The wind rushed through a gaping hole in the collapsed structure roaring like the mouth of hell. In the harsh sterile light emanating from a cellphone, Andrew couldn’t differentiate what was shredded nylon canvass and what was meat. Save for a few backpacks, blood-soaked clothes, and one torn sleeping bag, the tent was empty. Three people should have been inside.
By Aaron AuBuchon There’s a truism amongst cinephiles that runs so strong and so deep that to suggest otherwise is to risk ridicule, banishment, ritual torture and summary execution. And that is that it is best to watch a film in a theater with a large audience. This is always presented as an a priori... Continue Reading →
Patrick Bateman. Alex DeLarge. Tony Soprano. Walter White. Tyler Durden. These characters are all typically recognized as intriguing but scathing excoriations of male egomania, curdled by nihilism and sadistic violence. Yet few regard John Travolta's Tony Manero in this light, when in fact he's always stood as an all-too-close cousin to these figures.
By: Aaron AuBuchon As the thing that had been Norris burned, its neck stretched, bursting sinew, shredding bone and ligament, oozing to the ground on long strings of alien and abhorrent viscera. The vile thing touched the ground and a long prehensile ropelike appendage thrust impossibly long from its unholy mouth, wrapping around a nearby... Continue Reading →