Archive for the ‘Movies’ Category

I’d like to welcome back fellow horror author and friend Thomas S. Flowers for a special guest post about the unusual inspiration he received from the Tod Browning classic Freaks. Then stick around to check for an excerpt of Thomas’s latest release Dwelling, which is now available to purchase on Kindle and paperback at Amazon.

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One of the best parts of Tod Browning’s feast of film, Freaks, is the intro. Here’s a sample of what you’ll see as the opening credits roll.

Before proceeding with the showing of the following HIGHLY UNUSUAL ATTRACTION, a few words should be said about the amazing subject matter. BELIEVE IT OR NOT – – – – STRANGE AS IT SEEMS. In ancient times anything that deviated from the normal was considered an omen of ill luck or representative of evil. Gods of misfortune and adversity were invariable cast in the form of monstrosities, and deeds of injustice and hardship have been attributed to the many crippled and deformed tyrants of Europe and Asia. HISTORY, RELIGION, FOLKLORE AND LITERATURE abound in tales of misshapen misfits who have altered the world’s course. GOLIATH, CALABAN, FRANKENSTEIN, GLOUCESTER, TOM THUMB AND KAISER WILHELM are just a few, whose fame is worldwide. The accident of abnormal birth was considered a disgrace and malformed children were placed out in the elements to die. If, perchance, one of these freaks of nature survived, he was always regarded with suspicion. Society shunned him because of his deformity, and a family so hampered was always ashamed of the curse put upon it. Occasionally, one of these unfortunates was takes to court to be jeered at or ridiculed for the amusement of the nobles. Others were left to eke out a living by begging, stealing or starving. For the love of beauty is a deep seated urge which dates back to the beginning of civilization. The revulsion with which we view the abnormal, the malformed and the mutilated is the result of long conditioning by our forefathers. The majority of freaks, themselves, are endowed with normal thoughts and emotions. Their lot is truly a heart-breaking one. They are forced into the most unnatural of lives. Therefore, they have built up among themselves a code of ethics to protect them from the barbs of normal people. Their rules are rigidly adhered to and the hurt of one is the hurt of all; the joy of one is the joy of all. The story about to be revealed is a story based on the effect of this code upon their lives. Never again will such a story be filmed, as modern science and teratology is rapidly eliminating such blunders of nature from the world. With humility for the many injustices done to such a people, (they have no power to control their lot) we present the most startling horror story of the ABNORMAL and THE UNWANTED.”

What a powerful message, right? We are forewarned with a somewhat strange historical account for the philosophical reasons for the most traditional accounts of ethnocentrism. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s presentation of Tod Browning’s production of Freaks follows one of the most classic idealizations and horror film motifs, the carnival. According to film historian David Skal, Tod Browning first became enthralled with the carnival when he was sixteen years old, “infatuated with a dancer, a so-called sideshow queen in the Manhattan Fair & Carnival Company” (The Monster Show, pg. 28). The unusual attraction to the carnival for those in my generation is probably best seen through the eyes of Ray Bradbury in his epic novel, “Something Wicked This Way Comes.” Dark images of Ferris wheels silhouetted against dark skies. The circus, as far back as I can recall, has always been a place of strange attraction. We do not venture to the circus to see the mundane, after all. In the history of cinema, film began very in much the same way, as a sideshow vaudeville.

313px-FreaksPosterFreaks takes us through a doomed tale of a trapeze artist named Cleopatra (performed by the ever talented and beautiful Olga Baclanova) who discovers that a circus midget by the name of Hans (Harry Earles) has a sizable inheritance. She knows Hans is in love with her and decides to marry the lovesick performer, all the while concocting a dubious plan to murder him and steal his fortune, running off with her lover, a dim-witted strong man by the name of Hercules (Henry Victor). But everything is not as it seems. Cleopatra is openly disdain towards Hans’ fellow freaks. And when Hans’ friends discover what is going on, they band together and carry out a brutal revenge that leaves both Hercules and Cleopatra knowing what it truly means to be a so-called “freak.” One of the greatest and most historic scenes, I thought, was at the end, during a torrential downpour as both Hercules and Cleopatra are attempting to flee from their would-be assassins. Hercules is caught under one of the wagons and as we watch with him, the freaks, knifes drawn, close in on him. Witnessing these mutilated forms drawing near, crawling through the mud, has always given me this sense of dread one hopes to find in movies such as these. Cleopatra’s fate is probably the most heinous albeit deserving (SPOILERS) when they mutilate her so badly she herself transforms from something of admired beauty to just another disdained sideshow attraction. When we first looked upon her, we swooned with love, and now as the film closes, we can’t help but scream!

There is little doubt that it was Tod Browning’s directorial success with Dracula (1931) which allowed him to work on what many have considered his masterpiece. This is my personal opinion, of course, but I think it is more accurate to say that Freaks was more of a passion project, considering his own past experiences working the sideshow as a geek up and down the Mississippi River. What I find most interesting about Freaks is the time period in which the film was released. Horror during the 1930’s, in my opinion, is retrospective of the decades past Great War. The maiming and grinding machines of war which ended in 1918 found its way into the picture shows of this era, in movies such as Freaks (1932) and even Frankenstein (1931) we find a representation of the mutilated shell-shocked forms of returning soldiers. One need only to look at Lon Chaney’s career to see what his custom-made effects were geared to symbolize, the monster. If this was an intentional use of symbolism is debatable, but nonetheless, especially in the 1920’s-1930’s, it was a familiar image in cinema. Even here in our own age we find the same symbolic gestures. Consider the last season of American Horror Story, subtitled: Freak Show. The season took us to the 1950’s at the encampment of one of the last remaining freak shows struggling to survive, not just financially, but also in discovering their place in the world. Said season is juxtaposed with the (supposed) end of the Iraq War (OIF), or at least the era of the war of which so many of my own generation fought and died or worse, survived —mutilated both externally and internally. Has Tod Browning’s classic 1932 Freaks found a new lost generation, witnesses to the horrors of war and the macabre afterbirths? To each their own, I’m sure. For me, Browning’s Freaks is a marvelous trip into the strange and unusual and was the inspired subtitle chapter in my novel, Dwelling, in which protagonist Johnathan visits Washington, D.C. Veterans Affairs Hospital to talk at a conference with fellow wounded veterans. During his visit, he’s confronted with all these images of mutilated soldiers and servicemen. Even he has been subjugated as one of the mutilated, the amputation of one of his legs after the Battle of Al-Hurriyah. He of course is struggling with his own demons, but during the conference he’s struck with this overwhelming sense of belonging, similar some might say to the kinship of sideshow attractees. Again, we’re drawn back to the opening credits of Tod Browning’s Freaks, “They are forced into the most unnatural of lives. Therefore, they have built up among themselves a code of ethics to protect them from the barbs of normal people. Their rules are rigidly adhered to and the hurt of one is the hurt of all; the joy of one is the joy of all.”


Dwelling FRONTDWELLING by Thomas S. Flowers
Subdue Series, Book 1
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Release Date: Dec. 8, 2015

: : : SYNOPSIS : : :

A group of inseparable childhood friends are now adults, physically and psychologically devastated by war…

A horrifying creature emerges from a sandstorm just before Ricky Smith dies in battle. Forced to leave base housing, his widow Maggie buys a home on Oak Lee Road in the town of Jotham. Maggie is isolated in the historic house…and disconcerted by strange clicking sounds inside the walls.

Jonathan Steele attempts to drink the painful past away…

Jonathan was wounded in that fateful battle and now suffers from PTSD. He wants to put the nightmare behind him, but when Ricky’s ghost appears with cryptic warnings about Maggie’s house, he begins to question his sanity.

Bobby Weeks is a homeless veteran struggling with a lycanthropic curse…

Afraid of bringing harm, Bobby stays far away from those he loves. But after a full moon, a mysterious woman approaches him and reveals a vision about a house with a sinister presence, and he realizes staying away might no longer be an option.

Minister Jake Williams lost his faith on the battlefield…

While Jake will do anything to reconnect with God, he turns to vices to fill the religious void. But a church elder urges him to take a sabbatical, and a ghost tells him to quit the ministry, and his life is more out of control than ever.

When Maggie wakes in a strange subterranean cavern, she can’t deny her home harbors dark secrets. Desperate, she sends letters to her old friends to reunite in Jotham, and events conspire to draw them all to the house…unaware of the danger awaiting them.

The friends have already been through hell, but can any of them survive the evil dwelling beneath the House on Oak Lee?


: : : PURCHASE LINKS : : :



: : : EXCERPT : : :

(Warning: Adult Language)

Chapter One

Iraq, 2004

Something caught his eye. A glimmer. A shadow in the dark yellow fog.

The fuck? He reached for his binos in the turret. Across the street, Johnathan spied through the dust scratched lens vendors hastily tucking and clutching whatever goods they could get their hands on. Only the most meager of items remained on the street. Even the sound of the Humvees seemed to fade, as if the entire world was holding its breath.

What’s going on? Johnathan shook, his nerves pricked. Hairs stood on-end. His knees locked. He watched, hands resting on the M2 .50-cal. He searched for someone, anyone to put the tightening in his stomach at ease. Where are they going? Shadows snaked in between the empty spaces and seemed to grow larger. The yellow dust whipped the air. Al-Hurriyah was being consumed by it.

Johnathan could feel the lump in his heart become heavy. He pulled his scarf off. He choked on the dust, tasting all the nastiness of the Baghdad ghetto, but paid little heed. The soldier scanned his field of fire. Anticipation boiled in his veins. Then the yellow sand darkened again.

The glimmer returned, taking shape, forming in the dust. His mouth fell agape. “What the fuck is that?” He screamed inside, his mind rattled and confused and terrified.

From the alley across the road the shadows dissolved, giving form to some massive Thing with skin covered in bristle-like hair as black as tar. The bulking torso hissed, and swelled, hissed and swelled. Its thin, but otherwise muscular, fragile-looking legs twitched in the sand, protruding and stretching out, pulling down the tarps of the vender huts near it.

How many legs does this thing have? What is this? I’m dreaming, have to be. This can’t be…

In the dust-whipped wind what looked to be mandibles where its mouth should have been opened and then snapped shut. It was hissing, but the hissing sounded like clicking, the rattle of teeth in a glass jar or a snake poised to strike. On its head was an unmistakable shape, as frightening as it was. Bulging from its head, two swollen red eyes taking up nearly all of the creature’s face glared in the dust, compound, like the eye of a fly, gazing directly at him.

Its antenna drooped low, and then it began talking to him with a wild rush of clicks in its throat. The sound was terrible, reminding him of spring months back home, the swarms of cicadas that blanketed the canopy in his parents’ backyard every few years or so and the eerie sound they made, the clicking, horrible hissing, just like in that one movie Ricky loved to watch when they were kids around the same part of the year, the 1950s atomic-age science fiction flick, the one with the giant ants.

Partially hidden in the dust, the height of the hideous Thing was hard to guess, but whatever is was, it wasn’t possible. None of this was possible. It couldn’t be real, yet there it was all the same, hulking out from across the street, large and hungry looking.

“Are you seeing this?” Johnathan croaked, his voice pained with fear and doubt.

“What?” asked Ricky. He turned in his seat, looking out the driver’s side window. Searching. “I don’t see anything.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Johnathan yelled, panic stained in his voice. He kicked the driver’s seat.

“Dude, we’re about to dibby out. Stop being so jumpy,” Ricky scolded. “I don’t see anything, man.”

“Look, you asshole!” Johnathan kicked the driver’s seat again with his boot.

“Dude!” Smith turned fully around and peered in the direction Steele was gesturing. He fell silent for only a moment and then he yelled, “Get down!”

“We need to do more than—” Johnathan had started to say, but was cut short. He looked back to the alley where the Thing had been, but the monster was gone, replaced by a man with a shaved head shouting something terribly familiar and propping an equally terrifying object across his shoulder.
Is that?

“RPG!” Ricky screamed on the radio.

The air sucked back. Johnathan thought he was going to puke as he watched a plume of white smoke rocket toward him. The world was motionless for a second, perhaps less. In that moment he thought of Karen and Tabitha, he thought of his childhood and his friends that filled it. Then the explosion hit, lifting his Humvee upward into the air.

The large metal behemoth came crashing back to earth with a thunderous moan. He fell inside. His head smashed against the gunner’s platform below. He saw nothing, only white, burning light. Outside, he could hear the crackle of gunfire faintly against the ringing in his ears, like fireworks in a neighborhood a block away.
People were shouting. His squad mates, maybe. Language seemed beyond him at the moment. He could smell sulfur and the awful hint of something else…like overcooked meat on the grill, he imagined, dazed and numb. Through the broken window he watched the battle of Al-Hurriyah with disbelieving eyes.

Another explosion struck somewhere nearby. Pebbles or chunks of the police station perhaps rained down on his truck. The radio was abuzz with noise, fire direction, casualties. Someone yelled through the mike, “Death Blossom.” Death Blossom…? Are we under attack…? Yes…Ricky called it out, didn’t he? His head rung with the battle cry.
Johnathan shifted his weight. One of his legs fell from the strap he used as a seat, the other felt strangely dead. He looked. Among the yellow dust and stars that filled his eyes, he could see, though blurred, the gnarled remains of what was once his right leg.

“Shit!” he screamed, clinching at his thigh. I can’t look. I can’t look. Ricky. Ricky? “Smith? Ricky? Are you okay, man?” he winced, straining to get a look at his friend.

No answer.

More rattling pinged off his truck. Someone nearby yelled, “Got you, you fucking bastard!” Another voice screamed in language not entirely unfamiliar.

Must be some of the Iraqi police, he thought vaguely caring. Death Blossom…those assholes are going to ping someone in the back…

Something was pinching his neck. He reached and felt warmth and something hard. He dug whatever it was out and pulled his hand to see. He glared dumbfounded at what looked like a tooth.
Not mine, he thought, testing his teeth with his tongue. He looked at Ricky, but his form was covered in haze.

Gunfire continued to crackle outside, but in the broken and torn Humvee, the world felt like a tomb.

He could see Ricky now, lying awkwardly in his seat, one hand still clutching the radio receiver. Smoke wafted from his body. He didn’t move. And the smell…the smell was terrible.

Johnathan blinked. Not real. Not real. “Ricky, you son of a bitch, answer me! Are you okay?” he yelled. Hot adrenaline coursed through him like a drug, pooling in a venomous sundry of dreadful sorrow and hate, lumping together in his heart, stealing his breath. Maggie’s face flashed in front of him and then Karen’s, but he pushed them away.

Please, God. No.


Dwelling Release picture


: : : MEET THE AUTHOR : : :

Thomas Flowers Profile PicThomas S. Flowers is the published author of several character driven stories of fright. He resides in Houston, Texas, with his wife and daughter. His first novel, Reinheit, was published by Forsaken. He also has a short story, “Lanmò,” in The Sinister Horror Company’s horror anthology The Black Room Manuscripts. In 2008, he was honorably discharged from the U.S. Army where he served for seven years, with three tours serving in Operation Iraqi Freedom. In 2014, Thomas graduated from University of Houston Clear Lake with a BA in History. He blogs at, where he does author interviews and reviews on a wide range of strange yet oddly related topics.


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Profile Photo (Cropped)Robert “Sharky” Pruneda is a native Texan, video game “enthusiast” [addict], and fan of all things horror. He left a career in the newspaper industry in 2011 to pursue the life of a nocturnal author, brainstorming new and creative ways to creep out his readers. He doesn’t only write horror though. He also pens the occasional family-oriented tale just to keep from going completely nuts with all those creatures of the night whispering in his ears. When he’s not pulling ideas out of his twisted brain, you’ll likely find him on social media or fighting alongside his fellow gaming buddies where they all get shot up into Swiss cheese (or turned into little bite-sized chunks because of “Sharky’s” obsession with explosives). Medic!

Pursue your dreams . . . and never look back.

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Today, I hand over the keys to my website to fellow horror author and friend Thomas S. Flowers to share with us why women make the best protagonists in the horror genre. He’s also here to tell us about his new book Reinheit, which is now available at online book retailers worldwide. Be sure to stick around to the end for an opportunity to win a signed copy of Reinheit by entering his Rafflecopter giveaway.


Dames de Horreur
By: Thomas S. Flowers

With October being, as we nerds of macabre tend to think, the month of fright, I thought I’d talk a little about the role of women in horror and who some of my favorite lady characters are in the genre. Women have broken boundaries and defied not only gender clichés, but also social and cultural trends as well, with more tenacity than any Joe Shmoe on the block. Now, in all honesty, horror is not without its own stereotypical tropes, but in fairness, horror has also done more to water down those grey stone walls of truism. Slasher movies for one have a nasty habit of typecasting women into weak character roles. Yet, looking at it from another angle, you might notice that as said slasher movie victim is running around bumping into dead things and screaming at the top of her lungs, she survives while typically every single if not 99% of the male character population parishes in some grotesque way. At the very least, perhaps even slasher movies are saying that when the shit hits the fan, women are survivors.

Consider Tina Shepard from Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood, she didn’t need help from hunky would-be boyfriend Nick, she took care of business all her own. In 2013’s home invasion horror movie You’re Next, which may or maybe count as a slasher flick (we’re going to roll with it), but in the film while there are a few damsels in distress, Erin Hanson (played by the beautiful Sharni Vinson) utterly dominates the movie, chewing bubble gum and kicking ass. To say the only contribution women have made for horror is to play the victim is a gross generalization. In movies where women are intended to be the victim, they survive. And then there’s the other side of the road, the villains.

The creepiest characters and monsters of horror, in my humble opinion, have been women. Consider Kathy Bates in Misery and you tell me if her portrayal as Annie Wilkes didn’t creep you the fuck out! Let’s all be honest here guys, put aside our egocentric macho bullshit and come clean. Let’s admit it, women have done more for horror in recent years than men. Boom. I went there.

3D ReinheitAs a writer of dark fiction, the role women play in my stories are typically strong albeit human roles. In my recently published novel, Reinheit, Rebecca Moss is a kind, gentle, comedic woman. She’s not perfect though, as no one is. Rebecca’s weakness is in her stubborn belief people can change. She suffers the wrath of her husband because, well, despite loathing his boiling temperament, she fundamentally loves him. However, as the story continues, we see more of the positive potential in Rebecca, the courageous spirit of the suffering hero. When facing impossible situations, her strength blossoms.

Writing Rebecca was extremely fun as it was tragic. There is a laundry list of fictional characters that I molded Rebecca from, most of which have come from my love of horror and strange television. Here are a few of my favorite women in the genre.

Lina Leandersson as Eli in Let the Right One In released in our most desperate hour, during a very strange and scary time for vampire tropes. I hate to mention it, but it needs to be said, in 2008, vampire lore had been polluted with Twilight-esk glowworm sparkle people making me want to scream! And thank Zeus those days are over. Let the Right One In was a welcomed breath of fresh air, an absolute amazing horror flick. And Lina Leandersson playing the century’s old vampire Eli was magnificent. She was so innocent until she wasn’t. The best scene has to be at the pool when Oskar is confronted with some rather violent bullies. You do not see her inflict the carnage, but when Oskar comes out of the pool and you see all the gore surrounding this small adolescent girl, it is an utter chilling moment in horror history. Her portrayal as his protector was totally believable. The American remake was decent, but I have to go with the original Swedish version. It was by far the superior.

Next, there’s Gillian Anderson as Special Agent Dana Scully in The X-Files (1993-2003, 2008). What can really be said about our favorite doubting Special Agent? The X-Files had a huge impact on my life growing up. And the show is still good. Better than most of what passes as TV nowadays, not to sound like some bitter old man. Gillian Anderson’s portrayal as Dana Scully is interesting. She’s the yin to Fox Mulder’s yang (not to sound dirty). She was the rational part of the relationship, Mulder was the wide eye dreamer who jumped at any and all shadow that spelled conspiracy or extraterrestrial or both. She was a skeptic, sure, but she had to be to level out Mulder’s eccentricism. She was also the scientist, the doctor, the brains of the operation. Her portrayal is interesting because it’s a role typically played by men. Are men not the more rational? DON’T ANSWER THAT! (Cough-cough, wink-wink).

Then we’ve got Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley in Aliens (1986). Though the first time Miss Weaver portrayed Ellen Ripley was in Alien (1979), she did not feel to me as strong of a character as she was in its sequel, Aliens. She was a survivor, for sure in Alien, but in Aliens she kicked some major xenomorphic ass! In James Cameron’s epic sci-fi horror, Ripley was easily the strongest character not only because of what she did, but the fact that she did it while struggling with PTSD, struggling with the memories of the traumatic events from the first film. She was a protector when at times you felt she was the one needing protection. Hell, she came out on top while every single one, save Hicks, of the supposedly badass Marines gets bush whacked! She even goes toe to toe with the “get away from her you bitch” queen bee! Aliens is an excellent movie for many reasons, but the best parts are watching Ripley transform from traumatized survivor to tuff-as-nails She-Ra!

Next on my favorites list is Jane Levy as Mia in The Evil Dead (2013). I have no idea what some nerds have against this movie. It is absolutely fantastic. It wasn’t a reboot, it wasn’t a remake, it wasn’t a continuation; 2013’s The Evil Dead was simply another cabin-in-the-woods movie cast in an Evil Dead universe. The mood from the very beginning is grainy and dark, given the subject matter of Mia’s rehabilitation with drug addiction. And it just gets darker. And her struggles felt real. And when the table turns and her inner-demon, as they say, comes out…her creep factor goes sky high! It was fun watching Mia start off playing the victim of the demon that had taken hold of her, and then in actuality becoming the monster (and a scary one at that!). And it was satisfying seeing her, by the end, transform into a person willing to literally and metaphorically come out swinging. Mia was not some Ash trope, she was her own character, and a strong and realistic one at that.

Next, I’d like to talk about Gaylen Ross who played Francine in Dawn of the Dead (1978). While I struggled between Gaylen as Francine in the original and Sara Polly as Ana in the 2004 remake, because I felt both characters and women are strong in their respective films, in the end I had to go with Gaylen Ross. Blame it on my favoritism to the original classic or on my love for Romero or whatever you want. Regardless, who can deny the magnetism in Ross’ portrayal as Francine? She was a lone woman surrounded by male machismo and was still able to keep her voice heard over all the grunts and farts. From the very get-go, when they land at the mall and she says, “Stephen, I’m afraid. You’re hypnotized by this place. All of you! You don’t see that it’s not a sanctuary, it’s a prison! Let’s just take what we need and get out of here!” Yet, while being overruled by the male majority, she remains patient and lets it slide until her prophecy becomes reality. Of course, her best line is when the boys hatch a plan to secure the mall without consulting her and she confronts them with her own demands, telling Stephen to never leave her without a gun again because (she states mockingly) “I just might know how to use it.” And what’s more interesting is that she is not only the lone woman in the group, but also pregnant. There’s that motherhood qualia going on, which says something to the strength of her character to deal with these boys and keep her cool in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.

Lastly, I’d like to give honorable mention to Ashley Laurence who played Kirsty Cotton in Hellraiser (1987) & Hellbound: Hellraiser II (1988). I want to mention Ashley Laurence’s portrayal as Miss Cotton in both films because she was pretty much the same character types in both films, though you can imagine that in Hellbound she was struggling more with the hellish (no pun intended) events from the first movie. Miss Cotton was a believable loving daughter who did everything she could to get-along her step-mother, but as the classic trope demands, her step-mother was quite wicked and unlovable. I love Cotton’s character. She’s not weak necessarily. She is a survivor. And she most certainly has her wits about her during times of tribulation. Consider the moment in Hellraiser when she first opens Lemarchand’s box (aka The Lament Configuration, aka The Puzzle Box). When the cenobites first appear, though terrified, for obvious reasons, she is still able to keep her cool and hatch a plan to trade her life for Frank’s. And in the end, when the cenobites attempt to alter the deal she sends each and every one of them back to hell via solving the puzzle box. In Hellbound, though traumatized, she not only confronts the return of her wicked step-mother, Julia, but manages to humanize Pinhead (Doug Bradley) and the other cenobites, allowing them to turn back to their original selves. Clare Higgins also deserves mention here. I was not impressed with her portrayal as Julia in the first Hellraiser, her character was too needing of Frank to stand on her own. But in Hellbound, the gloves came off! She was a strong and dominate villain, blood thirsty and seductive, even without skin. Yet, despite strong acting from Higgins, I’m more favorable toward Laurence as Cotton. She was smart and foul mouthed, a perfect combination.


Thomas S Flowers

Genre: Thriller

Publisher: Forsaken

Date of Publication: July 29, 2015

ISBN: 1513701673
ASIN: B013118P92

Number of pages: 184
Word Count: 62,200

Cover Artist: Travis Eck

Book Description:

Rebecca Moss never questioned the purchase of the strange seductive armchair. She wanted to please Frank. But the armchair has a dark purpose. Nazi officer Major Eric Schröder believed fervently in Hitler’s vision of purity. Now the chair has passed to Frank, an abusive thug who has his own twisted understanding of patriotism. There are those who want to destroy the armchair, to end its curse. But can the armchair be stopped before it completes its work?

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The Eastern Front, Lithuania. July 1941.

The armchair moaned delightfully as Major Erich Schröder sat. Outside, the sun burst into the mountain ridge, filling the sky with brilliant orange and red flames. Schröder watched out the open window from his seat in front of a dormant fireplace. He poured a glass of Berentzen Doornkaat schnapps from the decanter he had brought with him from home. Helen had packed it for him, wrapped with last month’s funny pages. One of the strips discarded in the waste bin revealed a valiant rosy cheeked Dutchman named Conrad, demonstrating the power of solidarity in the factory workforce. The energetic and turbulent rhythm of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony floated into the room from some far off record player in the barracks. Love this performance. Schröder closed his eyes and sunk farther into the armchair. The cool leather and haunting harmony of Beethoven set his mind at ease, comforting his weary bones. The comfort abated his thoughts, for the moment at least, of what lay ahead and the unordinary expectations levied upon his young shoulders by high command.

Expectations? he thought. God help us. Schröder lifted his glass and took a long gulp, biting down against the burning sensation crawling in his throat. Expectations… Horrible, horrible expectations… But it must be done. Himmler has given the order, and so it must be. Ein Völk, ein Reich, ein Führer. For we are one people, one nation, of one leader…

Schröder had believed in the vision for a thousand-year Reich ever since he was a young boy, serving in the Hitler youth movement, following in the shadow of Herbert Norkus, the child martyr. Schröder believed in his führer fervently and demonstrated so by enlisting in the Waffen officer program when he became of age. And that strong belief made him stand out from among his peers to become a full party member of the Schutzstaffel order, the dreaded and feared SS. And even after receiving his first orders, being forced to follow on the boot heels of the regular army into the Eastern Front, he retained his faith in the great commission, the plan to save Germany, to bring the Fatherland into rebirth, renewal, into purification…but at what cost? he wondered.

“Major?” called a strong male voice from outside the door, interrupting Schröder’s thoughts.

“Who is it?” asked Schröder. He took another long swig before rubbing the cold glass against his temple, struggling to abate the crest of an emerging headache.

“Lieutenant Braun, sir.”

Ah, yes, Braun. The thought of the handsome lieutenant was not unpleasant. Unlike the rest of the old reservists assigned to his unit, Braun was different, younger than Schröder, which wasn’t saying much. But Braun is local, Schröder recalled, just like the other swine. Well…the lieutenant must be the exception, proving not all of Lithuania is as ghastly as it appears. Perhaps there are some redeeming qualities, he thought with a hungry smile.

“Enter,” Schröder finally answered. His face returned to its narrow coldness. He brushed his short-cropped, wavy, blond hair to the side. He crossed his legs and stared into the fireplace, as if contemplating a fire.

The door opened. Schröder listened to the marching of feet coming to a halt directly behind the armchair. He guessed there were at least two men, uniforms flat as iron, brown as earth, with burning red armbands and swastikas on each muscular biceps. The last being a fantasy, of course, most of the men under his command were police reservists from the rural portions of the country, not at all the physique of physically disciplined soldiers. Well, except for Braun. He is most certainly fit. Schröder took another gulp from his favorite schnapps, quietly fantasizing Braun’s undergarments, waiting on either of the reservists to speak, but no one did. Only silence, except for the ice cubes ringing against his crystalline glass.

“What is it?” Schröder asked impatiently, his breath on fire. His head felt dizzy.

“Sir…” began Braun, his voice boyish but prudent.

“For God’s sake, spit it out,” Schröder barked.

“The delivery, sir. It has arrived.”


“The cases of schnapps, sir.”

“Oh, yes, good,” said Schröder taking another swig, nearly killing the glass. “Assign a small detail and unload some of the boxes into one of the storage rooms. Keep the rest on the truck,” he ordered with heated breath.

“Yes, major.”

“Use the quartermaster’s room, if you must. When you’re finished, have the rest of the company form up in the courtyard,” Schröder ordered. His mind began to drift between his nearly empty glass and the sound of crows squawking about outside the window, desperately searching for a place to nest before winter. A strong breeze found its way inside. The odor of pine and spruce filled his quaint personal quarters decorated with yellow flower wallpaper and a quaint single bed covered in soft linen sheets. An old quaint oak dresser and vanity sat next to the bed, and a small quaint circular kitchen table, also made of solid oak, sat on the other side of the fireplace. The burgundy leather Queen Ann high back armchair was last of the furniture.

Schröder waved his hand in his usual form of dismissal. He listened to the snapping of boot heels as the men shouted in unison, “Sieg, Heil!”

“And, lieutenant…” Schröder added.

“Yes, major?” asked Braun.

“Keep it quiet.”


“I don’t want a bunch of questions about why we have the liquor on the truck. I want this done quickly and quietly, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The men filed out, leaving Schröder alone again. He sat there and took another sip of schnapps, watching the dead untouched logs with little interest. Outside, the sun had fully disappeared behind the mountain ridge. The sky was black. His mind went to the hundreds of boxes of cheap apple liquor in the cargo truck outside in the courtyard. The men will need it, after today, he thought. After tonight, and the next night, and the night after that, and so on and so forth until this madness is over. Until the solution has been answered. When the vermin are eradicated, removed, liquidated from the purity of the Reich. The rats, the money-grubbing Jews, stabbed us in the back in Versailles, but never again. Schröder smiled weakly and took another gulp, finishing off the glass with a grimace. The ice was cold, but the liquor burned going down, warming his otherwise empty stomach. Licking his lips, he slumped deeper into the armchair. The cushions felt more than welcoming. The Queen Anne was soft, yet sturdy, dependable, and dare he say, comforting? Yes. Yes, even in a waste of a country as Lithuania, given nightmarish orders. Yes, even here, something as simple as a chair could be comforting. It whispered to him. The tall backrest shielded him from the world and told him everything was going be fine. The voice lingered with Schröder like a fat dark cloud caught in a valley before a storm. Where have you been? he wondered. Who last sat on you? Who else have you comforted? Who will you comfort when I’m gone? You’re mine, you know that? You’ll always be mine. His thoughts teased real jealousy.

Schröder recalled when the armchair had first arrived. He remembered when Himmler, the führer’s shadow, had delivered it personally from Latvia. A gift, supposedly, for Schröder’s first command. Himmler arrived in the dead of night and Schröder had thought it odd for someone of his stature to take the time to visit someone new in the order. Or perhaps that was the reason for the visit. Did he come to inspect me, my men, our resolve? Schröder waved the thought away with his empty glass. Does it matter? Was it really so strange for a man like Himmler to drop in, even unannounced? No. Schröder knew of Himmler’s obsessive reputation and the simple fact that the man commanded all of the SS, including all the Einsatzgruppen units, with the entire final solution for the Jewish question residing on his shoulders, was warrant enough for paranoid examinations. I’d do the same thing in his place, Schröder believed. How could he not? While the regular Waffen army served a purpose, driving back the vile communist filth, the Einsatzgruppen, the killing squads, as rumored to be called by some of the men, were given orders of the upmost import. On our shoulders alone sits victory for Germany. Only through us can Himmler succeed and thus Hitler’s final solution be answered. Only through us can the one-thousand-year Reich be achieved. So, when an officer like Himmler drops in unannounced, bearing a gift for your recently awarded commission, you do not turn him away, and you most certainly do not ask questions, Schröder weighed, pouring another glass of schnapps when his door thundered yet again.

Reinheit 99 Cent Sale

“Major?” called Lieutenant Braun in his usual vigor manner.

“Yes?” answered Schröder.

“The detail is done and the men have begun to form up, sir.”

Schröder peeled himself begrudgingly from the armchair. His skin felt as if it were being ripped away from the leather. It was difficult, more than it should have been, for Schröder to get to his feet. It was as if gravity were working against him. The more he moved, the more he didn’t want to move. He hesitated to leave the warm comfort of the high-back armchair, or the warm breeze from the window, or the bottle of schnapps, or even his lonely late-night fantasies of a bare-backed Lieutenant Braun in his chambers. Schröder pictured the young lieutenant naked, erect, pulsating with heat, and smelling of plums. But Schröder knew he had no time for fantasies such as those, not now. Now he had a job to complete, the commission, and until then he would not be able to return home to Munich, to his beloved Helen, and their faux marriage, and her ravenous breasts and plump lips he absolutely had no desire for. But, despite his pretentious social mask, of which he so often hid, that fairy tale existence was more enjoyable and pleasing than the cold nothingness of Lithuania. At least in Munich he could have something more than fantasy. Full moons he could sink his teeth into and lustful adventures out on Blumenstraße’s dark avenue, where men and boys overfilled his cup. A place where names were never asked, never given. Or at least not real names.

God help me if anyone ever found out. He shuddered. They’d stich a pink badge on a pair of rags and send me on the midnight train to Dachau, or worse. Auschwitz-Birkenau. And what would poor Helen think of the charade? That her husband loved the taste of cock? She would be absolutely abashed! Schröder let loose a faint dry laugh despite the remnant fear of being caught lumped heavily in his heart.

There was another soft knock at the door. “Sir?” asked Braun. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be out in a moment,” the major barked.

Schröder pulled himself from the comfortable armchair and smoothed out the wrinkles in his black uniform. He noticed a scuff mark on the toe of his otherwise perfectly gloss black boots. Frowning, he crossed over to the small table, set down his empty glass, and picked up a rag. Kneeling, he polished out the blemish in quick sweeps. He stood and looked himself over in the vanity. Satisfied with his appearance, Schröder opened the door to his room. Lieutenant Braun was just outside, alone, and snapping to attention. One hand shot down to his side while the other flew upward, palm down, fingers held firm together and straight, as one might imagine how the Romans may have saluted Caesar.

“Sieg, Heil,” shouted Braun.

Schröder returned the salute, smiling on the inside. Licking his lips. At least there was more than just the lieutenant’s physique and beautiful bright blue eyes that he admired. Braun was, if anything else, dedicated, loyal, and obedient. Qualities one should always surround themselves with.

“Sir,” Braun’s arm returned to his side, “If I may, why have we assembled the men at such an hour?” he asked, nodding toward the dark sky outside the hallway window.

“Judenfrei,” replied Schröder.

Braun did not mask his confusion.

“Do you believe it is possible?” Schröder added, almost singing.

“To be free of Jews? Yes, major.” Braun still looked confused.


Major Schröder knew the young lieutenant could not answer. How could he? He had only the slightest idea. A rumor, at best…as for the particulars in how the Reich would free themselves of Jews. Only the higher echelons knew. Most assumed the same fate the POWs met, when the Communist sympathizers and partisan survivors had been gathered to the labor camps, and would think this seemed a possible solution for the Jews as well. Made sense. To collect them and then transport them off to the camps as well. But how can that be? Schröder thought. Of all the camps, certainly they could not hold all the Jews in Lithuania, nor all the POWs, gypsies, criminals, or homosexuals, all of the Reich’s undesirables. There were too many enemies and simply not enough room for them all. Certainly, Braun has mulled through all this.

“Well, lieutenant?” prodded Schröder. “Let’s hear it.” The Major smiled foxily.

Braun looked white, befuddled in his confusion. He almost seemed to laugh. Perhaps a sudden idea had sprung to mind? A terrible idea? Whatever the cause, the lieutenant remained silent. Is he thinking of what I’ve been ordered? Of mass extermination? All of them? Schröder could sense the lieutenant’s unease. He looked flushed and short of breath. He knows. He simply doesn’t want to say it out loud. It would be too horrible, unfathomable to say out loud, the major thought. He understood because he felt the same unease within himself, the unease of exterminating an entire people. The annihilation of European Jewry. The weight of killing not just the men, but women and the children, both the very young and the infirm. But we must, for the nation. For the purity of the Reich.

“Lieutenant, I am going to tell you something that will not be easy to hear. In fact, it’ll be damn near impossible to hear,” Schröder began. “But we must. Such courage will be needed if we are to succeed in our mission…for the purity of the Reich.” Yes, Erich, keep telling yourself that. But at what cost? How much are you willing to pay? At the cost of your own soul? Your sanity? Schröder pushed his weakness away. “Our goal will require the strongest will. Tonight, we will march toward Kovno, arriving at the break of dawn.” Schröder paused. He took a deep breath. “We will then begin the process of eradicating the vermin from the Kovno ghetto. For the purity of the Reich, the infestation must be absolutely eradicated. There can to be no survivors, lieutenant. Do you understand what I am saying?” Schröder watched. Waited.

Braun was a ghost, as white as death. “We are to…kill them, major? All?”

“Is it villainess to put down a diseased dog? Or is it an act of mercy?” asked Schröder.

Braun was silent. He nodded quietly.

Schröder nodded as well, but said nothing. They said nothing for some time. Neither would look at each other. In the silence, Schröder could hear voices stirring from outside through the second floor hallway window. In the courtyard below, Bravo Company was beginning to wonder, no doubt, why they had been ordered into formation at such a late hour in the night. Schröder oddly began to wonder himself what Helen was doing back home. Meeting up with a friend for dinner, perhaps? A male escort? That would be something, he thought numbly. Finally, Schröder looked at Braun, who stood as a specter in the hallway. Schröder wanted to embrace him, to hold his firm chest against his own, to feel the panicked and disturbed heartbeat in rhythm with his. Schröder wanted to brush Braun’s slicked black hair, to part his lips and pull Braun close, and feel his large bulge and well-manicured hands. But Schröder pushed away the fantasy. Instead, he told Braun of Himmler’s orders, the commission of the Einsatzgruppen units. That they were to enter the Eastern Front, in four separate commands. In Kovno, Bravo would herd the Jews into the town square, dividing the men fit for labor from the rest.

The laborers would be ushered to the train yard, destined for Höss’ newly operational Auschwitz camp, while the others would be marched into the nearby forest. They would dig graves deep enough for a city municipal bus and then the Jews would strip. And the brave, ordinary men of Bravo Company would aim their shot with bayonet and fire into the base of the skulls of countless girls, boys, hags, gimps, and the sick. The infants would be bashed against the side of walls to make quick use of their time. One round per Jew… God forgive us, but this is how the Reich will be judenfrei. This is how the Reich will become pure again, Schröder thought, his hands quaking terribly. He gave one last longing look into his bedroom, his gaze settling upon his high-back armchair.

I can do this, I have to do this, and so it must be done,’ a strong whispering voice reassured him. With his eyes still on the chair, tracing the elegant blemishes were blotches of brown grew darker and then lighter, Schröder exhaled, “Ein Völk, ein Reich, ein Führer,” just audible enough for Braun to hear him.

Braun snapped to attention, still ghostly, and threw out his right arm, “Sieg, Heil!”

Schröder returned the salute vigorously. And then the two abandoned the hall to join the men of Bravo Company outside in the courtyard. Nearing the tall pine door entrance, Major Schröder stopped and turned.

“Have my armchair loaded into one of the cargo trucks,” Schröder said. “The Queen Anne will accompany us to Kovno.”

Braun did not question the order.

Schröder did not explain.

Reinheit 99 Cent Sale


About the Author:

Thomas Flowers Profile PicThomas S Flowers was born in Walter Reed Medical Center, Maryland to a military family. He grew up in RAF Chicksands, England and then later Fort Meade, and finally Roanoke, Virginia. Thomas graduated high school in 2000 and on September 11, 2001, joined the U.S. Army. From 2001-2008, Thomas served in the military police corps, with one tour in South Korea and three tours serving in Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom. While stationed at Fort Hood, Texas, between deployments, Thomas met his wife and following his third and final tour to Iraq, decided to rejoin the civilian ranks.

Thomas was discharged honorably in February 2008 and moved to Houston, Texas where he found employment and attended night school. In 2014, Thomas graduated with a Bachelor in Arts in History from University of Houston-Clear Lake. Thomas blogs at, commenting and reviewing movies, books, shows, and historical content. Thomas is living a rather simple and quite life with his beautiful bride and amazing daughter, just south of Houston, Texas.







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Profile Photo (Cropped)Robert “Sharky” Pruneda is a native Texan, video game “enthusiast” [addict], and fan of all things horror. He left a career in the newspaper industry in 2011 to pursue the life of a nocturnal author, brainstorming new and creative ways to creep out his readers. He doesn’t only write horror though. He also pens the occasional family-oriented tale just to keep from going completely nuts with all those creatures of the night whispering in his ears. When he’s not pulling ideas out of his twisted brain, you’ll likely find him on social media or fighting alongside his fellow gaming buddies where they all get shot up into Swiss cheese (or turned into little bite-sized chunks because of “Sharky’s” obsession with explosives). Medic!

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Hanging with Rutger Hauer

Posted: April 16, 2013 in Leisure, Movies

Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner

On Friday, April 5, I attended the Victoria TX Independent Film Festival and had the pleasure of meeting one of my favorite actors, Mr. Rutger Hauer. I found out that the 69-year-old celebrity was coming to town when I saw his photo on the front page of The Victoria Advocate with the headline “‘Blade Runner’ star to visit Victoria for film fest” which immediately led to me checking out the story. This was going to be the second annual film festival here in town and celebrity visits here are very rare! So, naturally I decided to purchase the $25 ticket for the screening of Rutger Hauer’s foreign independent film Il Futuro, which would also include a Q&A session with Rutger Hauer afterwards.

I arrived at the Leo J. Welder Center about an hour early to avoid fighting for a parking space downtown and to get a decent seat for the movie and Q&A. After picking up my ticket, I turned around and noticed Rutger Hauer and his wife standing at the small bar near the entrance. PappLosAngelesThey were drinking coffee and chatting with one of the event organizers. There were about ten to fifteen other people hanging out in the lobby, mostly volunteers and “VIPs”. My natural instinct was to walk up to Mr. Hauer and shake his hand and ask if I could take a photo of him, but since he was just standing there drinking coffee and chatting with his wife like anyone else waiting for the film to start I thought it would not be in good taste and a bit awkward. I didn’t want to go all paparazzi on him and decided to do the next best thing. I walked up to the bar, stood next to the Hollywood celebrity, and ordered a soda. I paid for my drink and casually walked away and took a seat in the lobby. It still felt awkward. Can you tell I’ve never been around a Hollywood actor before? 🙂

Eventually one of the event organizers ushered Mr. Hauer and his wife to a back room for the VIP party before the movie. VIP passes were something like $200 or so for the weekend event. I ran into a former coworker of mine who was wearing a VIP pass, so naturally she went in there to hang out with the celebrity. I held my $25 ticket and waited patiently for the usher to open the doors for the movie. To my surprise about ten minutes until the movie was supposed to start there were only about twenty of us waiting in the lobby for the movie. I chatted with a lady from San Antonio while we waited. She too was surprised at the turnout. I figured people were just cheap in this town and didn’t want to pay $25 to watch the film. Heck a few people I talked to earlier in the week didn’t even know who Rutger Hauer was. Even after I mentioned Blade Runner, Ladyhawke, Blind Fury, The Hitcher, etc. it just drew a blank. Oh, well.

After the ushers finally opened the doors and allowed inside I got a great seat about three rows back for the movie and Q&A. Il Futuro was a lot better than I expected. I have to be honest that I mainly bought the ticket for the Q&A after the movie, but I was pleasantly surprised that the movie had a great story, which I won’t go into detail here. Rutger Hauer’s performance in the movie was of course superb. The director of the film festival introduced the ‘Blade Runner’ star shortly after the credits rolled and then directed him to a couch on the far end of the stage to sit down with him and another guy. Rutger Hauer answered a couple of questions from the couch, but then he decided to walk right up to the folks in the audience and answer their questions which ranged from specifics about Il Futuro and naturally segued into questions about his career and his more popular movies . . . like Blade Runner. One reporter spoke up a few too many times during the Q&A until Rutger Hauer finally told him to shut up (in a jesting tone). He basically told him, “Shut up! I know you can ask good questions, but let’s give some other people a turn.” Another funny answer was when someone asked how old he was. Rutger Hauer’s response was, “Google!” After some laughter, he did politely answer the man and thanked him for the question.

Someone finally asked the inevitable question . . . Can I have your autograph? The man had a VHS copy of Blade Runner. There were a number of other people who had brought things for him to sign in hopes that there would be an autograph session. The autograph session was apparently not officially part of the program, but the Blade Runner star said that he would sign autographs after everybody left because another group of folks were waiting outside for another movie in the same theater. He signed a few autographs in the theater, but then the director asked him to move to the lobby. So, he and a small entourage of his fans walked with him through a crowd of other people entering the theater, most of which had no clue they were rubbing shoulders with frickin’ Rutger Hauer!

Rutger Hauer Q&A. You’ll see me in the blue shirt about three rows up. Yeah, the guy with the balding head. 🙂

After roaming around the lobby for a minute or so, we found a place for Mr. Hauer to take a seat where he could sign autographs and take photos with his fans. Like a big dummy I didn’t bring anything for him to sign (because I really didn’t think there would be an opportunity), so I asked Rutger Hauer to sign the ticket stub for Il Futuro. A fellow fan was kind enough to snap a few photos of me and Rutger Hauer while he signed my ticket. I then posed for a fan photo.

Me and Rutger Hauer - Victoria Indie Film Fest 2013

Another fan had one of those old school disposable cameras and after one attempt after another of trying to determine if the darn thing took the photo I offered to take a couple of photos with my iPhone and email them to his friend (who was also in attendance). Rutger Hauer was very cool about it too. He didn’t seem annoyed at the least even after this guy took one photo after another with him. It just goes to show what type of guy he is. Aside from the autograph session and photos, he acted like he was just another guy at a film fest enjoying the movies.

Rutger Hauer spent about 20 minutes or so signing autographs and posing for photos with fans and then just hung out with us to talk about his movies and upcoming appearance in True Blood. Sometimes you get lucky and don’t need to spend $200 for special VIP badges to hang out with your favorite celebrities. Sometimes, they just break the rules and do their own thing and mingle with their fans. We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!

Have you ever met one of your favorite celebrities? Share your stories in the comments below.

Movie Review: The Thing (2011)

Posted: October 24, 2011 in Horror, Movies

Another 80s remake?

Horror has always been my favorite genre and last year when I read that The Thing was in the works for a 2011 release I surprisingly had mixed feelings, because I absolutely loved the 1982 cult classic with the same title. Considering I am a child of the 80s, my first reaction was, “Oh, great! Another remake of an 80s movie.” With all the remakes of 80s movies, I found myself rolling my eyes and wondering if I would actually give in and see this one in the movie theater. Maybe the fact that I’m now in my mid-30s and movies I watched as a kid are now getting labeled as “classics” (and getting remade or “re-imagined”) is starting to make me feel old. Damn it! I don’t want to grow up! I’m a Toys ‘R Us kid!

A great prequel to a cult classic.

As more information was released about the movie, I began to realize that the 2011 version of The Thing is not a remake at all, or even a sequel. It is in fact a prequel to the 1982 film. So, don’t let the title deceive you. I absolutely loved John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982), which was based on the 1951 Howard Hawks-Christian Nyby film titled The Thing From Another World. If you loved The Thing (1982), then I believe you will enjoy The Thing (2011) which has the same creepy feel, gore, suspense, and intensity as Carpenter’s film.

The great thing (no pun intended) about the fact that this movie is not a remake of the 80s cult classic is that you don’t have to watch the 1982 version first to follow the plot. The movie follows that same plot as Carpenter’s version in its own unique way and therefore makes for a great experience whether you are familiar with the story or not. In fact, if you haven’t seen John Carpenter’s film, I highly recommend watching the two movies in the order that the story is told (2011 version and then 1982 version). It will make a great double-feature, providing you enjoy the story itself. If you are a horror buff and likely have already seen Carpenter’s film, then you’ll enjoy how The Thing (2011) fills in the gaps and answers some questions left from the 1982 version, such as why the Norwegians were shooting at the dog in the beginning of Carpenter’s film. I don’t want to give away any spoilers, so I’ll just say that the creators of The Thing (2011) did an excellent job of paying attention to detail and tying the two films together. After watching this movie in the theater, you’ll more than likely want to dust off that old DVD (or VHS tape; Remember those?) and watch John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982) again. I certainly did.

Here's my awesome depiction of "The Thing"

CGI Special Effects

Some may argue that the use of CGI (Computer-Generated Imagery) was overused in the movie, but I personally think that the CGI added to the experience because it was done so well. However, I completely understand how hardcore horror fans prefer to see these types of films made the old-school way with puppetry and makeup (and it was used in some scenes), something that takes a special talent which I appreciate and admire. With that said I must stress that the use of CGI was done so well in this movie that you more than likely will not be thinking about the CGI when “the thing” is revealed on screen. This is not a low-budget horror flick and the quality of the CGI brings “the thing” to life on screen. This movie was well worth the price of admission.

My Rating

By now you probably have an idea that I would highly recommend watching The Thing in the movie theater if you are a fan of the horror genre. It may not make you jump out of your seat and spill popcorn all over the floor, but it will keep you in suspense and guessing, “Who’s the thing?” That’s part of the fun with this movie. And if you like gore, there’s plenty of that, too!

So, with all of that said, on a scale of 1 to 10, I would rank The Thing with a strong 8.

So, what are you waiting for? Head on over to your favorite theater and go watch The Thing, but keep a watchful eye on your peers, though. They may not be who you think they are!

If you have seen The Thing in the theater already, I’d love to hear your opinion of the movie by commenting on this article.

For more information about The Thing, visit the official site by clicking HERE.

Promo poster image source: Wikipedia

Meeting one of the actors from “The Thing” on Twitter

Last month I met a guy named “Triple A” on Twitter when he stumbled across my account and decided to follow me. The first thing I noticed was that he had a verified Twitter account and that he looked very familiar. It was after reading his profile and clicking on his IMDB link that I realized who he was (and was reminded about the upcoming movie The Thing). @TheOneTripleA is Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (“Triple A” for short) which you may recognize as Mr. Eko from the television series Lost and movies such as The Mummy Returns (Lock-Nah), Congo, and The Bourne Identity (Wombosi). I have to admit that it has been very cool to communicate with a Hollywood actor on Twitter, and he initiated the contact. Since he was kind enough to follow me and take time to chat briefly with me a couple of times, I felt it proper to give him a shout out on my site when writing this review.

Be sure to check out the official site for more info about Mr. Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje “Triple A” and follow him on Twitter @TheOneTripleA. He’s a very down-to-earth kind of guy and does occasionally take the time to tweet with his fans.