Category: Humor


Hey guys. In celebration of nearly reaching 2000 views and 100 followers, I have something for you. the (Pre-first draft, I guess) chapter of a new book I’m working on: “Undesirables” , a superhero story told from the perspective of the villains. I’m enjoying writing it a lot, and I hope you guys will let me know what you think of it. Enjoy.

Note: No need to point out typos or mistakes, I probably know about them by now.Plus, WordPress has messed up paragraphs a little, so there may be spaces where there shouldn’t be at times 😉

-1-

Risking a glance behind him as he burst through the apartment block’s side door and tore down the alleyway, Beckett couldn’t see his pursuer. But he could hazard a guess that he was close behind.
This was monumentally bad. Weeks of preparation, reading through dossiers of his target, finding a location he was guaranteed to show up at, planning his hideout and escape routes, even pissing in empty jars so he didn’t have to pause his stakeouts and after nights of waiting, when he finally shows up, it all goes down the drain when he decides to turn around at the worst possible moment to see Beckett’s speckled eyes staring right at him through a pair of binoculars. From his vantage point in the third floor apartment overlooking the street, he’d thought he’d covered everything. But he realised, as he backed into one of his jars, that when it came to it he was just shit at spying at people.
That, or Snowfall had discovered psychic powers, and kept them a secret from him all this time. He missed nothing, it would seem.
He had hastily shaken his foot to get rid of any broken glass or urine that still clung to his shoe, and made a mad dash out of the apartment block into the cold Chicago night. If he wasn’t being chased by a dangerous and lethal super-powered freak, Beckett would have stopped to turn the air blue swearing. This could have led to something big. This would have led to something big. Snowfall, one of the world’s oldest and most renowned vigilantes, taken in thanks to the brave actions of Sam Beckett, a simple informant. It would have at least been worthy of a promotion, maybe becoming a full field agent if he’d played his cards right. The Coven wanted Snowfall. Badly. Any scrap of information that would lead to them getting their grubby hands on him would be a godsend to them, and the person who handed it to them would be reimbursed greatly for all the trouble they went to procure it. Promotions were the very least they could do.
Of course, right now, he didn’t really have any information to show them and was running for his life from a man able to create and control ice. And he happened to be running through Chicago on one of the coldest days winter so far. Luck was on the “good guy’s” side, it would seem, as he tried to avoid the icy puddles that littered the alleyway.
He really hated superheroes. Ever since real life superpowers had been brought to the attention of the world, all hell broke loose. You’d hear about it on the news: children dying in homemade attempts to acquire powers, millions of dollars spent by the rich and powerful in the hope of finding a way to shoot lasers out of their eyes. It was all for nothing, of course, but that didn’t stop them. All they wanted was to be like them. Different, unique, free of the chains that came with regular life. Beckett only had one question for those people: Why? Why try to become someone who was seen by many inside The Coven as a freak of nature, an outcast?
As a result of this landslide of adoration for vigilantes like Snowfall, some tried to be more like them then others, and those were the people Beckett hated the most. While some merely tried to have powers for the sake of having powers, others took to the streets to take the law into their own hands, to uphold justice, just like those brave super-powered men and women who did the same every day. Why they wanted to was anyone’s guess, but most would wind up dead in a gutter with a bullet in their head, unaware of just how in over their heads they had been. But the ones who didn’t, the ones who started meeting up with like-minded people, were dangerous. Lynch mobs could form as people accused others of crimes, sometimes requiring the intervention of the very people these people were trying to be like. Whole militias would rise with the intent of ‘peacekeeping’, but would usually end up as bad as the people they swore to eradicate. Anyone and everyone with a mask and a weapon if sorts wanted in on the action. With the introduction of superpowers into the world, chaos was ensuing. The whole novelty of having superheroes may have fooled others into accepting this change in the status quo, but not Beckett. He saw past this change for what it really was: hell on earth, or at least the lead up to it.
His mind snapped back to the present as he cleared the alleyway. He made a mad dash for the next apartment block across the street, trying to keep a steady foot on the icy road. It wasn’t easy and the fear of being caught by Snowfall wasn’t helping much. Managing to slide across to the sidewalk, he looked back to check for his pursuer. Beckett could find no trace of him. Had he actually given chase? Or had he overlooked the hideout? It was possible, in this weather, that he might have merely glanced in his direction and had seen nothing…
It was at this point that something picked its moment to land right in front of him. Beckett yelped and jumped back, losing his footing on the sidewalk and landing unceremoniously on his ass. Staggering back on his hands and feet, He looked up to see a giant of a man wearing hooded cloak. standing over him.

Everything about Snowfall looked like it was ripped straight out of the medieval times. The blue tunic and leather jerkin that fit snugly around his torso, the brown leather boots, the gloves and bracers, even the long cloak and hood that shielded his face gave him the look of a old worn traveler, a lost soldier. Here stood a superhero, in all his pretentious glory.
“Beckett?”
Watery grey eyes stared down at Beckett, and he could see Snowfall’s brow furrow in confusion.
“H…hey.” Was the only think he could bring himself to say. He didn’t know whether or not he was shivering from the cold or the fear. Snowfall tilted his head, like a dog trying to figure out what you were saying to it. He was obviously confused that the person he caught spying on him was a trusted ally to him in recent months. Nevertheless, he offered his hand out to Beckett. Taking it to pull himself up, Beckett noticed that even through the thick gloves he wore, his hand was deathly cold. One of the downsides to his powers, he guessed.
Snowfall still looked concerned as he helped Beckett of the ground. “You seem to be in a hurry.”
Beckett could only smile sheepishly. “Snowfall, you’ve got it all wrong” he mumbled, trying not to trip over his words, “This is all just a misunderstanding, I… I can explain myself, why I was here, I mean..” Beckett’s mind hadn’t caught up with his mouth though, and he struggled to think of something, anything that could get him out of this. But nothing came. He had caught him right in the act, their was nothing he could say to argue otherwise. What came next was anyone’s guess…
He wasn’t a man to be taken lightly. At just under 6″5, Snowfall towered over most folk. Broad shouldered and imposing, he was the type of person who drew attention to himself no matter what. Although the lower half of his face was obscured by thick layers of a scarf of sorts, what little Beckett could see of his face looked worn and scarred, showing His age.
Snowfall’s expression turned from concern to confusion. “Explain what?” the look on his face was so genuine, Beckett paused.
“W…what?”
“I saw you running like a madman down the street, you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Everything alright?”
Beckett’s mouth couldn’t help but fall open in disbelief. Was he that stupid? He had been staring directly at him through the window, of course he had seen him. He’d have to have been monumentally idiotic to not add 2 and 2 together and realise Beckett had been running to get away from him.
But Snowfall genuinely seemed worried about his safety. Incredible. He was that stupid.
Trying to compose himself, Beckett did his best not to laugh at the brainless lummox of a man that stood in front of him. Perhaps he wasn’t as perceptive as he thought.
“No, I’m fine, really.” he replied, warmly patting Snowfall on the shoulder. “Just trying to get out of the cold. With you around, it’s no wonder I’m freezing my ass off.”
Snowfall grinned and Beckett chuckled, glad to put that matter behind him. He could wait for a while, bide his time. Surely he’d get a second chance to get something useful to The Coven. The thought of promotions came back to him, and for a split second, he relaxed, letting the tension in his muscles go as he laughed.
As it turned out, a split second was all Snowfall needed.
Immediately, snowfall dropped the grin, and grabbed Becket by the collar of his coat. Before he even knew what the hell was happening to him, jets of ice burst from below Snowfall’s free hand and feet, propelling them up the side of the apartment block. Beckett could only cry out in horror as he was heaved over Snowfall’s shoulder. Facing the ground, there was nothing he could do but watch the ground become smaller and smaller, climbing higher and higher with each passing moment until they were the height the roof of the complex, at which point Snowfall flew across the building and unceremoniously dumped him onto it. Beckett landed in a heap on the roof, cursing and shouting as his arm took the brunt of the fall. Broken? Maybe. Trying to rise to his feet, he could see Snowfall hovering daintily over him, his gaze fixed on him.

“I’m not one to sound threatening…” he began.

“Bull,” Beckett managed to cough out, “you’ve been threatening ever since you put on that costume of yours.”

Snowfall’s stare didn’t waver “I don’t want to sound threatening, but I don’t like it when the people I put my trust in are watching me behind my back.”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t expect a rat like me to stay loyal for long, did you?” Beckett grimaced, but managed to stand upright, his left arm bruised and aching like mad.

Landing on the roof himself, Snowfall started walking towards Beckett, his eyes always fixed on him, flickering every now and again to his arm, waiting for him to pull a weapon. Perhaps he was even tempting him to. “Oh, I don’t know about that, I thought you were quite a nice guy. For a rat.”

Beckett started backing away from the slowly approaching Englishman, clutching his battered arm. Trying to scramble an explanation was difficult when he was trapped on the roof of a building late at night with his arm sending jolts of pain up and down his body. “Look, I dunno how thing’s are working out between us right now, but can I go out on a limb here and guess I’m not your best friend right now?”

Snowfall shook his head. “Why were you spying on me?”

Beckett laughed, causing his arm to shake with pain. It was a guttural laugh, and Beckett noticed how psychotic it had made him sound. Maybe he was more scared of him then he was willing to admit.

Snowfall’s step never faltered across the snowy rooftop. “I’m not going to ask again, Beckett. Why were you here? Who sent you?” There was something in that tone of his that made Beckett pause, and begin to sweat, despite the freezing temperatures.

“I… whatever a freak like you can do to me, I swear, they could do it a lot worse.” He had momentarily found his courage, but immediately lost it again when he realised Snowfall had stopped walking.

“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” he mused and began walking towards him again. Beckett started moving faster away from him, pain still raking his arm. He was breathing heavily now and something deep down was screaming at him. “Panic, panic, for the love of God, please, do something.” The only thing that came to mind though, was to keep backing away from the man spouting ice from his fingers. It was a horrible plan, but it was the only thing that seem to make sense. “Keep backing up, get away from him, get away,” the voice inside of him was crying. He could feel tears welling up inside him, he had never been this scared before. Why was he so scared? Snowfall was getting closer, walking faster towards him. Beckett’s cheeks were red, and he was starting to tremble. “Get away,”the voice was screeching at him, and now Beckett had begun shouting it out loud, “Get away, get away, get away!”…

And then, his foot was over the edge of the roof. Beckett stumbled, surprised that he had reached the end of the roof without knowing it. He struggled to keep his balance, one foot hovering over empty air. He shot his arms forward, blindly trying to grab the space between him and Snowfall, as if he could pull himself forward with it. He saw Snowfall’s eyes widen as he realised what was happening, he lurched forward, trying to grab one of Beckett’s outstretched hands. Too late, he thought, as he slipped over the edge.

The last thing he saw was Snowfall jumping off the roof after him, frantically trying to catch up with him as he plummeted to the ground.

The second-to-last thing to go through Beckett’s mind was how lucky Snowfall was to be able to fly and how jealous he was that he could survive all this.

The last thing to go through it was the pavement.

Dear Saul,

Hope you had a good Halloween, because November is gonna get busy. Real busy. I ‘moustache’ you a question, (geddit?) ever heard of Movember? Movember is a charity event that takes place throughout the month of November, in which brave men (and possibly women) shave their face on the first day of November, then duke it out to grow the most fabulous hair on their top lip, all in the name of raising funds and awareness for men’s health.  It’s a hilarious event. and it goes towards a good cause.

Obviously, given my teenage gumption and stubbornness, I shaved off my peach fuzz of a beard, and got to work, sitting there, slowly straining until my face went red. I kind of gave up after that, and just sat there looking slightly disappointed in myself for not being able to pop out a luscious comb of hair over my mouth. But, I still have a month to go, so it’s not all bad.

Want to have a go at it yourself? You can sign up via their website. Even if you can’t grow a moustache (You big girl’s blouse), you can support the more manly of the human race in their endeavours to make men’s health a nicer, fuzzier topic.

Don’t feel like growing a moustache? There’s always NaNoWriMo. If you have even the slightest interest in writing, then I’m guessing you have an idea of what NaNoWriMo, or National November Writing Month is.  30 days to write 50,000 word novel alongside tens of thousands others. This one isn’t for anyone else but yourself. If you succeed, it’s a testament to your dedication to the art of literature.

If you should fail…

Well…

We don’t mention those who fail…

Actually they do fine.

Seriously. And if you think you can achieve his goal, and forever be entombed in the annals of writing history, sign up on their website, and get cracking.

I’ll leave you with those for now Saul, I have to get my stache goin’.

-Fiachra

This post seems, if anything, to be one giant sell out.  To be fair, it’s the last week of summer before I head back to school, so nothing major has really happened. Did my training for mentoring 1st year students, slept a lot, starred in a local short film…

…wait…

Yes, I checked, I am actually in a short film. It’s a lovely little movie called Cathy’s Mate, directed by Oisin Beaudalot, and in a similar vein to some of John Green’s work. My performance was… well, I’ll leave that up to you to decide. Please show your support by watching the trailer and liking it on Facebook. I moderate the page, so please, come say hi and tell me how bad a job I’m doing.

Speaking of social media, someone finally set one up. Yes, now you too can join the… fun…  by following me on my Facebook page and Twitter. Because social media is the only way forward 😉

And lastly (the promotions are n early over, bare with me), if you guys haven’t seen it yet, Part 1 of my look at horror sequels is up and running, with more to come. Considering the whole thing adds up to about 3000 words, it seemed sensible to split it up.

And that’s it. Next week, I start my fifth year of secondary school.

Bugger.

-Fiachra

Zombies, necromorphs, the walking dead, the dearly un-departed, voodoo men, the ‘infected’, dubstep fans. That guy from Miami.

A writer/producer’s greatest aid, and their worst nightmare.

I suppose the divide between hate and love for those that walk amongst the living is scarily even. On one end of the zombie spectrum, you have an army/horde of creatures who have tasted death, and have refused it’s full meal. Soldiers, animals, that will never tire, never complain, who ‘live’ for the next meal.

On the other, you have a bunch of shambling buffoons who smell like your grandmother.

Yeah, and everybody says vampires are uncool nowadays.

Surprisingly, zombies have managed to somewhat weather through the s**t-storm that horror failed to predict. It’s only been recently that zombies have progressed backwards, and even that’s putting harshly. Instead of being mocked directly, like most horror elements, it’s more about the SITUATIONS they’re put into.

Everyone likes a zombie, you may say you don’t, but come on, who doesn’t appreciate the idea of a zombie. Something so vile even hell is like ‘Ain’t nobody got time for that.’ a loved one, ready to be embraced by an ecstatic family member, and ready to sinks it’s teeth into aforementioned member’s shoulder

‘Oh sweet Marie, after all these years you’ve come ba…’(This is proceeded with screams and crunching, and… other… noises)

But for every pro, there is a con. Zombies don’t really have a place in horror. They serve too many different role, depending on the film, video game, book, etc.

However the biggest problem when it comes to zombies, for all their roles and variations, the trouble with zombies is: What do you you do with them? Wha… where do they go, I mean…

Look at it this way: Your writing a screenplay for a movie, or a book, you’ve set you undead creations loose on your fictional world and then what?

‘Well, you tell the story of the survivors, and how the…’

At that point, it is not about the zombies is it? You’re telling a horror story, sure, but the more focus you give your ‘survivors’ personality, depth, the zombies are out the window. They are now a trial, an obstacle to be overcome in the apocalypse. Whereas in something like, say, Left 4 Dead (I know they’re ‘The Infected, I’ll get to that) The survivors past and personality is hinted at, but it isn’t the main theme. The zombies and the world they inhabit are. If it was about the survivors, it would be a less-than-entertaining video game, wouldn’t it?

It’s more akin to ‘The Walking Dead’ at the point, which is about as much a comic book about zombies than ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ is about bird hunting.

‘But zombies still feature predominantly in ‘The Walking Dead’. It’s even named after them!’

True, I suppose, but did you really keep reading after the first volume to see the zombies? Not to say that The Walking Dead is bad, its amazing, but as Rick would put it:

And this leads us back to the original argument: Zombies are just another piece in the puzzle, but they don’t fit anywhere. It’s always fun to unleash the horde, but at that point, it’s difficult to use them in any way that’s interesting. You have a pile of corpses, nowhere to put ‘em.

So then you ask yourself, if you don’t use them, then what’s the point of having them? Well, I suppose the best thing to do is to accept the inevitable: zombies are not able to support themselves as an element of horror on their own, so just make sure they do good in movies that don’t really focus on them. Evil Dead had zombie-type possessed, The Walking Dead is going strong. Zombies, however bad it may seem, are still popular.

As long as their in the corner of your eye, and not chomping on your neck.

If you want to explore the topic a little more, I’d really suggest you check out this episode of Extra Credits, a usually video game oriented show that had a little debate on zombies themselves. It’s worth it, trust me.

I’ve been blogging for approximately a year and a half, on various platforms and with various people, but I’ve always blogged in a sort of bubble, never really getting to know others around me. I desperately want to change this. Blogging is such a social form of writing, so much more so than journalism or fiction. It requires a vocal community, and I need to be vocal.

So one step I’ve decided to make in making myself more vocal in my writing is promoting you lot, making sure others like me are seen and heard. I want to make you vocal as well. So if you have a blog, or your friends do, or someone you’ve never met has a blog you find great, send it to me. I’ll mention you (or not, if you want) and the blog in one of my my posts. Hopefully this will inspire me to take an active stance in the community here. I look forward to your suggestions 🙂

If you were curious as to why there was no post yesterday, I actually have a valid reason for it this time around, the reason being that I was out for most of the day working on the set of a local short film, Cathy’s Mate

I can’t give away much at this stage, other than it’s a romance film in a similar vein to John Green’s ‘The Fault in Our  Stars’ and that I’m in it (As Cathy’s Mate). But so far it is looking absolutely fantastic, and we have an amazing cast and crew working on the film. Expect great things.

Unless, you know, you’ve been too preoccupied to notice. Like you’ve been too busy at the Steam Summer Sales, or as I call it, Internet Black Friday…

Wait, I just found out about Cyber Monday

Internet Black Friday’s already a thing.

Shit.

Nevertheless, Steam, an online games service, has now started its Summer sales, which slice prices down to ridiculously good deals, and regularly make wallets and bank accounts scream and run for their lives. I’ve usually found two separate opinions when it comes to the sales, the first being mind numbing, wallet shredding joy:

The second being, well, this:

Whatever the case is, this is your chance to spend any money that’s been burning a hole in your pocket, and buy a million games that you may or may not play. Some amazing titles that The Giant Bomb forums have suggested are Ship Simulator Extremes, Secret of The Magic Crystals and Tunnel Rats.

Enjoy your new games 😉

-Fiachra

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Saul,

If a friend asked me the age old question ‘What things would you bring to a deserted island?’, I’d probably say ‘A friend who wouldn’t abandon me on a deserted island’, or failing that, ‘a laptop, and a boatload of horror films. And a boat’.

I’ve always adored horror, from the cheesy 80’s slasher’s to the piss-your-pants novels written long before I was around. And during my stint on tumblr, I wrote up on horror tropes in a series I called ‘That’s Horror-ble’ (Catchy, I know). Due to it being tumblr, a long post such as this didn’t work too well, and only a few were made. But I loved the series to death, and after a long time, I’ve decided to bring it here, because why not XD

While I’m working on the new ones, I’ll post up a few older ones alongside my regular talks with you, Saul. So please, enjoy tumblr Fiachra from 2012 🙂
-Fiachra

So you as a 12 year old walks into a video shop, maybe standing on your friends shoulders wearing a trench-coat and fake beard to fake your age, I dunno. And passing by the shelves you see it: Rise of the Unflattering Character from the Slightly Green Lagoon. Sneaking home into your room you put the DVD in and tune in to see:

  • More jump scares than a German coffee advert.
  • A college couple eaten by what appears to be a Neopet during… *wink *wink *nudge *nudge *cough *cough
  • Supposed Lost footage of the MacGuffin family during an attack by a spectral plant.
  • The trip of a life time to Daisy’s ‘Hey, we’re out in the middle of no where, come slaughter us’ forest walk
  • The group of teenagers who split up like they own the fricking Mystery Machine.

An overall, poor experience.

What when wrong then? You just saw a much better scary film the other day, it had you behind the sofa, even if it was an old film. So what went wrong?

Honestly, the genre has pretty much fallen into to the gutter with a bottle of malt liquor. it’s difficult to tell when this actually happened, but it’s easy to tell why. Sometimes, it can even be easily recognized through sequels in a series. Sure, somewhere in there are definite gems of horror film making, but do you want to search through the garbage to find those pearls.

I hope so, because you’ll be there for a while.

For god’s sake, even horror movies THEMSELVES take the piss out of the cliches made by cheap, uninteresting flicks. WES CRAVEN DID IT FOUR TIMES. Now Scream is getting weighed down by repetition.

So how did it all go wrong. How does a horror film turn a young, hopeful director into an Uwe Boll clone?

These are just a few of my guesses:

1. Terror & Horror

The most important elements in horror media are-and I kid you not- terror and horror.

Genius.

Hear me out. You may be wondering ‘Well, what’s the difference?’ That’s easy to explain:

Have you ever had a dream where you hear something veeeerrry close by, but you just can’t see it? Or when the door closes by itself? Or you walk into a room and a smell hits you that makes you just want to turn tail and flee?

That feeling of apprehension is terror.The fear of the unknown, the yet-to-happen, of the thing that goes bump in the night.

Whereas horror is more the heart pounding, wet yer knickers, AUGHGODITGOTLITTLESTEVIE moments. When the beast finally breaks down the door and you see it for all its grotesque majesty.

Yep, time to leave.

Terror is easier to do is writing than in film. In film, you are limited to using audio and visual elements to scare the viewer. While this makes full-on horror scares easy to do (and some filmmakers do them very well) build-ups and suspense become a chore, and are sometimes thrown out of the picture all together. In writing, you have everything: sight, sound, touch, smell, emotions, down to the tiniest detail. In the hands of the right person, words can easily become nightmares. Even then, full on scares require thought, and if done wrong, flop completely.

So what does this have to do with the genre now? Well, everything really. Having a balanced amount of the two is difficult. too few real scares and you eventually get used to the tension, and it becomes boring. Too many horror jump scares, and… well nearly every modern horror film is testimony to that.

Before high-budget flicks, movies relied on terror to produce good scares, so as to save money. Night of the Living Dead had a budget of $114,000, miniscule by today’s standards. Hammer Horror Films average budget was around $70,000.

So the excuse for today MAY well be ‘We have too much money’. They don’t really need to worry, so they use scary-scares to scare the scared, but don’t scare the not-easily scared, because they’re not scared by the scary-scares like the scared, who are easily scared by the scary scares.

2. Repetition

The cardinal sin of entertainment. The first thing you must avoid when making anything, a movie, book, t.v show, hell, a frickin’ smoke signal, is repetition. Because NO ONE likes repetition.

Because NO ONE likes repetition.

Easy joke, moving on…

But honestly, it’s a pain when you have to watch the same thing over, and over, with minimum change, especially in something that’s designed to frighten you. It ruins the immersion, and if it’s really bad, it turns the rest of the movie sour.

Repetition easily occurs within films of the same franchise, especially nowadays. Every major series, Saw, Hellraiser, Paranormal Activity, Halloween, Scream, Elm Street, everything at some point has suffered repetition at some point in their lives.

*Cough Living Dead series *cough

Sorry, bad coug… *Cough Films about exorcisms *hack

Should probably get that checked…

And don’t give me that ‘There are no more original ideas’ crap. Of course there are new ideas. Take an existing idea and mess around with it to create something unique. Old movies could keep things fresh, so there’s no reason why modern film can’t.

But the worst perpetrators are found footage films. A recent creation of modern horror started by a film about cannibals. Yeah, great start to a new genre. But Once Blair Witch became a hit, the shaky-camera floodgates were opened.

Some of them are fine. Blair Witch was good. Troll Hunter was good (I secretly adore Troll Hunter, but I don’t want to sound biased, so I won’t go on about it) and Cloverfield… well I shouldn’t get motion sickness when watching a film, but it was good. But it’s THE SAME PREMISE ALL THE TIME:

Troll Hunter: College mates go out shooting a documentary. They find nasty monsters.

Evil Things: College mates go out, one is shooting an amateur film. They find nasty people.

The Tunnel: Documentary team go into abandoned tunnels. Guess what? Nasty monster.

Grave Encounters: Reality t.v – turned – nasty monster-mania.

Project X: Teenagers. Documentary of party. Nasty people.

YES PROJECT X A HORROR FILM. SO BAD IT SCARED ME AHAHAHAHAHA.

Sadly, ‘fresh’ and ‘new’ aren’t words in horror. ‘safe’ and ‘easy profit’ certainly are. It’s sad how little directors are willing to risk just because they don’t want to lose money. Hopefully this will change soon. Even books on horror are starting to seem to familiar…

Uh oh, looks like she’s found out the cameraman’s drunk again. That, or she can’t find the plot.

3. The Villain

You’ve seen zombies, aliens, monsters, the whole shebang. These are common today, and in the past. But lemme ask you something: When was the last time any of them spoke?

This is more common than you think. So many of today’s horror films and video games have no proper villain. Sure, it’s scary having something monstrous and primal that you don’t understand chase you, but when was the last time someone or something had more charisma, or more of a personality than The likes of Norman Bates or old Freddy Krueger? (Not the ‘Your on Prime time!’ Krueger, thats for sure)

Something to be truly scared of is something that thinks, something that knows what it’s doing, and is proud of it. Something that gloats on how it will win, and you know it’s right. Bates has such a good personality (or personalities, if you’re feeling meticulous) and very few films can recreate him, just like with many popular 20th century killers: Hannibal Lecter, Voorhees, ghostface, and so on. Many try through reboots, remakes or straight-up new creations, but they just don’t have enough character to support themselves. Most just end up being 2-dimensional killers, or worse, not scary. Being hunted by something is the most primal fear of all and if a movie fails at that, then it doesn’t deserve the money it brings in.

And one other thing: Puppets and Food are not scary. I’m not afraid of something that I can either put in my mouth or something I can put my hand up into.

Wait that came out wrong.

4.- 50.
In the interest of length, I wanted to use just my main gripes with the genre, but there’s so much more I could argue about. Bad acting, poor design, plot holes, macguffins and deus ex machinas, generic and convoluted stories….

*Sigh…

I dunno, I just want the genre to get out of the gutter, and put down the malt. I want to be afraid of the dark again, not just afraid that the next advert I see is for K-fee. I want to have a reason to hide behind the couch again like a big girl’s blouse.

‘Who knows, maybe directors will start to realise that what they’re currently doing just isn’t working for anyone. They’re losing money, and we’re losing interest. Hopefully this is just a bad bend in the road to recovery. Maybe Hammer Horror will start putting out better films one day, and we can all be afraid once the sun goes down

‘till that day, I have plenty of things to talk about, so I’ll just keep writing to keep myself (and hopefully you guys) amused.

-Fiachra

Day 25, Saturday:Something someone told you about yourself that you’ll never forget (good or bad)

Heh, I guess one thing I probably  won’t forget for a long time coming is when I chatting with friends of mine about asking someone out. The way I suggested prompted  several response (‘Okay, you fucking rock’ being one :)) but there’s one thing said that I found heartwarmiong, something I found pretty hilarious:

‘I’m not going to say “awh”, I need to think of better word, you deserve a better word than “awh”.’

It was just a very cute moment,  and the support it gave me was pretty amazing. So, thanks, friend. you fucking rock 😉

-Fiachra

 



Day 24, Friday: Your top 3 worst traits

Awwww, only three? 😉 Well, if you were thinking of asking  me out on a date, here are three reasons why you may change you’re mind:

1): Fashionably Late

I’ll admit it, I’m not good with time. Whether it be just bad luck or bad timing, I always seem to be at least 5 minutes late to everything. I wish it weren’t the case, I like going to things. Somehow, however, luck doesn’t seem to be on my side. I suppose it’s due to me living in a small town in the middle of the countryside. Things are just further away, and I fail to account for that. I promise, I will be there, just wait ten minutes, and it’ll be fine.

2): Grudge Match-esque

I’m not a particularly stubborn fellow, and I usually don’t hold grudges. But when I do, you  will know about it. If you’ve done something terrible,I may not be angry, but I have the unfortunate disposition of holding over your head for a long time coming, either out of humour, or spite. Believe me, I never get properly angry, but sadly I don’t seem to forget things easily either.

3): Silence Isn’t Golden

My killer trait, the one I hate the most, is that a lot of the time I’m too damn quiet. It annoys the hell out of me, but a lot of the time I won’t add to the conversation, even around really good friends. I don’t know if it’s shyness or I simply have nothing to add, but I swear  it’s not rudeness. I very much want to talk to you, I just… can’t.

So, that’s it. If you see me with any of these traits, please be a little empathetic. Or run. Most people choose the latter.

*Sigh*

-Fiachra



Day 22, Wednesday: Rant about something. Get up on your soapbox and tell us how you really feel.

You know what I hate?

People who hate your music. Not the type who just go ‘I don’t like your music. It’s not for me’. It’s okay to not like things. It’s the people who blatantly shout in comments sections or right in your face:

‘This country/rap/pop/rock/metal/trance/nu/death/dance/One Direction/Justin Bieber/ ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic music is terrible. My country/rap/pop/rock/metal/trance/nu/death/dance/One Direction/Justin Bieber/ ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic music is sooooo much better.’

Dude, if you’re one of those people who divulges in music snobbery, you suck. You just suck so badly. As comedian Dara O’ Briain put it ‘It’s just sounds for Jesus’ sake. You like those sounds? Oh, they’re the wrong sounds’.

I swear, art should be a little more free. You’re allowed like things other people don’t. You like that one band everyone hates? If people weren’t snobs, no one would care. But they do, so we have to stick with arseholes telling us what we can and can’t listen to.

Seriously.

Okay.

Okay, rant over.



Day 18, Saturday: Tell a story from your childhood. Dig deep and try to be descriptive about what you remember and how you felt.

I was a clumsy kid.

This wasn’t the ‘I’m becoming a teenager so my hormones are messing up my ability to move’ kind of clumsy, I was naturally lacking in the spacial awareness department. I still am, mind you, but nowhere near how bad I could be at the tender ages of 8 and 9.

The worst was falling. Everyone fell in the playground as a kid, but with my limited knowledge of standing upright I might as well have physically hurled myself at the ground. I did, however, possess the innate ability to fall in the most graceful manner possible. Despite my flaw, it seems my subconscious would try to make up for it by pretending to be on an episode of Strictly Come Dancing. At least until I hit the ground, that is.

It varied as well. Sometimes I would do a foot long rugby slide in the dirt after tripping, other times I’d just pirouette myself into the dust, ready to receive 10 points from the judges.

But there were some cases where I felt… proud to fall, I guess. It sounds strange, I know, but for someone who fell constantly there were moments when I felt great after a particular fall.

I suppose it would be easier to explain with example. In my 4th tear of primary school in Waterford, like many days, I stumbled over my own feet and saw the hard tarmacadam rushing towards me to kiss my face. This whole cycle of events happened in about maybe 3 seconds.

It seemed that whoever I had been in a previous life had been a bloody Russian gymnist. Somehow my brain was able to get me to tuck in my legs and get me to roll head over heels; a perfect roll that, to it’s credit, would have gotten a standing ovation at the Olympic Games.

I might be stretching the truth there. Just a small bit.

It was a painful roll, that was certain, but the elation of my 10 year old mind, the ecstasy of recovering from certain death was enourmous. I was king of the world.

And then, in the middle of that amazing, life-saving roll, I did the unthinkable. Something no human possible could achieve, no matter how clumsy.

I tripped again.

In those few milliseconds, in my 10 year old head, any hopes for a career as an Olympic gymnast or Prima Ballerina shattered into fragments. Melancholy over the painful realisation that I would fall in the middle of falling was heavy on my shoulders, and it was all I could do to not wail in despair and wait for the inevitable.

The inevitable never happened. What happened instead may have contributed to the astonishingly large ego I currently possess. As the roll ended, instead of falling flat on my face, I had the good fortune of standing up at the best moment possible. I jumped and landed perfectly on my two feet.

At this point, a teacher had seen me fall and roll, as had many other pupils. To a myriad of ‘Are you alright?’ I could do nothing but stretch out my arms and celebrate my perfect score from the judges.

I might have made this all seem a little more exciting, but this is how my young self took this moment. For a long time before and for a time after this moment, I was the most clumsy child known to man. I like to think that the younger me chose to cross out that shortcoming after this. Maybe I could finally start feeling a little proud to fall.

-Fiachra



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