Alien Invasion - DAY 272

It's day 272 days without seeing another human. At least alive for more than a few minutes. I don't remember what it felt like to talk to one.

Time. What is time? What does it mean now?

Should I go out? It takes about 78 seconds to melt. I wonder if it hurts. It seems fast, but what if in your mind it feels like hours.

I am starting a new calendar. I will mark the days to see if someone will write back. I don't know why this is still working.

.

.

Sorry. I thought they were outside. There's nothing.

.

.

Please write back if you are out there. 

Yours truly, Me.

Mark of the Banshee - new website

Have you seen any scary movies lately?

Which one keeps you up at night?


Check out the new website for our short film.

Tell me what you think.

Mark of the Banshee

The Short film I have been working on with Nicole Eilers

Have you ever seen a banshee?

Have you heard one?

Our short film MARK OF THE BANSHEE has been accepted into the Arizona International Film Festival.

Check it out in April, 2019.  We are working on the feature.

#Filmmaker #Screenwriter #Ilovefilm



What is the scariest monster you can think of?

Let me know.

A short film I co-wrote with Nicol Eilers. About a banshee...

#FemaleFilmMakers

Mark of the Banshee

A horror short film that I co-wrote with the incredible writer-director Nicol Eilers.

Check out the trailer to our film. Tell me if it scares you...

The film has been accepted into the Amsterdam World International Film Festival.


https://www.facebook.com/MarkOfTheBanshee

Bird Box. Insane. Have you seen it?

I watched Bird Box.

Now I can't get it out of my mind.

The visuals. The acting. The dialogue.          


I love it.


What do you think? What is your favorite part?

What is it that you cannot forget?

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2737304/

The Mark of the Banshee

Have you ever heard a banshee cry?

Here is the teaser to a film I cowrote with Nicole Eilers, a badass writer and director. Check it out. As soon as I can show you the film, I will.


https://vimeo.com/295509405

Friday Scary Story, September 22, 2017 The Ghost Under the Bed

Some people see me. Most don't.

But... they can all feel me.

Because I bite.
I bite until they bleed.


I can't stop myself.

I eat them. I don't know why. Don't ask! I won't say!


Yes.
Yes, I'll tell you.

Because it pleases me. It's what they deserve. They're free. I 'm not. I'm stuck. They're not.

I start when they're asleep. I start on their fingers that hang off the bed. Tantalizing me. Taunting me. Laughing at me...

Have you felt me? Do you know me?


I know you.

Get Out. OMG. Movie night.

Have you seen Get Out?

It's brilliant.

Were you stressed out watching it?

I was!

So. What would you do? When would you do it? The first time something didn't seem right?

We must learn from the horror that we see.

I think we should have plans in our brains in case this happens to us or someone we love. Share the knowledge if you think of some great ways to get out before it's too late.

Pass it on...

Train to Busan. Zombies. Movie night.

Wow. I watched Train to Busan last night. Have you seen it? I was hooked in the first few minutes with the deer scene. How could a zombie movie person turn away? Even if you don't watch zombie movies, you might start now. I will never forget it. What scene affected you the most? Did you cry? I did.

So, what would you do? How would you survive? Would you give up or would you fight?

#zombies #TrainToBusan #emotionalwreck

Photos.

Photos.

They should make you smile.  Feel good.

But, I feel sick.  I feel crazy.

I've felt something has been next to me, against me, close to me, for the last week.  But, when I look, there's nothing there.

I didn't know what to do, so I took pictures.

I grabbed my phone, and began taking selfies.  I took one in every room of the house.



I'm not alone.



There was something behind me.  It's in every photo.  A dark shadow of a person.

I'm scared.  It's 3:00 am in the morning.  I've been up all night.  I felt the shadow behind me.  I felt it getting closer.


It's here right now.  It's breathing on my neck.  I can feel it's icy breath.  I can smell it's putrid stench.

I just took another selfie.

It's not a shadow any more.  It's a man.  His head is close to mine. He's looking at me.  I know him.  He's the man that killed my mother.

He's been dead for ten years.

Tell me... What scares you?

      Tell me my friend... What are you afraid of?

      What fills your mind with pressure and fear?

      Is it made by a human, or is it a human?

Is this what will happen in a Nuclear War? What will we do?

Four minutes.

It takes four minutes for the train I ride to go through the tunnel.

At minute three, I knew something was wrong.

The train lost power. It went pitch black.  It kept rolling, and stopped just outside the tunnel entrance.

Not a word was spoken from the twenty or so of us in the train.


Deafening silence.


The world is blanketed in thick layers of grey powder.

The surrounding forest is nothing but rows of bare trunks sticking out of the ground like coarse hair.  No life.  Nothing.


The passengers all scrambled out.  Fighting.  Frantic.


I refused to move.


I don't know where the other passengers went, but I know where they are now.  They don't look right.  There is bubbly red foam dripping from their noses and mouths.  One of them is chewing on a small hand.  Another one, has long blond hair hanging from a piece of skin in his mouth.

They're scratching to get in.

They're leaving pieces of skin on the windows.


What do I do?


What do we do?

Candle Maker

There was an old woman who lived in the woods...

Stories were told that she collected your bones.

She used your fat for candle wax, and set your head on stones.


Never, ever go into the woods... or you'll never come home.

Another one of my favorites. What would you do?

I didn't remember what it was like to have two hands.  It had been so long.  You just get used to it.

I could not believe it when I got the call that it was going to happen. I was going to get a new hand.  They found the perfect match.

I imagined looking normal.  No more stares.  No more whispers.

I would be beautiful.  I would blend in.

Freedom.

It went well.  It took right away.  I am only a little bloated from the medicine that keeps my body from rejecting it.

It is a little bigger than my other hand.

It has been three months.  The doctors are impressed with my progress.  I am not so sure any more.

I asked them about what has been happening, but they don't listen.

No one is listening.  No one will hear me.

It moves.  It moves by itself.  Not a twitch.  A real movement, that I am not doing.

It does things.

It left me a message.  It said "Leave".  It wrote it.  It wrote it to me.

I don't want it any more.  I want it off.



I am free.

It is in the sink.  It won't talk to me anymore.  I am going to put it in the disposal.

I will shut it up forever.

Do you see ghosts?

A child.

Innocent, but sometimes frightening.

I've been seeing a child.  She looks to be about five years old.  She has long blond hair, and wears a summer dress.


It's winter.

I live in the woods.  There's no one nearby.

She's alone.

She never speaks.  She keeps at a distance.

If I get close, she evaporates into nothing.

She wants me to do something.  She's visiting me for a reason.  Maybe I am the only one who can see her.

Three days ago,  she started coming closer.  I could see dirt on her dress and face.

She never smiles.

Yesterday, she was at the end of the driveway.

Today she's outside my window.  Looking in at me.

I went outside.  She let me follow her to the end of the road.

It ends at the forest.  She walked about ten feet in.

When I caught up with her, she slowly sat on the ground.  I sat by her side.

She looked real, she looked alive.  I knew she wasn't.

She looked at me.  Then at the ground in front of us.  Frantically, she started digging.  I found myself digging with her.  My fingers started bleeding.  My hands became numb from the cold.  But, they were out of my control.  They kept on digging.  Soon, long blond strands of hair tangled between my fingers.

I wept.  I knew what was there.

When her face was exposed, I was able to stop.  Her ghost was no longer beside me.

I never saw her again.

Beware what is behind you...

Photos.

They should make you smile.  Feel good.

But, I feel sick.  I feel crazy.

I've felt something has been next to me, against me, close to me, for the last week.  But, when I look, there's nothing there.

I didn't know what to do, so I took pictures.

I grabbed my phone, and began taking selfies.  I took one in every room of the house.



I'm not alone.



There was something behind me.  It's in every photo.  A dark shadow of a person.

I'm scared.  It's 3:00 am in the morning.  I've been up all night.  I felt the shadow behind me.  I felt it getting closer.

It's here right now.  It's breathing on my neck.  I can feel it's icy breath.  I can smell it's putrid stench.

I just took another selfie.

It's not a shadow any more.  It's a man.  His head is close to mine. He's looking at me.  I know him.  He's the man that killed my mother.

He's been dead for ten years.

What would you do?

Imagine waiting for a train after work.

It arrives and is packed full of people.  You wait for the next one.  It's packed too.

You get on.

The air is thick, and moist.  It smells.  You want to gag.

Arms and faces smash against you.  You try to find something to focus on, until you can get off.

As soon as you go underground, the lights dim.

You see a spot of calm.  It's a tiny spot with nothing moving.

It's a small, tiny woman.  She's sitting perfectly still.  She's perfectly dressed, in a navy blue suit with pearls and white gloves.

On her lap is a small square lunch box.

She opens it, and carefully picks out something to eat.  She holds it with both hands like a miniature corn on the cob.  It's red, It's dripping.

She eats it like a rat, nibbling from one end to the other.  Her mouth is now red.  It looks like blood.

She looks up.

She stops moving.  The woman stares right into your eyes, and smiles.  Her mouth is bloody.

You see what she has in her hands is the lower piece of a human jaw... and what looked like corn is human teeth...

What would you do?

Go away...

There's a lost spirit.

He follows me.

Every day.

No one else can see him.

I can't help him.  I don't want to help him.  I don't do that any more.

Do you see him?  By the tree?

I need him... I need him to...

Go away.

I am so alone.

Dead silence.

No sounds.  None.

It woke me.

I looked out.  Thick fog fills the sky, and covers the ground.  No one is there.  No movement.  Nothing.

My gut hurts.  It feels like a warning.

What happened?  What is happening?

I go out.  I stand in the middle of the street.  I try to figure it out.

The ground... I see it on the ground.  The houses have long thick dark drag marks coming from the front door, ending at the curb.  It looks like blood.

It smells like blood.  There are bits of flesh.

My gut hurts again.  It is telling me to run.

I vomit.

On my knees, my eye catches something in the fallen leaves of scarlet and brown.

It's a finger.  A small finger.  I put it in my pocket.   I can't leave it.  It can't be alone.


I don't want to be alone.


My body is moving further away from the safety of my home.

I can't stop it.

A story a day until Halloween. Another favorite. Enjoy...

I take the train eight times, every week.  It goes through a long underground tunnel.

A massive graveyard covers the hilltop above.

When it rains real hard, I wonder if water that passes over rotting bodies drips down over the train.

I don't want the water to touch me.  No offense to the dead, I just don't want their juices on me.

The last two weeks, as soon as the train enters the tunnel, I hear a child crying.  No one else seems to hear her.

After the first week, I figured she was dead.  

Sometimes... I hear the dead.

Sometimes... I see them.

She told me, she was looking for her hand.  She needed to be whole.  She had gathered all the other parts the man had cut off, but she couldn't find her hand.  There was no blood, but I could then see how the different parts of her where not put together as well as they could be.

I don't want this task, I don't want it at all.  My mother always said, "You can't help the gifts you were born with."

Tomorrow, I am going to see if I can find her hand.