Not In The Spirit

by Joyce

I am quite possibly the only person in the world who hates Halloween.

Everywhere I go I see skeletons, monsters, giant spiders, vampires, you name it. My neighbors have a severed hand and cobwebs on their mailbox. Another neighbor up the street has a giant blow-up combination pumpkin-ghost thing with a stomach that has things flying around like a snow globe. Who the hell thought that one up?

I didn't used to mind it so much. Back when I was a kid in the dark ages, we dressed up and went trick or treating as soon as it got dark. We'd grab a pillow case and only went home when it was full. We'd walk for miles (or maybe it just seemed like miles). The candy would last until Christmas.

When my own kids were small, hubby would take them out and I'd stay home and give out the candy. And their costumes were always home made. We had a Smurf, a dice, a cowboy, a crayon, Batman, Ninjas, Power Rangers, and some I've forgotten. I'd have to get out the photos. The best costumes were the Union and Confederate uniforms they wore one year. I vowed to never sew another costume after that. They about did me in.

It seems to me that Halloween has lost its spirit. And I don't mean the ghostly kind. It used to be a fun time when people would use their imaginations and come up with clever costumes. No one wanted to have the same costume as anyone else. We put hours and hours into the planning, and more hours into making the costume, all the while never breathing a word of it to our friends because we didn't want it to be copied. Now people just go into any store and buy the same thing that hundreds of others are wearing.

People must be making up for the lack of imagination in choosing costumes by going over the top with their decorations. I don't get how anyone thinks a skeleton hanging from a tree draped with purple and orange lights does anything to boost their curb appeal. What's wrong with just having a nice fall welcome plaque and a plain old pumpkin, like I have?

Do I sound crotchety? Good. I am. Or maybe I'm missing the good old-fashioned Halloween. The one where kids actually said "Trick or treat," before you dropped a candy bar into their bag. Or gasp! Actually said "Thank you," when you did.

There is one consolation though. I don't have anyone calling me on the phone asking when Halloween is.

How about you? Has Halloween lost its spirit? Have you lost yours?

BOO!

by Gina Sestak

It's that time of year again.  The days are getting short and nights are long and Halloween is just around the corner.  It's a time for ghost and ghouls and who-knows-what to roam at will . . .

To illustrate this post, I had intended to insert movie trailers like I usually do, but was astonished to find that neither you-tube nor imdb.com offered trailers for some of my favorites.

My search wasn't totally in vain.  I found this one:

Must be the whispering that does it, but The Other really gets to me. The book is scary, too.

The Other is horror at it's finest, but even really stupid movies can be scary.  I remember watching The Horror of Party Beach - one of the most idiotic films ever made - with my ex-husband.  We were afraid to go to sleep!  Something about it creeped us out sooo much . . .

Having been a zombie extra in Dawn of the Dead, that genre of film doesn't really scare me much.  I'm more likely to admire the make-up, so I'll leave George Romero out of this post.

I wanted to include a trailer for Beloved, one of the creepiest things I've ever seen, but I couldn't find any.  If you've never seen this film, watch it!  Thandie Newton gives an amazing performance as the (maybe) daughter returned from the dead.

If you've been following my posts, you expect me to include at least one Bollywood film, so here it is.  No trailer available, unfortunately.  Paheli is more intriguing than terrifying - it's a tale about a spirit who impersonates a young bride's husband while the real husband is away on business . . .

Have you ever written any horror stories?  I have quite a few mouldering away unsold.

Have you ever written anything so terrifying that you scared yourself?

Mystery Lovers Bookshop Turns 20 on Halloween

Mystery Lovers Bookshop in Oakmont, Pennsylvania celebrates twenty years as Western Pennsylvania’s center for crime and mystery fiction on Sunday, October 31, 2010.

It was on Halloween 1990 that Mary Alice Gorman, former Executive Director of The Allegheny County Center for Victims and Richard Goldman, a Mellon Bank executive, opened the Pittsburgh area’s first mystery specialty book store.

In the intervening twenty years the store has grown to be the third largest in the country; host to the largest one-day festival of mystery in the country, now in its sixteenth year; sponsor of seven book clubs and a web destination for thousands of shoppers from Maine to California. The store also pioneered its unique Coffee & Crime author breakfasts that have brought hundreds of authors to Oakmont over the past sixteen years.

It was for the store’s continuing commitment to mystery authors through its programs and events, website and newsletter that the Mystery Writers of America recognized Mystery Lovers Bookshop with the 2010 Raven Award—the Edgar award for bookstores.

Among the best selling authors the award winning store has hosted are P.D. James, Anne Perry, Robert B. Parker, Scott Turow, Sara Paretsky, Rita Mae Brown, Colin Dexter, Ian Rankin, Jo Nesbo, and hundreds of other authors from all over the US, UK, France, Sweden, Central America, South America and Canada-----just check out the bathroom!

It is a measure of the store’s success that when it opened in 1990 there was but a single Borders in the Pittsburgh area and Amazon was still just the name of a river. Mystery Lovers Bookshop opened the first area café in a bookstore in 1992. Now, there are over twenty large chain stores, many of the independents are no longer with us and more books are sold in non-bookstore mass marketers than in bookstores.

In 2010 Mystery Lovers is the 3rd largest store in the country and one of Western PA’s real entrepreneurial success stories.

Not only will Halloween---October 31, 2010 mark the 20th Anniversary for this locally owned independent business but they will also celebrate the National recognition by the Mystery Writers of America for their outstanding achievements and leadership contributions to the mystery genre with the Raven Award—the book store Edgar. Open Halloween Sunday from noon to 6 the celebration will include Pittsburgh mystery writers, treats, 10 cent book sale and many surprises.

While hundreds of other independent bookstores have been forced to close, this locally owned business continues to attract dozens of authors and readers each year to special events and to their May Festival of Mystery, now in its 16th year. www.mysterylovers.com is a cutting edge online store that brings new customers each day from all over the US and often beyond.

Mary Alice and Richard are available for an interview and hope you will share our story with your friends and readers too. Email them via the contact form on their website.

An added note: Be sure to check their website (or visit the store if you're in the area) this Friday, the 13th!

WHEN EVERYTHING IS GOING WRONG

by Gina Sestak

Did you ever have one of those days when nothing goes right?  I seem to be having one of those lifetimes, but it's been particularly annoying over the last few months.

First, one of my cats died.

Then I got really sick and vomited for a week, before I ended up in the ER and in surgery.   The operation started laparoscopically, then got complicated, so I ended up with this hideous huge incision across my upper abdomen.  I was planning to take a picture of it, so I could show you all what it looks like, but I couldn't get the digital camera to work -- see what I mean about nothing going right?  So decided to draw it using PhotoShop.

My incision looks something like this:

It's almost 8 inches long.  The dots are where the staples went in.

But, anyway, this post isn't about my incision.  It's about dealing with adversity.  Writers are good at that.  We incorporate life's traumas into our books, following the adage:  When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.  Life gave me this nifty scar and Halloween is coming, so I'm trying to think of ways to  incorporate it into a costume.  I'm open to suggestions.  What do you think?

Halloooowwweeeeen!

by,

Kathie Shoop

Well, it’s here. Do you love it? I was never a fan. Not as a kid or an adult. As a kid I always felt pressure to have a better costume than I did. I know, woe is me.

Anyone who grew up in the seventies or before has suffered at the hands of parents who didn’t give a damn what the cool costume was a given year. And I know, that means we were forced into situations where creativeness could develop, etc. etc. But sometimes it was just pure embarrassment when for some reason your creativity did not show itself.

As an adult, I never understood the appeal of grown-ups dressing up in costume. I know, I know, boring. I am, that’s true. My husband and I did our best to devise non-costumes when we were invited to parties. Our favorite was to go as Pitt fans as many a party fell on football Saturday.
But, I have to say, now that I have kids, I’m seeing the spooky holiday through a different lens.
I’ve not poisoned my children with my negative attitude toward the creepy, dark fun of Halloween.

They’ve coaxed, no pushed me into decorating inside and out, and it’s been fun to see them plan costumes. My favorite they’ve worn so far were good old fashioned ghosts, fashioned from sheets. As I watch them traipse down the sidewalk, out into the street tonight, dressed as a black cat and a combination skeleton/vampire who boasts a Clone Wars firearm, I’ll wonder how they’ll remember Halloween, whether someday they’ll dread it. And, I sincerely hope they always think it’s fun, that they always find fun in everything they do.

How about you? What are your best/worst Halloween memories?

The Cornwall Witches

By Martha Reed

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because even if you take it seriously it still comes out like fun. No one is responsible for planning a big meal or get-together. If you don’t have the money to shop for presents you can still enjoy the heck out of it by digging through your closet and coming up with something creative to wear that can be even more rewarding than buying an outfit straight off eBay. You can loosen up and be politically incorrect and carve the face of a presidential candidate onto a pumpkin. It’s a holiday that hasn’t been sanitized; it’s still slightly suspect, slightly pagan, and the woo-woo factor is still there. Ghosts, goblins, witches, Darth Vader, Batman’s Joker – all the creatures of the night get to come out and play.

Now I’m not usually one for woo-woo but a story popped up in the latest issue of Archaeology Magazine (http://www.archaeology.org/0811/etc/witches.html) that gave me the creeps. In the spirit of Halloween, I thought I should share an excerpt with you.

Macabre evidence of age-old spells surfaces in an archaeologist's front yard
By Kate Ravilious

Archaeologist Jacqui Wood holds a fragment of a cauldron unearthed from a buried spring-fed pool near her home. This and other artifacts she has found point to a long history of ritual and witchcraft. (Photo by Manuel Cohen)



Over the centuries, many in the British Isles have appealed to witches in times of need -- to cure a toothache, concoct a love potion, or curse a neighbor. Witchcraft, the rituals of a number of pagan belief systems, was thought to offer control of the world through rites and incantations. Common as it has been over the past several centuries, the practice is secretive and there are few written records. It tends to be passed down through families and never revealed to outsiders. But archaeologist Jacqui Wood has unearthed evidence of more than 40 witchy rituals beneath her own front yard, bringing to light an unknown branch of witchcraft possibly still practiced today.

Wood's home is in the hamlet of Saveock Water in Cornwall, a county tucked in the far southwest corner of the country. For thousands of years people have raised crops and livestock in its fertile valleys, and its coastline of dramatic cliffs, secluded coves, and pounding surf was once a haunt for smugglers. Cornwall is a place time forgot; steeped in folklore, myth, and legend; and purported to be inhabited by pixies, fairies, and elves. So it should come as no surprise that it has also been home to the dark arts.

When I visit Saveock Water it is raining, which adds to its unearthly atmosphere. Wood, a warm lady with sparkling hazel eyes, greets me in her cozy white-washed barn while rain hammers on the roof. She moved to Saveock Water 15 years ago because it was an ideal location for her work in experimental archaeology, replicating ancient techniques, including those used in farming or metallurgy. Since then she has carried out her experiments, such as growing ancient crop varieties, unaware of what lay under her fields. In the late 1990s, Wood decided to do some metalwork research by re-creating an ancient kind of furnace. "I dug down into the ground to construct a shelter close to the furnace and I discovered a clay floor," she says.

Wood was excited but busy with other projects and left the find undisturbed for a few years. In 2001, she gathered some archaeology students to explore it further. "It was a nightmare to dig because the field is covered in a soft rush grass with a dense web of roots, and the soil is heavy and laden with water," says Wood.

While digging a hole for another project, Wood discovered a late Mesolithic clay platform in her field. She found that small pits had been dug into the platform at a later date, and contained bizarre collections of items including swan skins, pebbles, and bird claws. (Manuel Cohen)

As the group peeled off layers of turf, they discovered the clay floor was an extensive man-made platform -- probably a foundation for a group of ancient dwellings. During a break in the rain, Wood takes me out to have a look. What used to be a half-acre marshy field is now a slippery clay surface, covered with small plastic crates protecting finds. Based on flint fragments embedded in the clay, a Danish specialist dated the site to the late Mesolithic, around 8,500 years ago.



But as Wood and her team excavated the platform over the next few seasons, unusual features began to emerge. They came across strange rectangular holes, about 15 by 10 inches, in the clay. "At first we thought they must be postholes or something," says Wood. But the first of the holes, about 6 inches deep, was lined with white feathers. The pits cut through the clay platform, so Wood knew that they had to date to a later time, but only an expensive radiocarbon test could pin it down. "We guessed it might have been a bird-plucking pit, a common farming practice at the turn of the 19th century," says Wood.

But that couldn't be the case -- Wood found that the feathers were still attached to the skin, which had been laid in the pit with the feathers facing inward. A bird expert from the local zoo confirmed they came from a swan. On top of the swan skin, Wood found a pile of pebbles and a number of claws from different birds. She later learned that the stones came from a coastal region 15 miles away, though no one knows why they were brought from so far. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to gather the contents of this pit. That season, Wood and her colleagues found eight pits, two of which contained odd collections of bird parts, and six of which had been emptied, but with a few telltale feathers and stones left behind.

"Over the last 30 years I've been quick to dismiss ritual as an explanation for unusual archaeological finds," says Wood. "It usually means that the archaeologists can't think of anything better. So now it seems especially ironic that I end up with a site absolutely full of ritual."

By that time Wood was convinced that only witchcraft could explain her unusual finds, but no one had ever heard of anything like this. Radiocarbon tests revealed the swan skins dated to around a.d. 1640, the time of civil war in England and a very dangerous period to be practicing witchcraft. "Any sort of pagan worship was classified as witchcraft at that time, and punishable by death," says Wood. "If caught, they would have been burned at the stake." To make things worse, swans were royal symbols and property of the crown, so killing a swan was doubly risky.

And yet witchcraft remained popular, says Marion Gibson of Exeter University, a specialist on 16th- and 17th-century paganism. "Every village would have had people thought to be skilled in magic in one way or another and people in the area would go to them for their specialist services, just as we might go to a lawyer or plumber today."

Wood leads me to one of the pits and pulls the plastic lid off. I get a sense of the shock she must have felt when she found them. Swan feathers line the pit and muddy, wrinkled egg membranes sit on top. A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine someone coming here in the dead of night, digging a hole, and carefully placing these offerings in it. What made them desperate enough to risk death if caught?

Two spring-fed pools on Wood's land were places of ritual offering. Visitors seeking good fortune deposited everything from scraps of cloth, to straightpins, hair, heather branches, and nail clippings. (Manuel Cohen)

One explanation is that some of the pits contained offerings to St. Bridget (or Bride) of Ireland, the patron saint of babies and infants, who may be associated with the pagan goddess Brigid. "My theory is that maybe if you got married and didn't become pregnant in the first year, you might make an offering to St. Bride in a feather pit," says Wood. Women who then became pregnant might have had to empty their pits and burn the contents, she postulates.

Wood and her colleagues had further spooky discoveries ahead. Not far from the three pits, they uncovered the remains of a spring-fed pool, carefully lined with white quartz, and containing 128 textile scraps, six medieval straight pins, shoe parts, heather branches (associated with luck), fingernail clippings, human hair, and -- it doesn't get more witch-like -- part of a cauldron.

"Two of the pieces of fabric contained wool and silk, indicating they originally belonged to someone of high status," says Wood. Others were coarser and may have come from those of lower status. Looking at the textile fragments stored in little plastic boxes in Wood's barn, it is hard to believe they are 350 years old -- the vivid blues, golden yellows, and vibrant greens were preserved by the moist environment.

Further excavation uncovered a stone-lined drain and a second pool that only fills in winter. Wood realized that the pools were much older than their contents, and that this site may have been special to people for thousands of years. Based on stratigraphic evidence, she believes the quartz-lined pools are 6,000 years old. "The white quartz would have made the pools glow in the moonlight, and we think they may have been very special, a place of ritual for people in those times," she speculates.

If the pools do date back that far, they retained their sacred status throughout the ages, as by the 17th century people were using them as a place of offering, throwing in personal fragments (such as fabric and hair) for good fortune. However, the practice stopped in the late 17th century, when the crown paid locals to fill in the pools (along with other "holy" wells in Cornwall) to prevent pagan rituals.

Wood's 2008 field season brought more unusual discoveries. "We have been uncovering some extraordinary animal pits," says Wood. One was lined with the skin of a black cat and contained 22 eggs, all with chicks close to hatching, in addition to cat claws, teeth, and whiskers. Another held a dog skin, dog teeth, and a baked pig jaw. The week prior to my arrival, Wood's students uncovered a pit that contained a mysterious seven-inch iron disk with a swan skin on one side and animal fur on the other.

The biggest shock of all came from the radiocarbon dates for these pits. The cat pit dated to the 18th century, while the dog pit dated to the 1950s. "And I doubt it just suddenly stopped in the 1950s," says Wood. "It is plausible that it could still be continuing now."

Woo-woo. Happy Halloween, everyone!

The Joy of Terror

By Annette Dashofy

Why is it that we all love to be scared? And don’t try to tell me that you don’t. Just look at the popularity of horror movies. Vampires are multiplying on TV like rabbits. And need I mention Stephen King?

Halloween, of course, is the prime holiday for being terrified. Witches and mummies and ghosts and pirates roam the streets and adorn our yards. The fun part is that it’s all safe and make-believe. I’m not going to get into those dreadful times that the fear becomes real such as when sick adults spoil kids’ fun by tampering with the candy. I’ll save that for another blog on another Halloween.

I grew up in a rural setting surrounded by corn fields and cows. We NEVER got any trick-or-treaters here until my cousin built a house next door and her kids came over before heading out to prowl the more populated streets where their aunt and cousins lived. I remember one year, my mom put me in a Bugs Bunny mask and we went to visit an aunt on Halloween. I watched as costumed monsters (very SHORT monsters) appeared at her door and were gifted with small candy bars.

I think I was maybe four at the time.

Not only did we never receive trick-or-treaters, I never WENT trick-or-treating either. I feel so deprived.

However, I developed a passion for haunted houses. My first one was at a friend’s house. I helped set it up in her basement before her Halloween party. Looking back, it was pretty mild. Jell-O and spaghetti in a bowl sort of thing. Yuck.

Fast forward to my teen years when I was in 4H. I helped put together some fairly good haunted houses for the club’s annual parties. I even won a prize for scariest costume (Miss Transylvania 19-something or other) once.

During my senior high school days, Campus Life put on Scream in the Dark every year and Washington Park had their Dark in the Park. Both were wonderfully spooky with chainsaw wielding ghoulies jumping out from behind caskets and mummies grabbing at you when you were busy eyeballing that vampire behind the tree.

I thought my haunted house days were over until last week. My mom has been rehabbing from hip surgery at a nursing home for the past few months. This place is great. Their recreational department goes above and beyond to provide entertainment for the patients and full-time residents alike. When I saw that they were having a haunted house in the rec hall, I asked my mom if she wanted to go. She thought about it and to my surprise, agreed. In all of her 87 years, Mom had never been through a haunted house before.

How scary could it be? I reasoned. They couldn’t make it too bad. After all, the patients and residents there are mostly OLD. They wouldn’t want to be responsible for anyone having a heart attack. Would they? Then again, they were just saying that all the beds were full. Maybe they needed to open up some space for those needing to come in.

With Mom in her wheelchair, we waited in line with teenagers and parents with small children as well as a few other invalid patients. But mostly it was kids. I was getting worried. Apparently, the staff’s and residents’ families were mostly the ones taking part. What if this really was too frightening for my elderly mother?

Well, we had a blast. I assume the actors dressed in the gory costumes played it up or down depending on who was coming through at the moment. But there was the usual haunted house line-up. Vampires, ax-toting bloody specters, large hairy spiders, mummies and some ghost pirates to name a few. We screamed and laughed and had a grand time being scared.

Okay, time to share your favorite tales of being scared and loving it. And Happy Halloween! Boo!

Trick or Treat

By Martha Reed

I can’t say there’s a nip in the air – the temperature registered 76 degrees yesterday and I’m still sleeping with my window open – but we are cruising toward my absolutely favorite holiday of the year – Halloween.

Oh sure, Christmas is great with all the presents, but really, who needs a set of monogrammed pillowcases that will only end up on the church bazaar linen table anyway? Give me Halloween, when I can eat Baby Ruth candy bars guiltlessly and watch my male friends parade around wearing wigs, dressed in their wives’ clothing. The shyest of kids reveals their true inner nature when he quietly states that he wants to be dread Lord Vader this year and tom-boy decides – for the first time ever – that she wants to be a fairy-tale princess.

In Aspinwall, PA, Halloween is a big to-do. Eleven years ago, when I bought my house, the owners warned me about the landscaper at the end of my street – each year Mr. Halloween buys a great pumpkin that draws every trick-or-treater in a four township radius. I go through 260 pieces of candy annually, no lie. Last weekend, I stopped by to check on things and Mr. H was staying true to form: this year’s specimen weighs in at 672 pounds and he needed a forklift to lift the pumpkin up onto his front porch.

However, the in-town competition is heating up. This past summer we welcomed a new neighbor, a transplanted Frenchman who is embracing this most American of holidays (come on, be honest, does anyone really like Thanksgiving?) We’ve been hearing a lot of hammering coming from Monsieur’s garage lately, and last Sunday he unveiled his masterpiece by transforming his porch into a fully-fledged pirate ship complete with ghostly crew and a working gangplank. The poor headless skeleton I hung in my dogwood is looking a little beat by comparison. I may have to break down this year and buy that fog machine.

The best part of Halloween, of course, is the kids. I am not kidding when I say that on October 31st, from 6:00 to 7:30 PM my street looks like Mardi Gras. I’ve got hordes of shrieking Ninja turtles and gangly, teenage Goth monsters who I’ve know since the day they were born. Some of them may be a little old for Trick or Treat, but what the heck, if you play, I'll pay.

It's That Time of Year--Again

By Joyce Tremel

Some of you may recognize this blog. It was originally posted last year about this time. I'm recycling it for lack of an interesting subject this week.

It’s that time of year again. The leaves are falling, there’s a chill in the air, houses are decorated with pumpkins and ghosts. The kids are planning their costumes, and moms are buying candy. Evenings are spent in front of the fireplace, maybe with a mug of apple cider. Yes, it’s the time of year when I answer the phone at the Shaler Police Department and get the inevitable caller asking, “When is Halloween?”

Huh? Why, everyone knows when Halloween is, you might think. October 31st, right? Well, for most people it is. But not, apparently, for these callers. Believe it or not, every year I get at least a half dozen people calling to ask that question. I always say, as politely as possible, “October 31st.” After that, I usually get some explanation of why they asked such a stupid question, like other places have Halloween on different days. This is the point where I want to scream. I could explain to them that Halloween is always October 31st, and some places might trick or treat on another day, but Halloween doesn’t change dates. Not being one prone to verbal excess, however, I keep my mouth shut.

The calls that come into the station are all non-emergency calls. (The emergencies go to the Allegheny County 911 dispatch center.) Most of them are people calling to talk to one of the police officers to file a complaint or report something minor. Some are from insurance companies requesting accident reports. Sometimes I get calls from confused elderly people (one woman complained that the police were at her house stealing her windows. They weren’t.) None of these calls bother me. It’s part of my job, even though I’d get a lot more done if the phone wasn’t ringing every couple of minutes.

The ones that irk me are the stupid callers, or the ones who are too lazy to find the information themselves. At least a dozen calls a day are from people who say, “I didn’t want the police. I wanted the township office,” like it’s my fault they dialed the wrong number. I politely give them the correct number, but I’d really like to tell them to learn how to read the *@%$ !#* phone book. Yesterday I had a call from a guy who asked when the garbage company was picking up the leaves. I told him I had no idea and suggested he call the garbage company. Then he asked me for their phone number.

If you happen to be driving through Shaler in the next few weeks, just ignore the screaming banshee you might hear. It’s not a ghost or goblin coming after you. It’s only me—the normally sedate police secretary who just received one call too many.

Movie Night

by Kristine Coblitz



I love scary movies.

Over the weekend, my husband and I went to see the new Halloween movie by Rob Zombie. I've been a fan of the original Halloween ever since the first time I saw it. The original slasher flick was chilling and gave me nightmares. I don't get nightmares from it anymore, of course, but it's still fun to watch. It's now a tradition in my house to watch it every October. I had to see this new version on the big screen.

As much as I love the original, the major holes in the plot always bothered me. Too many unanswered questions for my taste. The writer in me wanted to know more. Why did Michael Myers kill his sister? What's the connection with Laurie Strode? How did Michael Myers get out of the institution? What internal and external factors turned him into a cold-blooded killer?

Granted, I know a movie like Halloween isn't supposed to be loaded with a ton of backstory or exposition--and neither should novels, for that matter. Fans of the genre want blood and gore. They want teenage sex. They want dead bodies. They want violence. In that sense, the movie delivered. The new version delivers plenty of that, too. True fans of the genre shouldn't be disappointed.

As a writer of suspense fiction, however, I needed answers. I wanted to go beneath the surface of what was portrayed on the screen to find out why things happened. Finally with this new version, I got the answers I needed. Of course they were the answers that fit Rob Zombie's more contemporary vision, but they were enough for me. I was satisfied at the end and felt as if I got closure. It was like finishing a good book.

I found the movie to be an interesting character study into how a child can turn into a monster, and I loved how Rob Zombie brought the entire story full circle at the end. You can check out the movie's cool website HERE.

I won't give any spoilers, but I do recommend the movie to horror fans and mystery writers alike. If you can tolerate the blood and gore, you'll see a lot of the same techniques we use in crafting our novels and our villains, proving once again the similarities between screenwriting and novel writing and how we can learn from each other.

What's your favorite scary movie? Any other Halloween fans out there?