Sunday, September 19, 2010
Rawhead Rex
I found this demon very beleivable and angry. H e was pissed that the Christians had taken over his land and -in the past- had buried him alive. I think I'd be more than a little miffed at the whole situation myself. He didn't seem to have a plan or consistent type of victim, he just reeked havoc on anyone in his path. I think, all too often, we bully our way into a culture and cram our beliefs down its throat without any consideration of the end results. Rawhead examplifies the rage they must feel. The movie, however, was a low budget slasher film, which was common to that era.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
The Memorial Service
Another stroke in the bathroom and she stares blindly at the wall. I call her name and she doesn’t respond. We had such a great day together. I pushed her through the flea market and we Christmas shopped for family. A young man gave her a ‘Million dollar’ bill to invite her to his church. She was so excited to have been given such wealth. We went to dinner at a local Denny’s, which was followed by a tiff in the bathroom. When she realized that we were having words, she handed me her Million dollar bill to just forget about it. Now she can’t even recognize me—her only daughter.
I call for my roommate to get her to the Jeep and rush her to the hospital for help. I knew that I’d gotten her there in plenty of time for them to reverse the stroke, but why were they taking so long to do anything?
After a week of no response, they call to ask me if I want to resuscitate her or not. “What?” In the year she spent with me, we NEVER discussed this. I could only say what I would want. ”No, do not resuscitate.”
My next conversation was about putting her in a nursing home to live out her days on machines. A friend suggested that I call Hospice and bring her home. On New Year ’s Eve, she was brought home to her family and cat friends. She was so doped up on morphine she didn’t know where or who she was. The Hospice nurse kept giving her more and she kept breathing slower and deeper. I went to bed with the promise that she’d call me if anything changed for the worse.
I slept for about an hour before my grandson came and called me, “Come quick, Grandma, she’s dying” I ran to the den and watched as life was gradually slipping away from her.
I woke my daughter, who was sleeping nearby, and called her caregiver to join us. They got there in time to be with her before she crossed over to the other side. My daughter played Amazing Grace on the computer while I saged her. We spent several hours with her before the men arrived to take her away. It was bittersweet.
As much as I would have liked to take her back to West Virginia and given her a traditional funeral, funds would not permit it. We had her cremated instead. Since my grandson wanted to go, we waited three months to take her home. (This was self fulfilling prophecy. I used to joke and say that I was going to arrange her late arrival at her own funeral because she was notoriously late for everything.)
My mother loved ‘paink’ and we asked everyone to wear pink in her memory. Just in case we provided little pink rosebud corsages for the guests. There were 80 pink roses in eight different vases because no two decades are the same. One single rose was placed in a heart shaped vase next to her picture to represent the one year she spent with us. These were the only flowers at the service.
When I looked around, there were only 27 guests, comprised of family and a few friends, many of which were mine. I was stunned that the attendance was so low for a woman who spent her entire life trying to please the townspeople. She had refused to come live with me in Florida because she didn’t want to leave her friends. The time she spent with us was the happiest of her life, but it just didn’t last long enough…
I call for my roommate to get her to the Jeep and rush her to the hospital for help. I knew that I’d gotten her there in plenty of time for them to reverse the stroke, but why were they taking so long to do anything?
After a week of no response, they call to ask me if I want to resuscitate her or not. “What?” In the year she spent with me, we NEVER discussed this. I could only say what I would want. ”No, do not resuscitate.”
My next conversation was about putting her in a nursing home to live out her days on machines. A friend suggested that I call Hospice and bring her home. On New Year ’s Eve, she was brought home to her family and cat friends. She was so doped up on morphine she didn’t know where or who she was. The Hospice nurse kept giving her more and she kept breathing slower and deeper. I went to bed with the promise that she’d call me if anything changed for the worse.
I slept for about an hour before my grandson came and called me, “Come quick, Grandma, she’s dying” I ran to the den and watched as life was gradually slipping away from her.
I woke my daughter, who was sleeping nearby, and called her caregiver to join us. They got there in time to be with her before she crossed over to the other side. My daughter played Amazing Grace on the computer while I saged her. We spent several hours with her before the men arrived to take her away. It was bittersweet.
As much as I would have liked to take her back to West Virginia and given her a traditional funeral, funds would not permit it. We had her cremated instead. Since my grandson wanted to go, we waited three months to take her home. (This was self fulfilling prophecy. I used to joke and say that I was going to arrange her late arrival at her own funeral because she was notoriously late for everything.)
My mother loved ‘paink’ and we asked everyone to wear pink in her memory. Just in case we provided little pink rosebud corsages for the guests. There were 80 pink roses in eight different vases because no two decades are the same. One single rose was placed in a heart shaped vase next to her picture to represent the one year she spent with us. These were the only flowers at the service.
When I looked around, there were only 27 guests, comprised of family and a few friends, many of which were mine. I was stunned that the attendance was so low for a woman who spent her entire life trying to please the townspeople. She had refused to come live with me in Florida because she didn’t want to leave her friends. The time she spent with us was the happiest of her life, but it just didn’t last long enough…
Breeding Ground
Breeding Ground
Sarah Pinborough
Was Breeding Ground by Sarah Pinborough a horror story or a comedy? The whole concept of women giving birth to widows must be someone’s idea of a phobia come to life. There are many apocalyptic theories, but this one was over the top as our main character wanders through a totally unoccupied town to pillage its remnants.
The fact that a ‘deafness gene’ can be used as a weapon against the widows to destroy them is amazing. How on earth did they determine this?
Why did they leave safety to go out into the world filled with venomous spiders? This seemed to be a totally illogical and ill planned move.
The sex scene seemed like a dash of Tabasco added to a scrambled egg. It added zest to an otherwise bland menu; however, it was inconsistent with the entire cadence of the book.
How convenient that there were several unanswered questions when finished with the book. It left the door open for the sequel.
Sarah Pinborough
Was Breeding Ground by Sarah Pinborough a horror story or a comedy? The whole concept of women giving birth to widows must be someone’s idea of a phobia come to life. There are many apocalyptic theories, but this one was over the top as our main character wanders through a totally unoccupied town to pillage its remnants.
The fact that a ‘deafness gene’ can be used as a weapon against the widows to destroy them is amazing. How on earth did they determine this?
Why did they leave safety to go out into the world filled with venomous spiders? This seemed to be a totally illogical and ill planned move.
The sex scene seemed like a dash of Tabasco added to a scrambled egg. It added zest to an otherwise bland menu; however, it was inconsistent with the entire cadence of the book.
How convenient that there were several unanswered questions when finished with the book. It left the door open for the sequel.
The Funeral
The Funeral
Richard Matheson
The Funeral was a great tongue in cheek horror story. Who hasn’t wondered how their funeral would occur? Will there be enough flowers, the right casket, the proper music, enough attendees, and a respectful eulogy? And who hasn’t known a Morton Silkline, someone who would do \anything for money? Put a wealthy undead with a greedy undertaker and you have your story.
Matheson leaves a lot to the reader’s imagination and thereby empowers him or her to mentally create whatever is in the room with Silkline and Asper. Whatever it is, isn’t good.
Richard Matheson
The Funeral was a great tongue in cheek horror story. Who hasn’t wondered how their funeral would occur? Will there be enough flowers, the right casket, the proper music, enough attendees, and a respectful eulogy? And who hasn’t known a Morton Silkline, someone who would do \anything for money? Put a wealthy undead with a greedy undertaker and you have your story.
Matheson leaves a lot to the reader’s imagination and thereby empowers him or her to mentally create whatever is in the room with Silkline and Asper. Whatever it is, isn’t good.
I AM Legend
Richard Matheson
This novel held my attention from beginning to end. I’ve always wanted to write a book from the serial killers perspective and here it is. He is the legend, the one the rest of the world’s inhabitants fear. He is the thing that goes ‘bump’ in the night while he seeks out the sleeping vampires to kill in their sleep.
Matheson packs emotion throughout this story when he shows a harsh world and the only survivor. He describes his loneliness and lack of emotion when he travels through the desolate city and takes the ‘lives’ of its vampire inhabitants.
Many years ago I watched Omega Man and was fascinated with its theme. At the time, I didn’t realize that it was based on this novel. I believe that Night of the Living Dead is also derived from this story. Many of the post Apocalyptic stories use this novel as a springboard.
By far, this is a truly brilliant story told with intensity and emotion. It tops my list for must reads.
Richard Matheson
This novel held my attention from beginning to end. I’ve always wanted to write a book from the serial killers perspective and here it is. He is the legend, the one the rest of the world’s inhabitants fear. He is the thing that goes ‘bump’ in the night while he seeks out the sleeping vampires to kill in their sleep.
Matheson packs emotion throughout this story when he shows a harsh world and the only survivor. He describes his loneliness and lack of emotion when he travels through the desolate city and takes the ‘lives’ of its vampire inhabitants.
Many years ago I watched Omega Man and was fascinated with its theme. At the time, I didn’t realize that it was based on this novel. I believe that Night of the Living Dead is also derived from this story. Many of the post Apocalyptic stories use this novel as a springboard.
By far, this is a truly brilliant story told with intensity and emotion. It tops my list for must reads.
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