Through Dolls Eyes by Jesse Orr

Posted in horror with tags , , , on September 30, 2016 by Jesse Razorr

ThroughDollsEyes

Party’s Over

Nancy crept around the side of the Sutton house, avoiding the upper story windows as she peered into the basement. The glass was frosted and she could see shapes, but that was all. She listened for any sound of disturbance. It didn’t sound like Hoffman had rung the doorbell yet. Slipping past the last window, she hurried around to the back entrance of the house. There was a back door underneath the rear porch, and she ducked into the shadow it cast. She crept up to the door and tried the knob, her touch as light as a feather. It was not locked.

How long she stood there waiting she did not know. Time ceased to function. The minutes turned from hours to seconds and back like elastic taffy. She thought about the brief but firm tap to the jaw Hoffman had administered to the pizza delivery man, knocking him out with cold precision. She thought about the hours they had spent sitting outside the Sutton house, waiting, watching, hoping for anything, any opportunity. She thought about roaring away from the hated mental hospital in a stolen car, with the easy part of their task behind them. She thought about the way Hoffman had dispatched the startled orderly they had come upon, seeming to take his keys and his life in one quick movement. She thought about her daughter, Sandra, taken by the dolls on her birthday. She ground her teeth. The fear she was feeling went down some, quelled by rage and hatred. Those fucking things were going to pay for taking her daughter.

Hoffman looked at the receipt he held, his other arm occupied by a hot bag of pizzas. “Looks like thirty even,” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry. He handed her the receipt, shooting her a look which she missed altogether. He noted that her hands were wrapped in bandages and it looked as though large chunks her hair had been torn out. The dark circles under her eyes screamed for help as she looked at the paper.

“No, this says thirty-nine…” she trailed off, her eyes focusing more on the paper and what was written above the total.

HERE TO KILL DOLLS.

She gasped, then looked behind her into the house to see if anyone had noticed. “Who are you?” she whispered. “How did you get here?”

“I’m a cop, but I’m a father first,” said Hoffman in an undertone. “You get me?”

She nodded, glancing behind her again. “What are you going to do?”

“I have someone with me, she’s going to the back door now. Is it locked?”

“No, never!”

“If we can-”

“Hey, girl!” Sofia’s voice came from the base of the stairs. “What is taking you so long?”

Olivia’s eyes widened and she shoved the receipt back at him. “Take it!” she hissed. “And give me the pizzas! If she finds me with this-”

Hoffman could not take it. His hands, so steady before when holding both pizza and paper, now noticeably trembled. “Oh my God…”

“What?!” Olivia whispered, trying to stuff the incriminating paper into Hoffman’s hand. “Quick, give me-”

“Hey girl!” Sofia’s shout grew louder. She was coming up the stairs. Olivia looked terrified. Hoffman looked sick.

“Quick!” Olivia moaned, tearing at the flap of the pizza carrier. “Hurry, she’s-”

“My daughter,” said Hoffman, and a tear fell from his eye. “My Sofia.”

“Girl!”

Sofia stood at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips and an evil look on her face. Olivia gave an involuntary shriek and nearly dropped the pizzas with which she had been grappling. “I’ve got them!” she wailed. “I’ve got them right here! Please don’t hurt me anymore, see, I’ve got them!”

Sofia ignored her, ignored the pizzas, ignored the cheers from the basement as they heard Olivia’s cries, ignored all but the man standing outside, looking at her with an expression of heartfelt sorrow and longing. As she stared at him, the look of malice and viciousness began to fade from her face. In its place, a little girl began to emerge. This little girl had wandered too far from the physical bodies of the dolls for their power to wholly dominate her, and, for the first time, the foothold of Junie and Janie in the soul of Sofia Hoffman, slipped.

“Daddy?”

She took a step forward, the dolls fighting to keep their hold, and she tottered.

“Daddy, help me!”

“Sofia!” Hoffman said, tears running free from his eyes now. “Honey, are you all right?”

The girl nearly fell over, then staggered backward. She took a step down the staircase.

“No!” Hoffman cried. “No! Honey, fight them!”

“Too late, fool,” Sofia snapped. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “We let her get a little too far, but don’t start thinking she’s yours now.” Her gaze shifted back to Olivia who stood stock-still, watching in horror, clutching the pizzas. “What are you waiting for, girl? Get downstairs with those.”

Before Olivia could move, Sofia let out an earsplitting scream of agony. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! STOP IT NOW!” she screeched. Her skin began to blister as though she had spent too much time in the hot sun. “I COMMAND IT!”

Turning, she stumbled, crashing down the stairs, still screaming.

Nancy had waited with mounting tension outside the door for Hoffman to ring the doorbell. She had tried the door several more times and assured herself it was unlocked. When she finally heard the chime of the doorbell, the door opened before her easily. She slipped inside, shutting the door with care behind her. She was in a convenient little alcove, sharing space with a few coats and boots left by those who used the basement entrance. Mostly small shoes. She crept forward.

The children were standing in the same position, eyes glassy and bodies rigid as they stood at attention, facing the stairway. Sofia stood before them, also facing the stairs. Nancy hardly noticed them, though her attention was fixed upon the two dolls which sat atop the TV, watching over all.

“Hey girl!” Sofia shouted, and started up the stairs. “What is taking you so long?”

The moment she had vanished up the stairwell, Nancy braced herself for an assault and broke from cover. The children did not impede her, nor move from their rigid parade ground rest, facing after Sofia with expressionless faces. Nancy made her way between the children to the TV, and picked up the dolls.

Revulsion filled her. The smell of death clung heavy about them, and their grins were wider, more sinister than Nancy had seen when she picked them up at the thrift store. Some little girl had given them eye shadow, and one sported a beauty mark on her cheek. The crack both dolls had above their eyes, which had given them a slanted eyebrow, had spread across their faces, bisecting them neatly. They leered at Nancy, who was seized by a sudden premonition and whirled, raising the dolls to strike at–

No one was there. The children kept up their eerie vigil, and the voices from the top of the stairs continued unabated. Looking back at the dolls, Nancy saw their heads had rotated to look at each other. One of them touched Nancy’s hand with its plastic hand and looked at her.

“You’re too late,” it said, though its lips did not move.

With a cry of disgust, Nancy threw both dolls to the floor and dug a lighter from her pocket. Striking it, she held the flame to the hem of the dress of the first one, then the other. The dresses were old and very dry and burned well. The flames licked up the dolls and engulfed their heads as upstairs, Sofia began to scream.

Olivia dropped the pizzas as Hoffman charged past her, bellowing like a wounded bull with no sense in his eyes. Lunging into the house and down the stairs, he reached for Sofia just as she tripped. If either of them had been watching the doll known as Junie at that moment, they would have seen her head amidst the fire turning in Sofia’s direction the tiniest amount. Just enough to lose her balance.

Nancy watched in horror as the darkness and misery left Sofia’s eyes as her feet left the ground. A cry escaped her mouth as she flew through the air and down the stairs, hitting the wall headfirst with a sickening crack that echoed in the basement playroom. She slid to the floor and did not move.

With a howl of rage, Nancy snatched up a nearby can of bug spray and squeezed it at the dolls. A jet of flame enveloped the already well-burning playthings, engulfing them in an inferno. Nancy kept the trigger depressed, spraying without end into the fireball on the ground as the children lurched sluggishly toward her, the fire in their eyes flickering. Black smoke began to rise from the fireball. Nancy’s finger cramped and she switched hands, never letting up on the trigger. Now there was a shrieking sound inside of her head, getting louder, as though something was trying to tear her head apart. Gritting her eyes shut, she concentrated all her will on maintaining the spray.

Olivia stood at the bottom of the stairs, her face pale as she surveyed the pizza delivery man’s sobbing form cradling his daughter’s limp body. The children moved jerkily toward the woman blazing a fireball at the two prone, helpless little figures on the floor. Olivia’s heart went out to them.

Poor little things, she thought, they were just two against a big unfair world. This man was to blame, she thought, and the woman.

If I just crept up behind the man and smashed his head into the floor, the bitch woman would stop burning the poor dolls, Olivia thought. She looked around with doll’s eyes for a weapon.

Hoffman could feel no pulse on Sofia’s neck. Her eyes were half open, looking at him with a blank expression. There was nothing behind them. Shoulders heaving, he held her to him.

Something hit him in the back of the head, hard, and he went down, crushing his daughter beneath him as he fell to the floor on top of her. He saw stars, and when his head cleared he saw the woman Sofia had called Girl drawing back a stone doorstop for another swing at him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he roared, ducking the swing and scrabbling away from her, still holding Sofia to him.

“We are sending you to hell!” Olivia hissed and brought the stone down hard.

Across the room, Nancy’s fingers had developed cramps and the children were now doing nothing more than bumping into her and pawing at her in a half-hearted way. When Hoffman yelled, she looked up, startled. As if in horror, her left index finger finally let up its pressure on the spray can as the rock connected with Hoffman’s skull. He hit the ground and lay still, as still as his daughter. Blood oozed from the wound on his skull. Grinning, Olivia drew back the rock for another blow and dropped it. Nancy could see Hoffman’s blood staining the rock had made it slippery.

Nancy looked down and saw the dolls twitching, struggling to move their deformed appendages. The jet of fire had melted their faces into unrecognizable blobs and they resembled nothing so much as vaguely humanoid plastic. But they were moving. They were moving Olivia.

Snatching the dolls up, Nancy looked around the basement. Shoving one of the children out of the way, she stabbed her finger at a button and threw both dolls into the microwave which adorned the mini fridge beside the TV stand. Slamming the door, she punched +30 SEC, again, and again, over and over. The microwave whirred to life.

The scream inside her head now was so piercing, it brought her to her knees. She cried out and could not hear herself over the thrashing of the dolls inside her head. Olivia dropped the rock again and shrieked, clapping her hands to her ears along with the children whose eyes were now their own. Inside the microwave, the melted shapes bubbled and began to turn black. A noxious smell filled the basement as the screaming went on and on and the microwave counted down.

When the microwave dinged, it did so into a kind of daze. The occupants of the basement were not awake, but not asleep. They sat where they had fallen, staring at the wall, with the sounds of agony and suffering ringing in their heads. Nancy was the first to realize the screaming had stopped, along with the microwave, some time ago. She took her hands from over her ears (she hadn’t even realized they were there anymore) and looked around.

Olivia lay beside what remained of the Hoffman family in the fetal position, one ear pressed to the carpet, a hand pressed tightly to the other. Her eyes were open wide and staring, but they were beginning to move and twitched to meet Nancy’s. The terror which had filled them since Sofia had come was fading.

The children were all crying, and Nancy’s maternal instincts roused her the rest of the way from her stupor. Shaking her head to clear it did no good, it just seemed to start an echo of the screaming again in the back of her mind. Pushing herself up, she began to move around the children, speaking soothing words in a low voice. Working her way across the room, spreading comfort as she went, she got to Olivia.

“Go outside and get help,” she told Olivia. “Hurry, these kids need it.” She looked at Olivia with empathy. “So do you.”

Olivia’s face was blank with expression fighting to resurface. “They told me… they’ll…”

They are dead,” Nancy said, taking Olivia’s hand, avoiding the one with three fingers. “Dead and gone in a nuclear holocaust thanks to America’s favorite appliance. They can’t hurt us anymore.”

Olivia looked at her with a mixture of petulance and dawning hope. “But… they said…”

Going back to the microwave, Nancy punched the button and retrieved the still warm and smoking remains of the dolls. They did not now resemble humans in the slightest and shared more characteristics with a pancake of Silly Putty. She showed these to Olivia, whose eyes lost their petulance as she poked at them and grinned.

“Go get help,” Nancy said and gave her a push toward the stairs. This time, Olivia went.

EPILOGUE

The last ambulance roared down the street and turned left, away from the Sutton house and toward the nearest hospital with the remaining children. Once there, they would be fed and pampered by the pediatric staff, one of the best in the county. It would heal their hurts, but nothing could be done about the dreams from which they would awaken screaming for the rest of their lives.

Hoffman and Sofia were placed with great care on a hearse and whisked away to the finest funeral home in town, where Hoffman’s eventuality instructions had been on file for years, awaiting just such a calamity. Within seven days, the entire Hoffman family was beneath the ground.

Nancy and Olivia watched the last ambulance drive away, having declined the offer to be chauffeured in like manner. There was a lengthy interview with one of the police officers who had responded, which culminated in taking his card and promising to come to the station as soon as they were done at the hospital to make their formal statement.

Escaping finally to the safety of the car Hoffman had stolen for him and Nancy so long ago, they both sighed in relief as the doors slammed behind them.

“Let’s go,” said Olivia. She reclined the seat, and closed her eyes, sighing. “I want to get this over with.”

Nancy nodded, starting the engine. She could not have agreed more. The name she had given to the officer had been enough to prevent him associating her with a mental patient who had escaped from the asylum, and that was all that mattered.

As she pulled onto the street, the streetlights flickered on as dusk settled over the neighborhood. The dolls, safely hidden inside Nancy ever since they had first touched her, looked out over the unrolling street beneath them. The glow of the florescent bulbs lit far back in the depths of Nancy’s eyes, and if Olivia had been watching, she would have screamed at what she saw there.

Smiling, Nancy turned left and followed the ambulance into the city, where the nearest brick wall put an end to her and Olivia’s torment forever.

Ghastly Games: Minecraft – Halloween Texture Pack

Posted in News with tags , , , , on September 29, 2016 by Emerian Rich

GhastlyGames2

Most everyone has heard of Minecraft, but for those of you who don’t play, you may not understand exactly what it is.
0922161518aImagine you could build a world with streets, neighborhoods, amusement parks, and underwater cities. Then imagine that if you were bored with the normal world you could put a sweater on it for any type of texture you want. Say it’s Christmas time, you could put a Christmas sweater on your entire world. The basics would still be the same, you still have your museum and opera house in the middle of town, but now it has Christmas lights all over it.

When I first started playing Minecraft I didn’t really understand the coolness of it all. I mean, I was able to build buildings in Sims and in Second Life, no big deal. But in Minecraft you can change those buildings and roads by simply changing textures. Depending on how you want to experience the world that is the covering you choose. They have many different textures. Some of my favorites are Halo, Skyrim, Christmas, Candyland, and of course Halloween.

That’s right, there is a Minecraft theme for our dark little horror hearts. They did everything from changing the animals to skeletons and mummies, to changing the beds to coffins and making the blocks all our favorite colors.

0922161530There are many different ways to play Minecraft beyond the texture packs. They also have skin packs so your character can look like your favorite movie character or dress up as a skeleton for Halloween. You can play Minecraft like I do, in the creative peaceful mode where you can build to your heart’s content without having to earn things, or you can play like my husband plays on survival mode where you have to earn every single thing you get and to survive you’re going to have to kill cows and other animals to eat. You also have to grow your own crops and make sure you’re protected at night time because that’s when the zombies, skeletons, spiders, and endermen come out to attack. I just hope you made some swords to fight back with. There are also these scary monsters called creepers who blow up on you. In survival mode, you can die, so make sure you’re protected before you go out at night or go exploring those caves. I don’t like the stress of playing in survival, but my husband likes trying to survive as if a real zombie apocalypse has happened.

Now, all forms of Minecraft have two alternate worlds contained within that require the production of portals to get to. The Ender Portal takes you to a land where there’s a giant dragon trying to kill you. The Nether Portal takes you to Hell, where a whole other cast of monsters try to kill you, but if you’re lucky you’ll find a castle or stronghold fit for a demon lord.

0922161517aA special note for those playing on Xbox One, the Halloween texture pack was updated last year and contains some animated things like the vampire roses that try to chomp you, the bouncing skull flowers, bloodied-toothed cacti, and blocks that have eyes peeking out between floorboards. Also, the same texture pack comes with a Halloween town sample that you should look at before you start building your own world. The sample features a haunted house, a spooky town that looks like Harry Potter’s, and a massive roller coaster that goes through a clown’s mouth and down a monster’s gullet.

If you’re thinking about trying out Minecraft, now is the best time. The Halloween texture packs are only available during October, so if you want to try it out, you must be on watch soon. Happy mining!

Book Review: Suck It Up by Brian Meehl

Posted in review with tags , , , on September 27, 2016 by Emerian Rich

suck it upA delightful YA vampire book that takes horror sarcasm to a whole other level, Suck It Up by Brian Meehl was a delight to read.

Morning McCobb used to be an orphan teen with dreams of becoming a firefighter, but a gluttonous vampire accidentally turns him into a vampire. So the comic loving, superhero idolizing, teen becomes of a vamp and is enrolled in the Leaguer Academy, a high school for vampires who don’t believe in drinking human blood. When he graduates, he thinks he’s at the bottom of his class. He’s not cool enough or even vampy enough to fit in with the other leaguers. But, an older vamp sees potential in him and thinks all his normal human ways and geeky appearance might be just the things they need to bridge the gap with humans. Could Morning be the first vampire to reveal himself on national TV? Certainly no human could find him scary. They hire media guru Penny Dreadful to handle Morning’s PR, which wouldn’t be a problem, except Morning has taken to her teen daughter, Portia.

This is a fun different take on vampire life told through narrative and a mock website posts. I enjoyed the main character because he’s such an unlikely hero. He’s quirky and a comic book geek who I think a lot of media junkies relate to. For those more jaded of the crowd. Portia is great as the opposite of him. Another aspect of being a vampire in this book is that you can CD (transform) into any form–animal or otherwise. I have to admit the image of a dolphin bursting out of the water for a jump did wimp-ify the whole scary vampire trope, but it was entertaining.

I’ll leave you with a couple favorite quotes:

“If vampires were scared of crosses, they couldn’t go to the library because of all the T’s.”

“October first stood out to be the first vampire holiday and to it gave any kid who was thinking of dressing up as a black-caped blood-sucking vampire for Halloween, time to realize how politically incorrect his costume was and find another.”

Press Release: Wicked Lit 2016

Posted in News on September 26, 2016 by Horror Addicts Editor

WICKED LIT 2016 ANNOUNCED:
8th Annual Production – 3 World Premieres

HP Lovecraft’s From Beyond
Adapted by Trey Nichols, Directed by Jeff G. Rack

Anansi and the Demons
Adapted by Jonathan Josephson, Directed by Jaime Robledo
Inspired by the canon of Anansi stories and Ashanti proverbs

Ellen Glasgow’s The Shadowy Third
Adapted by Paul Millet, Directed by Bruce Gray

THIS HALLOWEEN SEASON: October 1 – November 12, 2016

LOS ANGELES – Unbound Productions Executive Director Jonathan Josephson, Artistic Director Paul Millet, and Producing Artistic Director Jeff G. Rack have announced the plays that will be included in WICKED LIT 2016, the company’s 8th annual immersive theatre event that will for the 7th year take place at Mountain View Mausoleum and Cemetery in Altadena, California. The production will run from October 1-November 12, 2016 and feature world premiere adaptations of HP Lovecraft’s From Beyond adapted by Trey Nichols (The Car Plays), directed by Jeff G. Rack (The Fall of the House of Usher, WL15); Anansi and the Demons adapted by Jonathan Josephson (The Grove of Rashomon, WL15, 2016 Samuel French Off-Off Broadway Festival), directed by Jaime Robledo (The Ebony Frame, WL15; Astroboy and the God of Comics, Sacred Fools); and Ellen Glasgow’s The Shadowy Third, adapted by Paul Millet (The Fall of the House of Usher, WL15), directed by Bruce Gray (Black Coffee, Theatre 40). WL15 was recognized as “Ovation Recommended” by LA Stage Alliance, WL14 received the Ovation Award for “Best Sound Design – Large Venue,” and both WL13 and WL14 were named the “Best Halloween Event of the Year” by Hollywood Gothique. Photos from past WICKED LIT productions: http://unboundproductions.org/photos/

“We’re adding several new components to our production this year including puppetry… and some other surprises we’re not quite ready to reveal,” said Rack, who also oversees the production design and special effects for the event. “We are thrilled to bring back old friends and excited to add great theatre artists such as Trey and Bruce, who are new to WICKED LIT but well known to LA theatre audiences.”

Said Millet, “Last year was the first time that one of our shows was Ovation Recommended – that means a huge amount to us as a theatre company. For WICKED LIT to be recognized by the Los Angeles theatre community as one of the upper echelon theatre productions in the region – regardless of content, venue, or anything else – it’s very special and very humbling. It’s a testament to the great work that the 50+ actors, designers, crew and creatives bring to the cemetery.”

From Beyond, Anansi and the Demons and The Shadowy Third, are the 28th, 29th and 30th  plays to receive their world premiere from Unbound Productions. Several of these plays have been produced by schools and theatre companies across the country and around the world including England, Scotland and Cameroon.

“We are also very proud of the fact that our shows continue to broaden in terms of theatrical diversity, both in terms of manner-of-storytelling, as well as the international impact of our source material,” said Josephson. “Last year, one of our plays was inspired by a Japanese story that featured an all Asian and Asian-American cast. This year, we are featuring a play that is adapted from West African folk tales, and another that is drawn from the work of pioneering female author Ellen Glasgow, one of the most talented American short story-writers of the early 20th Century. It is, and always will be,  important to us that we bring a wide range of unique, creative voices to our productions.”

For the past three years, WICKED LIT has played to 100% capacity drawing over 8,000 patrons to Altadena during that time. The immersive event has been named one of the best Halloween events of the year by LA Magazine, NBC Locals (Los Angeles) and Theme Park Adventure, and listed as the best in immersive/outdoor theatre in Southern California by Timeout LA and Culture Spot LA. Terry Morgan of Stage Raw called WICKED LIT “An autumnal treat! For those who want to celebrate Halloween in an unusually theatrical way, this event won’t disappoint.” Pasadena Weekly said “I think of WICKED LIT as a treasure to start the holiday season. You should too.”

WICKED LIT 2016 will run seven weeks and feature the popular behind-the-scenes “Backstage Experience” for an additional fee. This fundraising initiative allows a small number of guests to receive insight from the creators of the show while touring the Mausoleum.

WICKED LIT audiences will experience three short plays as they are led through the grounds of the mausoleum and cemetery by Storyguides. WICKED LIT is a walking show – patrons must be able to comfortably walk a minimum of 2,000 steps and climb stairs in order to experience this production. WICKED LIT 2016 contains mature themes, theatrical violence, and sexual situations – the production is recommended for audiences ages 16+. The running time will be approximately 2 hours and 45 minutes including two intervals.

The first WICKED LIT production was staged in 2009 on the grounds of Greystone Mansion in Beverly Hills. Since that time, nearly 15,000 patrons have enjoyed full productions of adaptations of authors such as Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, Robert E. Howard, Washington Irving, Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and many others at Greystone Mansion, Mountain View Mausoleum and Cemetery and numerous installation events throughout Southern California.

The mission of Unbound Productions, the theatre company that produces WICKED LIT, is to reimagine timeless stories for new audiences by creating immersive, theatrical adaptations of literature.

Visit wickedlit.org for complete pricing and scheduling details. WICKED LIT is also on Facebook.

 

THE PLAYS

HP Lovecraft’s From Beyond
Adapted by Trey Nichols
Directed by Jeff G. Rack

When a great discovery turns deadly, a highly regarded scientist is forced to choose between trusting his eyes or following his brain in order to survive. Included as a staged reading as a part of last summer’s installation of The Monkey’s Paw, this cerebral play is quintessentially Lovecraftian and intensely supernatural.

Anansi and the Demons
Adapted by Jonathan Josephson
Directed by Jaime Robledo
Adapted from the canon of Anansi stories and Ashanti proverbs

Anansi is a trickster and a storyteller. He is also the de facto leader of his village when traditional hierarchies go south with the presence of the Ambassador. Now the Ashanti are starving and the colonists are to blame… it is time to wake the demons, but can they be controlled?

Ellen Glasgow’s The Shadowy Third
Adapted by Paul Millet
Directed by Bruce Gray

A shy young girl. An insane mother. A goodhearted doctor with only the best of intentions. One of these things is not as it seems. Or perhaps two. Maybe all three?

PERFORMANCES AND TICKETS:

October 1 – November 12, 2016, Limited engagement!
September 29 (preview)
Saturday-Sunday, Oct 1-2;
Thursday-Sunday, Oct 6-9;
Thursday-Sunday, Oct 13-16;
Wednesday-Sunday, Oct 19-23;
Thursday-Monday, Oct 27-Oct 31
Thursday-Sunday, Nov 3-6
Thursday-Saturday, Nov 10-12

All performances will begin promptly at 7:30 p.m.

Tickets range from $35-75, see website for details.
Backstage Experience passes will be available for an additional $25.
For more information go to wickedlit.org or call (323) 332-2065.

Mountain View Mausoleum & Cemetery
2300 N. Marengo Ave. Altadena CA 91001
AMPLE FREE PARKING ON THE GROUNDS
Please consult a map before driving to the Mausoleum

WICKED LIT PHOTOGRAPHY AND VIDEO

 

Photos: http://unboundproductions.org/photos/
Video: http://www.youtube.com/UnboundProductionsLA

PLEASE NOTE:

DO NOT ENTER FROM FAIR OAKS AVE ~ YOU MAY GET LOST – PLEASE PLAN AHEAD

  • THIS IS A WALKING PRODUCTION THAT TAKES PLACE AT NIGHT

  • PLEASE WEAR COMFORTABLE, SOFT-SOLED SHOES

  • SOME SCENES STAGED OUTSIDE ~ PLEASE DRESS ACCORDINGLY

  • THIS PRODUCTION IS MEANT FOR MATURE AUDIENCES AND WILL BE SCARY!

  • PLEASE INQUIRE ABOUT TRIGGER WARNINGS –

  • SEATING IS LIMITED – THESE SHOWS WILL SELL OUT!

 

ABOUT UNBOUND PRODUCTIONS

Founded in 2008 by Jonathan Josephson, Paul Millet and Jeff G. Rack, Unbound Productions is a nonprofit theatre company whose mission is to reimagine timeless stories for new audiences by creating immersive, theatrical adaptations of literature. Since our first full production of Wicked Lit in 2009, over 17,000 patrons have enjoyed our immersive theatre events at venues ranging from Mountain View Mausoleum and Cemetery, to Pasadena Museum of History, to Barney’s Beanery in West Hollywood. Unbound has also presented staged readings at Long Beach Comic Con, Pasadena Art Walk, the West Hollywood Book Fair, NoHo Lit Crawl, The Chance Theatre, The Echo Theatre Company, and many other venues and events. Unbound has produced 26 world premiere plays throughout its history, some of which have gone on to be produced at venues across the country as well as Scotland, England and Cameroon.

ABOUT WICKED LIT

The scope of Wicked Lit is to create dynamic new adaptations of classic horror literature. Over 15,000 patrons have enjoyed Wicked Lit productions and installations since Wicked Lit 2009 at the haunted Greystone Mansion in Beverly Hills. From 2010-2015, Wicked Lit has been staged at Mountain View Mausoleum and Cemetery in Altadena where audiences walk through the hallways of the mausoleum and among the headstones in the cemetery as our plays are staged all around. Unbound has also produced special installations of Mark Twain’s A Ghost Story (Los Angeles Millennium Biltmore Hotel in conjunction with the 2011 Theatre Communications Group National Conference), Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart (LA Mart in conjunction with ScareLA), and The Doll (Strub Mansion at the historic Mayfield Senior School in Pasadena). Since 2008, Unbound has also mounted over 100 free staged readings of Wicked Lit plays at libraries, schools, festivals, and special events all over Southern California including the Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens, NoHo LitWalk, Pasadena ArtWalk, West Hollywood Book Fair, Long Beach Comic Con and theaters such as The Chance Theatre, The Antaeus Company, The Blank Theatre Company, High Street Performing Arts Center, and many others.

It Came From the Vault: Real Life Horror – Garth Von Buchholz

Posted in horror, News with tags , , , , , , on September 24, 2016 by Horror Addicts Guest

vault

The Lady with the Owl Eyes
By Garth Von Buchholz

When I was in college, I had a summer job at a personal care home for the elderly. I was that young kid wheel chairing the snowy-haired old doll into the courtyard, or saying carefully chosen words to the Alzheimer’s patient who wanted to know when her father was arriving, or helping a wizened gentleman in a musty suit and tie mount the stairs to the tour bus. They had their own tour bus that was used for taking residents on outings, provided their state of health was such that they wouldn’t collapse in the middle of a coffee shop in some other town.

The old folks seemed to like me. Occasionally they’d get a little cranky, but that was part of the deal. You get old, your body is sore, and you have a right to bitch at young people like me who could still get out of bed and look forward to the day instead of feeling like they were a wounded infantryman about to climb out of the trenches and onto the battlefield one more time. I liked most of them, too, but my favorite resident was Mrs. V., a Russian immigrant who settled in Canada after the Second World War. She was a cultured woman with round, glassy eyes like an owl, a haughty stance with her chin raised to a 20 degree angle, thick white hair that was styled like a movie star, and an impeccably outdated wardrobe that must have been fashionable once, though I wasn’t sure when. She looked like a living, black-and-white Kodak photo from a half a century ago.

Mrs. V and I would spend time talking after our weekly excursions on the bus. She admitted that she had no interest in most of the destinations that we visited, but simply went along with the group so she could escape her small suite. She was fairly independent, and was allowed to keep a small electric coffee percolator in her room so she could brew her own harsh, metallic java that I had to share with her. She asked me whether I had girlfriends.

“I started dating someone,” I replied.

“Are you having sex with her?” she asked me bluntly. I drank some coffee to collect myself.

“No, it’s not…we’re not at that point right now.”

She shook her head and twisted her mouth as if she had swallowed an insect.

“If I liked a man, I would give him sex,” she said in her percussive Russian syllables. “Get another girl. Don’t waste your time. You grow old fast enough, yes?”

“Yes,” was my meek reply, not certain what we had just agreed upon.

By the end of the summer, Mrs V. was ill with heart problems. She stopped joining the bus tours and started spending more time in bed. I still had my responsibilities with the tours, but I always stopped in to see Mrs. V. afterward, just to keep our little tradition alive.

The last time I saw her before she passed, she was startled as I entered her unlocked room. She had been asleep, and her curtains were drawn. When I spoke to her, she rose up on one arm and stared at me for several moments as if I were a stranger who was slowly transforming into someone she vaguely remembered.

I gave her a moment to primp her hair and sit up in bed with some dignity. I noticed she was holding a small, ornate box in her hand—not quite a jewelry box but more like a fancy pillbox that a child might use to store a baby tooth that had fallen out. She saw me looking at it, and her moonish eyes opened wider.

“It’s a lock of hair from a baby,” she explained. “My daughter.”

I was afraid to ask. “Is she still….”

“No, she died as an infant. An infant!” she emphasized.

I shook my head to show my sympathy.

“Do you know what you must suffer for your children? No, you don’t. You will have a child someday, you are young. Her name was Ekaterina. She was born in 1941, the year the Germans marched into Russia. In July, Stalin was ordering the Russian people to fight back against the Germans. Better to burn your own barns rather than leave them to the invaders, he said. My husband was fighting with the Red Army. I was alone with our child.”

Mrs. V opened the box and beckoned me to touch the hair inside. It was blonde. I didn’t want to touch it.

“One morning, the neighbors came to my door. They were fleeing. ‘The Germans are only a few kilometers away!’ they cried. My best friend, Sofia, told me the Germans were raping women and bayoneting babies to the walls of their homes. She was shaking so badly it made her baby’s little head nod up and down as if it were agreeing with her.”

“Terrible,” I said, for lack of anything else to say.

“I wanted to run with them, but I had valuables, things my husband entrusted to me. If I left without taking them along, he would never forgive me. It was all we had, something to help us start anew after the war. “

Mrs V. stopped and stared at a point just above my head. I could see the memories returning to her, at first like a slideshow and then as the frames started appearing more quickly, a movie.

“What was I thinking?” she asked herself, alarmed by some impending crisis that had, in fact, happened decades ago. “The time flew. As my mother always said, ‘Pray to God, but keep a sharp mind!’ I was tying a satchel and dressing the baby when I heard it.” She stopped and went still.

“Mrs. V?” I prodded. Was she having a stroke?

She looked at me gently, her eyes more glazed than ever.

“I heard my neighbors screaming,” she said. “I heard cars, tanks. The invaders had arrived. They were almost at my doorstep.”

My mouth was open, but I could not speak.

“The women were screaming. And children. ‘Mama, mama!’ I had no where to hide. I could not outrun their vehicles. That was when I knew that I would be raped in a few minutes. Raped. And my baby….” She trailed off.

I glanced at the open box again, and the little lock of golden hair seemed ghoulish, as if I were standing beside an open grave. I was stiffened by the horror of what had become of Ekaterina. It was too much for me to hear. I wasn’t certain I wanted to know what happened next. I tried to fast-forward her story.

“How did you finally get away? How did you survive?”

She laughed. “Oh, yes, it was survival of a sort. We were interned by the Germans, then the Red Army pushed back the German front and freed us into poverty a few months later. Here…” she said suddenly, pressing the little pillbox into my hand. “Keep it. You can throw away the contents, but not until after you leave this building, please. Maybe you give your girl a little ring inside it someday?”

I was aghast at her offer. I did not want the box. I did not want to touch the baby’s hair, ever.

“Please,” she begged. “I have no one left. The people here will put it on the table to be sold at one of those silly craft sales they have here. I want you to have it because you know the story now. Part of the story.”

I nodded weakly. I would accept it, just to honor her wishes. Then I would throw it away the first chance I got. She placed it in the palm of my right hand, and closed my fingers around it.

“The Germans did not kill my baby,” she said. There was a long pause. I counted her breaths: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6….

“Do you understand?” she asked.

I did not.

She whispered. “I would not wait for them to stick my baby on the walls with the tip of their bayonet. My mother taught me how to bleed a goat or a lamb. When I walked into my front yard carrying my child and my razor, Ekaterina’s sweet blood was soaking the front of my dress. It made me go mad. I was smiling because I knew she was in heaven and would never be harmed by those devils.”

I stopped breathing.

“When the Germans saw the crazy woman with the dead baby, the soldiers and their motorcade veered around me. They never even came near me.”

Garth Von Buchholz is an author of dark fiction, poetry, drama and non-fiction. His new book of dark poetry, Mad Shadows, was published in June. Garth is the founder of the Dark Fiction Guild (http://DarkFictionGuild.com) and Poe International (http://PoeInternational.com). He is also the Editor and Publisher of Dark Eye Glances, the eJournal of dark poetry.  Garth lives on Vancouver Island on Canada’s west coast.  Visit his website: http://VonBuchholz.com

It Came from the Vault: HorrorAddicts.net Bonus, Halloween Carol Special

Posted in News with tags , , , , , on September 23, 2016 by Emerian Rich

vault

 

 

ha-tag

Horror Addicts Episode# BONUS!

Horror Hostesses: Emerian Rich & Camellia Rains

Intro Music by: Dean Farnell

*******************************

halloween carol special!

Feat. “The Monster’s Ball” by Dean Farnell

Feat. Renee and Evan Roulo

Write in re: ideas, questions, opinions, horror cartoons, favorite movies, etc…

horroraddicts@gmail.com

 

b l o g  / c o n t a c t / s h o w . n o t e s

http://www.horroraddicts.net

Press Release: Midnight Syndicate Zombies!!! Board Game Soundtrack

Posted in News with tags , , , on September 23, 2016 by Horror Addicts Editor
Midnight Syndicate Releases Zombies!!! Board Game Soundtrack
 
 
CLEVELAND, Ohio (September 8, 2016) – Award-winning composers and dark music pioneers Midnight Syndicate have released the Zombies!!! Official Board Game Soundtrack.  ]The new release features Midnight Syndicate’s signature blend of sound effects and instrumental music set in the modern day, post-zombie apocalypse world of the Zombies!!! board game.  “We wanted to design a soundtrack that would not only heighten the Zombies!!! gameplay experience, but also appeal to all fans of zombies and our friends in the haunted attraction industry,” said Edward Douglas.  “I think we were able to achieve that.”
 
“Given the character and core elements of the game, I think that both of us immediately felt that this album should focus on having a more modern, aggressive sound. In order to achieve that, we brought in a lot of electronic and percussive instruments and kept the fundamental game scenarios firmly in mind, approaching it more as an actual soundtrack than as a collection of songs built around a particular theme or setting. While there are a few tracks that are more situation or location-specific, most are intended to evoke the general feel and atmosphere of the game world, allowing you to play along without interruption,” added Gavin Goszka.
 
“The soundtrack is a perfect complement to the game,” added Twilight Creations co-founder, Kerry Breitenstein. “I couldn’t be more excited for the Zombies!!! fans to hear it, let alone the rest of the world!”  The album is available at www.MidnightSyndicate.com as well as digitally on CDBaby, iTunes, and Amazon.com.
 
Official Midnight Syndicate website: www.MidnightSyndicate.com
Official Twilight Creations website: www.TwilightCreationsInc.com