Lucid Dreams and Saturn Skies The Life and Writing of Andrew Kincaid

Tag Archives: Demons

Demons are supernatural beings present in the mythology, folklore, and religions of cultures the world over. More often than not, demons are malevolent spirits. Demons in many cultures are believed to be the cause of illness. Demons are said to possess people, which is often a traditional explanation for psychological illness. Exorcism is the traditional method for removing a demonic spirit from an afflicted victim.

Thirty Years Later, and Nobody Learned Not to Open the Necronomicon: A Review of Evil Dead (2013)

Evil Dead poster, from IMDB.com. You can see the hype =P

Evil Dead poster, from IMDB.com. You can see the hype =P

I will admit it — the red band trailer has had me excited for Evil Dead for months now. Now, normally I don’t get excited about much of anything, especially a modern horror flick and ESPECIALLY a remake. but my normal guardedness fell away for some reason with Evil Dead. I really like the original trilogy (I own all three), and frankly I haven’t seen a decent horror flick in the theater for a long time.

And that was what Evil Dead shaped up to be — a decent horror flick. It really doesn’t live up to the legacy of the original Evil Dead, but that’s how it is with remakes most of the time. It was a pretty solid movie, I thought. It was very well shot, and the sound effects were done very well. It had some downright creepy scenes, and I thought it did a good job ratcheting up the tension overall.

However, despite its technical proficiency, there was something missing. Despite having a bigger budget, better special effects, and the benefit of modern film technology, it wasn’t as creepy or fun as the original. Some of it had to do with the protagonist, and the fact that he was as dense as granite. Word to the wise: when people are carving their face off with broken glass, it probably isn’t because of a virus, especially if your hippie-looking (stupidly) read from a mysterious, flesh bound book only a couple hours ago. Some of it had to do with the contrived nature of the set up — for example, I’m certified to teach high school, but nowhere in the process did they teach me to read ancient Sumerian.
Not that I would read it to myself, out loud, when the book CLEARLY SAYS NOT TO!

See, that’s what bothered me the most, I think. The original is 32 years old and shot on a quarter million dollar budget, yet the writing is tighter and it is overall a much creepier movie. I mean, look at how they got around the pretty ridiculous scene I mentioned above — in the original, they find the Necronomicon in the basement beside a recorder containing the notes of an archeologist who is studying it. They play a section of the recorder where the archeologist reads an incantation from the book out loud, and thus accidentally summon the demons that torment them that night. Much more elegant, and it has a creep-factor bonus, since a fairly innocuous action brought about horrific consequences.

It isn’t really fair to compare a remake to the original. On the other hand, Evil Dead has been remade before — Evil Dead 2 was basically a remake, despite being billed as a sequel, and many regard it as better than the original. So perhaps it is a fair comparison. Don’t get the wrong impression though — I did like the Evil Dead remake. It was gory, creepy, and generally fun to watch in a theater full of squawking teenagers. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the original.

Forays Into Flash Fiction: VisDare 4: Steps

Visdare 4--StepsSo I’ve been meaning to try flash fiction for awhile now. For those who are wondering what in the heck I am talking about, flash fiction is a form of short story.  A REALLY short story.  As in, less than 1000 words short (usually somewhere between 100 and 200 words).  There’s not much room for character development, obviously.  Some people aren’t fond of the name “flash fiction” for whatever reason.  It’s probably called that because it’s short as, well, a flash.  But call it microfiction if you like–the name doesn’t matter.  What does is that it’s fun and I’ve found I enjoy doing it, so with the exception of today’s post I’m going to start a semi-regular Saturday installment on this blog where I showcase my flash fiction, called Forays into Flash Fiction (because alliteration!).

I can thank the lovely Angela Goff for getting me into the genre.  I’ve seen her hashtag #visdare for awhile now, and it got me curious if I could write a story like that.  You can learn more about it (and Angela) by following this link to her blog.  Now, without further ado, here is my first ever flash fiction story, “Hunger”:

***

Sound. Light.

Its sensory organs, long adapted to the absolute darkness and silence of its prison, stirred in response to the stimuli. Bit by bit, its body awakened from the long, cold, dreamless slumber that had been imposed upon it countless eons before.

The sounds coming from above, echoing down the long, grime slick tunnel leading to its tomb, were unfamiliar to it.

“Come on Gary.  Put your back into it! The gold’s so close I can smell it.”

“Smells like an outhouse in mid-summer to me,” the other voice said.

It couldn’t understand the words, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was the new sensation stirring within its slowly awakening body: hunger.

Fully awakened now, it slouched upright and watched the expanding pool of light spill across the floor.
It waited, eager to see what bounty this new age had to offer.

It didn’t wait long.

***

My Latest Netflix Addiction–Supernatural

Supernatural is a paranormal tv show about two hunters who face the forces of evil.

The title card for season seven of Supernatural

You know, it’s kind of funny.  Now that I don’t have cable, I find myself watching more television than when I did.  More to the point, I watch more long running series.  That was something I never did too much when we had cable–I’d start a show and wind up fizzling out a few seasons into its run.  It would start with a few missed episodes here and there, until I wound up completely forgetting about the show until I saw a commercial for it.  So it was with the series Supernatural and just about every other television series on cable in the last ten years or so.  Netflix changed all that, mainly because it allows me to watch what I want, when I want (provided it’s on instant, that is).

Supernatural follows the brothers Sam and Dean Winchester as they go about the family business–hunting things that go bump in the night.  The series begins with a monster-a-week format under the arc of a main storyline that is slowly revealed over time.  Most of the first season focuses on the hunt for the yellow-eyed demon that killed the brother’s mother and burnt down their home.

While the subject matter of Supernatural is often dark and disturbing, they manage to keep a sense of humor.  The show manages to balance serious episodes with funny ones pretty well while never dropping the ball in terms of the plot.  Every episode is sprinkled with pop-culture references to classic rock bands, horror movies, and TV shows.

Despite the scale of events that occur as the series progresses, Supernatural retains a playful, self deprecating sense of humor.  Seriously, there are a lot of laugh out loud moments in this show.  It’s a great show, but not without some problems.  Sometimes the humor seems ill placed given the gravity of events.  It can get a bit repetitive as well, especially when they break away from the monster-a-week format and start focusing more on the main story-line.  The dynamic between Sam and Dean, while interesting, can get a bit grating.  Dean basically treats Sam like crap through half of the series, mostly because he’s older.  While Dean basically makes the series, his tough guy demeanor sort of started to get on my nerves on and off throughout.  Sam has a problem as well, mainly because he’s as overly sensitive as Dean is stereotypically macho.

I should clarify that I’ve only watched up to the first part of season five so far.  From what I understand, the main story arc of the series concludes at the end of season five.  A friend of mine said the quality of the show goes downhill starting with season six, so much so that one of the original creators is no longer a part of production.  Netflix only has up until season six, so pretty soon I suppose I will see for myself.  Still, if you like vampires, werewolves, demons, and other bogies, give Supernatural a look.  Despite its flaws, it’s a great show and well worth watching.

The Allure of B-Movies

Poster art from the 1954 B-movie classic, THEM!

I also like the posters from the old days. They’re fun!

Ah…B-movies.  I enjoy cheesy old sci-fi/horror movies from the fifties and sixties, especially the black and white ones.  Those are my favorite types of B-movies, and I think the most iconic of the bunch although the genre is alive and well in the 21st century.  If you want proof, just flip to SyFy on Saturday nights at nine and you’ll see what I mean.

Even so, the B-movies from fifty or sixty years ago are in a league of their own.  They have an innocent charm that modern B-movies often lack.  There was no CGI back in those days, and often these movies were made on a shoestring budget, but the cheesy special effects were part of the fun.  Often B-movies followed a set formula.  Typically they involved an incident of science gone wrong–most often the culprit was radiation of some sort, but it could also be the work of a mad scientist–that resulted in some freakish monster (usually a guy in a rubber suit).  The protagonists turn to conservative forces such as the military and police, or toward science to find the solution to the problem.  I use the word “science” loosely here, because by today’s standards the science they played with was laughable.  Another subset of the genre involved an alien invasion, which would once again be thwarted by conservative forces or by science.

Writers and directors back in the day took the formula I just described above and had all sorts of fun with it.  THEM! is a perfect example of the genre; in fact, it’s often cited as the textbook example of the B-movie genre.  The movie is about ants that become enormous as a result of radioactive fallout from nuclear testing out in Nevada.  These giant ants spread all over the world and establish colonies, and (naturally) it’s up to the U.S. Army and some scientists to clear the matter up.  It sounds silly, but seriously give THEM! a watch sometime when you can–it’s actually a pretty good movie.

Night of the Living Dead is also a B-movie modeled on a formula similar to the one I outlined above, but it’s noticeably darker and really helped to give birth to the modern horror movie (for better or worse).  NOTLD featured ghouls–the word zombie was never used in the movie itself–who were raised from the dead ostensibly by strange radiation from a Venus probe.  These ghouls were shown on film eating people.  And it’s hard to spoil a fifty year old movie, but suffice it to say the ending was NOT in line with the typical B-movie up to that point.  George Romero turned the B-movie formula on its head while simultaneously remaining faithful to the tradition–no small feat, that.  Night of the Living Dead is another example of a B-movie that, when you get beyond the cheap special effects and bad acting, was in the end a pretty good movie (one of my all time favorites, actually).

And that right there is why I like B-movies.  When you get beyond the goofy premises and hokey special effects and look deeply at the movie, they often tell pretty good stories.  They couldn’t rely on special effects like today’s movies–don’t get me wrong though, modern B-movies are great fun but they often rely too heavily on gore and SFX for my taste–so instead they had to attempt to tell a decent story.  That, and the actors actually had to act, while no doubt biting back laughter at the goofy looking dude in the rubber suit.  Granted, many B-movies were lousy in the story and acting departments both, but they at least made up for it with unintentional hilarity (Plan 9 From Outer Space comes to mind).

Zombies from George Romero's B-movie classic, Night of the Living Dead

Zombies. This picture has gotten a lot of mileage on this blog, I’ve noticed =P.

Those aren’t the only reasons I like B-movies.  Sometimes I get tired of the cynicism of our age, an attitude that leaks into our cinematic culture, as it must.  In terms of horror, that translates into nihilistic plots, gore, and copious amounts of sex.  There’s nothing wrong with any of that, but sometimes I get sick of it.  I want to interrupt myself at this point to say that I was brought up in a socially conservative household and live in a conservative area and while I do not subscribe to all of those beliefs now, their influence is still there.  So for me, it is a breath of fresh air to watch an old time movie where the most gore you might see is a bit of chocolate sauce smeared on someone’s shirt, that ends on a note of optimism rather than cynicism (NOTLD is an exception to all of this, of course).

The saying goes that “they don’t make’em like they used to”.  True to some extent.  While horror and movies in general have become objectively better in many ways than their predecessors from the old days, nothing can replace the fun and charm of the old time B-movies.

What are your cinematic guilty pleasures?  Do you like the B monster movies from the fifties and sixties, or do they bore you to tears?


The Car (1977)

The Car was a 1977 horror/thriller starring James Brolin about a killer, driverless car terrorizing a small town in the Southwest

“Is it a phantom, demon, or the devil himself?”

Historically, I only review movies that I enjoy, for the obvious reason that if the movie is truly bad (and not good bad or fun bad), I don’t finish it.  The last truly awful movie I reviewed was Philosophy of a Knife, mostly because it was downright offensive and I couldn’t contain my aggravation.

The Car is not a truly awful movie, and it is not offensive in any way shape or form.  It is the story of a demonic (maybe) car that haunts a small town in the American Southwest, killing anyone who comes close to it by running them over or, in a couple of instances, running them off a bridge.  It is up to the local sheriff, played by James Brolin, to try and stop the titular car’s rampage.

Now, this is a goofy premise for certain, and it’s one that probably sounds familiar.  Stephen King’s Christine is basically the same story, although Christine is possessed by a demon while the reason for the vehicular manslaughter in The Car is never revealed.  As far as I know it isn’t, anyway.  I didn’t stick around to see; the movie was only about halfway finished and it felt like I’d been sitting there for hours on end, a sure sign that I was watching a lousy movie.

That gets to the heart of the matter.  When I sat down to watch The Car, I expected goofy fun akin to Christine.  What I found instead was boredom.  The movie was just plain boring!  It dragged and dragged, to the point where I thought the ending was coming at about the midpoint of the movie.  When I checked the time, I thought there was no way they could pad out the next forty odd minutes and make them interesting in the least.  It was about that time that I clicked “Back to Browsing” and watched another episode of Law and Order: Criminal Intent instead.

But then B-movies are a mixed bag.  Some are so bad they’re good, some are at least goofy enough to be entertaining, and others stink like roadkill in the hot summer sun.  I wouldn’t say The Car stunk to high heaven, but it wasn’t good by any means.  I’d give this one a skip if I were you.


“Bloody Mary…Bloody Mary…”–The Science Behind an Old Sleep-Over Game

Cover art for a direct to DVD release based on the Legend of Bloody Mary.

It goes without saying that the legend of Bloody Mary has spawned innumerable retellings as horror movies, most of them awful.

Ah…who hasn’t heard the legend of Bloody Mary?  Or, rather, a legend of Bloody Mary as there are several variants of the story and the ritual alleged to summon the vengeful spirit.  The most common variant holds that Mary Worth lived in Puritan New England, where she had the nerve to become pregnant out of wedlock and, gasp, not be ashamed of it.  She also continued to indulge in her lustful ways throughout her pregnancy.  The Puritan mind, apparently, could not fathom that one of their number could be so sinful and they thus declared her a witch (funny that her lovers did not receive such a sanction.  The double standard goes way, way back).

When the baby was born, the terrified villagers took it from its mother’s arms and burned it alive before tying Mary Worth to a stake and scratching her face with branches.  One woman held a hand mirror in front of poor Mary Worth’s face, taunting that her once legendary beauty was now gone.  Finally, the villagers lit the stacked branches.  When the flames began to lick at Mary Worth’s legs, she screamed a curse at her tormentors.  When Worth died, the hand mirror shattered, cutting the taunting woman’s hand.  Later, the woman was found dead due to illness.  Several other villagers who participated in Mary Worth’s murder met similar fates, all found dead near shattered mirrors.

Now, the story goes that if you chant Bloody Mary anywhere from five to fourteen times in front of a mirror in a dark room, the spirit of Mary Worth will appear and do one of several things.  If she feels you are taunting her, she’ll claw your eyes out or drag you into the mirror, never to be seen again.  Other versions of the story say that Mary will allow you to talk to a dead relative if you ask nicely.

Burning at the stake was a common punishment for those accused of witchcraft.

A wood cut depicting a witch burning. I don’t know about you guys, but pictures like this make me glad I live in the Twenty-First Century.

The story of Mary Worth’s execution is dubious at best.  The smoking gun, in my mind, is the method of execution.  Burning a witch was outlawed in England by the time the Puritans came to North America.  Generally, the Puritans emulated English common law so they would not have burned a person accused of witchcraft.  Instead, the prescribed method of execution for a witch was hanging.  Afterward, the body would either be burnt or buried in a shallow grave.  As evidence, I cite the Salem Witch Trials; no accused witch was burned at the stake during those proceedings.  In fact, all the executions that resulted save for one were hangings; the lone non-hanging saw a man be crushed to death under heavy rocks when he would not confess to being a witch.

That’s the nature of the beast when it comes to urban legends; at best, they’re half remembered fragments of tales passed through the collective grape vine over decades, if not centuries.  Naturally, the facts are going to be a bit skewed, if there was any factual basis to start with.

While the historical basis for this legend might be a bit murky, one of the phenomena underlying it is indeed based in fact.  There is a good reason why the ritual to summon Bloody Mary’s vengeful spirit has to be performed in front of a mirror under low light conditions; those are the best conditions to induce a phenomenon called Troxler’s Fading (aka the Troxler Effect).

You see, your brain is pretty busy, what with all the various stimuli bombarding it at any given moment.  So, now and then it will take a shortcut.  Notice how you generally don’t feel your clothes against your skin (until some blogger comes and calls your attention to it, at any rate).  The stimulus doesn’t vary, so your brain feels pretty safe in ignoring it.

A similar thing occurs with your vision.  If you stare at a fixed point for about twenty seconds or so, your peripheral vision essentially shuts off and your brain begins filling in details.  A perfect example is the picture to the right: stare at the red dot for about twenty seconds and the blue circle will disappear.

Scientists believe something similar is happening when you stare at a mirror in a darkened room.  However, since there is no fixed point of reference, the Troxler Effect is incomplete; only parts of your face fade out.  Your brain will fill in these faded spots with about anything.  For example, sometimes an eye will appear on your forehead or a nose where an eye ought to be.

In studies, volunteers asked to stare at a mirror under low light conditions for ten minutes all saw odd things.  The bulk saw monstrous or inhuman faces, many saw their own faces deformed, and a smaller minority saw faces of dead relatives or archetypal faces such as an old woman or a child.

It’s interesting that every volunteer saw something.  It’s easy to see how the legend of Bloody Mary took off then; groups of sugar-addled preteens piled into dark rooms, all aware of the story and all feeding off each others nervous energy would be bound to see what they were looking for.

So, what we have here is an urban legend with some basis in human sensory perception.  Being a science major, when I discovered the Troxler Effect I had to try it.  So, last night, I made four attempts with four separate results.  Now I must qualify that I did not stare at myself for ten minutes like the folks in the study did; instead, I only looked for maybe a minute each time.  Also, I used my cell phone back-light to achieve the needed low light effect since I didn’t have any candles handy.

When I did the experiment in full light, it appeared as if my face floated loose from my head.  In the first of my three low light trials, my face deformed–my nose became huge and lumpy, like a potato.  In the second trial, my face took on the appearance of a gargoyle and in the third I looked like Captain Howdy from The Exorcist.

Strange indeed.  Is it any wonder then why so many folks are afraid of what they see in the mirror, then?  Look too long, and you just might see something monstrous staring back at you!

Have you tried the Bloody Mary ritual?  What did you see if you did? 


Eldritch Tales: A Miscellany of the Macabre by HP Lovecraft

Eldritch Tale is a collection of stories by HP Lovecraft, compiled as a companion piece to the NecronomiconIn recent years I have become quite the fan of H.P. Lovecraft, a fact to which anyone who has read my writing can attest.  When I was in the process of writing many of the stories in On Dark Paths, I was reading a mammoth collection of Lovecraft stories entitled The Necronomicon.  The sheer weirdness and cosmic horror of Lovecraft’s tales captured my imagination, and left me hungry for more.  So, when I heard about Eldritch Tales: A Miscellany of the Macabre, naturally I became excited.

Eldritch Tales was compiled as a companion collection to The Necronomicon, and it contains several lesser known tales and Lovecraft’s weird poetry.  This book is far from a definitive collection of Lovecraft’s work, and truly it can’t stand on its own but rather should be read as a supplement toThe Necronomicon.

Like any short story collection, Eldritch Tales was a mixed bag in terms of quality.  Many stories were merely okay, a few were intriguing, and a few were simply bad.  A great many of the stories, especially in the first half of the collection, began to feel repititive.  Many of these dealt with dreams, one of Lovecraft’s favorite topics.  N0rmally such stories are interesting, but after a certain point they became the same old same old – each one featured a wanderer visiting strange cities in his dreams.  It seems each one visited the same set of cities because Lovecraft described each dreamscape in nearly identical ways, although his signature verbosity is always entertaining to read, if only to see what massive words he manages to inject into his prose.  More than once, I found myself Googling a word with which  I wasn’t familiar.  While the quality of Lovecraft’s stories may be variable, they’re always good for a vocabulary lesson!

Few of the stories really stuck out to me in terms of quality – in fact, I honestly had a difficult time thinking of a story that stood head and shoulders above the others.  ‘The Electric Executioner’ was an interesting story, involving a madman who invents a unique way to execute prisoners.  ‘The Beast in the Cave’ was also interesting, although I could have sworn I read it in another collection of Lovecraft’s works – which one, I can’t recall.

While few of the stories stuck out in terms of their quality, what truly stood out to me was just how awful Lovecraft’s poetry was (Note: I am not an avid reader of poetry, so take my criticism with a grain of salt).  I think Lovecraft attempted to emulate his hero, Edgar Allen Poe, with his poetry, but it did not work out terribly well.  I found myself skimming through most of ‘The Fungi of Yuggoth’, the primary collection of weird poems in the book (there were more sprinkled throughout, it’s just this was the longest).  It seemed to me like Lovecraft tried to hard; indeed, some of his rhymes definitely were stretches.

And then, a few of his poems were all done in what was meant to be archaic English, which made them all but impossible to read.  At least one of the prose stories was written in a similar fashion, as was some of the dialog in a smattering of other stories.  I find that to be one of my biggest pet peeves about Lovecraft’s works – as if his often arcane prose isn’t tough enough to decipher, he’ll lapse into old English on top of it!

Fans of H.P. Lovecraft’s works will enjoy Eldritch Tales, although if you have not read it already, I would recommend looking at The Necronomicon first, as it is by far the better volume.


What’s in a Dream? Spooky Stuff, Apparently…

The best received post on this little blog of mine so far has been this post about sleep paralysis.  Many of you were gracious enough to stop by and relate stories of your experiences with the phenomena.  Many of them were spooky indeed.  However, up until recently my own experiences with sleep paralysis were less than creepy.  The only experience I could recall with any kind of clarity was the time where I awoke in a dream as I lay on the couch.  My face was toward the couch cushion, and I could feel something present in the room with me.  I knew that I did NOT want to roll over and see what that something was!

Note that I said up until recently.  Over the weekend, I had two bouts of what I can only chalk up to sleep paralysis that were, to put it mildly, creepy as all hell.  I should preface this a bit by saying that lately I have been sick with severe sinus/ear infections.  I wasn’t aware just how ill I was until I finally broke down and went to the doctor last Thursday.  You know you’re in bad shape when the nurse practitioner grunts when she looks into your ears and nose.  In any case, medication was duly prescribed, and as if on cue my body finally decided to crash and I’ve basically felt like crap ever since. I think sheer stubbornness was holding back the tide of ick, but that’s neither here nor there.

What is pertinent is that I’m a restless sleeper even in the best of times (I pity the poor woman who marries me and wants to share a bed…maybe we’ll have separate rooms for the sake of her sanity, haha) and even more so when I’m sick.  To further aggravate the problem, the cat is in the habit of waking me up two hours before I’m supposed to be awake because he wants to go outside.  So the first morning the dream visitied I crawled back into bed and tried to get back to sleep.  I usually achieve this by meditating deeply until I just drift off.  Also, I normally sleep on my left side, but since my stomach has been aggravated lately I decided I’d try to sleep on my belly.

I’m not sure how long I was out before I came awake and realized I couldn’t move.  My eyes were closed.  I felt an immense weight on my back, pinning me to my mattress, and what felt like a knife being pressed to my throat.  A low, guttural, droning voice whispered directly into my ear.  I can’t recall exactly what it said, but only the tone.  It sounded like something occult, like words whispered before a sacrifice.

Then it was done.  I remember feeling a bit of panic creep in during the experience, but keeping my attention on my breathe kept the feeling to a bare minimum (as an aside, meditation has basically become second nature to me. It’s almost a reflex).  Really, I was more curious about the turn of events than fearful, although I did recognize that it was a damned creepy occurrence.

Events became weirder the next morning.  Again, a similar scenario played out with me sleeping on my belly.  I came awake, and felt the immense weight on my back, the feeling of something at my throat, and the droning chant.  This time, it seemed as if I moved my head (although it was probably just my eyes because, you know, I was paralyzed) and I caught a glimpse of my “assailant”.  The demon had huge, evil looking eyes, greasy hair that seemed to grow in tufts, and rotten teeth. An image came into my mind of a humanoid figure with the build of a concentration camp victim, its skin mottled and grey.  I locked eyes with the thing, and it faded away, replaced by my blanket.

Actually seeing the thing sent a spike of panic through me, although I managed to stay surprisingly calm throughout the experience.  I should add here that I am a skeptic. While I’m open to the supernatural being true, like Agent Mulder, “I want to believe”, in general the explanation for weird happenings are as mundane as anything else.  Swamp gas.  Leaky pipes. Squirrel on the roof.  That sort of thing.  So I don’t believe I had some paranormal visitation.  My house isn’t haunted, and I’m certainly not possessed.

But I can sympathize with people who believe they have had a paranormal experience.  If someone had a similar experience as the one that I did, I can genuinely see how they could surmise that something really was there in the night and that it was after them.

So if there are any salient points to take away from my experiences those mornings, it would be these.  One – don’t be so quick to dismiss someone’s experiences.  It seems a bit arrogant to deny someone the evidence of their own senses, even if what they claim to have seen may sound outlandish.  There may be something real behind the experience, even if the conclusion resulting is “wrong” in an objective sense (whatever that is).  Two – look your demons in the eye.  Sometimes, they’re just blankets in disguise.


Hellraiser

Clive Barker's Hellraiser is a haunting story of pain and torture.  Adapted from a novella by Barker entitled "The Hell-Bound Heart",  Hellraiser has gone on to spawn a series of nine movies and a comic series.  The movie features the character known as Pinhead, a Cenobite.

“Demon to some. Angel to others”

Every now and then I come across a movie that sticks with me long past its run time.  I’ve made no bones about the fact that The Exorcist scared the bejeebers out of me, and it definitely qualifies as a movie that’s stuck with me.  Another movie that’s had a similar impact on me was Hellraiser, although for different reasons than Blatty’s classic demonic possession story.

Actually, The Exorcist and Hellraiser couldn’t be more different movies.  The only similarities they share in common are the facts that demons and heavy use of Catholic themes are integral to the theme and atmosphere of each movie.  Clive Barker’s Hellraiser is the story of Frank Cotton, a hedonist, who has become jaded with all the sensual experiences this world has to offer.  During his travels, he has come across stories of something called the Lament Configuration, a puzzle box that can open the doorway to the ultimate sensual experience.  When Frank purchases the mysterious box from a shadowy salesman in a nondescript desert city, the seller says “It is yours.  It was always yours” in a ghoulish foreshadowing of the horror to come.  When Frank solves the puzzle box, hooks shoot out from it and imbed in his flesh.  Hooks shoot from all over and he is literally torn to pieces.  Bizarre, pale skinned beings appear, mutilated and dressed in what looks like leather S&M gear.  They gather up the mutilated shreds of Frank’s body and disappear into their own dimension.

Mind you, barely fifteen minutes of the movie has passed by this point.  It only gets weirder from there, when Frank is accidentally revived when his brother drips blood on the floor of the room where Frank had been ripped apart. Frank is nothing more than a dessicated corpse when he returns, a result of the “experiments” the Cenobites have performed on him. He enlists his brother’s wife, with whom he had an affair, to help him return to his old body.

As I’ve said, Hellraiser has stuck with me for a long time.  A lot of it has to do with the central figures of the story – the Cenobites.  They are the mutilated, seemingly demonic beings I described earlier.  In reality, as Pinhead said in the movie, “We are angels to some, and demons to others”.  They are amoral former humans, devoted entirely to the pursuit of the ultimate sensual experience, beyond pleasure and pain.  This pursuit has lead them to an alternate dimension, where they perform “experiments” in experience – which in layman’s terms mean they engage in a ridiculously extreme form of sadomasochism.  Hence their mutilated bodies and their penchant for sticking hooks into people.  They only come when summoned, and in that way “recruit” more explorers into their experiments.  In that sense, they aren’t necessarily evil (as they are portrayed later in the series) but rather they’re simply forces that people can run afoul of if they make the wrong choices, a fact alluded to by the merchant when he sold the box to Frank in the beginning of the story.

Pinhead - the leader of the cenobites in Hellraiser.

Pinhead, the leader of the Cenobites in the Hellraiser movie. Although the novella the Hell-Bound heart apparently differed, I haven’t read it so I can’t comment.

It is hard to articulate exactly why I find the movie so bizarrely fascinating.  Some of the reason is because the story is very stark and nihilistic.  The story is ultimately about people who are dissatisfied with their lives, who take extreme measures in pursuit of what they believe will give them happiness.  In the end though, these pursuits only end in pain and destruction for themselves and those around them.

Hellraiser offers a vision of hell distinct from the Abrahamic tradition I was raised in, namely a hell that isn’t necessarily for the evil, but one for those who choose it.  It is not a moralistic hell, but a different way to exist.  But even in this “hell” where people go to find the ultimate pleasure, it cannot be found.  After all, the Cenobites have been there for Lord knows how long but keep performing their “experiments”, so then it’s reasonable to assume they haven’t reached the peak level of experience they’ve set out to find. The Cenobites are like the hungry ghosts of the Buddhist tradition – they seek fulfillment but never find it, and thus are stuck in the endless cycle of suffering.

In my mind, the Cenobite “hell” is a metaphor (albeit an extreme one) for how we live our lives in this world.  People are dissatisfied, and no matter what they buy, do, or consume nothing can fill that void.  They are like the Cenobites, continually seeking after a satisfaction they can never achieve, a satisfaction that is nothing more than an illusion.

Maybe that’s why the movie has stuck with me for so long – despite its supernatural themes and its over the top gore, it is in a very real sense a stark view of how many of us live our lives.


Seed by Ania Ahlborn

the cover art for Seed by Ania Ahlborn

“In the vine-twisted swamps of Louisiana, the shadows have teeth.”

As a horror aficionado, very few things within the genre genuinely creep me out, and even fewer manage to scare me.  The Exorcist was a movie that managed to do both.  Something about seeing an innocent young girl in the throws of demonic possession was absolutely terrifying – not in the least because, at least in my mind, it was implied that it could happen to anyone.

Seed by Ania Ahlborn reminded me very much of The Exorcist, both in its themes and its execution.  The story follows Jack Winter, a man who has spent his life hiding the dark secrets of his past…at least until his six year old daughter Charlie catches a glimpse of them one night after a car accident on a lonely road.

From this beginning, Ania continues to ramp up the creep factor, ratcheting the tension higher and higher as the story progresses until it reaches its horrific crescendo.  Evil oozes from each page, and you can’t help but read on to find out what is going to happen to Jack and his family next.

Really, what makes this book so gripping are the characters.  They are fully realized and feel like they could be any average family from the Deep South, or anywhere in America for that matter.  They aren’t wealthy, they don’t drive fancy cars, and they fight and fret about the very same things every family fights and frets about.  Put short, the Winters are real people, which makes the awful revelations and the things that happen to them that much worse – much like how in The Exorcist, Reagan’s initial cuteness stands in stark contrast to the horror that unfolds when the Devil takes hold of her.

All in all, Seed is a well-paced horror novel that is both well-written and creepy as heck.  Horror fans, I suggest you keep an eye out for more works by Ania Ahlborn.  I certainly will be!

Check out Seed here!

And learn more about the author here!


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