Mimi Sebastian's Blog, page 3

A Feminist BDSM Adventure. Shanyn Hosier’s new release!

Happy Valentine’s Day! My friend, Shanyn Hoiser, and frequent guest on my blog has a new release, and I had the pleasure to critique it. Yes, I’m biased, but you’re in for a treat! Want a more realistic approach to BDSM? Try out Ingenue! Scroll down for a sexy snippet!! Available on Amazon.

Back Cover Copy:

Jilted by her fiancé, Paige Forsythe plans to lick her wounds in seclusion, looking forward to reuniting with her favorite yet ailing aunt. The shock of her heartbreak left her disillusioned with men and restless in her career as a history professor at a second-tier private college, despite her rumored promotion to department head. Tired of teaching and soul-crushing administrative duties, she longs to lose herself in research and writing, taking refuge in the safety of the past.

But the handsome, sweet guy next door has some surprising plans for Paige. Always willing to lend a hand when it comes to Aunt Lil, Reed Camden’s charming smile and eager kindness win Paige over. But when his offer of a friendly massage veers several steps beyond propriety, Paige’s complicated life skews further off-kilter. “I’ve been a Dom for years,” Reed explains, his touch igniting her desire. “I know a submissive when I see one.”

Reed casts aside his “retirement” from that life to serve as her guide, and Paige explores the unfamiliar realm of BDSM, discovering a sexually adventurous side of herself she never knew existed. What begins as a summer’s rebound fling quickly blossoms into something more, but Paige’s trust issues and deeply ingrained self-doubt threaten to sabotage their budding romance. Reed’s mysterious, dark past collides with the present, rattling her confidence further. Can Paige find the strength within to break free of her repressive life and embrace a whole new world of excitement and love?

Snippet:

I held out my hand. “Can I have my underwear back, then, if we’re done?”

Still smiling, Reed shook his head.

It took a few moments to realize he wasn’t just being coy. “Are you serious?”

He planted a light kiss on my lips. “That would make it too easy for you to forget who’s in charge. Too easy for you to pretend this didn’t happen.”

I was still frozen in shock when he eased my breast back into my bra, slipped the strap onto my shoulder. By the time he held out my shirt, I’d recovered enough presence of mind to dive into it. Then he crouched, holding my shorts open for me to step into. He drew them up slowly, staring me in the eye the whole time, and I was seduced all over again.

I wanted his rule. Every bit of it.

“For every minute of the rest of today, you’re going to think about what we did here.” He fastened the button of my waistband, then cupped my crotch through the fabric of my shorts, and I gasped. “You’re going to feel this seam brush against you—and you’re going to remember.”

Shanyn’s Facebook Page

Shanyn’s Website and Blog

Horror Movie Romances

In anticipation of Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I bring you my favorite horror romances. I often scoff at Valentine’s Day, but, admittedly, love getting a Power Rangers valentine from my son with a tattoo included, and chocolate. I also love the horror genre so why not combine the two? Maybe my love for the one will color my meh for the other. (This coming from a romance writer

Nightbreed and Candyman. Two Clive Barker stories made into movies.

Clive Barker does an amazing job touching upon a human’s relationship with his or her own flesh and how that toes the line between pain and pleasure. He did it brilliantly in Hellraiser (which could also be included here). Nighbreed and Candyman are especially gothic tales, dealing with so-called demons and or boogeymen. I’ve written before in my blog or somewhere I can no longer find, how Nightbreed is an underappreciated, misconstrued movie. It was marketed as straight horror by the studio, but it’s more a tale of the island of lost misfits except these misfits are demonic in nature. Anyway, I loved the romance between Boone and Lori. She sought him out in Midian and was not repelled by his demon nature. Personally, Nightbreed would make a great urban fantasy romance!

Candyman was a slave’s son, raised among the gentry as an artist. He fell in love with a white woman and impregnated her. His lover’s father hired a lynch mob, who cut off his hand and replaced it with a hook, covered him in honey, and left him to be stung to death by bees. Helen, a student researching urban legends, comes across the Candyman urban legend, but it’s not, and through her obsession with him, becomes his new love and her own urban legend. Candyman has a knack for horror seduction. He says to Helen: The pain, I can assure you, will be exquisite. As for our deaths, there is nothing to fear. Our names will be written on a thousand walls. Our crimes told and retold by our faithful believers. We shall die together in front of their very eyes and give them something to be haunted by. Come with me and be immortal.

Warm Bodies. While the premise was a bit hokey, this movie was funny, surprisingly heart-felt (especially loved Rob Cordry’s zombie). I wrote a brief review a while back: http://wp.me/p3aUdm-2V

The Fly. Tragic. Sad. If, instead of seeing Jeff Goldblum transforming into a fly, you view him as someone being ravaged by a disease and watch Geena Davis look on in horror and sadness knowing she can do nothing but watch him waste away, it’s truly a traumatic movie-going experience.

The Crow. It’s even more tragic to watch this movie, knowing what happened to Brandon Lee, and his father before him. The cinematography is eerie, fever dream-ish, dark, and wet; the soundtrack is fantastic with songs from The Cure, Violent Femmes, and Rollins Band; but it’s the story of how Eric Draven comes back from the dead to avenge the death of the woman he loved that is classic, oh, and the crow is cool.

Let the Right One In. The end of this movie damaged me, oh, who am I kidding? The entire movie damaged me. When we discover that Eli’s human protector, the old guy, was, well, maybe we don’t want to go there, but Oskar ends up taking his place. I wanted to both cry and cringe at the same time. Not many movies inspire such contradictory emotions. If you read a little bit about the book, it tells you that Eli was supposed to be an androgynous boy, and the movie kind of plays on this some. There are definitely themes the movies touches upon that make it horrifying in a very sublime way.

Lastly, my ode to the bromance:

Shaun of the Dead. Sadly Shaun’s best bro succumbed to the hordes, but that didn’t keep them from enjoying their favorite past-time: video games. Have a wonderful day and eats lots of luscious chocolate!

 

Black Sails Episode XI recap

So many exiting things happened this episode and they left us with Flint ready to fire upon Vane in the fort. I can’t stand it. So until then…

Long John slithers his way out of yet another flogging or keelhauling. Silver was pretty quiet this episode because of the focus on Vane, Flint’s return to New Providence, and more beheadings, but he did manage to convince Flint’s crew to forgo the vote on whether or not to go carousing on New Providence. Silver explained how sailing into the bay with Spanish markings on their canvas was maybe not such a wise idea.

Number of Flint sneers. One managed to sneak out when he was berating Eleanor for acquiescing to Vane. I believe Miranda might have sneered at Eleanor as well.

Flint is brilliant, delusional, or downright scaring the crap out of me. We learn he can be downright romantic. He leaves a book for Miranda with the words “I’m sorry” written on the inside cover. We learn their affair began over a Spanish copy of Don Quixote. Our sociopath is quite the man of letters. Not quite so romantic, however, when the New Providence pirates learned about Gate’s untimely demise. (Flint’s quartermaster who he killed in the first season.) Eleanor was pretty freaked out when she found out Flint had killed Gates. The pirates hold fine lines between brutality and outright evil fuckery and killing one of your own crew without justification falls into the evil f&%$# category as we learned after Anne Bonny and Jack killed members of their own crew.

Wenches behaving bad-ass-ly. Eleanor tried to get the upper hand on Miranda, calling her too unremarkable to warrant a mention from Flint, but Miranda has years of high-handed, British upper-class bitchiness under her belt and hands Eleanor her ass. Miranda knows what Flint’s demons whisper at night. I’d personally like to know what the both of them are smoking on that island, what local jimson weed causes one’s inner demons to whisper.

Miranda was quite the saucy wench. She basically seduced Flint back in London, showing up at his tidy apartment with very untidy thoughts. Back when women had little power, I hand it to those who took what they could, when they could. I especially liked when she told Flint about the whispers over her infidelities and how they didn’t bother her or her husband. Sooo, is she implying she has an open relationship with hubby? Or that hubby is oblivious? Time will only tell. Adding the flashbacks to Flint and Miranda’s past haven’t broken up the pacing at all and have only added more depth to these characters.

On deck shenanigans.

Vane’s crew of natty dreads pictured above (these guys are impressive in their natty-ness) carried out quite the efficient suprizal, sneaking aboard New Low’s ship and taking out the crew. It was quite satisfying when Low called out for Mr. Holmes after he gave Vane some shade about having to come to his ship alone because his crew don’t respect him no more. Mr. Holmes don’t work here anymore. Boo yah! Well played Vane.

Pirate history check. When Vane shows Eleanor Ned Low’s hostage, Eleanor tells him how Peter Ash, the Carolinas governor…(I’m a bit confused at the Carolinas lumping here because I believe both North and South Carolina were split into separate colonies in 1712) Anyway, Ash had hung men he even suspected of piracy. It was actually pretty difficult for a colonial governor to try a man for piracy. Governors needed permission from the king to hold a piracy trial under their own authority. Piracy trials were under the jurisdiction of the Vice Admiralty so most pirates had to be shipped off to London. (This legal loophole was later resolved by legislators in London.) Some governors claimed the ability to act as representatives of the Vice Admiralty, but that was a stretch. In fact, Governor Spotswood of Virginia tried William Howard, one of Blackbeard’s quartermasters. Howard actually had a lawyer and called upon him, but through some legal shenanigans on Spotswood’s part, his lawyer was banned from the trial. Spotswood tried and convicted Howard, but later he was released as a result of a pardon. (From Blackbeard by Angus Konstam)

Episode MBP (most badass pirate).

Vane has quite the flowery script, he does. Writing in blood must inspire the inner calligrapher, at least I’m thinking that was his ink of choice.

I’m sad to see Ned Low go even though it appears he existed to serve as a plot device, but we have Vane to give us the occasional beheading and savage reprisal when needed. Early in the episode, Low told Vane he was an irrational blunt instrument with an instinct toward the extreme. Episode X, we learned how Flint has a dark, wild “it”. So while Low and Flint are ruled by their “its”, Vane appears to be more rational and calculating in handling his “it” or blunt instrument, unless Eleanor’s involved. His “it” tends to get pretty fired up then. In fact, the romance writer in me has a theory about Vane, especially after Max asked him if he wanted to know how she stopped caring about Eleanor, and he responded with a very firm negative. Last season, Vane told the story of how Eleanor used to sneak out to the beach and flaunt her little, 13 year-old self in front of the pirates, casting demure smiles that said, I own you. Well, one of those smiles stuck on Vane. It’s possible Vane holds on to his affection for Eleanor to keep him from going full on Ned Low psycho. Whatever the reason, ‘tis very intriguing.

Billy Bones, Billy Bones is our true hero. We didn’t see him get more tortured, thankfully. But I did come across an interview with Tom Hooper, who plays Billy, and he provides some interesting insights into what is coming for our Billy. http://www.tvguide.com/news/black-sails-billy-dead-1079026/

Jack Rackham quote. To Anne Bonny, “She [Max] knows how to play the thing between your legs better than I.” I called the threesome! Starz didn’t disappoint. Max got Vane to do some public displays of affection so Jack and Anne could return to piracy. I enjoyed the scene in which Jack and Anne lovingly discussed building their own crew, acquiring a piragua. I wonder, ultimately, what Max’s stake is in all this. Is she really that into Anne?

So Vane now has Low’s prized plunder in his possession, the daughter of Governor Peter Ash of the Carolinas. Anyway, we glimpsed Charleston (Charles Town at the time), South Carolina in the season teasers. My second pirate book is partly set in the Carolinas around this time, so I’m excited to see Charles Town portrayed.

Eight blow my scuttlebutts because plot device New Low is gone, but overall awesomeness!

Steamed Up with Angela Quarles New Release

This new release sounds fabulous! See below for excerpt.

Jack the Ripper might be in town. But is marriage more terrifying?

In an alternate Deep South in 1890, society reporter Adele de la Pointe wants to make her own way in the world, despite her family’s pressure to become a society wife. Hoping to ruin herself as a matrimonial prospect, she seizes the opportunity to cover the recent Jack the Ripper-style murders for the newspaper, but her father’s dashing new intern suggests a more terrifying headline—marriage.

Dr. Phillip Rawley’s most daring exploit has been arriving at his new home in America in a hot air balloon. A tolerable sacrifice, if it means he can secure the hand of his new employer’s daughter in a marriage of convenience. But Adele works, she’s spirited, and she has an armored pet monkey running her errands. Not only does she not match his notions of a proper lady, she stirs up feelings he’d rather keep in tight control.

With Adele hunting down a headline and Dr. Rawley trying to protect and pursue her, a serial killer is spreading panic throughout Mobile, Alabama. Can Adele and Rawley find the murderer, face their fears, and discover true love?

Amazon: http://bit.ly/SMURAmz

Nook: http://bit.ly/SMURBN

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1pcvD23

Steam Me Up, Rawley board on Pinterest: http://bit.ly/10xPdRA

Official Book Page: http://bit.ly/SMURBook

Excerpt:

Opening

April 8, 1890, Mobile, Alabama

Second Age of Pax Lincolnia

At nineteen years, Miss Adele de la Pointe hadn’t yet figured out everything, but three things she did know. She never wanted to marry, these society parties were an utter bore, and her pet monkey was about as genteel as a roly-poly at a butterfly tea party.

“Put that down.” Adele snatched a doily from Loki’s hairy fist and looked around the sunlit grounds.

Be-ribboned and be-bustled ladies sauntered between tables covered in crisp white linen and half the available lace on the Gulf Coast, but none looked her way.

Whew. No apparent witnesses to Loki’s shenanigans.

She smoothed the doily onto the lawn table, only a tad wrinkled from her monkey’s antics. Antics she must quell were she to survive this affair.

“Loki, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pull another stunt.”

Her capuchin monkey nuzzled her cheek, and the chinstrap of his oyster-shell helmet chafed her ear.

“Behave,” she whispered. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Every time someone hinted that she should trade in her childhood shoulder pet for the more refined parakeet, her heart lurched, in an if-you-do-I’m-staying-with-Loki warning. Having such a mentally enhanced pet did pose a risk if she didn’t keep him occupied, however.

She wended her way through the ladies, alert for details to immortalize yet another society gathering for the local newspaper. But the subtle snubs and dismissive glances and behind-the-fan whispers followed in her wake.

These same ladies would later scurry over and curry favor, showing off their latest hat or implant or dress. Adele pulled in a deep breath. Chin up.

All right, so society reporter might not be her ideal profession, but it certainly beat the path these ladies valued–landing a wealthy husband. She rubbed the four tattoos vertically aligned on her neck, each denoting her grandparents’ families. These would admit her to such a party without her official role, but the expectation inherent in its ink felt like an itchy reminder. She edged around a table and spotted the hostess simpering at the mayor’s wife. Adele tapped her pen against her lip.

A fresh breeze from the Mobile River skittered through the yard, rustling the oak leaves and Spanish moss. The wind loosed a silk ribbon from Claire Chastang’s monstrous hat and slapped the frippery against the mayor’s wife’s cheek. Adele pressed gloved fingers to her mouth and suppressed a chuckle.

How to cover the gathering without sounding scornful? What Adele wanted to pen for the society column would not do:

Miss Claire Chastang was resplendent (resplendently tacky) in her tailored aerophane silk day dress, sporting lace trim and chiffon flowers reminiscent of an explosion at a ladies emporium.

“Hello, my dear, how’s your aunt?”

Adele started at the familiar elderly voice and signature gardenia perfume. “Mrs. Tuttle. Nice to see you. Great-aunt, actually. Still the same.”

Mrs. Tuttle waved an elegant hand, declaring the familial distinction irrelevant. Faded neck tattoos identified her as a cousin of Adele’s Great-Aunt Linette. The older woman might be the image of proper Southern womanhood cinched into a fashionable shirtwaist with leg o’ mutton sleeves and a Gainsborough hat, but Adele had overheard her say, in tête-à-têtes with Great-Aunt Linette, more than one naughty phrase.

“Still a bit dotty, then?” Mrs. Tuttle winked like a co-conspirator, but dang if Adele knew the intrigue.

Her aunt dotty? Eccentric maybe. Prone to wear hats to dinner maybe. “I haven’t seen you at the house this week. Are you well?” Mrs. Tuttle and her great-aunt had a standing weekly canasta engagement.

“Yes, yes. Had to leave town, only returned this morning. I’ll be there Monday, never fear.”

Like the other women, Mrs. Tuttle had a shoulder pet, but unlike their parakeets, hers was a sleek ferret. Her single nod to fashion its matching hair color, a slate gray.

She stroked a hand down Winston’s tail. “Still rabid on Wollstonecraft?”

Adele bounced on her toes. “Indeed.”

“While in Boston this week, I found an excellent bound edition of her memoirs her husband published. Next time I’m by your way, I’ll bring it.”

“Thank you. So sweet of you to think of me.”

“Don’t mention it, dear.” She patted Adele’s shoulder. “But you shouldn’t take her teachings too much to heart if it’s a husband you wish to capture.”

“Well, nothing to fear there, as I have no plans to marry. Career woman for me.”

“If you insist, but it’s beyond me why you’d forsake a gentleman’s companionship. They can be mighty useful,” she said with another wink. “In all seriousness, though, I am proud of you. It’s not easy ignoring society’s expectations.”

And that comment made Adele feel so tall, she was in danger of tangling her hat in the Spanish moss dripping from the overhanging branches of the live oaks.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Anyway, I better toddle off. I need to make an appearance, you know.” She waved, and Winston jounced his head up and down a few times in farewell.

Adele smiled and consulted her notepad—what else to document? Clothes, check. Menu, check. Pithy quotes, hmmm. “What else, Loki?”

Oooh, chocolate—dark and round with a fleur de lis drawn in white icing, they glistened in the humidity. She popped one in her mouth and closed her eyes. The creamy interior melted on her tongue and soothed. She glanced around—no one watching–and snagged a second.

Another peek, and she snuck Loki a cheese straw. “Want another?”

“Talking to your shoulder pet, Adele?” asked a familiar feminine voice. “How quaint.”

Adele spun about, Loki deftly remaining on her shoulder. “Claire, how are you? Enjoying your party?” The words sounded natural enough, despite her jaw’s I-can-barely-tolerate-you clench.

Claire stepped forward, her hyper-bred parakeet on her shoulder exactly matching the brown locks of her elaborate hairdo. “It’s all right.” Her faux-bored voice said it was anything but—after all, she mustn’t look too pleased. Implanted between Claire’s shoulder blades, a lightweight brass bar curved upward, topped by a frilly, crepe de Chine parasol in the same shade as her dress: mustard yellow. The parasol bzzzed, automatically shifting to block the sun. So, Claire had adopted the latest fad. Typical.

Adele would never go under the knife for such frivolous enhancements, despite it being her father’s profession. Who cared about keeping pace and hobnobbing with Mobile’s best families?

Claire studied Loki as if he threatened her sterile, symmetrical, supercilious world and the thought was more than a little scary. “Here’s a list of guests. I’d appreciate it if you talked to all of them. And include the full menu. No one else has displayed individual servings of Charlotte Russe in champagne glasses.” She fingered her diamond bracelet. “We imported the cherries from the new state of Washington.” The last said with smugness.

Oh, spare me. “I’ll be sure to.”

“See that you do.”

Adele’s eyes—oh, they wanted to roll at that. Years of training in comportment held sway, and she imagined Loki doing it. Was she supposed to be impressed Claire’s family conducted trade with the West? The flaunting of wealth, nothing new there. But associating with the lawless and free-thinking West? A surprise given the Chastangs’ politics and position in society. Ever since the Late Great Unpleasantness, the political and economic polarity had shifted from North vs. South to an East vs. West alignment.

Claire eyed Adele, her petite nose wrinkling and dainty mouth puckering as if she’d found a June bug in her Charlotte Russe. “If Cousin Pascal could see you now. Working?” she scoffed. “Truly a Godsend the engagement ended.”

Claire paused. Waiting to see if her remark stung? Adele kept her face blank. Though the same age as Adele’s nineteen, Claire had married two years prior and viewed it as a singular accomplishment. Whereas Adele had seen her broken engagement as a blessing. Seen it as her path to independence. Seen it as A Very Near Thing. Claire’s verbal jabs might smart, but it was better than becoming like that woman. Society wife to a physician. Yes, a blessing indeed.

“You’re a joke,” Claire continued. “First you’re engaged, then you’re not. Now you’re working, but for how long?” Claire nodded. “Flighty and immature.” Her voice said the words too fluidly, as if repeating another’s.

Adele locked her knees and inhaled a shaky breath through a suddenly tight throat. All right. Claire’s jab-wielding skills had markedly improved. No one took her seriously? She pulled her bodice’s ruffled collar, but a little ball of tension coalesced in her stomach and stubbornly squatted. She knew society wouldn’t approve of her decision—she counted on it—but it did rankle that they thought her flighty.

She managed to make her shoulders shrug.

“Word of advice from an old friend. If you quit now, you can be redeemed. Society reporter is a tad unconventional, but at least it’s respectable. With your family’s position, you’re still marriageable. Don’t ruin yourself completely.”

With that, Claire spun around, the flounces on her skirt and bustle sashaying, exaggerated by internal mechanical springs.

“Nretch bichiki,” her capuchin monkey chittered, earning glares from the nearest society ladies and their matching parakeets. Were they thinking the same as Claire? Adele rubbed Loki under his chin, tried to ignore her too-fast pulse.

Adele shoved all the unpleasant emotions away, dredged up a party smile, and strode to the refreshments table. The clockwork mint julep maker handed her a chilled silver goblet, and she sipped the sweetened bourbon. Mechanical hummingbirds, each clutching a globe illuminated by captured fireflies, buzzed overhead. She flattened a palm against her side to keep from swatting the annoying creatures. Interspersed amongst the hummingbirds flitted automaton sparrows puffing out plumes of lavender scent. One poofed a perfume lump overhead, and Adele waved her hand, choking on the aren’t-I-so-cultured scent.

Stately live oaks stretched their arms over the grounds, lending gravitas to the proceedings and making Adele dislike the frilly, dangling Spanish moss for the first time, as if it were an affectation especially ordered by Claire for her shindig. Another breeze hissed through the oak leaves, lifted the edges of the linens, and set an errant hair ribbon to tickle her cheek.

Claire. Hoity-toity Claire. Her comments chafed. Because it had the can’t-be-ignored ring of truth. She had been growing tired of this job. But it was a better alternative. Following the expected path, with all its restrictions, fattened that anxiety ball. She couldn’t do it. No. And her choice of profession hadn’t been enough to make her unmarriageable?

She glanced skyward. “Blessed Virgin, grant me patience,” she whispered. A red and blue hot air balloon sailed overhead, and her chest expanded, aching to be in its wicker hold. Who was the pilot? What adventures awaited him?

“The punch,” someone cried nearby.

Adele spun around, the lack of weight on her shoulder filling her with unease.

Loki sat in the crystal punchbowl, splashing the too-pink liquid in his face and scattering large dollops on the starched white linen tablecloth. From across the expansive lawn, Claire screeched.

That screech punched through Adele’s belly, hollowing it out. Criminy. The party seemed populated now with eyes, judging, condescending, see-what-a-joke-you-are eyes, all pointed at her.

And that screech felt as if it arrowed straight to her boss across town. He would not be happy.

No. Not at all.

Angela Quarles is a geek girl romance writer whose works includes Must Love Breeches, a time travel romance, Steam Me Up, Rawley, a New Adult steampunk romance, and Beer & Groping in Las Vegas, a geek romantic comedy in novelette form. She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation from Georgia State University. She currently resides in a historic house in the beautiful and quirky town of Mobile, AL.

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Black Sails Episode X

Episode IX left me wondering: How will Flint take back his command? Will Vane blast him out of the water when he returns to New Providence? Whose lips will Ned Low remove? Why don’t they name each episode?

We got some answers to these pressing questions, but not to the show’s Roman numeral naming convention. A good name for episode X would have been Don’t Fuck the Dairy Goat. But more on that later. The pacing this season has been breath-stealing. Many major plot issues were resolved in this episode. I thought they’d make us wait until mid-season to see Billy Bones. Squee! But I suspect the pirates have many more heads to sever with a rusty cutlass and they really can’t waste time on trivial matters.

I was worried about Mr. Meeks. I didn’t think he was going to last the episode. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his lips. (See previous review with background on real life pirate, Edward Low)

Long John slithers his way out of yet another flogging or keelhauling. Silver suffered quite a bit while trying to make Flint’s former crew turn against each other, but he didn’t let a few well-thrown punches deter him. He learned in the orphanage that it’s not about getting others to like you, it’s reminding others how much they dislike each other. We also learned Silver didn’t want to be a pirate. Sadly, his destiny is set, and, as his Treasure Island future self said, “Them dat die ‘ill be the lucky ones”.

Number of Flint sneers. He was sneer-less, not even after giving the order to fire and stealing Dufresne’s thunder. In fact, I believe the British aristocrat officers in the London tavern scene threw a few sneers Flint’s way.

Flint is brilliant, delusional, or downright scaring the crap out of me. I loved the lines from Flint’s Commodore or Admiral in the London flashback. (Don’t really know what his commander’s rank was.) Anyway, after Flint kicked British Lord butt in the tavern scene, his commander told him: “That thing which arises in you when passions are aroused. Good sense escapes you. All men have it, but yours is different. Darker. Wilder. I imagine it’s what makes you so effective as an officer. But when exposed to extremes, I could not imagine what it is capable of.”

Dufresne knows what “it” is capable of. Dufresne, you about to get your butt whipped, and Flint, your manipulation is a wonder to behold. First, he stroked Dufresne’s ego, told him how he’d known the man of letters, Dufresne, would be a good addition to the crew. Then, for Dufresne’s own good, he gave him a piece of sage tactical advice. Don’t take the eastern route back to New Providence, and tempt the crew with a fat, merchant vessel out of Kingston. And, of course, what did Dufresne do? He sailed east and pursued a prize. Did Flint actually want Dufresne to not sail east to keep Dufresne from successfully capturing a prize, and look good in front of the crew? Or did he gamble on Dufresne not taking his advice, sailing east, taking a prize, and failing miserably? I say the latter. Flint, yer a canny bastard. Flint orchestrated the death and destruction of his own crew to get his captaincy back. Is it possible a man could do such a thing, asks Dufresne? Why yes. Just ask his former commander about his dark and wild thing. Oh, and Miranda too.

Wenches behaving bad-ass-ly. Eleanor is in quite the pickle. Many factions are closing in on her. The newly formed Rackham, Max, and Anne triumvirate or threesome for one. Wonder when we’ll see that, eh, Starz? Add to that, Low’s frightening obsession with her. And what will Vane do? Anne seems genuinely torn between her passion for Max and obligations/feelings for Rackham. In historical records, Anne did sail off with Captain Calico Jack Rackham, along with Mary Read. When Rackham’s drunken crew encountered a privateer, who was hunting Calico Jack, they were easily subdued. Most of the pirates fled for the hold while Anne and Mary joined the fight to repel the privateers. Read called on the pirates to “come up and fight like men.” (from Daniel Defoe’s A General History of the Pirates)

On deck shenanigans. Pirate articles covered everything from prohibitions on gambling, share of spoils, and health insurance. Not sure I’ve come across a prohibition on beastiality. Flint’s crew forgot that one as well. But me thinks they’re going to add it now. Forget stealing food or wiping one’s arse with one’s hand. People, don’t fuck the dairy goat…or piss off the cook.

Pirate history check. Not really, but I’d like to make an appeal to restore one 18th Century tradition of starting meetings with the “Account of Goings On”. Volume the first, on this first day of February, in the year Two-thousand and fifteen. Weather is quite pleasant. Stomp feet. John was playing Candy Crush on his work computer. Jane was dozing in the break room. I think much office gossip could be deflated if we just aired the scuttlebutt from the get go.

Episode MBP (most badass pirate). While simply uttering Vane’s name kept a pirate from getting arrested, and while Flint is a master manipulator, Low wins out for sheer, gut-wrenching brutality. Bringing him on the show was a stroke of genius. The dude is unhinged. I was clenching my blanky in all of his scenes, wondering when the axe murderer in him was going to break loose. Loved it. And the actor who plays him is doing a great job. I bet he’s a really nice guy in real life, like the kid who played Joffrey Baratheon in Game of Thrones. Mr. Meeks, I knew you were not long for this world. We didn’t see what Lowe did to Meeks, but, oh, we heard it with sticky, wet, flesh-rending clarity.

Billy Bones, Billy Bones is our true hero. I knew it! Opening scene. But, why did they have to torture him? Pirates did some nasty things, oh no, that was the British Royal Navy, and the Spaniards, who came up with the foul technique employed by the Naval officer torturing our Billy. The Spaniards did concoct the Inquisition, after all. I’m pretty sure I’d take water boarding over being shrink-wrapped in leather and left on the beach to cook. I suppose the scenario was a combination of water boarding and death by leather.

Jack Rackham quotes. Jack was pretty subdued this episode. Actually he was pretty heart-breaking, as much as a pirate can be. So I have to hand over best quote to Randall, the cook. “I don’t like him.” Silver learned quite a bit from a man who barely speaks.

The first season got off to a slow start, spending the first few episodes establishing the characters. While the pacing was deliberate, it really paid off. Now, we have episode after episode of tense situations, and I’m invested in what will happen to each character, even the crazy bastards.

A full 10 out of 10 blow my scuttlebutts because, gosh darn it, Billy Bones is back! And for unmentionable acts with dairy goats.

Black Sails is Back – Review

Season Two of Black Sails has begun and I shall savor it until Outlander comes back. The eight Outlander episodes did not even whet my appetite for some Jamie Fraser. Sigh. But dinna fash!! says my inner fan girl because we get this:

We have plenty o’ historical man flesh in Charles Vane, Long John Silver, Captain Flint…(plenty o’ woman flesh too

Last season’s final episode was fantastic. It was full of ass whooping and handing all around. Vane handed over Hornigold’s ass, Flint got some ass handed to him, and I’m sure Jack Rackham was concerned about getting anymore Anne Bonny ass after the New Providence pirates found out Rackham and Bonny murdered members of their own crew.

I’m waiting for my Billy Bones to come back. I know he will. He’s in Treasure Island. I know he will. (If I write it enough times, he will come)

I came up with what I hope is a more fun way of reviewing/recapping, all leading up to a final Blow My Scuttlebutt Rating for the episode. So onward to episode IX.

Long John slithers his way out of yet another flogging or keelhauling. This dude has more lives than a flea bitten feline. He volunteers to join Flint in capturing the Spanish ship (to which Flint sneers, see below), and while they sneak about the companionway where the Spanish crew are sleeping, he not only catches a bottle before it wakes anyone, but he steals the alarm whistle hanging right above a sleeping man’s head.

Number of Flint sneers. In watching the show, I found his sneers are in proportion to his current predicament. When he’s in charge and confident, it’s full sneer ahead. This episode contained about four sneers. A low count for Flint, but he’s fighting his way back to his captaincy. I particularly liked the one where he tells, Dufresne, that his former crew can F off for siding with a cowardly, sniveling shit of a mutineer. Those pirates were poetic. That just rolls off the tongue.

Flint is brilliant, delusional, or downright scaring the crap out of me. I’m going with brilliant this episode, but dude below is probably going with delusional, especially when Flint proposes they capture the Spanish warship anchored off shore. That is a serious scar tattoo, btw.

Wenches behaving badly. Max has evolved quite a bit since we first met her in season one. From sex slave to throwing shade against her former lover, Eleanor, now she’s got her sights set on Anne Bonny. But her stunt in giving information to Ned Low about the Good Fortune (like, not!) was quite the play. Eleanor was banking on another pirate, Hallandale, getting that prize. Max is stepping up her game and show she’s not down with Eleanor’s power trip. Bring it on.

On deck shenanigans. Lots of them, from Flint raiding the Spanish ship to Ned Low’s massacre of the Good Fortune‘s crew. (Wow. What an unfortunate name) I mean seriously, steer clear of any vessel named Good Fortune. You’re better off sailing on The Misfortune, or like, The Bad News Pirates.

Pirate history check. So we meet Ned Low, who appears to be based off of Edward Low, and from the historical accounts, was just as much an unrepentant sadist. The real Low reputedly tortured some prisoners by cutting off their lips before killing them. But that was an amuse bouche really. (Ha, amuse bouche…) Afterwards, he massacred over 60 Spanish prisoners before fleeing north toward the American coast. Based on the Black Flag Low’s story of cutting out someone’s tongue, seems they plan to draw on the historical Low’s brutal reputation. You don’t need to make this shit up.

Episode MBP (Most Badass Pirate). It’s between Low and Flint with honorable mention to Vane’s derriere. Flint, with a reluctant, Silver in tow, boarded the Spanish ship and almost single-handedly took it over. The man just don’t mess around  And really, he looks quite dashing in his His Majesty’s Navy blues. I’m excited to see his backstory, meeting Miranda, and what events led him and Miranda to New Providence.

Jack Rackham quote: He gets the best lines. After he gets the crap kicked out of him and the pirates, ah, relieved themselves on him, he encounters Anne in the brothel and tells her what happened, ending with: “They pissed on me.”

Billy Bones, Billy Bones is our true hero. Alas, Billy hasn’t shown up yet but who is this new dude playing Dufresne? Apparently, the actor is Roland Reed, replacing Jannes Eiselen. Something about this actor’s beady eyes that rub me wrong. The old Dufresne had puppy dog eyes that just drew me in even when he was plotting against my favorite sociopath, Flint.

9 out of 10 Blow My Scuttlebutts: eight for lots of action plus one for unconventional pirate urinary habits.

Night Hush Release

I’m very excited to be featuring the release of Night Hush, from my good friend and writing bud, Leslie Jones. It sounds great and I can’t wait to read it.

Back cover copy:

In this gripping and action-packed debut, an Army Intelligence officer and a Delta Force soldier must race against the clock to stop a catastrophic terrorist attack…

When Army Intelligence Officer Heather Langstrom’s military convoy is ambushed and she’s taken prisoner, she knows she’ll need all her strength and courage to survive, escape her captors, and report the whispers of unrest brewing in the Middle East.

Delta Force Captain Jace Reed isn’t one to throw caution to the wind, but when his team stumbles upon beaten and weak Heather fleeing the terrorist training camp they’ve been dispatched to destroy, he’ll risk everything to get her to safety. 

Once back on base, they learn her convoy’s ambush was no accident…she’d been targeted. As the evidence of an impending attack mounts, Jace and Heather uncover a deadly terrorist plot that could kill hundreds of civilians. 

But Jace’s protective instincts and Heather’s fierce independence put them at constant odds. And as they close in on the extremists, they must learn to trust one another in order  to save innocent lives…even if it means sacrificing their own.

Excerpt:

Date: Unknown. Location: Unknown.

The uncertainty was the hardest. The waiting. He would come again, that was a given. He enjoyed her pain, her fear. Her panic. When he tramped into the room, loudly, deliberately, already laughing at her, Heather felt almost relieved to be done with the suspense. Almost.

“Filthy American whore.”

She tried to remain strong, she really did.

She rose on shaking legs, lifting her chin with what bravery she could muster. Standing made her feel less vulnerable, but she couldn’t stop herself from shrinking back against the coarse mudbrick wall. Her shoulders, numb from being pulled behind her for so many hours, screamed in agony as she tried to use them.

He fell silent, the twisted bastard. Stalking her in the small space. Tacitly urging her to run, to try to escape. She strained to hear what her blindfolded eyes couldn’t see. Any inhalation. Any noise.

He gave her a clue. A scrape of a heel. An expelled breath.

When she’d first been captured, she’d been defiant, aiming solid kicks where she thought he stood. When she missed, he laughed. When she connected, he beat her. Now, days later, she merely stumbled away from him, keeping her back to the wall, trying to avoid his fists.

The stink of sour sweat was her only warning before he rushed her, crowded her, pressing his body to hers. His odor penetrated the stench of urine and rotting food that permeated her prison cell. She twisted away from the wall to avoid being pinned. He grabbed her hair, which had long since fallen out of its French braid, then allowed her to wrench away, scalp stinging, dread pulsing with each thud of her heart. Disoriented, hampered by the ropes digging into her wrists and the tight blindfold, she tried to find the wall.

He went soundless again. Circling her. Stalking. Playing with her until she screamed her fear and frustration. Her impotent fury. Her screams were no longer the battle cries of a soldier, an officer in the United States Army. Instead, she sounded desperate, pitiful.

He came for her, his scraggly beard and traditional wool headdress rough against her face as his hard hands bit into her shoulders.

Heather didn’t know how much longer she could hold on. She was nearing the limits of her endurance; she could feel it.

How long had it been since she’d been captured? Days and nights of little sleep, little food, little water. No sanitary facilities.

And him. Always him.

You can find the digital book at Barnes & Noble, Amazon.

Battle Cry Release and giveaway

Hi y’all. Ready for Christmas? I’m not Here’s an opportunity for a gift: one of Melissa Snark’s back list titles in celebration of her new release, Battle Cry, book two in the Loki’s Wolves series. One commenter will be randomly selected to win one of Melissa’s back titles. Check out her website to see what you could win!

One man dares defy fate.

Survival demands sacrifices; healing requires forgiveness.

Men revere him; monsters fear him. Jake Barrett, the notorious Hunter King, values loyalty to family and followers above all else. When the daughter of his closest ally murders Daniel, his oldest son, it sets off a chain reaction of violence and destruction that claims the lives of both wolves and hunters. Determined to avenge his son, Jake seeks the truth at any cost.

After losing her lover and then her mate, Victoria Storm simply wants to get on with building a new life in Sierra Pines, California. A vengeful Jake Barrett and his organization aren’t going to make that easy, especially with the unwelcome attraction between her and the Hunter King’s second son. Perils beyond the mortal coil plague Victoria. When the Norse Fates predict Victoria will destroy the world, her duties as a priestess of Freya come into conflict with her responsibilities as a Valkyrie of Odin. When they tell her she will do it to save her unborn child, she’s not so sure they are wrong.

Sawyer Barrett has been trying to kill Victoria for so long, he doesn’t know whether he loves her or hates her. Desperate to end the war, he’s willing to take chances with everything–except his heart. The hunter harbors a deadly secret he can’t reveal without risking the ceasefire and his life. At Sawyer’s urging, Victoria agrees to peace talks with Jake. All the while, an ancient vampire plots the destruction of wolves and hunters alike. If the embittered rivalry between hunters and wolves doesn’t end—and fast—there is no hope for Victoria’s pack… or for their world.

Battle Cry buy links:

  Amazon      B&N      ARe

    Kobo         iTunes

Google Play

Excerpt (PG):

There stands an ash called Yggdrasil,

A mighty tree showered in hail.

Thence come the dews that fall in the vales.

It stands evergreen ‘bove Urd’s Well.

From there come women, very wise,

Three from the lake that stands ‘neath the pole.

One is called Urðr, another Verðandi,

Skuld the third; they carve into the tree,

Each child’s life and destiny.

~ Völuspá or “The Insight of the Seeress”, Poetic Edda

Urd’s Well at the roots of the World Tree

The white wolf ran along the trunk of the great ash tree. Her claws dug into the silvery bark while she descended the trunk toward the bottom of the Nine Worlds. Thick gnarled roots radiated from the tree’s immense base and then grew thinner. Just beyond, the dark waters of the Well of Urd formed a vast lake spread outward into eternity.

There, destiny awaited: her future and her unborn child’s.

Upon reaching the sandy soil, Victoria shifted from her wolf to her human form and walked naked to join the Norns gathered about the shallow shore. The Norns, the Sisters Wyrd, personified Fate.

One a maiden, one mature, the last a crone: Verðandi, Skuld, and Urðr.

At the lakeshore of the Well, the three sisters filled crude wooden bowls with water that nurtured the tree. The youngest sister, the beautiful maiden Verðandi who personified the Present, smiled in greeting. “You visit us again, Victoria Storm.”

“As you predicted I would.” Victoria spoke with deference. She sought guidance from the Norns and needed to curry their favor.

Skuld, an imposing woman in her middle years and the Future incarnation, labored in ominous silence beside her older sister, Urðr, a gnarled old woman and the Past aspect of Fate.

Without a word, wizened Urðr thrust the bowl she gripped in her bony fingers into Victoria’s hands. The vessel, hewn from weathered gray wood, had shallow sides and a broad, flat bottom. Securing a firm hold, Victoria stepped into the lake and grimaced when the frigid cold bit into her flesh. She placed the lip of the bowl to the water and then filled the container to the brim.

Old Urðr said, “The man you loved has died.”

Victoria winced. “Yes.”

Verðandi’s tone softened. “His soul is tormented.”

Victoria’s foot snagged on a stone, and she stumbled. Water sloshed over the brim and doused her hands. She lost half the contents of the container before she recovered her balance. Her throat worked in a convulsive swallow. “No, you’re mistaken. I was there when he died. I saw Daniel’s soul cross over.”

“I am not mistaken,” Verðandi said with genuine sorrow. The youngest Norn stepped away.

Mouth open, Victoria rushed after her, determined to demand the Present Fate provide her with a satisfactory explanation, but the old woman got in her way.

Urðr’s lips pulled thin over cracked and yellowed teeth, an expression more grimace than grin. “Your mate has also died, as have so many others. You leave a trail of death in your wake.”

“Also true.” Grinding her teeth, Victoria followed the Norns to the base of the tree. She walked slowly, placing each step with precision, taking care not to spill another drop.

The three sisters each took a turn watering the roots of the tree. Verðandi acted first, followed by the silent Skuld, and finally Urðr. The eldest persisted in taunting Victoria. “Your love and your mate were not the same man.”

Scowling, Victoria bent and poured water on a root until her bowl was empty.

“The past is the past. There is nothing I can do to alter it,” she said with determined pragmatism. “I’ve come to see you because I am pregnant.”

Youthful Verðandi clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You doubt yourself. You drown in sorrow and anger.”

Ancient Urðr cackled.

“True enough.” Victoria bobbed her head once. Her temper roiled beneath ironclad self-control. She had no patience for delays, no use for games. She wanted answers.

Shade enshrouded Skuld, and her voice manifested upon the air, thick and oppressive, closing in from all sides. “Your daughter will not grow to adulthood in Midgard.”

Victoria’s heart slammed against her breastbone. Her breath expelled in a horrified gust. The bowl dropped from her hands and flew to protect her abdomen. “What do you mean?”

“Your daughter will be taken from you on the eve of her third birthday,” Skuld said. “The one you trust most, a member of your own pack, will give the child over to your greatest enemy.”

A growl trembled in Victoria’s throat, and her entire body shook under the dual assault of fear and rage. The suggestion of betrayal from within her own pack filled her with disbelief to the core of her being. It was unthinkable. Gritting her teeth, she sought a solution, refusing to dwell on it. “How am I to prevent this?”

“We speak of what will come to pass,” Verðandi said in a sympathetic tone.

“Your predictions are not carved in stone,” Victoria said. Arguing with Fate was a foolish endeavor, but she refused to accept their prophecy.

The old woman, Urðr, smiled with a frightening gleam in her eyes. “Predictions, carved into the trunk of the World Tree, carved into the spiritual fabric of the world.”

Stubborn determination settled over Victoria like armor. Her mother had taught her there was no absolute fate, just as there was no absolute free will. Life consisted of a wide range of possibilities between the two extremes. She refused to allow her daughter to die at three years of age. She would move worlds, alter fate, slay gods.

Whatever it took.

“Do you wish to save your child?” Skuld asked.

Victoria answered without thought. “Yes. I’ll do anything. Tell me. Please.”

“The final days are upon us,” Verðandi said.

Skuld took over speaking. “To save your daughter, you will side with Loki against the Aesir. You will use your enchanted dagger to cut the binding of the great wolf Fenrir. You will be responsible for freeing the beast that kills Odin.”

Victoria’s stomach turned. Her head shook in automatic denial. “When the gods imprisoned Fenrir, my people pledged fealty to the Aesir. We have served them loyally ever since. Even when we were driven from the homeland, almost a millennium ago, we remained faithful. I will never cut Fenrir’s bonds. To do so would end the world we live in and doom us all.”

Skuld’s gaze held steady. “You will.”

Victoria snarled her denial. “No. I will never become the servant of the Trickster or willingly take part in bringing about Odin’s death.”

Skuld turned her head and pinned Victoria with one black eye that rolled in its socket like a liquid marble. “To save your daughter, you will.”

Fast Facts About Melissa Snark:

Melissa Snark is published with The Wild Rose Press & as an Indie author with five unique titles: A CAT’S TALE, THE MATING GAME, LEARNING TO FLY, THE CHILD THIEF, and HUNGER MOON.
Her Loki’s Wolves series includes THE CHILD THIEF, HUNGER MOON and BATTLE CRY.
She lives in the San Francisco bay area with her husband, three children and a glaring of cats.
She is a professional cat herder and unrepentant satirist who blogs about books and writing on The Snarkology.

Connect with Melissa Snark:

Author Website

The Snarkology

Email: melissasnark at gmail.com

Facebook Author Page

Twitter: @MelissaSnark

Goodreads

Amazon Author Page

Hot Holiday Giveaway

It’s that time again…already! I always tell myself I’m going to get all my shopping done early. So much for best intentions. While you’re out getting ready for the holidays, here’s a chance to treat yourself to some reads and a Kindle Fire!

Click here to go to the Rafflecopter and enter the giveaway. Have a fantastic holiday season!

Ghoulish Tens: Masters of Horror

Happy Halloween!! Love this!

For my final entry in my Ghoulish Tens, I tackle the Masters of Horror television series. Airing for two seasons in 2005 to 2006 on Showtime, each episode was directed by a notable horror director. Of the two seasons, these ten episodes are my favorite. If you like horror, you must check this series out. Some of the best horror broadcast on television. Unlike my other ten lists, I have listed these episodes in order with the first being my favorite and so on.

Cigarette Burns by John Carpenter. So John Carpenter, you know, that guy who directed Halloween and The Thing. There’s a subtle beauty to some of John Carpenter’s movies. There are no gory scenes in Halloween, yet when I think of that movie, I seem to remember lots of gore. The entire hour of Cigarette Burns, Carpenter builds the tension with some crazy horrifying shit while a guy searches for a movie called “Le Fin Absolue du Monde” (Absolute End of the World) that’s supposed to drive people insane after watching it. A weird deformed man, an act of slasher brutality and you’re just wondering, what the hey! Kind of like the Ring, but I must say when you actually see images from Le Fin Absolue du Monde, well, suffice it to say, unlike the Ring, I had to remind myself this is a friggin tv show and I’m not going to go crazy.

The Fair-Haired Child by William Malone. Malone hasn’t directed any films I’ve liked: House on Haunted Hill remake and Feardotcom, but OMG. Can he please make a movie like this short? I loved this one. Once again, some great pathos. Tragic, horror. And awful (in a good way), wonderful performance by Lori Petty as the mom.

Incident On and Off a Mountain Road by Don Cascorelli (Phantasm and Bubba Ho-Tep). I didn’t think I’d like this one. I’m not so much into the slasher chase through the woods. But Cascorelli definitely grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. Not even when I was squirming on the couch at what the slasher dude did with his victims did Cascorelli lessen his grip. I’ve seen movies with captured victims, agonizingly awaiting their fate like Saw, but unlike Saw, this one got to me. Maybe it was the freaky old dude imprisoned with her in the basement of horrors or the bits of compelling back story sprinkled in to great effect. The ending provided a neat twist that I did not see coming, which is refreshing because I often figure out horror movie twists. (I figured out The Sixth Sense in the first five minutes.)

Haeckel’s Tale directed by John McNaughton. Here we have American Werewolf in London werewolf (John McNaughton) directing an episode based off a Clive Barker story. Clive Barker is a sick dude who I am morbidly fascinated with. Haekel’s Tale has zombies, creepy babies, sensual horror, gothic horror and I’ll let your imagination go to work. And really, when weird shit is going down, just do not go into a cemetery at night. Do. Not.

Dario Argento is another sick dude. (I say this, like with Clive Barker, with the utmost respect.) If you haven’t seen Suspira…what can I say. Argento builds these beautiful horror glam rock tableaus with his movies. His entries, Jenifer and Pelts, are horror absurd. Jenifer is a weird blend of camp, beautiful gruesomeness. Here we have men who become obsessed with a horribly disfigured woman (or whatever the heck she is!) who has a taste for entrails. Pelts is also Argento-wonderful starring Meatloaf and vengeful raccoons, but I liked Jenifer better.

Family by John Landis. I love that the guy who directed Animal House also directed one of the best horror movies ever, American Werewolf in London. But you get it because he uses his humor sensibilities to great effect in his horror movies. Here he takes his quirky voice to a tale about George Wendt as a completely psycho dude who, unlike the rest of us who marry and have kids, builds his family a bit differently. Really, he’s just a big teddy bear. The ending is also a karma-pleasing surprise.

The Black Cat by Stuart Gordon who also did Re-Animator. Based off the Black Cat, this entry is just a great Edgar Allen Poe homage in which Poe himself succumbs to the insanity of his own tale. Great gothic portrayal with a wonderful performance by Jeffrey Combs as Poe. Gordon also directed the entry, Dreams in the Witch House, a nice H.P. Lovecraft adaptation with a phantasmagoric rat and a truly sad, horrific ending, which really kind of freaked me out.

Sounds Like directed by Brad Anderson who directed Session 9 and The Machinist. If you’ve seen the Machinist, you can get an idea of the human degradation focused on the body theme in Sounds Like. Anderson’s movies are not outright horror, but build up to horrifying endings, although I’d have to say Session 9 creeped me out. In Sounds Like, Sheriff Andy Bellefleur, (Chris Bauer of True Blood), plays, Larry Pearce, a man going crazy because he can hear everything, every little thing. What I like is, despite Pearce’s tragic back story, he isn’t someone we route for. I think he was pretty messed up even before the tragedy hit his family.

Sick Girl by Lucky McKee. Horror and bugs are truly a bad (in the good sense) combination. Sick Girl is about Ida, an entomologist, and what happens when one of her bugs bites her girlfriend. I always find transformation movies interesting a la The Bug or Altered States. Not as “buggy” as The Fly, yet the psychological horror will creep you out.

Pick Me Up by Larry Cohen. The Freddie vs Jason and Predator vs Alien movies became popular. Now we have a more “grounded” approach when two serial killers fight it out over who gets to kill someone in a seedy motel. Fairuza Balk, who can turn on the freaky camp (see her in The Craft) is the “hapless” victim caught in the middle of the competitive serial killers, who each have their own methods of stalking their victims. Michael Moriarty does a delightful turn as one of the killers. Forget, Law and Order!!