David M. Brown's Blog, page 110

Film Review #91: Deadly Swarm

With prices for cinema tickets now reaching ridiculous heights it's not often I will treat myself to a new release unless it's something I simply cannot wait for. Instead, I'm happy to content myself with a cheap DVD or a film on TV which may have slipped through my critical net and, believe me, there have been far too many. Whether the films featured here are recent or old I'll still be providing my honest opinion on them and, with the benefit of hindsight in many cases, may offer a slightly different take to contemporary reviewers.

 

Deadly Swarm (2003)

Mrs B is on a mission to find any potentially awful horror film and insist I watch and review it for the blog. I assumed after making me suffer Anaconda III that I would be granted some reprieve but sadly it was not to be. Deadly Swarm offered me a swarm of killer wasps that attack an isolated town in Mexico. In facing the film I grabbed some insect spray and prepared myself for what would hopefully be a good film.

The film begins in Guatemala where Dr Schroeder (J. Patrick McCormack) forces a group of natives at gunpoint to take him to some ancient ruins where a nest of deadly wasps awaits. Despite the ruins being rigged with booby traps the nest is successfully boxed and Schroeder pays for a cargo truck to take the wasps across the border into Mexico. Partaking of a spot of road rage straight out of Spielberg's Duel our driver ends up crashing his truck. A local policeman arrives on the scene and releases the wasps which proceed to work their way through the population of a local town. It is down to entomologist Daniel Lang (Shane Brolly), local police officer Commandante Alvarez (Pepe Serna) and nosy author/journalist Sandra (Kaarina Aufranc) to warn the town of the danger and help stop the wasps.

This is your usual disturbing things in nature that really should be left alone. The natives that Dr Schroeder meets at the start are wary of what lurks in the forest and don't want to help the curious visitors. It's only when Schroeder threatens to kill one of the children in the village that the natives relent and guide the men to the ancient ruins. After acquiring the nest of wasps and placing them in a crate, Schroeder entrusts them to a cargo driver that asks no questions and is also transporting cocaine in his truck. Really nice man! Journalist Sandra witnesses the truck being inspected by a border patrol and one of the guards opens a box and removes a bag of cocaine for himself before waving the driver across the border. Sandra gives chase, sensing a story but gets more than she bargained for. After the accident in Mexico we're given a fine display of law enforcement and a sense of emergency. The local police officer finding the crashed truck, seems to take an age to report the incident, and despite a wounded driver lying in the wreckage he chooses to climb into the trailer and open the crate with the wasps in. It's not a clever thing to do as you can probably imagine!

After the opening segment we're in the company of Daniel Lang who is no longer welcome in the town having left it overrun with mosquitoes though his purpose in combating disease spread by the insects has proved successful. The discovery of the dead policeman seemingly stung to death has Lang scratching his head and his friend Commandante Alvarez isn't much brighter considering he's part of the law. His favourite phrase seems to be "what do we do now?" which is hardly inspiring given the magnitude of the wasp crisis. Sandra is a nosy journalist who tries to use her femininity to keep Lang sweet and get information out of him. Of course love conquers all even with all the wasps getting in the way but it's not remotely interesting. Finally, Dr Schroeder makes an appearance in the town and has some rather interesting revelations about the wasps and indeed the accident that brought them to the town.

Deadly Swarm isn't especially scary and the wasps in question are made up of some pretty poor effects. The entrance of Dr Schroeder as the film's villain promises to offer some excitement but sadly it doesn't. Perhaps the most embarrassing part of the film is how the swarm of wasps are dealt with at the end. It all seems very convenient and the film declines to explain how Sandra, who is stung at one point, manages to survive whereas other people do not. Love overcomes a wasp's sting it seems but I just wasn't convinced by the time we got to the end credits and the hint that this could be open for a sequel fills me with dread.

Deadly Swarm is a very poor horror film which offers nothing new. The effects are terrible, the characters aren't especially interesting and even some good acting wouldn't have brought much depth to them. Mrs B continues to torture me with films like this and I pray that I will be blessed with something that has a degree of quality about it when I next face a film.

Verdict: 2/10

Game Review #31: Manhunt 2

In 2009 I began working with Mrs B on her website www.femalegamers.co.uk reviewing the latest console games. Sadly, our other commitments meant the website couldn't continue and we brought it to an end early in 2010. I'll be using this blog to review all the games, recent and not so recent, that I encounter. With Mrs B's kind permission, I'll also be posting some of the reviews I previously worked on, so don't panic if they refer to previous years and months.

Manhunt 2 (2007)

I never played the original Manhunt but remember hearing snippets about it when it was first released. The sequel slipped me by but I happened upon a copy in a bargain games shop and thought it was about time I gave it a whirl. My initial concern was that I'm not normally good at these kind of games where you have to react quickly and fight lots of enemies, especially with guns, but that didn't stop me.

The game begins at the Dixmor Asylum where mentally ill patients are kept in cells in appalling conditions which leave nothing to the imagination. At the outset two men, Daniel Lamb and Leo Kasper, manage to escape from their confines. While Leo acts as the guide you take control of Daniel who is hampered by severe head pains and disorientation. The two men soon escape and go on the run, eluding an organisation known as the Project as they unlock the secrets of Daniel's past and look to earn the ultimate prize – freedom.

The opening to Manhunt 2 is a testament to how brutal the remainder of the game will be. Guards urinating on prisoners are just one awful sight you'll have to contend with while later in the game you'll engage in a gun battle while a porn film is playing out on a big screen behind you. Yes, this game warrants that 18 certificate! At the outset you get to grips with the game and have some valuable lessons to learn. While Leo is with you at the start of missions, he soon disappears and leaves you to fend for yourself. In the early missions you'll be armed with objects such as shards of glass and clubs which are vital to your survival. As you traverse the corridors of buildings or the streets the key to Daniel's success is a pendulum swing between stealth and coercion. When enemies are in close proximity, they become visible via a helpful radar and you can duck into shadows where you're very difficult to see. In fact the only time you are spotted is on the odd occasion enemies peer into the shadows and you are given a few seconds to hit a combination of buttons to avoid detection. Get your timing wrong and enemies will drag you out of the darkness and into the danger zone.

While hiding in the shadows is integral to your safe negotiation of each mission, combat is even more important. Combining stealth and attack is key as Daniel can execute enemies if he sneaks up on them and remains unsighted. If you are spotted then there's no choice but to fight with clubs, swords, axes, saws, pistols, shotguns, bows, Uzis, you name it, you'll probably find it in Manhunt 2. When Daniel starts wielding guns the difficulty of the game increases significantly, even though you'll have an auto aim function. The objectives of the missions are fairly straightforward, it's the combat that is the most difficult. You will find yourself on the streets with dozens of enemies all firing at you and you'll have to fight the lot of them! Worse is to come when the police are involved and you have not only the armed officers but a helicopter with a searchlight scouring the area! Through all this action a very intriguing storyline plays out.

It's difficult to go into too much detail with the plot without spoiling it. Let's just say there is a very good twist in the latter stages of the game and after you've cleared the game's fourteen missions, you'll have the pleasure of two tense bonus missions, which offer alternative endings to the game, one happy, and one where evil prevails. Manhunt 2 is great fun and although the battles can be frustrating at times they're always exciting. Checkpoints split up the missions but sometimes you'll find these are not as generous as they could be. If you die, you're forced to start from the last checkpoint. This became frustrating at the end of one mission when I fought a corridor and room full of enemies, took a lift to a parking lot and had to face off against a load more before the mission ended. Every time I died I was forced to start again! The story is worth playing through, the graphics are quite good but not spectacular, but the game is very violent and is strictly for adults only.

Manhunt 2 is a decent action/adventure game in the vein of Metal Gear Solid where stealth is just as important as fighting. The game suffers with the lack of checkpoints in places, some difficult set pieces and average graphics but the storyline is worth seeing through, especially the two dramatic bonus missions that will decide the game's ending.

Verdict: 75%

Film Review #90: Anaconda III: Offspring

With prices for cinema tickets now reaching ridiculous heights it's not often I will treat myself to a new release unless it's something I simply cannot wait for. Instead, I'm happy to content myself with a cheap DVD or a film on TV which may have slipped through my critical net and, believe me, there have been far too many. Whether the films featured here are recent or old I'll still be providing my honest opinion on them and, with the benefit of hindsight in many cases, may offer a slightly different take to contemporary reviewers.

 

Anaconda III: Offspring (2008)

I remember the original Anaconda (1997) very well and it still hisses its way onto the television whenever Mrs B and I are channel hopping. It wasn't great in the nineties and it's certainly not great now so the prospect of Anaconda III: Offspring being anything but dire was something I could not comprehend but it did star The Hoff so maybe, just maybe, there was some brilliance about it.

The story is your typical one for this kind of film. Industrialist Murdoch (John Rhys-Davies) is funding a research project involving keeping giant anacondas at a lab (as you would!). Unsurprisingly they manage to break free of their confines, killing the majority of staff that work at the lab but not the project leader Dr Amanda Hayes (Crystal Allen). Murdoch is understandably eager to recover the pair of giant anacondas that escape and enlists a group of hunters led by Hammett (David Hasselhoff) to capture the snakes. Dr Hayes joins the group as does Murdoch's assistant Pinkus (Ryan McCluskey) but with these anacondas not willing to return quietly do the hunters succeed or is it something of a bloodbath out in the wild?

After a violent but unspectacular opening the film tries to get going as The Hoff leads his group of hunters into the forest in search of the two anacondas. Locals, including an unfortunate farmer, do not fare so well when the snakes pass through his property but nor do Hammett's band of hunters who are well armed but somewhat powerless when coming up against the snakes. As the body count begins to rise, Dr Hayes reveals that time is against the group as one of the anacondas is pregnant and will give birth in the next 24 hours (pure carelessness if you ask me!), filling the forest with hundreds of baby snakes. As usual the experiments on these snakes, all for the good of mankind (aren't they always?), have left them a tad smart and wily when faced with the hunters and it becomes pretty predictable who is going to be around at the end, of course. Hayes has to see things through to the end what with being the lead scientist and all and as for The Hoff, well, the film would suffer without having one of Germany's favourite pop stars sticking around for the final credits.

Those fascinated by the animal kingdom will find Anaconda III something of a turn off in its general inaccuracies. Though the anacondas offer plenty of blood and gore when devouring their victims they do seem to be eating a tad too often, something I don't think you would get in the wild. That said there were signs of some research into the anacondas when one approaches Dr Hayes as she is backed against a tree. Its vision appears to be infrared and because Dr Hayes has been rolling around in the mud the snake cannot see her, just as Arnie found when he took on the Predator in 1987. Having borrowed from Predator, the film also embraces the lunatics from the Alien films with not everyone in Anaconda III content with the snakes being killed when their rampage becomes out of control, in fact someone is hiding their true intentions which is the preservation of the snakes for future research even when they have killed so many people. I expect you'll struggle to guess who the villain turns out to be.

Anaconda III, where did it all go wrong for you? Well, the effects for the snakes are utterly embarrassing. One person is being eaten alive and at one stage it looks like it's just crawling on top of them! The acting is awful as well. Love him or hate him, The Hoff is always good for a discussion but his appearance in this makes me empathise with a man who is clearly struggling for money. I'd have applauded the film if he'd run in slow motion to the Baywatch theme but sadly it doesn't happen. Today the Hoff is one of the judges on Britain's Got Talent. I'd like to say more on that but words fail me! Finally, Rhys-Davies isn't in the film very much but what a fall from grace! This man appeared in two Indiana Jones films and The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Like The Hoff, times must be very hard indeed. By the end of the film you'll have certainly had an experience, it's just a pity it's such a regrettable one.

Anaconda III takes all the bad elements of the original and enhances them a million times over. It's a tried and tested storyline, the effects are appalling, the is acting non-existent and not even The Hoff can convince me to award this anything but a poor score. If you enjoyed Anaconda maybe you can salvage something from this shipwreck but for me it's another nightmare to add to my collection where I constantly ask myself, "Why me?"

Verdict: 1/10

Film Review #89: The Third Man

With prices for cinema tickets now reaching ridiculous heights it's not often I will treat myself to a new release unless it's something I simply cannot wait for. Instead, I'm happy to content myself with a cheap DVD or a film on TV which may have slipped through my critical net and, believe me, there have been far too many. Whether the films featured here are recent or old I'll still be providing my honest opinion on them and, with the benefit of hindsight in many cases, may offer a slightly different take to contemporary reviewers.

 

The Third Man (1949)

Carol Reed's classic film noir, based on the novel by Graham Greene, is one I have wanted to see for a while but have only done so now. Coming to The Third Man so late its reputation obviously proceeded it and there were moments I was already aware of. My biggest concern was that with more than sixty years of praise would the film live up to its acclaim?

Set in Vienna in the aftermath of the Second World War, the film follows the progress of American author Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) who is invited to work in the devastated city by his old friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles) only to find that Lime has been hit by a truck and killed. Ever the inquisitive writer, Martins attends Lime's funeral and begins hearing differing accounts of his friend's death. Two policemen Major Calloway (Trevor Howard) and Sergeant Paine (Bernard Lee) are insistent that Martins should return home but with inconsistencies in the testimonies Martins is determined to find the truth of whether or not Lime really is dead.

The first notable aspect of The Third Man is the setting in Vienna. The bulk of the streets are still decimated from the Second World War with piles of rubble and an overwhelming sense of unease and tension in the air. The cinematography in the film, especially on the dark streets with the moving shadows or in the subterranean network of sewers is all simply fantastic for a film that is more than sixty years old. The story is very intriguing from the start with Martins stunned to learn that Lime has been killed but accounts of the death vary with some insistent Lime was killed immediately while others are adamant he was alive long enough to convey his wishes that both his friend Martins and his girlfriend Anna (Alida Valli) would be taken care of. Martins also learns from one account that there was a third man at the scene who helped carry Lime's body. Nothing is consistent and immediately we're left wondering what is going on in Vienna.

Martins is soon drawn to Anna who works in theatre and falls foul of the local police due to a fake passport, the work of Lime, which leaves her facing the prospect of being returned to Russian hands. Martins and Anna grow closer through their mutual affiliation with Lime and Martins even becomes fond of Anna though these feelings are not reciprocated. It's nigh on impossible to read about The Third Man and not know some of the famous scenes but seeing them flowing seamlessly with the rest of the film is an absolute joy. When Martins is meeting with Anna we see a figure on the streets outside, hidden in the shadows of a doorway save for his shoes protruding from the darkness and into the light. Anna's cat, that's notably only fond of Lime, heads outside and curls up around the feet of the unseen figure. When Martins ventures outside and notices the figure watching from the shadows he challenges him to show his face. Though the figure doesn't comply a resident hearing the commotion turns on a light which casts away the shadows hiding the lone figure and there before us is Harry Lime. Surprised to have his cover blown Lime simply looks at Martins and offers a cheeky smile before disappearing into the night. It's a brilliant introduction and enhances the mystique about the elusive Harry Lime. For the rest of the film we're treated to a thrilling cat and mouse chase as Lime's nefarious activities in Vienna are exposed and Martins is faced with a choice of allowing his friend to remain free or cooperate with the authorities and bring him to justice.

The Third Man did not disappoint at any stage. The mystery of Lime's death is gripping from the outset and when he makes his appearance the film becomes even more enjoyable. Another highlight has to be a private meeting between Lime and Martins on a Ferris wheel, which includes some brilliant dialogue from Orson Welles, especially the "cuckoo clock" reference when he mentions Switzerland. Cotton and Valli are both very good but this film belongs to Welles whose presence in that introduction is striking and his subsequent dialogue that follows is delivered wonderfully. I'm ashamed to say this is the first time I've seen the great Orson Welles in action and with that fact in mind I find myself even more embarrassed given how great he was in this film. There's even some mystery and ambiguity at the end which is also aptly bittersweet and makes for a dark conclusion to our time in the ruins of post-war Vienna.

The Third Man is a fascinating film noir boasting an engaging storyline, some great performances and fabulous settings. There was a time when I would have turned my nose up at old films, especially anything in black and white, but a new perspective has helped me realise just what I have been missing all these years.

Verdict: 10/10

Film Review #88: Cool Hand Luke

With prices for cinema tickets now reaching ridiculous heights it's not often I will treat myself to a new release unless it's something I simply cannot wait for. Instead, I'm happy to content myself with a cheap DVD or a film on TV which may have slipped through my critical net and, believe me, there have been far too many. Whether the films featured here are recent or old I'll still be providing my honest opinion on them and, with the benefit of hindsight in many cases, may offer a slightly different take to contemporary reviewers.

 

Cool Hand Luke (1967)

There have been some brilliant prison dramas in film history, the best probably being The Shawshank Redemption (1994), but there are many other notable ones I have yet to see. Mrs B recommended Stuart Rosenborg's 1967 film Cool Hand Luke and having read the synopsis I was intrigued both by the film and how it would stand up today.

The film begins with Luke Jackson (Paul Newman) arrested after being found drunk on the streets and cutting the heads off parking meters. Luke is sentenced to time at a rural prison camp where the inmates are watched over by the ruthless Captain (Strother Martin) who incidentally has the film's most famous line. Luke is initially scorned by Dragline (George Kennedy), the leader of the prison inmates, but over time Luke's refusal to conform to the prison system and his daring escape attempts make him something of a folk hero amongst his peers but does he escape for good in the end or is Luke eventually broken by prison?

After his early arrest Luke is quickly taken to prison along with a group of other newcomers and in an amusing opening we hear the list of rules the inmates have to abide by. For every rule we learn that transgressors "spend a night in the box," a harsh solitary confinement with a pot and tin for toiletry requirements being a prisoner's only company. Luke is revealed to be a war hero, which initially sees him mocked by the other prisoners especially after his first day away from the prison working on the roads. Gradually, Luke begins to win over the other prisoners with his good humour and defiance of the prison authority. His biggest challenge is winning the respect of Dragline who challenges him to a fight one Saturday – this is the designated day of the week when prisoners who have grudges and arguments to settle can do so with their fists and the guards won't intervene unless it gets serious. Dragline is superior in strength to Luke and proceeds to give him a fierce beating but every time Luke is knocked down he simply stands again to have another beating. Dragline reaches the point where he walks away with a bloodied Luke still on his feet having now gained admiration from the other prisoners.

The searing heat is emphasised greatly at the prison where the men are sweating in their bunks or dripping with moisture working on the roads, where they have to ask permission to remove their shirts. Prison life is depicted brutally here and the lives the men are missing not being free are conveyed brilliantly when a young woman emerges from her house in a short dress and proceeds to wash her car, soap hitting her as much as the car, while the deprived prisoners look on with admiration and longing. While the prisoners are settled into a routine they are given excitement with the masterstrokes of Luke. He gets his name Cool Hand Luke by winning a poker game with a poor hand and even wins the challenge of eating 50 boiled eggs in an hour – it's agonising watching him go through this challenge. Even more memorable is when the men are working on the road, following a truck spilling tar onto the surface which has to be covered with dirt. What should be a job that lasts all day is completed with a couple of hours to spare thanks to Luke urging the prisoners on. As a result the men are free to do nothing in the sunshine for at least two hours, a taste of heaven for them all. Luke, however, is not content with prison life and after a visit from his dying mother, whose funeral he isn't allowed to attend, Luke makes some escape attempts, always being brought back. In an unforgettable scene he is chained before the other prisoners and the Captain utters those immortal words, "What we've got here is failure to communicate."

Cool Hand Luke becomes more painful after Luke makes his second escape attempt and is put through severe punishments by the prison guards. Asked to dig a hole in the yard, Luke completes the work only to be asked what all the dirt is doing in the yard. After Luke fills in the hole he is then told to dig again! Eventually Luke collapses and pleads for mercy. His fellow inmates had been watching in admiration up until this point but once he shows weakness they turn their backs on him. After being taken back to join the other prisoners not one will help an exhausted Luke into his bunk and he can only collapse on the floor. It seems Luke has been broken by the prison guards at last but there is still a stubborn fire burning deep within him. The ending is memorable and tragic but rounds off a fantastic film that has a terrific starring performance from Paul Newman with George Kennedy a worthy co-star as the jovial and tough Dragline. The film is a reminder of how in some respects justice was correct in having prisoners work during their sentences and give something back to society but the brutalisation many go through is too much. Such harsh treatment is what has left our prisons in a sorry state today where many criminals enjoy luxuries and are not really reformed. Cool Hand Luke depicts prison life where criminals would be desperate not to go back, a far cry from what we have today.

Cool Hand Luke is a terrific prison drama with Newman exceptional in the lead. Luke is undoubtedly a criminal but you'll still find yourself behind him as he continually defies the prison guards. Despite some moments that are difficult to watch this film is still a must-see.

Verdict: 9/10

More from The World According to Dave

Film Review #73: Crocodile
Film Review #80: Don't Look Now
Film Review #81: Hot Tub Time Machine

Other reading you may enjoy:

Review: Dominance – Will Lavender  (Book Bags and Cat Naps)
Review: Special Delivery – Lia Fairchild  (Book Bags and Cat Naps)
Weekend Round-Up – Cinema Paradiso Review  (Custard)
Book Review | What if…? by Steve N. Lee  (Blue Archipelago Reviews)

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36 Lives #10

Long ago, in a Yorkshire town far, far away…

Four cats all living in the same house await the moment their two owners (who have their uses from time to time) leave for work so they can gather round and discuss current affairs. Everything from the Reformation to the irony of Cheryl Cole's "limp, lifeless" hair product adverts is covered once a month by the feline quartet. Your dramatis personae are:-

 

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Kain – Chair of the meetings, self-proclaimed leader and feline equivalent of Winston Churchill

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Razz – Perennially sour-faced but lovable rogue with a tendency to pick one too many fights

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Buggles – One-eyed charmer, the fastest eater in West Yorkshire, excited by life's trivial things

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Charlie – A born revolutionary, fiercely abhorrent to authority but always cute in his devastation

 

This month's topic is…

Wii

Kain: Good evening fellow felines. Now that Beard Face is working again it's easier to arrange these meetings. We just have to snatch moments when Frizzy Hair is asleep and the two Norwegians are safely tucked away upstairs.

Razz: Great to have Beard Face out of the house so much. The kitchen side is mine to peruse once again.

Charlie: Buggles and I can make very meticulous plans for my future conquests now. I can even lay out my strategy maps in the living room though there aren't enough willing cats to sit on the corners and hold the damn things down.

Buggles: I almost managed to hold down all corners at once didn't I, Charlie?

Charlie: Indeed you did, Buggles, but in order to do so you had to lie face down on the map which defeated the object of discussing my strategy with the deputies. Your black back made it difficult for them to make out anything!

Kain: Anyway, today's meeting is about a very interesting device that our delightful owners have and I am becoming more and more concerned about it.

Buggles: Is it Beard Face's season ticket for Barnsley FC?

Razz: He isn't going this season, Buggles. He can't afford it and he's got a new novel to write remember!

Charlie: Are you referring to the tank that is parked outside the house, Kain? I've told you before, I intend to move it once Operation Gallagher commences.

Kain: Remind me what Operation Gallagher is again?

Charlie: It's my direct assault on the felines of Manchester, of course.

Razz: I'm assuming the Gallagher bit comes from the brothers in Oasis.

Charlie: Don't be so naive, Razz. It's from the family in Shameless. Far more well known and Frank Gallagher is the embodiment of how I want many of my soldiers to be.

Razz: A drunk on benefits?

Charlie: The drink is the perfect tonic to numb wounds. Makes the soldiers last a lot longer.

Buggles: We've got some exciting plans ahead haven't we, Charlie? We're even thinking of a plot to take out one of the nation's great reformers as he's too much of a threat.

Kain: David Cameron presumably.

Charlie: Of course not, Jeremy Kyle you fool! That man could derail my war effort. He's a scary one.

Razz: You said something about a meeting, Kain!

Kain: Yes, I want to discuss the device that sits under the television and that all of us have had some experience of.

Buggles: I'm lost.

Kain: I'm talking about the Nintendo Wii! You must remember what happens each month.

Buggles: We eat?

Kain: I hope more than once a month!

Buggles: We sleep?

Kain: There's an even greater need for us to do that more than once a month.

Buggles: We use the litter trays?

Kain: That one outscores food and sleep, but what I'm referring to is the fact that Beard Face gathers us together once a month and he weighs us using the Wii.

Charlie: Are you sure about this, Kain?

Kain: Of course I am, why do you think he holds us tightly before standing on that white platform.

Razz: I just thought he was scared and needed comfort.

Kain: He uses that device to weigh himself and then us. Meticulous notes are kept about our weights and…

Charlie: Quite right. That's strict discipline. Just what the army needs.

Kain: …if we're too heavy though they reduce our daily rations.

Charlie: An ingenious strategy. This Beard Face isn't as stupid as he looks, is he?

Razz: The Wii is clearly a danger to our existence then.

Kain: It's not just us. Beard Face and Frizzy Hair use it frequently for purposes other than weighing.

Buggles: Cooking food?

Kain: I'm referring to exercises. They put all kinds of games on and pretend they're bowling or running an obstacle course. The worst is that Mario Kart game. Two grown adults clutching steering wheels that are not attached to anything and pretending they're driving cars.

Charlie: Stop there! You mean there's a steering wheel that can drive a car without being attached to it? Why did no one tell me this before? I traded 400 tins of Whiskas food for that that tank outside and now you're telling me all that I need is one of these steering wheels.

Kain: The steering wheel is just to move the cars in the Mario Kart game, Charlie. You can't sit by a motorway clutching the wheel and manoeuvring passing cars.

Buggles: What else can the Wii do? Why's it called a Wii? It sounds like using the litter tray!

Razz: The spelling is completely different, Buggles. Congratulations, you have joined the lower echelons of society and sit shoulder to shoulder with the fools that have made that same ridiculous joke!

Charlie: What else does this Wii thing do? I can drive cars now with a portable steering wheel but what other gifts are there?

Kain: There are shooting games, you have a nunchuk device, you can ski, play table tennis, jog, sword fight, many things. I must add though Charlie that the Wii is…

Charlie: …the greatest innovation my army could have hoped for. I will train my soldiers with it then divide them into units. One unit will go into battle with portable steering wheels, the others will use the boards, nunchuks and controllers. We cannot lose.

Kain: But you must let me add…

Charlie: Silence! My mind is made up. The world is mine thanks to the Wii. Come Buggles, let us begin preparations for war.

Razz: I didn't realise Charlie was so stupid.

Kain: Buggles is even less sharp.

Razz: Buggles, you need to talk some sense into Charlie.

Buggles: What do you mean?

Razz: The Wii is just a device for playing games and doing excercises. You can't take the nunchuk, gun and steering wheel out into the world and fight wars with them, you know?

Buggles: I know, Razz, I'm not stupid. I intend to talk to him.

Kain: When?

Buggles: I'll mention it this afternoon while we're playing tennis.

Razz: But we haven't got any tennis rackets or courts.

Buggles: What's this then?

Kain: That's a controller for the Wii.

Buggles: This is whatever we want it to be, Kain. I must get going. We're going water skiing after the tennis and maybe having a round of bowling as well. Farewell.

Kain: At least there's one consolation to take from Charlie and Buggles' undoubted stupidity.

Razz: What's that?

Kain: The world will remain more than safe so long as Charlie's weapons of mass destruction continue to be Wii accessories.

Razz: Too true. Is that the end of the meeting?

Kain: Yes, let's go and entertain ourselves. You want to catch mice or scratch the curtains?

Razz: Can we do that on the Wii?

Kain: We can probably do both. Me first though!

More from The World According to Dave

36 Lives #5
36 Lives #8
36 Lives #6

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Guest Post: Jonathan Gould  (Book Bags and Cat Naps)
The real cost of the 99 cent ebook?  (Book Bags and Cat Naps)
10 questions I've always wanted to ask women  (Tyler Hurst)
Blogosphere: 10 Questions – Continued  (RikScott)

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Guest Blog: Belinda Buchanan

Today's guest blog comes from Belinda Buchanan who has very kindly shared an extract from her book, After All is Said and Done. Be sure to check out a review of the book from Mary Gramlich, "The Reading Reviewer." Why not have a read? Many thanks for guesting today Belinda and wishing you all the best with the book. It sounds fantastic. 

 

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Chapter Twenty-four

The following Thursday, Ethan arrived home after eight.  As he pulled into his driveway, he noticed a blue sedan parked out front.  He noticed the hospital-parking permit on the windshield and recognized it as belonging to Gavin.  He went in the front door expecting to find them in the living room, but heard laughter coming from the upstairs.

He hung his coat over the banister and went up.  He rounded the corner to the nursery and stopped in the doorway.  Gavin was standing beside the crib with his wife laughing.  Jessica was laughing too, but stopped when she saw him standing there.

"Ethan," she said sounding surprised.  "Um, Gavin just brought Ryan home."

He leaned against the doorway and folded his arms.  "Well, if you've brought him home, I guess that means there's no reason for you to be here anymore, is there?"

Gavin cleared his throat.  "No, I guess not."

"I'm sure you can show yourself out then," he said sarcastically.

She looked at the floor, embarrassed by Ethan's behavior.

Gavin started to say good-bye to her, but thought better of it.  He picked up his coat and went to the door.

Ethan hesitated for a moment, and then stepped aside to let him pass.

Jessica turned away from him and leaned over the crib to tend to her son.  The sound of the front door closing echoed off the walls of the nursery as an uneasy silence settled in the room.  When she turned around, he was still leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed staring at her.  She walked slowly towards him to leave, keeping her eyes on the floor.  She started to cross the hallway when he suddenly put his arm against the doorjamb, blocking her.  Jessica cringed as he leaned in close to her.  She could smell the alcohol on him.

"I don't want to come home and find him in this house again."

Something in the tone of his voice frightened her.  She slowly raised her head up and looked into those dark eyes of his.  They were cold and hard…unrecognizable to her.

"Do I make myself clear?"  He said staring down at her.

"Yes," her voice came out in a whispered hush.

He put his arm down slowly.

She went quickly across the hall into their bedroom.  She could feel him watching her as she went into the bathroom.  Her hands were shaking as she closed the door.  Something inside her made her turn the lock.

 

Sounds pretty good, doesn't it? Why not check out the review below:-

 

Mary Gramlich Review

Read in August, 2011

AFTER ALL IS SAID AND DONE by Belinda G. Buchanan

04/11- CreateSpace, Paperback, 656 pages

Do I have enough love left in me to forgive your indiscretion?

Sarah is married to Gavin, who has had an affair with Jessica, but she is married to Ethan, and pregnant with his child. They are all doctors sharing partnerships, friendships, and perhaps too much personal space all intertwined together. But right now everything is about to explode as Jessica goes into labor and has a son that everyone but Ethan knows is not Ethan's. The affair with Jessica and Gavin was over, spouses had taken them back, forgiveness was extended, and then all the lies come out and the one night turns into a baby.

Gavin comes clean with Sarah about the baby and their fragile relationship becomes cracked beyond repair and Sarah decides to move on without him. But Jessica and Ethan live under the guise of the baby's parentage and Jessica is getting really good at keeping secrets she should be confessing. Jessica wants them to remain a couple and if lies are needed to make that happen, so be it.

When Ethan's father passes away the pressure of his life explodes like fireworks around him. Ethan crumbles under the stress from complicated family relationships, his supposed failures and misdeeds until the only comfort he finds is in the bottle of scotch sitting by his elbow. When the bottle creates new issues and no longer provides comfort Ethan starts to see only a dark tunnel with no light. When the worst that can happen to you already has what would your next step be?

The long trip from infidelity to reconciliation is one paved with truces, promises and hope. When all those things turn into a huge deception no one is going to forgive or forget and the chance of moving on is almost impossible. Ethan, Sarah, Jessica and Gavin cause pain to one another but when you walk forward what is behind you may stay there and you can rise again from the ashes to build a new life if you are honest with everyone including yourself.

This book had me daunted before I even started reading it because it has quite a few pages to it. But once you start the number of pages turns out to not be required to give you all the information you start to crave. The plot follows a clear path, with answers to questions, which all readers enjoy.

More from The World According to Dave

Guest Post from Elaine Raco Chase
Guest Post: LeAnna Shields
Guest Blog: Autumn Rosen

Other reading you may enjoy:

Guest Post: Jonathan Gould  (Book Bags and Cat Naps)
Review: Dominance – Will Lavender  (Book Bags and Cat Naps)
Guest post by Joan Hochstetler, author of "One Holy Night"  (tgleichner)
Guest Blog: A Shallow Sort of Inspiration  (David Mark Brown)

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The World According to Dave Needs YOU!

This month Fezariu's Epiphany is one of the entries in the 2011 August You Gotta Read Videos Best Video Poll.  I've had some lovely comments about the trailer, including the music (by zero-project), and the images used in the video.  If you liked the video, I'd really appreciate your vote but don't forget to check out the other videos too: there are some wonderful entries!

You can vote here.

Following on from my earlier post the 'In Leah's Wake' Social Media Whirlwind Tour is still ongoing.  You can see the original post here and you can vote for The World According to Dave here.

Finally, don't forget that the Night Owl Reviews Full Moon Hunt starts on the 1st September and there are great prizes to be won.

More from The World According to Dave

Introducing the Fezariu's Epiphany Book Trailer
Test
Happy World Cat Day 2011

Other reading you may enjoy:

The Accident by Linwood Barclay  (Blue Archipelago Reviews)
Finding Excellent Penny Stocks – Just The Basics  (All In One – One For All)

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'In Leah's Wake' Social Media Whirlwind Tour

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As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, the price of the In Leah's Wake Kindle edition has dropped to just 99 cents this week.

What's more, by purchasing this fantastic book at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes, including a Kindle, 5 autographed copies of the book, and multiple Amazon gift cards (1 for $100, 3 for $25, 5 for $10, and 10 for $5 – 19 in all)! Be sure to enter before the end of the day on Friday, August 26th, so you don't miss out.

 

To win the prizes:

Purchase your copy of In Leah's Wake for just 99 cents
Fill-out the form on the author's site to enter for prizes
Visit today's featured event; you may win an autographed copy of the book!

And I can win $100 too if you vote for my blog over on the author's website. The blog host that gets the most votes in this traffic-breaker polls wins, so please cast yours right after purchasing In Leah's Wake and entering the contests!

 

The remaining featured events include:

Thursday, Facebook interview with the author! Stop by Novel Publicity's Facebook page and ask Terri questions. She's chosen three of her favorite topics to talk about: writing, parenting, and gourmet cooking. Of course, you're welcome to ask about In Leah's Wake too. Leave a comment or question as part of the thread, and you may win an autographed copy of In Leah's Wake. Don't forget tolike Terri's Facebook page or to visit her blog to enter for the other prizes!

Friday, Fun & games based on the book! We want to close this whirlwind social media tour with a gigantic bang, which is why we've set-up two interactive book-themed features on the author's blog. You can take the official Facebook quiz to find out which In Leah's Wake character is most like you and learn how that character ties into the story. Then try out our crossroads story game. Throughout the course of the narrative, you'll have several decisions to make. What you choose will affect the outcome of the story. Play as either rebellious teenager Leah or the trampled peacemaker and mother Zoe. Leave a comment or question on any of Terri's blog entries, and you may win an autographed copy of In Leah's Wake. Don't forget to check out the other give-away contests while you're on Terri's blog!

About In Leah's Wake: The Tyler family had the perfect life – until sixteen-year-old Leah decided she didn't want to be perfect anymore. While Zoe and Will fight to save their daughter from destroying her brilliant future, Leah's younger sister, Justine, must cope with the damage her out-of-control sibling leaves in her wake. Will this family survive? What happens when love just isn't enough? Jodi Picoult fans will love this beautifully written and absorbing novel.

 

 

An excerpt from In Leah's Wake

The prologue and first chapter

 

". . . little heart of mine, believe me, everyone is really responsible to all men for all men and for everything. I don't know how to explain it to you, but I feel it is so, painfully even. And how is it we went on living, getting angry and not knowing?"

Fyodor Dostoevsky

The Grand Inquisitor

Prologue

March

Justine strikes a pose before the full-length mirror hanging on her closet door. Chin up, hands by her sides. She draws a breath. "My dear. . ." she begins, and stops mid-sentence. Wrinkles her nose. She's got it all wrong. She's too—Too stiff. Too grownup. Toosomething.

She rakes her fingers over her short dark hair, sweeping the bangs out of her eyes, tugs at the hem of her pink baby-doll pajamas. She's scheduled to deliver the candidates' address at her Confirmation Mass this afternoon. When she learned, six months ago, that she had been selected speaker, Justine was ecstatic. Now, the very idea of standing in front of the whole congregation, telling hundreds, maybe thousands, of people how she's learned from her own family what it means to be part of God's larger family makes her sick to her stomach.

She has no choice. She made a commitment.

She folds her hands primly, setting them at chest height on her imaginary podium, glances at her cheat sheet, rolls her lower face into a smile, and begins again. "My fellow Confirmation candidates," she says this time. Justine crumples the paper, tosses it onto her bed. My fellow Confirmation candidates. What a dork. She sounds about twenty, instead of thirteen.

She screws up her face. "I can't do this," she says, wagging a finger at the girl watching her from the mirror. She would feel like a hypocrite.

 

Justine plods to the bathroom, pees, pads back to her bedroom. The forecasters are predicting snow, starting later today. A dismal gray stratus hangs over her skylight. Her room is dark, the air raw. Her sister's blue and gold Cortland High sweatshirt lies in a heap at the foot of her bed. Justine pulls the sweatshirt over her head, retrieves the balled-up paper. With the back of her hand, she flattens it out, and returns to the mirror to practice.

As always, on first glance, the girl in the mirror takes Justine by surprise. She's grown two inches since Christmas, isn't chubby anymore, her belly flat, the clavicle bones visible now at the base of her throat. She pushes her bangs out of her pale, darkly fringed eyes. With her fingertips, she touches her cheeks. Her features have matured, her nose long and straight, like her mother's, her cheekbones defined. She curls and uncurls her toes. She wears a size six shoe, a size and a half smaller than Leah. Her toes are long and slim, the nails painted blue.

Justine crushes the sheet of paper, tosses it in the trash, strolls to her window, raises the honeycomb shade. Spring feels a long way away, the yard empty, the trees bare. A rush of cold air streams in, under the sash. The air smells of snow. Justine presses her hand against the cool glass, the way she and her sister used to do on the windshield of their father's car, when they were small. Stop, their father would scold. You're making a mess. She smiles, remembering how Leah loved egging him on. She pulls her hand away from the glass, watches her prints disappear.

Justine wishes, sometimes, that she could disappear, too. Poof, just like the handprint.

Poof, just like her sister.

 

Chapter One: Just Do It

 

September

Zoe and Will Tyler sat at the dining room table, playing poker. The table, a nineteenth-century, hand-carved mahogany, faced the bay window overlooking their sprawling front yard. Husband and wife sat facing one another, a bowl of Tostitos and a half-empty bottle of port positioned between them. Their favorite Van Morrison disc—Tupelo Honey—spun on the player in the family room, the music drifting out of speakers built into the dining room walls.

Dog, their old yellow Lab, lay on a ratty pink baby blanket, under the window.

Zoe plucked the Queen of Hearts from the outside of her hand, and tucked it center. She was holding a straight. If she laid it down, she would win the hand, third in a row, and her husband would quit. If she didn't, she would be cheating herself.

The moon was full tonight, its light casting a ghostly shadow across the yard. The full moon made Zoe anxious. For one of her internships in grad school, she'd worked on the psych ward at City Hospital, in Boston. On nights when the moon was full, the floor erupted, the patients noisy, agitated. Zoe's superiors had pooh-poohed the lunar effect, chalked it up to irrationality, superstition. But Zoe had witnessed the flaring tempers, seen the commotion with her own two eyes, and found the effect impossible to deny—and nearly all the nurses concurred.

"Full moon," she said. "I hadn't noticed. No wonder I had trouble sleeping last night."

Will set his empty glass on the table. With his fingers, he drummed an impatient tattoo. "You planning to take your turn any time soon? Be nice if we ended this game before midnight."

"For Pete's sake, Will." Her husband had the attention span of a titmouse. He reminded her of Mick, a six year-old ADD patient she counseled—sweet kid, when he wasn't ransacking her office, tossing the sand out of the turtle-shaped box, tweaking her African violets.

"What's so funny?" he asked, sulking.

She shook her head—nothing, Mick—and forced a straight face.

"You're laughing at me."

"Don't be silly. Why would I be laughing at you?"

He peered at his reflection in the window. Smirking, he finger-combed his baby-fine hair, pale, graying at the temples, carving a mini-pyramid at his crown.

"Nice do. Could use a little more gel," she said, feeling mean-spirited the instant the words slipped out of her mouth. The poor guy was exhausted. He'd spent the week in California, on business, had flown into Logan this morning, on the red-eye. Though he had yet to fill her in on the details, it was obvious to her that his trip had not gone well. "Sorry," she said. "Just kidding." She fanned out her cards, hesitated for an instant, and laid down the straight.

"Congratulations." Scowling, he pushed away from the table. "You win again."

"Way to go, grumpy. Quit."

"I'm getting water," he said, tamping his hair. "Want some?"

Dog lifted her head, her gaze following Will to the door, yawned, and settled back down.

Her husband stomped across the kitchen, his footfall moving in the direction of the family room. The music stopped abruptly, and the opening chords of a Robbie Robertson tune belted out of the speakers. Zoe loved Robbie Robertson, "Showdown at Big Sky" one of her favorite songs. That didn't mean that the entire state of Massachusetts wanted to hear it.

"Will," she said, gesturing from the kitchen. "Turn it down. You'll wake Justine."

She waited a few seconds, caught his eye, gestured again. The third time was the charm.

Exasperated, she returned to the dining room, bundled the cards, put them away in the sideboard, and gathered the dishes. The toilet flushed in the half-bath off the back hall. Seconds later, she heard her husband rattling around the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors. Last spring, Will had won a major contract for his company, North American Construction. Since then, he'd been back and forth nonstop to the West Coast, spending two weeks a month in San Francisco, servicing the client. Zoe hadn't minded his traveling, at first. Over the past two years, with the glut of office and manufacturing space in the northeast, construction starts had dropped, and his sales had taken a serious hit, his commissions steadily dwindling. To compensate, initially they'd relied on their savings. In January, they'd remortgaged the house. When the California job arose, Will had jumped on the opportunity. He had no choice, especially with Leah headed to college next year. But the situation, lately, was brutal. Will hated traveling, hated flying, hated living out of a suitcase. And he resented missing Leah's soccer games. Last November, as a sophomore, their daughter had been named Player of the Year on theBoston Globe All-Scholastic team. A week later, in his year-end summary, the sports reporter from the Cortland Gazette had called Leah the "best soccer player in the state." The head coaches from the top colleges in the area—Harvard, Dartmouth, Boston College, BU—had sent congratulatory letters, expressing their interest. Will wanted to be home to guide her, meet the prospective coaches, help her sort through her options. Zoe didn't blame her husband a bit. But it didn't seem to occur to Will that his traveling disrupted her life, too. Last year, she'd developed a motivational seminar, called "Success Skills for Women on the Move." Now that the girls were practically grown, the workshops were her babies. The extra workload at home, added to the demands of her fulltime job at the counseling center, left her with no time for marketing or promotion, and the workshops had stagnated. Zoe understood her husband's frustration. It irked her when he minimized hers.

Will appeared in the doorway, a few minutes later, empty-handed. Will was tall, a hair shy of six-one. He'd played football in college, and, at forty-five, still had the broad shoulders and narrow waist of an athlete. Amazing, really: after eighteen years of marriage, she still found him achingly sexy. Crow's feet creased the corners of his intelligent blue eyes and fine lines etched his cheekbones, giving his boyish features a look of intensity and purpose, qualities Zoe had recognized from the start but that only now, as he was aging, showed on his face.

After work, he'd changed into a pair of stonewashed jeans and a gray sweatshirt, worn soft, the words "Harvard Soccer Camp" screened in maroon lettering across the chest. Absently, he pushed up his sleeves, and peered around the room as though looking for something. "Zoe—" Normally, he called her Honey or Zo.

"I put the cards away." She thumbed the sideboard. "You quit, remember?"

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

She glanced at the cuckoo clock on the far wall. "Ten past eleven. So?"

"Where's Leah?"

At the football game, with Cissy. "They've been going every week. Did you forget?"

"She ought to be home by now."

"She's only ten minutes late." Their daughter was a junior in high school. They'd agreed, before school started this year, to extend her weekend curfew to eleven. "She'll be here soon."

Will stalked to the window, grumbling. Dog rose, and pressed her nose to the glass.

Their driveway, half the length of a soccer field, sloped down from the cul-de-sac, arced around the lawn, and straightened, ending in a turnaround at the foot of their three-car garage. In summer, the oak and birch trees bordering the property obscured their view. Now that most of the leaves had fallen, the headlights were visible as vehicles entered the circle.

"She has a game in the morning." Will stretched his neck . His upper back had been bothering him lately, residual pain from an old football injury he'd suffered in college.

Zoe came up behind him, pushing Dog's blanket aside with her foot, and squeezed his shoulders. "You're tight."

He dropped his chin. "From sleeping on the plane. Got to get one of those donut pillows."

"You know Leah. She has no sense of time. I'll bet they stopped for something to eat."

"I can't see why Hillary won't set a curfew. Every other coach has one."

"Relax, Will. It's not that late. You're blowing this out of proportion. Don't you think?"

A flash of headlights caught their attention. An SUV entered the cul-de-sac, rounded the circle, its lights sweeping over the drive and across their lawn, and headed down the street.

Bending, Will ruffled Dog's ears. "Reardon's coming tomorrow, specifically to watch her. She plays like crap when she's tired."

The Harvard coach. She should have known. "So she doesn't go to Harvard," she said, a tired remark, fully aware of the comeback her words would elicit, "she'll go someplace else."

"There is no place else."

No place that would give her the opportunities, the connections… blah, blah, blah. They'd been over this a million times. If their daughter had the slightest aspiration of going to Harvard, Zoe would do everything in her power to support her. As far as she could tell, the name Harvard had never graced Leah's wish-list. It was a moot point, anyway. For the last two terms, Leah's grades had been dropping. If she did apply for admission, she would probably be denied.

"Reardon has pull," he offered, a weak rebuttal in Zoe's opinion. "He's been talking to Hillary about her. She can't afford to blow this opportunity."

Opportunity? What opportunity? "Face it, Will. She doesn't want to go to Harvard."

"If she plays her cards right, she can probably get a boat."

Zoe opened her mouth, ready to blast him. He'd received a full football scholarship from Penn State, and dropped out of college. Was that what he wanted? A college drop-out in a couple years? Noticing the purple rings under his eyes, she held back. "You're exhausted." His plane had barely touched ground at Logan Airport when he was ordered to NAC's corporate office in Waltham, for a marketing meeting. He hadn't had time to stop home to change his clothes, never mind take a short nap. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll wait up."

The look he returned implied that she'd lost it. "You think I could sleep?"

"For all we know, they had a flat."

"She would have called."

"So call her." Duh.

"I did. I got voice mail."

Shoot. "You know Leah. Her battery probably died." She was grasping at straws. Leah was sixteen years old. That phone was her lifeline. Still, it could be true. It was possible. Right?

 

Leah had totally lost track of time. She and Todd had been hanging out at the water tower for hours, perched on the hood of Todd's Jeep, drinking Vodka and OJ, admiring the beautiful night. This place was perfect, the most perfect place in the universe, maybe. Big sky, lots of trees. From here, they could see the whole town, just about—the river, the railroad tracks. An orchard. In the valley, lights began to blink out. Leaning back on her elbows, she gazed up at the heavens. "Look," she said, mesmerized by the inky black sky, the billions and billions of stars. "The Big Dipper." As she stared into space, time fell away, the past merging seamlessly with the future, this moment, up here, with Todd, the only reality there ever was or ever could be.

Todd took her hand, drawing her close, so close she could smell the spicy deodorant under his armpits. Just being with Todd Corbett made her feel dizzy all over. Todd was, by far, the most beautiful boy she had ever laid eyes on. His hair was long on top, short on the sides. He had full lips, and the most fabulous blue eyes, like, like crystals or something. A Romanesque nose, the exact nose she'd once told Cissy she'd die for, only now that she'd seen it on Todd, she realized that that particular nose was meant for a boy. Best of all, he had this incredible aura, all purple and blue, like James Dean or Curt Cobain.

She curled her legs under her, laid her head on Todd's chest.

 

They met at a party, the Friday before school started. Todd had been on tour for the past two years, working as a roadie for a heavy metal band called "Cobra." Leah knew he was back—that was all anybody was talking about—had recognized him instantly, from all the descriptions.

She couldn't believe her luck. Todd Corbett! And alone! She'd heard he was hot. He was even better looking in person. Looking back, she couldn't believe she'd been so brazen. She left Cissy in the lurch, sashayed right over to him, took a seat beside him, on the living room floor.

The movie he was watching was stupid. People clopping across a field like zombies, their arms outstretched. They reminded her of herself and Justine when they were little, playing blind. Even the makeup looked phony.

"What are you watching?" she asked.

"Night of the Living Dead. Flick's a classic. Hey, haven't I seen you someplace before?"

Maybe, though she couldn't imagine where. Todd couldn't possibly have remembered her from high school. She was only a freshman when he dropped out.

"Leah Tyler, right? You're that soccer chick."

 

The wind swished through the trees. Leah shivered and Todd shrugged out of his worn leather bomber, draped his jacket over her shoulders. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, retrieved a small plastic bag half-full of weed, began rolling a joint. He licked the edge of the paper, lit the joint, inhaling deeply, and handed it to her, the smell rich and exotic and sweet.

Leah had never smoked marijuana until she met Todd. She used to be scared, which was dumb: weed was totally harmless. (The first few times she smoked, she had to admit, she'd been disappointed.) She pulled, her chest searing, struggled to hold the ice-hot smoke in her lungs.

Suddenly, she was coughing, waving her arms.

"You OK, babe?" Todd rescued the joint. With the other hand, he patted her back.

Once she was breathing easily again, he laughed, a sweet laugh that left her feeling dignified, rather than cheesy or stupid. He pinched the joint between his index finger and thumb, took a hit to demonstrate, and brought it to her lips, holding it for her. "That's it, babe. Good."

They smoked the joint to its stub, and he showed her how to fashion a roach clip from twigs. Afterward, he offered to drive her home. "Don't want you getting in trouble or nothing."

"That's OK," Leah said dreamily. "I don't have to go yet."

Todd hopped off the hood of the Jeep, pulled a flannel blanket from the back of the truck, and spread the blanket on the grass, under a giant oak tree. Leah watched him smooth it out, his hands dancing, the whole world intensely colored, brilliantly alive. She heard the lonely trill of a cricket, calling from deep in the valley, smelled the damp autumn earth, felt the cool blue breeze on her face. Todd was gliding toward her now, floating on air. He scooped her into his arms, lifting her from the hood of his Jeep, and laid her on the blanket. And kissed her.

 

At eleven thirty, Zoe dialed Leah's cell phone again. When Leah didn't pick up, she tried Cissy, both times reaching voice mail. "I don't believe those two," Zoe said, infuriated. "I'll bet they changed their ringers. The little devils probably know it's us."

"That's your daughter for you," Will huffed.

"She's my daughter now?"

By eleven forty-five, Zoe was chewing her cuticles. And Will was pacing.

"This is it," Will announced. "I'm calling the cops."

"You can't be serious. What do you plan to tell them?"

He opened his cell phone. "I can't sit here, doing nothing." He glared at the screen.

"You can't call the cops. She's forty-five minutes late. They'll think we're crazy."

He clicked his cell shut, dug his keys out of his pocket. "Fine. I'll find her myself."

Find her? Where on earth did he plan to look?

"I'll start at the high school."

"The game was over hours ago."

"I'll drive by the Hanson's." He headed for the garage, Dog at his heels.

"And do what?" Cissy's mom, a nurse, worked the early shift at St. John's. Judi was probably in bed by now. He would frighten her if he knocked on the door. "Will? Answer me."

He swiveled to face her. "Look for the car," he snapped, and ushered Dog out the door.

Zoe stood in the mudroom, at a loss, staring blankly at the door her husband had closed. The house, she realized when she came to, was an icebox. She rooted through the hall closet, found a fleece jacket of Will's, and pulled it on, kicked off her shoes, the ceramic tile cool under her bare feet, went to the bathroom, crossed the hall to the laundry, tossed a load of clean clothes into the dryer, and wandered back to the kitchen. She poured a glass of water, gathered the dishes they'd left on the dining room table, and emptied the uneaten chips into the compactor. She loaded the dishwasher. After she finished washing the counter, she flung the rag into the sink, and grabbed the cordless phone, so she would have a phone handy if Will or Leah tried to call.

A family portrait, commissioned last year, hung over the stone fireplace in the family room. For the photograph, the four of them had dressed in blue; their blue period, they'd joked when the photographer showed them the proofs. In the photo, Zoe is sitting on a stool, leaning toward the camera, Will standing behind her, flanked by the girls. Looking at the portrait, you'd never guess how hard it had been for the photographer to capture the shot, the kids squabbling, Will impatient, Zoe frustrated, both parents clenching their teeth. Restless, Zoe stepped down into the family room, sank into the oversized chair next to the fireplace, and curled her legs under her, clutching the phone.

Waiting, she tried to think positive thoughts. Leah's responsible. She can handle herself. If the girls had been in a car accident, the police would have contacted them by now. As usual, her effort to avoid negative thoughts conjured them up. Something wasn't right. Leah had been late a few times before, never like this. A half hour was one thing. Zoe often lost track of time herself. She would be at her office, transcribing her notes, look up, notice the clock, and realize she was supposed to have picked up one of the girls—at school, at the mall, at a friend's—fifteen, twenty minutes before. She would rush around her office in a tizzy, collecting her folders and purse, cursing herself for being a neglectful mother, and drive like a madwoman to her destination. But an hour? She checked her watch. And fifteen minutes? This wasn't like Leah.

She wondered if she had missed something. A signal. A hint. This morning, Leah, out of bed by seven, had moseyed into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Spotting the sauce pan on the front burner, she'd whined about having to eat oatmeal again. But she always whined when Zoe made oatmeal, which on certain days she found "revolting," on others "disgusting" or "gross." Zoe set the bowl in front of her. "Quit bellyaching," she said. "Oatmeal is good for you."

They were running late. So the girls wouldn't have to rush to catch the bus, Zoe offered to drive them to school. Justine rode shotgun, while Leah dozed in the backseat. At two, Leah called Zoe at work to remind her that she and Cissy planned to go to the game. She was headed directly home after practice, Leah had said; she would fix dinner. At six thirty, when Zoe opened the back door, she smelled Leah's spicy, cumin-laced chili. On the island counter, Zoe found place settings for her, for Will, for Justine, three glasses filled with ice water and lemon. Justine was upstairs in her room, doing her geometry homework. Leah had already left for the game.

Zoe closed her eyes, breathing deeply, attempting to center herself, and, counting backward from ten. . . eight, seven, six. . . summoned an image of her daughter. Leah's face materialized, and her body slowly came into focus. Directing her energy outward, Zoe enclosed her daughter in a protective circle of light. Be safe, baby, she whispered. Be safe.

 

Will drove along country roads canopied by the boughs of towering oak trees, the winding streets bordered by stone walls erected in the late 1700's, by the farmers who'd settled the town. In those days, the stone walls served as boundary markers, the average farm occupying fifty acres of land, most of it orchards. It was a hard life, Will thought, working eighteen hours a day, building walls, cultivating the land. He reached for Dog, on the passenger seat, ruffled her ears. "What do you say, Girl?" Dog cocked her head. "Was life harder then? Or harder today?"

The Hansons lived a mile outside the center, on a corner lot in a modest sub-division, built in the late-eighties, a neighborhood of center-entry colonials, garrisons, expanded Capes, set on cramped one-acre lots. Will slowed as they approached the Hanson's newly remodeled Salt Box, he and Dog rubber-necking together. Onion lamps flanked the entrance and the garage doors; matching pole lights lined the drive. The house was dark, the driveway empty. Will turned left, onto the adjacent street, hoping to find a light on in the back of the house, in which case he would knock on the door. Nothing, not even a porch lamp. Frustrated, he rounded the block, passed by the front of the property again, in case he had somehow managed to miss Cissy's car the first time, and headed for the high school, on the off-chance that the girls were still there.

The parking lot was dark when Will pulled in, the lights extinguished hours ago. He pulled down the sloping driveway behind the school, passing the rubberized track, where the soccer players practiced their sprints. He swung by the service entrance, then by the gym, doubled back, and circled the deserted lot, scanning the playing fields. At the ticket booth by football stadium, he parked, and just sat, thinking, Dog curled beside him on the passenger seat.

They'd had no idea, he and Zoe, how easy they'd had it when the girls were young. In their eyes, every little thing seemed like a crisis. They would glance at the window, catch three- year-old Leah zooming down the drive on her Big-Wheel, her legs outstretched, little hands reaching for the sky. In a panic, they would tear out of the house, always an instant too late, too far from their daughter to do anything except cross their fingers and watch. "Leah—" Will would holler, his stomach churning, "hold on." And Zoe would cover her eyes, both parents envisioning the worst, the Big-Wheel rocketing off course, crashing into a tree. Later, the rope swing he'd hung by their deck replaced the Big-Wheel as the most obvious threat. They'd worried about random accidents, obsessed over tragedies they watched on News Center 5 or read about in the Globe: that the girls would fall into the hidden shaft of a well or drown in a neighbor's backyard pool, that a stranger would kidnap one of their daughters when she was outside playing or taking a walk. It was tough being a parent, the welfare of their children utterly dependent on them, yet as long as they were vigilant, as long as they did their job, kept a trained eye on their daughters, their children would be safe. Now that she was older, they had no way of keeping tabs on their daughter. Once the car she was riding in rolled out of the drive, her fate was out of their hands. She could be anywhere, doing anything, with anyone. They had no way to protect her.

"What do you say, girl?" he said finally. "Doesn't look like she's here, does it?"

In a last ditch effort, he took another run by the Hanson's place.

 

Zoe had fallen asleep clutching the portable phone, her head resting on the wing of her chair. He brushed a curl out of her face, touched her shoulder gently, so he wouldn't startle her.

His wife blinked up at him. "Did you find her?"

He shook his head, dejected.

Dog nuzzled Zoe's leg. Yawning, she scratched the dog's head. "What time is it?"

"Close to one."

"My God." She pulled herself to an upright position. "What do you think is going on?"

Hard to say at this point, he told her. "She didn't call, did she?"

Zoe shook her head in alarm. "You don't think anything's happened, do you?"

"We'd have heard by now."

"I'm worried, Will. This isn't like her."

Will rubbed his neck, squeezing the trapezius muscles, hoping to release some of the tension. "I don't know where else to look. Figured it'd be stupid to keep driving in circles."

His wife attempted to stifle a yawn.

"You look beat," he said. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll wait up."

"You're as tired as I am."

"Go. I can sleep in. You've got to get up in the morning."

"Maybe I should," she said, shifting position. "Have to be up at six. Had to—" She paused, her glazed eyes fixed on the palladium window at the far end of the room. "Sorry." She blinked. "I had to shift my schedule around. Workshop Sunday. Wake me when she comes in? You won't forget?"

"I won't forget."

Will helped his wife out of her chair, walked her to the front staircase, kissed her, and told her to sleep well. From the foot of the staircase, he watched her climb the stairs and wander down the hall to their bedroom. When she closed the door, he went to the kitchen, filled a glass with spring water, brought the glass to the living room, sat on his leather recliner by the window, adjusted the back, and put up his feet. Dog lay on the floor, next to his chair. In ten minutes, she was snoring. He plucked an old issue of Sports Illustrated out of the pleated leather pocket on the side of his chair, flipped through. Unable to focus, he tossed it on the floor.

On the windowsill, in front of an eight-by-ten studio portrait of the girls, taken when Justine was a toddler, sat a framed snapshot of Leah. He picked up the photo. They'd been in Cortland for about a year when he snapped the shot. Leah was not quite seven, the youngest child on the under-ten team. Her uniform was two sizes too big, her baggie blue T-shirt skimming the hem of her shorts. The team was in the midst of a game, Leah racing to the net, blond ponytail flying, the ball jouncing in front of her, her tiny face focused, intense.

His daughter was an exceptional player, fast, agile, fiercely competitive, the best player from Massachusetts ever, some coaches said. Since she was a child, Will had been grooming her, encouraging her, fostering her talent. Youth soccer, traveling teams. Scholarship to Harvard—that was their plan. They'd practiced, strategized, prepared. Through the rain, the snow, he'd been right there with her. All in service to the crimson uniform she would one day wear. That was her dream, wasn't it? She hoped to play pro. But Harvard first. Time and again, they'd discussed the importance of a good education, the one thing in life that can never be taken away.

Will pushed her, he knew. He wanted the best for his kids. He would do whatever it took to help them succeed, prevent them from repeating the mistakes he'd made. In the spring of his junior year, he'd left Penn State, surrendering a full scholarship, trading his education for a long shot at a music career. In one hour, the time it took to inform his dean he was quitting, walk to the registrar's office and sign a couple of forms, he'd managed to screw up his life. Look at him: forty-five-years-old, stuck in a dead-end job, kissing the asses of people who ought to be working for him. He refused to sit back, watch Leah throw her life away. Kids needed guidance, a motivational coach to push them, keep them focused, drive them when they didn't feel like practicing, pump them up when they lost confidence, spur them on when they wanted to quit.

Will closed his eyes. God help him. Tell him he hadn't pushed her away.

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Night Owl Reviews: Full Moon Web Hunt: Sept 1st to Oct 31st

The eagle-eyed amongst you may have spotted a distinctly spooky banner in the sidebar so I thought I'd take a moment to fill you in.

This year The World According to Dave is one of the participating sites in the Night Owl Reviews Full Moon Web Hunt.

Here are the instructions, as issued by Night Owl Reviews themselves:

Something wicked this way comes...

Visit each sponsor's website and find the special hidden graphic. Graphics will be within 1 click of the sponsor's homepage. You must find all of the required find graphics to be eligible for entry. Complete the entry form and post each sponsors unique web hunt word next to their name. Once you complete the form you will need to click "Submit" for your entry details to be submitted. You must find at least 25 of the hidden graphics to be entered including all of the required finds…40 to be entered for the grand prize. [Read more...]

There are five whopping great prizes to be won so this is definitely worth your time and I'm pretty certain that you're guaranteed to find some great blogs along the way.   The hunt starts on 1st September and ends, of course, on the 31st October.

Happy hunting!

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