ST. BARTHOLOMEW

A statue of St. Bartholomew, an early Christian martyr who was skinned. If you look closely, you’ll notice (in the statue) that’s not a robe, but actually his removed skin hanging around him. 

 

by Marco d’Agrate, 1562

 (Duomo cathedral, Milan-Italy)

GET OUT

"Houses don't have memories."

MELVIN

I used to be a ventriloquist. I auditioned for the 4th grade talent show at my school and I won with my pal, Slappy. In 5th grade, I wanted a better dummy. So at an antique mall, I found Melvin. He has real hair and these icy blue eyes that move side to side. They seem to pierce your soul. This will scare those bastards at school.

We auditioned and won again. Melvin was more popular than Slappy, and I got to sign a kid's forehead last year!

After that, me and Mel started an internet series that is still on YouTube. But a few years ago I gave up ventriloquism.

It could be due to my loss of popularity or my lack of joke-writing ability. Or it could be because of the nightmares.

Every few nights I'd wake up in a cold sweat with chills running down my spine. In the nightmares, Melvin would mutilate my family members and say it was because he wasn't getting what he wanted. I started to go mad. I heard voices in my head after that. Melvin's voice, telling me what a worthless piece of shit I was, and how I was only something because he let me be something. I was alive because he let me live.

I made the mistake of telling my family. They took me to a therapist. But when that didn't work, they put Melvin under the house, in the crawlspace. That only made things worse. Melvin's face would appear in my dreams with his twisted grin and piercing blue eyes. He'd open his big red mouth and release a garbled, high-pitched laugh, like an action figure whose batteries were dying. Then blood would flood out. My family began to worry for my mental health, but I knew why this was. It was because Melvin wasn't getting what he wanted.

A month later, I found him in the crawlspace. The voice in my head was going mad. Melvin was furious with me and he threatened to kill my family and make me watch. I pleaded with him to change his mind. I told him I'd do anything if he'd change his mind. He told me he wouldn't kill them...if I did.

I tied him up and put him in a trunk, which I tucked away in the basement. I knew the nightmares would continue, but I had to protect my family.

The next day my therapist asked me to bring Melvin to her. I did so, believing she could stop Melvin. But when I got Melvin out, I set him on the couch next to me, and he opened his mouth and a siren wailed out of it. Meanwhile she told me Melvin was just a dummy and it was all in my head. I started screaming and she ran out of the room to get help. Meanwhile, me and Mel sat on the couch screaming.

So now I'm in the hospital receiving treatment. I don't know what happened to Melvin after my "episode." My family probably got rid of him. I still have nightmares about him. Blood flooding from his mouth, from behind his piercing blue eyes. The doctors keep telling me it's all in my head. I started to believe them. Until I got the news.

My family was dead.

Source.

TEOS RECOMMENDS: LORD OF TEARS

 

Available now in an unorthodox but attractive little package is filmmaker Lawrie Brewster's Lord of Tears, a bizarre tale about a man named James revisiting his childhood home after the death of his mother in order to confront the nightmares he has about having lived there in his youth. These nightmares seem to be focused around a mysterious figure with the head and claws of an owl but the body of a (suited) man. Though his mother's final letter written to her son beg him never to go there, James goes anyway in an attempt to make sense of his nightmares. While there, he meets a stranger named Evie, an American living abroad and traveling the world. Together they delve into the mystery surrounding the house and James' nightmares of the Owl Man.

It's been a few days since I watched my copy of Lord of Tears, kindly sent to me by its creator, but I'm still having trouble putting into words exactly what it is I watched. Though its set-up is similar to another recent film called The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh, in which a son goes to the house of his recently deceased mother and finds himself caught in a nightmare, the similarities end there after their fairly straightforward first acts. After that, Lord of Tears becomes this...thing. It involves ritualistic sacrifice, blood history, beheading, and that friggin' creepy Owl Man. I applaud any reviewer out there who attempts to break down and analyze Lord of Tears beyond what is simply presented on screen. That's certainly not for me to attempt, so I'll just leave that lie for now.

Lord of Tears is not for the impatient viewer. Brewester sprinkles in a few creepy and/or jarring scenes here and there to keep you on your toes, but until the last act, Lord of Tears is about this lonely man named James (Euen Douglas) investigating an old house and getting to know the flamboyant and mysterious Evie Turner (the incredibly beautiful Lexy Hulme). There is a nice feeling of dread draped over everything, and the occasional glimpse of the Owl Man certainly keeps you guarded, but Lord of Tears is not your traditional horror film. Brewster's purposeful homage/ode to old school Gothic horror and the works of H.P. Lovecraft are certainly palpable, but they are also an acquired taste, especially in today's fast-paced, quick-cut world.

One of the many pitfalls of low budget film-making (and an easy target) is the acting, especially in films like this in which there are very few characters. Unfortunately, the performances from our two leads range from inconsistent to not great. Scenes in which they share dialogue do not feel natural; in fact, they feel strangely awkward and uncomfortable, as if the two actors never found their natural rhythm with each other. This isn't really detrimental, thankfully, as so much of the film is dedicated to establishing mood and trying to make you feel uneasy, but it's unfortunate all the same.

I would, however, like to applaud Brewster on his tremendous and interesting direction. Lord of Tears has some legitimately creepy moments - some that may come to a surprise if you have the same kind of natural prejudice against low budget horror that I do. (Can't help it, I've seen too much crap in my time.) But Brewster stages several different scenes and uses something as simple as a halfway open door, or an overflowing bathtub, to make his audience feel uneasy. Though there are some unusual choices (the two very random dance sequences; certain scenes that go on for longer than they should), Brewster still directs the hell out of this thing. 

Despite my misgivings with the performances and with certain creative choices, I still recommend Lord of Tears. Fans of The Wicker Man or The Dunwich Horror should definitely check it out. 

Get your own.

HIGH-CHAIR

A young couple were waiting impatiently to leave on their first vacation since the baby was born but the woman’s aunt, who would be babysitting, was thirty minutes late. The young woman called her elderly aunt to find out what was going on, and the old woman apologized for her forgetfulness, and said she’d speed right over. Since the aunt was only a couple miles away, the couple decided they’d go ahead and go rather than wait for her and risk missing their flight.  

Two weeks later when the couple returned they were horrified to find the baby still in its high-chair where they’d left it, except now it was dead and bloated, covered with flies. The aunt really had sped, and unfortunately crashed and died before she made it over.

Image source.

CALLIGROVE

DON'T LOOK BEHIND YOU

In the town where I lived, there was an abandoned apartment with two floors. It had broken windows and dirty, crumbling walls, so no locals would ever go near it.

One day, me and my friend decided to explore the place. It was still early in the afternoon and there was a lot of light, so we ventured to the second floor.

And there on one of the doors we found some graffiti.

We went closer to have a look and found some words that said: “I am in the room ahead.”

We decided to go through the door.

We walked until we reached a fork and on the wall it said: “I am on the left.”

We were getting slightly scared but decided to turn left.

Then we came to the place where there were rooms on both sides of us.

And on the wall it said, “My head is on the left and my body is on the right.”

My friend, as soon as he saw it, lost nerve and ran away. But I decided to stay and, mustering all my courage, walked through the door on the right. I walked to the farthest wall in the room and on the wall it said: “My body is underneath.” 

I looked down and on the floor it said: “My head is coming here from the room on the left. Don’t look behind you.”