seconds. Do I have your curiosity? I expect I do.

You see, crime still exists hundreds of years from now. I am sure that will come as no surprise to you, an astute people watching person sitting on an uncomfortable plastic seat at a train station. But as in many things, the future has numerous new ways to deal with the less desirable parts of human nature. Serial killers are still the worst, people who would snuff out human life just because they want to, because it turns them on or gives them some feeling of power. Their punishment is the most severe. They are strapped into a chair that creates an M-field around them, sucking out their mental energy. This leaves the body pretty much dead, so it is recycled into MP’s notepaper as a reminder to keep them humble. This mental energy is injected into a quantum cell that... oh why bother explaining it all! The mental energy is sent back through time at one second intervals, to inhabit another’s body for the briefest of moments.

That might sound barbaric for the visited body but tests confirmed that they have little awareness of the visit, and some rather complicated algorithms stop the personality invading the body of anyone in a precarious position, such as a bomb defusal expert or a fan about to shake hands with a reality TV star. The fact that the invasion lasts only a second also safeguards against the criminal taking action that could harm the person being inhabited.

Why do it? I hear you thinking. Imagine being sent back in time, starting minutes away from your mental transfer, and going back years and years and years, only spending one second in each body. The assault on the mental faculties alone turns most of the punishees into gibbering wrecks within only hours of the punishment starting.

They do have set sentences however, and the final body that they possess will be one of their victims, chosen according to a variety of factors, so that they can experience themselves killing through another’s eyes. Even when half mad, they will know it, and know it in style. When the victim dies, they die, therefore ending their sentence.

Before you ask “Why doesn't someone from the future stop the crimes?” it’s all very complicated, causality and whatnot. If we could, we would, be assured of that. This punishment seems to carry little effect into the course of events, someone stumbles or almost drops something, then they move on with their lives. The algorithms are good at selecting who gets targeted.

Oh, yes I did say “We” didn’t I. You are a clever one! Yes I am from the future, and yes, I’ve been a naughty chap.

More than a second you say? It’s been at least a few minutes by my reckoning. Guess who has figured out a way to roam where he pleases? Go on, you are the clever one after all...

THE END

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Dark Fiction - Super Hero

Written By Casey Douglass

Image used freely courtesy of Gratisography.com

‘You’re not the super hero this area needs, you’re the one it deserves!’

The door thumped shut behind him.

Steve pondered what had just occurred. He’d been playing Fallout 4 while Beverly had been reading. He’d called something out to the screen in a charming, gentlemanly manner when a cheap-shot from a bandit had killed him yet again. Bev had said something crass to him so he’d called her an overly sensitive harridan and she’d hit the roof! He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of the wording, or even if the events had really happened. Where did being a hero come into things? He sucked his teeth.

The door opened and shut sharply behind him once more. He looked down and found his eyes met by those of a cross-eyed Jack Russell whose expression, besides being hilarious, conveyed her annoyance at being dragged into yet another one of his emotional messes.

‘And take Phoebe with you!’ Bev’s voice sounded through the door.

He rubbed his chin. That might have had some bearing on the events that had so recently transpired. Phoebe always went a bit cross-eyed when she was desperate for the toilet. Any other time, her eyes were totally fine, which he pondered was very good news. He had such an empathic link with her, his eyes were beginning to turn a little inwards too.

‘Come on Pheebs! Let’s get you walked so I can see straight again!’

She turned her head away, in disgust or looking at another visual image of him, he couldn’t tell. He picked up her lead, the other end already being conveniently connected to her collar by Bev, and stepped out into the cold wintry air.

Dog shit enveloped the edge of his right foot as a shaven-headed youth drove past in his modified Corsa, the bass-beats making bubbles rise in the brown sludge. A small light went on in Steve’s mind. The super hero this area deserves. As he looked around at the mouldy cheese poking out of someone’s letterbox and the first acrid tang of dog shit hitting his nostrils, he had the inkling that Bev just might have been taking the piss.

Reaching the small bit of grassland where little Pheebs regularly enjoyed her toilet motions, Steve stared into the distance, like a war hero in search of his next war, but hoping not to find one. He felt the retractable lead click and pull as her highness went for a little wander. He thought he’d make a great super hero and to prove it, he’d act like one for the next five minutes. He smiled. He had a rich inner life that he could draw on at a moment’s notice and he knew it! Maybe that could be his super power? It’d always saved him after all: from boredom, bad weather and dull people. Thirty seconds in and he’d already discovered his superpower!

His heart raced as he watched Phoebe squat down. If she did a crap, he wasn’t sure he had any bags with him to pick it up. He sighed in relief as she looked over her shoulder at him. Did she just wink? A golden stream hit the grass as he felt his eyes uncross in tandem with hers.

‘Good girl!’ he smiled. She looked away. He wondered what her superpower might be.

He gasped. What about his weakness? Sod the dog! He needed a weakness to be a legit super hero! Most hero-types had something that was key to their downfall. Superman had his kryptonite, the A-team were phobic about actually killing people, and Captain America looked a right tosser in his costume!

Steve shook his head. He’d choose something obscure. Synapses flared across his brain in arcs of brilliant neural-connective power. Anyone carrying out a brain scan at the time would see the pattern roughly make out the shape of fist a with a raised middle finger.

A pierced penis! He gave the air a small air punch, casually looking around afterwards to see if anyone might have witnessed the assault. He was alone. Besides Phoebe, or rather, Phoebe was beside him looking up at him with a new expression.

‘I’ve got it Phoebe! I know what my weakness will be!’

She sniffed and waited.

He wasn’t sure why the topic of a pierced penis entered his mind. He’d been trying to think of the most unpleasant things that he might have to go through, but which he had control over and were so unlikely that they wouldn't ever happen. He’d never liked the idea of having a penile piercing, the thought was horrible. The mental image of a slice of ham being perforated by a hole-punch loomed in his mind’s eye. He shivered.

He wasn’t sure what the effect of the aforementioned piercing might be. Maybe he’d lose his will to be a super hero and just end up sitting in front of the TV all day.

He grinned. He had his superpower: a rich internal life, and his weakness: a spiked sausage. Not bad for a few minute's thought.

‘Come on Pheebs, let’s go home!’

Phoebe shot off, the retractable lead whirring like a dynamo. Steve struggled to keep up as they both passed a mother pushing her baby in a stroller. As they neared home, Phoebe ran on, past the gateway, hell-bent on going somewhere else.

‘No!’ Steve cried, ‘This way wonder dog!’ He pulled back on the lead and the world seemed to turn. His super strength corralled the twitchy Jack Russell, sinews straining as she slowly walked to the left like he wanted her to.

Shit! That wasn’t his superpower was it! Ah, but it was a product of his rich inner life, so that was okay. Steve smiled, barely hearing the baby pushing mother say: ‘What a twat!’

Dog inside, lead undone, a triumphant stroll into the kitchen to kiss his lady.

‘What was that for?’ Bev asked, her eyes scanning him from head to toe.

‘I just wanted to show I loved you!’

‘And....?’

‘And what my dearest?’

‘And that’s why you’ve now walked dog shit all through the flat?’

Steve turned and looked down at the floor, his eyes tracing the path of smeary brown footprints. God damn it! He’d forgotten about the dog shit!

‘Stand back!’ he exclaimed. ‘I'll handle this!’

THE END

This story was written in the hope that it makes my good friend Steve unleash the kind of smirking giggle that he so excels at. Steve, his lovely partner Beverly and their furry little friend Phoebe also featured in another of my tales a few years ago, which you can read at this link.

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Dark Video - A Reading of A New Leaf

Yes, my mug can now be found on YouTube doing a reading of one of my earliest short stories from this very website: A New Leaf. Check out the video below or watch it on YouTube itself which is the option I would go for, it just looks better.

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Dark Humour - Keep Out

I opened my new CD Marker Pens today. While I was idly waiting for a disc to burn I read through the warnings on the side. They probably heard my laughter down the street!

Keep out of children! It had never occurred to me to use a small child as a pen holder! Proofing is obviously something beyond the manufacturer of this particular pen. Hilarious!

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Dark Fiction - First World Problems

First World Problems

By Casey Douglass

as part of #fridayflash

The half-eaten jam tart slipped through the clasping fingers, the sticky digits closing together an instant too late as it entered free-fall. It flipped and turned lazily in the electric glow of the kitchen lights, the semi-loose metal foil holder glinting as it caught the yellow beams. Down it fell, a graceful arc of sweet pastry deciding to end its existence and avoid the digestive fate that had befallen its other half.

It hit the floor with a dull thump, the shiny silver metal uppermost, the pastry and strawberry jam kissing the slightly hairy carpet tiles. The red sugary pulp seeped out through a small crack in the side; a pool of blood around a suicide.

Neighbours three doors down heard the almighty expulsion; a string of swear words so profoundly wrong, that an old lady swooned and a Labrador soiled his masters bed.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

THE END

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Dark Fiction - Ogham's Windy Ring

Ogham's Windy Ring

By Casey Douglass

as part of #FridayFlash

‘You look terrible! How long’s it been?’

Ogham shuddered as he forced the skeleton of a smile onto his face. ‘Three weeks!’

Dimitri made a noise like a bashful firework soaring into the sky. ‘So what’s the plan?’

The two boys hunkered lower into the flower bed as a gaggle of giggling girls clipped past, their squeaky shoes and, as was the current fashion, over-length scarves sweeping their way across the quadrangle.

‘Billy Craver’s got it in his room!’ Ogham whispered, his hands gripping his sides.

‘How do you know?’

‘Orac...ulus,’ Ogham hissed out as his abdomen rumbled.

‘Why didn’t we ask him before!’ Dimitri slapped his already balding head.

‘Don’t...know.’

‘Okay okay you’re fading Og. Lets get it back right now!’

‘That’s the...plan!’

They shimmied along on their stomachs, the feral undergrowth taking nips and bites out of their clothes and skin, the mulch that it grew from not even worth contemplating unless you found a small bone here and there.

They neared the window to Billy Craver’s dormitory, eyeing the plaque nearby that designated it as the “Lesser Gods Domicile”.

Dimitri hissed. ‘Don’t know why they let them in!’

‘I don’t care! I’ll think about it...later!’ Ogham wheezed as he wiped sweat from his brow.

‘We wouldn’t have had all this happen then!’ Dimitri said, his fist punching into his other palm to emphasize every word. ‘I’m surprised your Dad hasn’t got involved!’

‘He won’t...he’s always doing his...hammering. Get moving!’

Dimitri looked at Ogham, the faintest impression of a scowl crossing his features before vanishing just as swiftly. ‘Come on then,’ he smiled.

Ogham neared the open window and looked inside. Long rows of beds criss-crossed the room in the most haphazard manner. Ogham’s brain was unable to make out any pattern or reason to the jumbled mess. He gasped as he felt a shove lift him up from the ground and shoot him into the room. He fell heavily onto a nearby bed and bounced to the floor as Dimitri climbed through window frame, a big smirk on his face.

‘Just trying to move things along!’ he laughed.

‘Thank...you very much...I almost lost...control you tit!’

Dimitri just laughed as he began lifting beds one-handed, flicking them up into the air one after the other, inspecting the detritus under each before letting them clatter down to the floor again.

‘Shhh!’ Ogham hissed.

‘Too late for Shhh!’ Billy’s voice oozed into their ears.

They both turned and glared at the little waify fellow standing in the half open doorway. His rattish features contorted into a happy grin as his mind obviously revelled in the amount of trouble they were about to get into.

Ogham groaned and fell face forward onto the floor, the most disturbing rumbling coming from down below.

Dimitri yelled and through himself at Billy, one large fist already splitting the air between them. He would have killed him too, if he had actually connected. It was just at this moment that Ogham blew. It started with the smallest hiss of air, but in moments had transformed into the most undulating vibrating mass of fast moving particles that had been seen in the universe since that other big noisy thing happened. A ripple bellowed out from Ogham’s twitching body, the shock-wave diverting Dimitri through a wall, and then another and another, until he ended up in a large closet seven rooms down. Billy’s sneer was likewise blown away, his eyes widening as his own foot managed to kick him in the face as he lifted and twisted through the air. Earthquakes might dream of the rumbling havoc that pushed beds through walls, stripped the patina from the door handles and hit the windows with such force that the glass reverted back to sand. And then it all stopped.

The sound of this and that falling to the floor was the only thing to spoil the silence for a good few moments, but not long after, a loud contented sigh cut through the barren sound-scape. Ogham sat up and rubbed his palms over his ears making them bend in ways they didn’t like. He didn’t know what else to do to stop the ringing.

Dimitri stumbled in, his head and shoulders covered in cobwebs and their now mobile-home living spiders. ‘I’m guessing the problem is solved?’

Ogham grinned as his cheeks reddened. ‘Yes it seems so.’

Dimitri walked over and patted him on the back. ‘Glad to hear it! I thought you were done for!’

‘Apparently not. I don’t know why not, but here I am!’

‘So what was the ring for?’

‘Prevention I guess. Dad gave it to me before I came here, said his Dad gave it to him.’

‘So we still have to find it?’

Ogham was staring at the ceiling, his eyes crossing slightly.

‘Og?’ Dimitri flicked Ogham’s nose.

Ogham snorted and looked at Dimitri. ‘What? Oh sorry. It’s just...nice. I haven’t been sleeping and it’s just all...the world’s such a nice...’

‘Dimitri Jarilo and Ogham Magni!’ A loud voice yelled in the hallway.

‘Oh no, it’s Old Snaver!’ Dimitri blanched. ‘We’re for it now!’

Ogham nodded as the blissed out look was replaced with glumness.

‘Tell him about the ring Og! It’s the only way we might get out of this.’

‘Okay Dimitri, I will,’ Ogham sighed.

They both struggled to their feet and began to walk towards the door, the now glowering face of Snaver shooting lances of ice through their veins.

Dimitri whispered: ‘Og?’

‘What?’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

‘What?’

‘Pardon me! I know you’re a Wind God but that was something else!’

Both felt giggles begin to climb their throats but in what could only be described as the most startling feat of repression ever seen, they managed to stifle and smother them so that all that survived was the merest rush of air over their lips. Many young giggles are killed this way at birth, never having the chance to mature into a chuckle or even, gods permitting, a full belly laugh.

Snaver glared at the two boys and beckoned for them to follow as he disappeared from view. Now for the real storm.

--THE END--

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Breaking Bad

Breaking Bad follows the life of a relatively normal, meek man, who is a chemistry teacher. He finds out one day that he has cancer and that he may not live for very long. He decides to hook up with an ex student who dealt a little weed here and there, and they decide to start cooking crystal meth, so that he can build up a nestegg for his family for after he has gone. 

Bryan Cranston plays the teacher, Walter, and he is a truly brilliant actor (he was also Hal in Malcolm in the Middle, and cropped up in an xfiles episode too.) 

What I like about the show is that no matter how far they get, shit keeps happening that keeps eating into any funds they have built up. They also find that they are both capable of things that, before it all, they would never have dreamt possible. I like how it highlights the effect an awareness of their own mortality might have on someone. The fact that it’s well acted, humourous and well shot certainly add to its impact also.

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Dark Review - The Cabin in the Woods

Review of Cabin in the Woods

By Casey Douglass

The Cabin in the Woods page at imdb.com

Everything I had seen leading up to the release of the film, whether previews, reviews or those articles that often come in-between, all said that it was a hard film to talk about without spoiling the whole thing. As far as this review goes, I will try to keep it 100% spoiler free, but if small ones slip through, I do apologise in advance.

I went into the film blissfully unaware of the set-up of the film beyond the idea that a group of young people go and stay in a cabin in the woods, but that their might be some dark shenanigans at some point. The film didn’t disappoint me, and included many things that surprised me. It managed to incorporate some scifi, occult, and horror themes into an interesting tale that also paid tribute to more than a few films in the same genres. Once it got going, it didn’t really stop. When the shit hit the fan, something of consequence or some piece of dialogue that explains something key seemed to happen every couple of minutes. While there were some obvious moments of idiocy on the part of the college kids, because it was paying homage to the other films of its kind, it didn’t really matter, and added to the enjoyment, knowing how stupid they were being. At one point, a fellow cinema goer sitting behind me called out “Don’t go near the window you twat!” and then the inevitable happened. There were some clever misdirections as well, things that you expected to go badly and nothing happened, so it wasn’t all clichés.

The film contained more humour than I expected, and it was pretty dark and sardonic, which I liked immensely. It especially gelled with the scenes that were taking place and was an effective counterpoint to their increasingly bloody action.

The one negative I took away from the film was something that I experienced in the first 15 minutes or so. The film hadn’t really got going, but once the road trip was truly under way, the thought crossed my mind that I really didn’t care if any of the characters lived or died. By the end of the film, I still didn’t care, but I enjoyed the film very much, which is strange. It wasn’t that the characters were unlikeable, just unremarkable, but then in the way it was paying tribute to other films, that may have been by design, which you will see for yourself if you watch it.

I would give it 4.5 out of 5, one of the best dark films I have seen for a good few years.