My Real Life Horror Story With A Panther

My mother grew up on a mountain (Barker's Ridge) in West Virginia, and we moved back up there when I was about 13. I moved first and lived with my Grandma and then a year later my mom followed and we moved into a house right below my Grandma's place. Mountain life was unlike anything I'd ever dreamed of before, and getting used to it was a big issue for me, but I took to it like a fish to water. Probably because mountain living is in my blood.

Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in West Virginia lives way back in the boogey woods. My dad's family lived on a hill-what others (not from WV) would call a mountain, but what mountaineers see as smaller than a real mountain. I live on that same hill now (in Itmann, right below one of my uncles and my paternal Grandmother), so life on a hill is even way different than life on a mountain.

Barker's Ridge has bears, deer, coyotes, and all kinds of other creepy critters, and that was a big adjustment too. I loved to walk from my Grandma's place (quite possibly the highest point inhabited on that mountain) to my great uncle's house below a bit, and then out the strip and back. That was a great work out! I hated, however, making the trek from my grandma's house to my great uncle's house in the dark at six in the morning to catch the school bus. Then, when I moved in with my mom, right below my grandma, it was basically the same walk, except that my mom lived in this little holler-closer to the woods and even more out of the way of modern society.

I got used to it and it got to the point that bats flying ahead sometimes and deer sometimes stirring in the woods didn't scare me. I could sometimes even hear the occasional bear moving around further into the woods. I learned to identify which sounds could be threatening and which ones weren't. Bobcats scared me the most, but I learned that if you stamped your foot at them - if you see one - they scurry back into the woods scared to death of you. Problem solved.

When I was in the 9th grade, though, something very different happened. Something I never expected, and no one even told me about until about two years ago-long after high school had ended.

I got up one morning at 4:30 as usual so that I could take a shower and blow dry my hair and get ready for school as usual, in time to be to the bus stop by 10 til 6 (so that gave me ten minutes to sneak and smoke in my uncle's driveway). At ten til, I walked out the door of my house and up the driveway, hem hawing around with my backpack and carefully avoiding mud puddles so that I didn't get my shoes dirty. I think I even stopped once or twice to adjust my shoes and shift my super heavy backpack around.

When I got to my uncle's house, he was waiting for me on his porch, shotgun in hand. Usually, he was asleep because he worked night shift in the coal mines. When I made it to his porch, he had already anticipated my arrival and had the sliding glass doors open, quickly ushered me inside, and then said, "There's a coyote in your driveway. Don't go out there this morning. There's a whole pack of 'em in the woods. Stay in here until the bus comes and I'll wait with you."

One coyote doesn't scare me nearly as much as a pack of them, so I listened. The idea of being ripped to shreds by a pack of wild dogs before school didn't appeal to me very much. When the bus came, I got on-with my uncle standing at the door with his gun at his side-and I went to school a little shaken by the news of the coyotes, but the next day I walked to the bus stop as usual and no coyote activity. That meant I could smoke outside in peace.

Years later, I learned the real story. Sure, I was there to experience this, but apparently there were things I didn't know.

Apparently, the real story went something like this...

I left my house, through the front door, as usual. I stopped in the driveway to adjust things, and stopped to do whatever it is teenage girls do. I hem hawed over puddles and through rocks in the road. Meanwhile, I was being stalked.

By a big freakin' cat.

I'm sure to him I'd be rather tasty...

I'd heard my mom and grandma talking about the panther sightings on the hill and I'd totally rolled my eyes at them. A panther? On the mountain? Nah...

I couldn't have been more wrong. My uncle watched it stalk me and he held his gun at the ready in case the damn thing tried to grab me. He didn't make a sound for fear of spooking the cat. If the cat were spooked, I would have been a goner for sure. Panthers are just gigantic kitty cats. They play with their food first. It would have grabbed me from behind, went for my neck, possibly snapped it, and then played with me while I tried to get away. It would have left a blood trail from the overgrown driveway into the woods, and my mom would have just thought somebody or a bear maybe had killed a deer there in the middle of the night. Until I didn't come home from school that night, she'd have no way of knowing what happened to me.

About two years ago, my uncles finally told me about the story. I thought they were kidding at first, but then my mom confirmed that it was true and that they didn't tell me cause they didn't want me to freak out and never go to school again. It makes me wonder if they kept an eye on me after that, though lol. I'm sure that they did. I think...

I Told You It Came From Hell!!!!

This post is rated 1986 for colorful descriptions of morbid things and excessive use of the words "fuck" and "shit".

It was the 80s and back then, as I'd imagine it is now, there were toys that everyone had to get for their kids. These people would flock to their nearest store, beat the shit out of each other to get to the front of the line and then proceed to trample the remaining shit out of people to get to the stack of glorious toys.

Then they would beat the shit out of each other at the toy mecca. Sometimes they would take the toys and impale each other. Other times they would strap bombs to their tits and threaten to turn everyone into a steamy pile of cannibal's goulash if they didn't back the fuck off her toy, yo?



Yeah, not much has changed. Except now it seems we give kids guns as presents- so those grueling battles at the store are probably really interesting sometimes...

Well, as I was saying, it was the 80's and one fateful Christmas, my mother decided to do me the biggest favor she could: she bought me one of those toys. We're not exactly sure who told parents that this toy was the hottest item that year. We never really are. But, for some reason, parents were going ape shit to get their hands on one so they could be the hero for their little tyke who would shower them with a myriad of sentiments like "I hate you" and "stay the fuck out of my room" in only a few years.

So anyway, this toy ended up in my possession. My mom later recounts that she has no idea why she got me one. She knew nothing good would come of it- and it even scared the shit out of her. Nonetheless, I now share this experience with you from start to finish, hoping that in the therapeutic embrace of blogging and reading responses, we can all purge our minds of terrible childhood toys.



"Oh mother," I'd say, "thank ye so much for this fine specimen of toy. I shall indeed be the talk of the school when show-and-tell comes along. We'll dance, we'll chant, we'll giggle and rant. Why indeed it will be marvelous and I will be the envy of the lot! Thank ye much, mother."

Yes, I was an arrogant, well-spoken British chap at the age of Kindergarten.

Now, since a lot of you reading this are like ten and stuff, I figure I should explain. Teddy Ruxpin was a bear. Not just any bear, but a magic bear. He came with a book. Now, since this was the 80's and most of us didn't know how to read at that age, except for me because I was a bad ass, Teddy would do it for you.

Yes, Mr. Ruxpin was able to read along with you. His eyes would move, his mouth would flap, and he had a pleasant voice that would tell you of magical things and places.

In order to get him to talk, we had to use those D sized batteries and tapes. No, I will not explain to you what a tape is. But I will show you a wonderful commercial that will help fill in the imagination blanks:



I wish I could say that I would have become the most popular kid at school from the event, like that poor little fuck in the commercial. But pretty much if you grew up in a trailer park like I did, your parents beat the shit out of each other at the nearest Wal-mart and got you one too. So, when school finally started back up, needless to say, the popular kids were the pricks whose parents had a time machine, went to the year 2003 and bought their kids an iPod, then ventured back in time to make sure that they could prove their love with something no other kid was sure to have gotten.

Bastards.

So show-and-tell was basically a waste of time. And that was just the beginning.


Sometimes, late at night, Teddy Ruxpin didn't want to go to sleep. No, he had business to tend to. People to tie up and disembowel. Pentagrams to draw. Demons to summon. Unicorns to ride. Blood of virgins to smear on his face so he could become the most powerful wizard ever. You know, typical bear shit that most only dream of, but Teddy Ruxpin went out and got.

The only thing Teddy couldn't do was open a closet door. So, that's where the little fucker went. In the closet, at the bottom of anything I could pile on top of him. Batteries and tape removed. Closet door shut. I stopped putting my clothes up...

But I think I was wrong. About two months later, there was a story about some kid down the road who was thirteen and was found hanging from a tree by his intestines, scalp removed, odd markings all over his body, his blood dripping down his face. Police found a video tape of the murder. It went down like this:

Kid: (Playing Ghost Busters and stuff) Have no fear, the Ghost Busters are here!

Teddy: (lurking in the bushes) .

Kid: AAHHH! There's one right there!

Teddy: (now out of the bushes, right behind kid) You ain't afraid of no ghosts, but I'm a whole different motherfucker!

Kid: (turns around) Who said that? (looks down) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK?!! OH FUCK! OH SHIT! OH FUCK! OH FUCKSHIT!

Teddy: Scream all you want, but I'm Teddy Ruxpin and I'm going to eat your dinner now.

Kid: (stops screaming) What? You're going to eat my dinner now?

Teddy: (licks lips) Yes. Your bitch of a mother was too lazy to cook, so she made you one of those TV dinners that are all the rage now. You had chicken fried steak, corn and mashed potatoes made by Swanson. Quite delicious, albeit rubbery. Anyways, I am going to cut your gut now, and feast on your food that is partially digested. This is something that I have to do because as you can see, I have no teeth.

Kid: (backing away slowly) Um... What the...

Teddy: (advancing towards kid, pulling a Teddy Ruxpin-sized knife out of pocket) Don't run little man, I really hate chasing people.

Kid: (starting to run, Teddy in hot pursuit) GET AWAY FROM ME! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

Teddy: HUZZAH! (slices kid's Achilles heel, kid falls to ground immobilized)

And basically Teddy did what he said he'd do. Pretty damn gross. He literally cut the kids stomach open, inserted a straw, started slurping out mushy chicken fried steak, corn and mashed potatoes and then lassoed the kid's intestine over a tree branch and hoisted him up.

The rest of the details are just too much to describe here. I am trying to keep this post rated "PG-13". No, not 1986 "PG-13", where uttering a curse word was enough to land you an "R" rating. Rather, "2011 "PG-13.

So, back to my story.

Once I learned of this, I did the only thing I knew I could do: I attempted to make Teddy blind, by gouging out his eyes. The only problem was that I underestimated Teddy's will to carry on.

We got into a tussle, Teddy started choking me. I punched him in the testicles. He whimpered, then went into a rage and started to bite my ear. Then he realized he was having no luck (because he doesn't have teeth, remember?) and started pleading for me to let him go. I caved, because I am a sucker for pleading. Set Teddy down, and made him promise he would never do evil again.

He looked at me with his remaining eye, tears streaming, Teddy-blood flowing from the empty socket, and promised he'd never do no evil again.



As you can see, Teddy's creepy factor went up ten-fold. I had no choice but to retire him to the closet again. He said he fully understood.

But what I didn't really understand at that naive age was the implications of a double-negative. For you see, when Teddy said "never do no", he did so intentionally to take advantage of my trusting mind. Having said that, he might as well have said "Hahahahahaha, I am going to kill you in your sleep and eat your dinner!", because that is in essence what he meant.

Stupid kids.

Anyway, mom remembers finding the disfigured toy in my closet once. We never talked about it again. He stayed there for the longest time. Until a few years later, when we were packing up to move, and I discovered that he was no longer there.....

So if you happen to be a parent, especially one in that suburb of Dallas I grew up in, two things: (a) Please don't buy your kid these shitty toys and (b) if you see an eyeless, two-foot tall demon bear in your house, kill it with fire! Unless you have kids like the ones I blogged about last week, in which case you should let them fight each other and catch it on film and post it on youtube for Splattercore to blog about.

-Joel

PS: I am not kidding. That bastard disappeared and to this day no one knows how or why.

Taking A Blood Bathory

Artwork by my friend, Ian Misfit

We often think of gore and horror as only pertaining to books and movies, but sometimes we neglect some of the real life horror stories throughout history-the ones that modern books and movie scripts are usually derived and molded from, at least in part.

One of the goriest serial killers of all time has fueled vampire books and horror for centuries now. Many, many centuries actually. Some akin to the stories of Vlad the Impaler (my Dracula-yes, he's mine), the stories of Countess Elizabeth Bathory are some of the goriest, nastiest, bloodiest accounts of murder and blood-bathing (literally) ever. 

This woman was insane. Very, very insane.  She was only tried for the deaths of 80, though in reality, it's said that there were over six hundred! 


Some of the charges were as follows: 

• biting hands, faces, feet, genitalia, etc.
• sexual abuse
• freezing them to death
• performing surgeries on the victims-often fatal
• burning or mutilation of the victims hands, faces, and sometimes genitals
• starving victims to death

Bodies were often burned or buried in unmarked, shallow graves. Who really knows where she found all these women, but it's said that she had suppliers. I guess that adds human trafficking to her list of offenses, although in the sixteenth century I think that was actually allowed. Not sure. Either way, it's creepy. Can you imagine being bought only to be tortured, killed, and drained of your blood so that some bat-shit crazy Countess can bathe in it?


Oh yeah, Countess Bathory bathed in her victims' blood, according to legend, because she thought it was like stepping into a really twisted version of the Fountain of Youth. 


I know, however, that Bathory wasn't born to be a serial killer. She was born into society as a noble lady, part of society's nobility, I mean. Her family was of high society, as high as you could get in sixteenth century Transylvania. She was related to a Cardinal, a Prince, and a cousin who was the Prime Minister of Hungary. She married a Count, but he took her surname so that she could keep it (evidently her family was more popular than his). The Count was away at war through much of their marriage, and thus, a manservant in the Bathory household introduced Elizabeth to the occult. 

She bore several children after waiting ten years to start a family, and after 29 years of marriage, her husband-the Count-died in battle. This is when, according to my online sources, Elizabeth went bat shit crazy and began taking part in some pretty odd behavior. The first thing she did was send her mother-in-law away from the Castle. Not so bad, right? Well, then she began to take part in some freaky weird rituals involving animal sacrifices. She became so vain and obsessed with losing her beauty in that time. I read somewhere that she'd had a maid to comb her hair one day, but the maid accidentally pulled a strand. So, Bathory smacked the maid's hand so hard that it drew blood. A drop of the maid's blood hit Bathory's hand, and she swore that the blood maid her skin look younger. Elizabeth made her Major-domo and a servant strip the girl's clothing, cut her open, and drain the girl of all of her blood so that she could bathe in it. 

I really wish I were kidding.


After this, Elizabeth gained a few henchmen to carry out her dirty, bloody deeds for her. She found suppliers for her need for youth (she wanted young virgins, according to some legends), so she probably had a pretty steady stream of young women to kill. 


Once, a victim escaped her castle and told the authorities of the horrible atrocities that went on there. The castle was raided, and they found one dead girl, one half dead and full of holes, several in the dungeon that were pierced and full of holes, and 50 bodies were exhumed below the castle. 


A trial was held, and Bathory's two witches (yeah, this serial killer employed help from witches, too!) were executed. Bathory herself wasn't allowed to be executed because of her noble blood, so she was placed on strict house arrest.


The fact that her husband dying seemed to be what started this whole blood bath debacle made me wonder if the loss of love might have been part of the reason she went wacky (Get it? Wacky? *grins*). Or it could have been that after she watched her husband die and partially decompose she might have decided that she didn't want that to happen to her. Perhaps it was vanity that drove her mad. It was said that Elizabeth Bathory was one of the most beautiful women in her time. 

Think about it this way: back then, they didn't have embalming fluids-or at least they didn't use them if they did have them-and bodies would lay out for a day or two before being buried. Perhaps watching one who was close to her, that she may have even loved (arranged marriage, so it's hard to tell if she loved him or not) go through the changes of decomposition really, really fucked her up. Who really knows! 


All I have to say about her is this: I'd love....LOVE....to write a book about her. I may just do that one of these days.

The Smell of Death

Faster than the explanation of what's to come; faster than the hole to be dug; faster than the peace of death's needly kiss are those five seconds you get to say goodbye.

This blog site is dedicated to the grotesque and often bitter end to that which we all share in common as we read- life. We find ourselves constantly in the wake of an entertainment industry thriving on our gross curiosity and morbid fears. Many would look down upon us with loathe, thinking us some sick bastards who disrespect and mock the recurring theme of humanity we all have some fear of.

This may be true for some. Certainly there are morbid folks out there who take great joy in the decay of life. But nonetheless, death is a part of us, our culture and our celebrations. Why, this past Sunday, many celebrated the rebirth of a figure whose death promised them salvation- Jesus.

For me, it is not a sort of leisurely cheap entertainment. In fact, often I disconnect from scenes where death is displayed in colors more vivid than the forth of July aerial sparks we so fondly enjoy. My disconnect isn't a form of denial- but rather an acknowledgment and moving on- kind of like the social dysfunction we call promiscuity.

But today, when faced with the real whim of death, I did what most of us do... I died a little on the inside. Not so much because death occurred, for in this situation, death had already happened perhaps a month prior. No, I died inside for the same reasons that I think we, however small of a population (though I feel like everyone has this relationship in some fashion; be it in a movie, book, video game or music), all do when faced with it.

Peace. Jealousy. I used to have a theory that said we cried at funerals not simply because we will miss the one we love, but because we are jealous and feel great peace.

Jealous because they now know what we yet do not. Regardless of your faith and how much you have of it, one fact remains: none of us know for sure what lie on the other side. In this regard, I strongly believed that we were jealous of the dead. Their suffering and curiosity were both severed. Their time had come. They left us behind to wade in the morbid pools of anticipation.

Peace because especially when dealing with someone or something that has suffered for a long while, we feel relieved. We no longer have to deal with their outburst of abuses, deep ruses of their fear and strength. We no longer have to wonder when their last breath will draw near. We no longer have to take care of them, a task that we do out of love, but one we dislike greatly simply because we feel as if we are doing useless acts to calm inevitable storms.

Think me not insensitive. I cried. I am sad. I did not know this poor soul laid to rest well. I was not attached to him. But as I saw him accept his fate, long ago, witnessed by his lack of interest in holding on- which resulted in a rapid consumption of his mass and mind- I realized he was far braver than I.

He had a smell today, unlike anything I have smelled before and something for which I have no words. I knew, when taking him in, that his time was nigh. Having made all the necessary arrangements, and returning to him hours later, that final visit was all we had standing between us.

I had to carry emotions on behalf of other people who had fond memories. Those souls could not be there. I had to deliver their affections in the form of tears and sobs and comforting whispers. He could not look me in the eye. He knew what was coming but he also knew it had to be done. I think he felt like he was letting me down and putting me in this position of having to make that decision.

The doctor struggled with the needle- trying calmly and quickly to find a vein. He lay still not wincing with the pain of both needle and prediction. After what seemed to be hours, the correct placement of the needle was set and the long road of medicinal travels commenced.

Half-way through the process he let out some sound, a process that had to take a lot of effort as he had already lost the ability to communicate beyond whispers that day. And within seconds he passed to a slumber, his body unable to withstand the cruel force of gravity any longer.

We waited. Finally, the confirmation had to be, and was made. "He has passed," said the doctor with a rehearsed voice of comfort and professionalism. This was something he had done countless times before. How he managed to hold his composure is nothing short of a reality that his exposure to death had allowed him to find the beauty of it.

Wrapping Chekov in a towl, the doctor began to take him to the next step of the process which would prepare him for the final step. I had expected a sort of rigid reply from Chekov, having been under the impression that with death, stiffness sets in. However the bounty of peace we had just afforded him carried through with the total disconnect from his body. He was as flowing and responsive as the ocean, being pushed gently by the wind. His body rippled in response to the movement.

It is in this moment I realized that to some degree, my theory was not far off. Exposure to death prepares us for it. With each story, life lost, movie watched we become attuned to its call. We become peaceful to its cause. We realize that as cruel as it seems, this earth is not the end (we can talk about ghosts some time).

For the first time in my life I watched something die. I pushed the button, so to speak. I held him until he passed. Despite my distinct former fear of touching or being in proximity to the dead, I was able to pet his lifeless body and tell him I was sorry.

May you rest in peace. May you find comfort in death now for comfort humans and medicine could not and nature would not give to you in the last chapter of your life. I am very thankful that we are able to do for you what we cannot do for one another.

I shall not pursue this topic any longer for I have said all I intended to say. But in the macabre comes serenity. Thank you for showing me that, friend.

R.I.P. Chekov

Hounds of Hell!

The Demon Queen and the Demon Pup

My dog is in heat. She's a mutt, a good mix between a boxer and some kind of terrier. Not sure what kind. Her name is Heidi Mills Demon Pup (Just Heidi for short) and she's my constant companion. I don't know what I'd do without her.

Unfortunately, I live in a neighborhood where everyone just lets their dogs run all over the damn place and are completely uncaring for what the outcome is. Since Heidi's been in heat (and she's only one of 2 female dogs here and the other female is fixed already) I've woke up every morning with at least six male dogs on my porch waiting for her.

This terrifies me, and that's the reason I've chose to share this rant with splattercore--dogs are freakin bat-shit crazy scary, especially when there's a whole pack of them stalking my house. 

She's winking...and that's scary as hell.

Most of the dogs' owners around here come after their dogs once they realize that they're missing, but there's two dogs (same owner) who stay here all the time and never go home until I gather my wits about me and chase them off with rocks, sticks, boards with nails, or whatever I can find. This TERRIFIES ME because these are big dogs and I've seen them hurt other dogs, so they could easily hurt me, too. 

What's more--I have four kids who love to play outside. They can't do that when all those big scary dogs are out there, and even if the dogs take a break and go home, their, um, messes are still all over my yard. Believe me, I can't clean up after them fast enough. I woke up yesterday morning to find that sometime through the night, while Heidi and I were fast asleep, the pack of wild dogs tore up all my garbage, too. 

Cujo...*shivers*

Thanks, ass holes....

One of the two dogs that practically stays here kinda reminds me of Cujo. The fact that I wake up every single morning to a pack of crazy lust filled dogs in my yard has almost moved me to plot out a new horror short story about a woman protecting her home against the hounds of hell. I may just do it, and when I do, I'll write the dedication out to the owners of the two big scary ones, and then thank them for never keeping their dogs at home. 

Sniffs....

Little dogs are creepy, too.

I'm even having nightmares at night about all these dogs, and dreaming of the day when Heidi's appointment at the Vet's office comes up finally so I can have her fixed and not have to worry about crazy horny dogs in my yard tearing everything up and making it impossible for my four children to go outside and play (which keeps them out of MY hair while I'm trying to cook and do things around the house). 

So, my question (Finally, I know-I'm long winded) is this: Which scary dogs from movies do you think of when you encounter a scary dog? Some people are more afraid of small dogs than big ones (like my son, Tristan). Some are only afraid of fluffy ones. Some are scared of dobermans and rottweilers but not other types of dogs. I grew up with dobermans and rottweilers, so I'm not afraid of them at all.

Personally, I'm terrified of pit bulls, but only the ones that aren't cared for properly, and around here, there are a lot of those, too.

As much as I'm terrified of unkempt pit bulls, I do believe this q-tip doggie is the scariest one I've seen thus far. 

Share your favorite ones. Let's see if I can top them :)

That's my natural eye color...I just wear brown contacts.

For more of my rants, you can visit me all over the place. But, for starts, you can try my other blog, Rhiannon's Paranormally Romantic Bits & Pieces, where I discuss everything from adult toys, adult films, vampires, creepy things, creepy people, books, kids, scary stuff, and lots of other odds and ends. 

You can also find me on Facebook. Just look for Rhiannon Mills Demon Queen :) 

Happy Beaster Everyone!

 

Hope it is filled with treats, fun times, well wishers and many many many puppies! From all your pals at Splattercore!

Procreation is NOT okay.

You hate them, you love them. Maybe you love them, then they turn two and you hate them, then they turn six and you love them, then they turn 12 and you hate them again. But at some point in time you will hate kids.

All the more reason to vilify them in our cinematic and literary outlets. And this is something we have done quite well and quite often- and I don't care what you say, possessed, serial killer, zombie demon kids are perhaps the scariest lot of monsters ever invented.

Example #1- Gage, Pet Sematary
This kid was creepy even before he got hit by that truck and was buried in an Indian burial site- to be reborn as the crazy scalpel wielding, Achilles Heel slicing, throat feasting little bastard he became.

What would you do if this little monster attacked you? You'd die. Go ahead, try to fling him across the room. He is undead. He is young. He is resilient. He'd likely bounce off of the wall, do a ninja flip and with ancient genetic mastery sink his little scalpel right into the pupil of your eye. Then, he would proceed to take you out and cackle, adding insult and creepiness to injury.

Example #2- Regan, The Exorcist

Damn right. And I chose this particular scene because it was the creepiest part of the movie for me. What is it about demons and kids? If I had to make up a statistic about possessions and kids, I would say that kids are the ones possessed 100% of the time. Anything else is just science-fiction.

Why? Because kids are little magnets for evil. Seriously, open one up sometime. You will see they have these little spectral devices attached to their heart and every time their heart pumps, it sends out a signal and if demons are nearby, BLAMO! Possessed kid.

Don't worry, this little device goes away when they turn thirteen and are able to be their own providers of sinister evil.

Example #3- Those Damn Twins, The Shining

First off, what stupid kid rides a plastic tricycle down the hall of a hotel? I mean, when I was a kid anything larger than my room was creepy- and more often than not even my room was creepy.

Oh wait, I know who... some tweaked out little milk carton poster-child that talks to his wiggling finger in a creepy voice reminiscent of an old lady that smoked for 100 years. THAT'S WHO!

It's no damn wonder this kid ends up running into the ghosts of some butchered twins. And they did it right- these kids were so creepy I vowed to never ever, ever ever have kids, ever.

I would also like to interject that creepy kids in creepy movies most likely were creepy kids before they even landed their roles. Want proof? Let's have a look at those evil minions of Satan's left testicle now:


Example #4-
You know what, screw this. This blog is creeping me out. As I write this, there is some little bastard giggling upstairs. And I don't even have kids.

I think you get the point about now. Kids. Are. Creepy.

No offense if you have them. Yay for you. Just keep them on a leash and out of my damn corn fields.



-Joel

PS: I don't really hate kids. Ok, yeah, I do.

Vampire Monsters Vs. Vampire Lovers - Why not both?

For those of you who may not know this about me, I'm a Mom--first and foremost. But, I wear many, many hats.  I'm also a writer, author, columnist, and reviewer (books, adult films, adult toys, comics).  I have my fingers in a lot of cookie jars! 

That being said, one of my favorite things in the world is reviewing books that make me so scared of my shadow that I'm ready to piss myself. The side of me that is also an erotica lover somewhat mingles with my horror loving side a bit, and yes, I love erotic vampire books.


I recently got a new one from Good Vibrations (I'm an affiliate of this company and also write for the Good Vibrations Magazine) that was published by Cleis Books. It's an anthology of vampire erotica called The Sweetest Kiss, and it's absolutely superb. Four stars from the reviewer (me)--and I don't give my stars away lightly.

Ahem....where was I? Oh yeah, back to the vampire erotica.

My question, however, is this: How is it that some folks out there, possibly many of you, think that a vampire cannot be a romantic being when one of the very first ones--in fact--was Dracula? If you remember correctly, Prince Vlad himself was, very much, capable of feeling love for another person/being in the form of the very odd love and possible obsession he had for Mina Harker. 


Not only was Vlad capable of feelings such as love and lust, but so were some of the very first vampires ever mentioned in history. If you research a little bit, you'll find out quite quickly that some of the very first accounts of vampires were from before medieval times. Those vampires were said to sneak in through windows and under doors in the form of a vapor. Then they would materialize into a more human form, sleep with their victims, and drain them dry of their blood. They were incubus/succubus vamps. There's LUST, if I'm not mistaken. 

I'm a vampire...RAWR!

Vampires being depicted as monsters are alright by me, too. After all, I'm a horror fan. That being said, I'm not gonna knock the vamps who are a little more human and loveable (although, I dislike the sparkling variety but loved the books and the story line that went with them). The vampires in my books are quite personable, too, even though they're bloodthirsty killers primarily. I think it's quite possible for a vampire to go out and rip someone's throat out one minute, then come home to the man/woman he or she loves and have awesome sex. Or maybe just a cuddle on the couch accompanied with some light blood play. 


Don't knock something until you try it, right? 


Please, by all means, give me your insight on this. I'd love to know from both an author standpoint and a reviewer's standpoint. 


But be warned. If you think you know more about vampire history than me...you probably don't. And if you do, I want to be your new best friend lol ! 

Yours Eternal, 
Rhiannon Mills





To find out more about my crazy vampire romance fiction, you can visit me at http://www.rhiannonmills.blogspot.com  or you can just email me for info. 

Really, I'm all over the darn place. Just google my name and see what pops up! 

The Thrill of Thriller

Before he was infamously iconic for 'Vitiligo', setting his jerry curl juice aflame, hanging babies off balconies and a plethora of other 'choice' actions.. Micheal Jackson was, quite simply, 'The Man'. How I'd long for the days of Micheal Past when it was all Billy Jean and Bad instead of this white woman in his place that can DANCE like Michael but with the added surprise of flinging body parts off of his/her face while he/she is moonwalking along. I can continue on with all the pro's and con's of his life BUT.... i digress and choose to leave sleeping dogs, or rather, dead rotting corpses, to rest.

Speaking of rotting corpses; I give you one of the most beloved and widely known song/choreography ever composed by ANY artist, ever.




'Thriller' was Micheal's 6th studio album released in 1982 under Epic Records. The album itself skyrocketed Micheal's up and coming fame even more so and cemented his title as artist of the century. The album contained some of the most well known works by Michael Jackson including "Billie Jean", "Beat It" and, of course, "Thriller"

'Thriller' was directed by John Landis (known for his work on 'A Werewolf in London' and 'Blues Brothers 2000') and was released as one of the the first theatrical music videos ever created. The video is considered "a watershed moment for the [music] industry" and went on to receive national and global acclaim. Guinness World Records listed it in 2006 as the "most successful music video" and in 2009, was inducted into the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress, the first music video to ever receive this honor, for being “culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant. "Thriller" went on to win MTV Awards in 1984 in three categories: Viewer's Choice, Best Choreography and Best Overall Performance in a Video. In 1999 the Video was award by MTV again as '100 Greatest Music Videos Ever Made'. It also won a Grammy in 1984 for "Best Video Album" and again in 1985 for "Best Video, Long Form".

The video resides on the list of 'Most Expensive Music Videos Ever Made' with production Costs at $1,877,233.42. (Michael Jackson has 5 videos on this list alone, with 'Scream' a video preformed with his sister, Janet; topping the list at a staggering $9,303,080.93) Mind you this is in 1983, when people were still peeing in their pants over the giant brick we called cell phones.

Aside from the obvious achievements and accolades this video alone has raked in for the departed artist, 'Thriller' is still one of my favourite videos. I can remember being a kid and watching MTV waiting for the recognizable opening disclaimer: "Due to my strong personal convictions, I wish to stress that this film in no way endorses a belief in the occult." This is back when Michael wanted to be a Jehovah's Witness, by the way. Makes you wonder if you would've slammed the door in his face at 7 in the morning on Sunday any LESS hard. I'm also pretty sure 'Jesus Juice' isn't on the list of 'things I'm allowed to ingest' according to that particular faith, but, that's a whole other blog post...

I would stare at the choreography for hours, painstakingly trying to mimic intricate dance moves all the while enthralled by the voice of one Vincent Price, who I think I had a thing for even back then.. 20 or so years later, and i still can't moonwalk, its more like a sad attempt at dragging my feet across the floor glancing over my shoulder hoping i don't plow into the coffee table and crack my head open or step on the cat only to be mauled from the ankle up. BUT, i can do one hell of a Thriller dance and can shuffle/monster hand/ clap with the best of them. Speaking of the Best of them: there's a jail in the Philippines that.. oh you know what, you can watch that too

Comics: Marvel Zombies Supreme #1-3

A HUNGER SUPREME! They were the Squadron Supreme, heroes exiled from another dimension to our own…but the twisted science of the Project Pegasus facility infected these defenders with a virulent zombie strain. Now it’s up to Jill Harper’s desperate special ops team to keep the plague contained within the facility—whatever the cost. But Harper discovers that the Squadron wasn’t the only unconscionable experiment being kept off the Pegasus records…and her shocking find may be the key to saving the human race. Join Frank Marrafino (Haunted Tank) and Fernando Blanco (MARVEL ZOMBIES 5, THUNDERBOLTS) as the bodies and unpredictable resurrections climax in the most gore-soaked chapter of the Marvel Zombies saga yet!

So that's the spiel from Marvel so how was it really? Well to be honest I was really let down with issue #1. I have not seen bad writing like this for a while, sure there were the splatter moments we come to expect from this brand of marvel comics. But seriously as the above picture shows..... One liners like this made me think I was reading a comic from the 90's... From the get go and the underground deep leveled scientific "hive" I could see Resident Evil all over this baby... Where were the original stories that kept me hanging in the original... Although you can never really top Zombie Spiderman Eating his family. But I really expected more from this issue

Luckily with issue #2 it got somewhat better but still made me feel like I was watching the Great Lakes Avengers with the amount of unmerited slapstick... The only part that really made me pay attention and that was for pure shock value was the parody of a certain DC universe origin.  But the story was flat and formulaic and I am struggling..

Issue #3 was a chore to get through.... With only 2 more issues to go I am pretty certain they can't pull it off.... But if your looking for some light reading with some nice graphic gore bits, and a strange shout out with scenes based in Kansas check it out..Well maybe don;t say I didn't warn you...

Check it out, but if your really looking for a better read and have never read them, check out the original Marvel Zombies now that's how you do a Zombie Comic.