Werewolves Within – A Movie Review

I honestly had no idea this movie was based on a video game, nor did I really know anything about it. I wanted to see it for one simple reason, and one reason only–Sam Richardson.

In my opinion, Sam Richardson is one of the funniest guys out there. I first discovered him on VEEP, and that’s where he won me over for life. Apparently, I’m not the only one. His IMDB page suggests he’s getting plenty of work!

Werewolves Within is about a very nice–maybe too nice–forest ranger (Richardson) sent to a small town called Beaverfield. This tiny town is warring with itself due to a proposed gas line that wants to run right through the middle of it. Half the town wants the money, half the town wants to preserve the envrionment.

Richardson’s character, Finn Wheeler, quickly befriends a new postal worker named Cecily Moore, played by Milana Vayntrub (the former AT&T lady). Richardson and Vayntrub have superb chemistry with each other, and Vayntrub proved far funnier than I ever suspected.

Besides the pipeline controversy, the town soon appears to suffer from a violent creature picking off residents, pets, and generators. That creature? A werewolf!

Before long, Richardson, Vayntrub, and a host of hilarious actors are trapped in a bed and breakfast as the werewolf prowls outside. Personally, I got major Clue vibes at this point, and that’s a total compliment. Of course, as you expect, they quickly begin to suspect one another as the actual werewolf. At that point the film quickly reaches a climax and draws to a close.

I have to say that I found Werewolves Within highly entertaining with some truly funny moments. However, be warned, at times it’s surprisingly violent and even a little scary. Furthermore, I actually became invested in the mystery concerning the werewolf’s true identity. Not to worry, it is revealed by movie’s end.

If you like horror and comedy, and you want a quick, 90-minute film, I recommend Werewolves Within. Richardson is great, as always, and Vayntrub proves she’s got comedy chops as well. (And after researching her IMDB page, I feel stupid for writing that last bit about her. She’s been on fire for years and years.)

Nothing But Blackened Teeth by Cassandra Khaw – A Book Review

I know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but I absolutely grabbed Nothing But Blackened Teeth by Cassandra Khaw off of the shelf at my local library because its cover jumped out at me. Also, it’s very thin–just 124 pages–and I’ve been on a novella kick of late.

In my opinion, even for such a short book, Nothing But Blackened Teeth is overwritten with flat characters and incessant redundancies.

The book is told from Cat’s perspective. She, Phillip, Faiz, Talia, and Lin are spending the night in an abandoned mansion in Japan. They are a group of friends who love ghosts–the mansion is supposedly haunted–and Phillip became ordained specifically so that he could marry Faiz and Talia. Everyone has history with everyone, the mansion is indeed haunted, they bicker through most of the book, and then the mansion exacts its will upon them … thankfully.

From start to finish, Phillip is the rich, good-looking one. Every single time he’s mentioned, there’s an accompanying bit describing his handsomeness. Cat, the narrator, is sad, has dated two-thirds of the men in the group, and does not get along with Talia at all–the tropes are strong. Lin shows up late and doesn’t seem to like any of them but Cat. Faiz is just glad Talia is willing to marry him. There’s zero chemistry between these characters, and I honestly found them the epitome of “one-note.”

Which leads to my other criticism of the book–there’s far too much unnecessary description. People, objects, emotions–they are described more or less in the same way, just with different words, throughout the piece. The constant descriptions struck me as “filler” while nothing in particular happened until the very end.

Though I finished it, I can’t particularly say I embraced Nothing But Blackened Teeth. It clearly wasn’t for me. However, I still love that cover.

Hunger Pangs: A Short Story

“Pfwahh. Errh Brohtt ahhr ummk.”

“Gwaack, Hurmph! Rrerrm ibb fwapt.”

Oh. I’m sorry. How rude. You don’t speak Zombie, of course. I’ll just have to narrate this little tale for you, then. My name is obviously Brohtt. You’re not stupid—you gathered that much.

You caught me talking with my dear friend, Hurmph. Perhaps “dear friend” is something of an embellishment. We haven’t spoken since we bumped into each other in the Seventh Circle while celebrating the New England Patriots initial Super Bowl victory. Hurmph has always been a delight—so full of mischief, that one.

In fact, Hurmph has been such a consistent pleasure that I feel terrible having interrupted his meal. However, just as I’m about to take my leave, he asks me a question. Because you’re almost certainly an American and speak only English, I’ll translate for you.

“Brohtt, join me, old friend. This one has such a lovely flavor, and there’s ample brain to spare.”

“Thank you, Hurmph, but I must decline.”

Hurmph asks, “Have you eaten since our arrival?”

“Alas, no,” I respond.

“But why? It’s been an hour. These vessels are made all the weaker by our possession. You must gain sustenance if you wish to persist!”

Ah, Hurmph. Such a caring soul. Well, metaphorically speaking.

I pause a moment to bask in the glory of our surroundings. Everywhere I look, fresh humans are being gorged upon by my brethren. Magnificent Mile—indeed! What a serendipitous location for our revelation from the deep. The sounds of flesh ripping, explosions, bones crunching, fires blazing, screaming, and general death throes are a symphonic tempest forcing me to smile.

Whoops. Tooth just fell out.

Bother. Hurmph is right. These earthly bodies don’t last long even under the best of circumstances. Without nourishment after their death, they wither away to dust in no time at all. Speaking of which, Hurmph still awaits my response.

“Hurmph,” I say, “You must understand. I can’t simply ingest just anyone. I am in search of the perfect victim. The first eaten is always the most special—the one always remembered. I need someone who makes my heart flutter, my eyes brighten, my—” 

“But you don’t have eyes or a heart,” Hurmph interrupts.

“Well, no, not literally, not of my own, but, confound it! I’m using magniloquence, Hurmph. Please try to keep up.”

Hurmph squints at me which, unfortunately, loosens one of his body’s eyeballs and it plops out. Oh, look at that. It’s still attached. It’s like an ocular tetherball—wondrous!

“Hurmph, you’re familiar with Tom Brady?” I ask.

Hurmph appears offended while saying, “Of course.”

You must understand that we all love the Patriots—every last one of us. We see kindred spirits in them. Which clearly makes Tom Brady our MVP. It didn’t even hurt that much when he joined the Bucs. We have many, many Buc fans in Hell as well because, well, you know … Florida.

You’re confused by the mention of Hell again, aren’t you? As you have assuredly ascertained, I’m more of a humanities sort of fellow, but I’ll do my best to explain the science of it all.

Most of you think that Zombies are the result of some kind of virus. Ha! If only that were true. I’ve seen your track record with vaccines. I’ll never figure out how you all managed to survive thousands upon thousands of years. Not to worry—my friends and I will end that dynasty.

Speaking of dynasties, isn’t Bill Belichick the best? Oh, he makes my heart swoon. I’d eat him with no hesitation whatsoever. Drat! I’ve lost my train of thought yet again. Anyway, Zombies—we’re not a virus. We’re people!

Sort of.

To be more precise, we’re tiny little demons spawned in Hell. We just love it when we’re set loose upon the mortal world. As spirits, we burrow into the human brain where the soul resides and then we take hold. Yet, when we do so, we suck up that body’s soul, which is a problem because the soul is what keeps these corporal humans ticking. Thus, the rapid deterioration begins, and so we must find more and more souls to eat, along with their gray, mushy little containers, if we are to keep one leg moving in front of the other—or shuffling. You comprehend the gist.

We can body hop, you understand, or we can stay put. Coincidentally, when we dine upon a new human soul but choose to remain in place, that tasty snack becomes a Zombie as well, just one without a handsome little demon like myself manning the stick. Before you know it, we create a dirty rotting gang of rotten scoundrels birthed by our actions, all of whom are rather thoughtless. Honestly, it’s very much like Bill Belichick’s coaching tree.

Dash it all! I’ve once again become lost in my oral wilderness. I must make amends for offending Hurmph.

“Yes, of course you know Tom Brady—how foolish of me. As you know, Tom won’t play with just anyone. He’s very selective about who he allows into his circle. I, too, must remain ever vigilant in order to maintain the sanctity of my essence.

Hurmph hurmphed, then said, “You’re kind of an ass.”

His low-brow insult missed its target, for at that very moment, I spotted her—the one! Oh, she is perfection personified—she’s even wearing a Patriots jersey! I must have her! To feel her soft, warm brain matter sliding down my body’s throat—ecstasy!

As I saunter towards her with my body’s arms outstretched, ready to embrace my very own Rob Gronkowski, she begins screaming, “No! No! Stay away!”

I do love it when they play hard to get.

I’m so close I can smell her sweet scent even over the putrid guts and bile tainting the street we dance upon, and that’s when she aims a crossbow at me.

A crossbow?

Really?

Who in the Nine Circles of Hell carries a crossbow?

She howls, “No means ‘no,’ mother ******!”

My, that’s some saucy language.

D’oh. She got me right between my body’s eyes. I can feel the tip of her arrow jammed in far too deep, right into my body’s brain. The clichés are true—a brain blow is the only way to expire a Zombie.

Ah, well. At least I can say I never lowered my standards. Tom and Bill would be proud—I’ll see them one day, you know. Alas, better to have loved and lost than to—

__________________________________________

Copyright © 2021 by Scott William Foley

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.

Netflix’s Midnight Mass – A Few Thoughts

Though it took me a bit to find the time, I was very excited to watch Midnight Mass on Netflix. Midnight Mass is created by Mike Flanagan, who also created The Haunting Of Hill House and The Haunting Of Bly Manor. In fact, you’ll find several of the same actors in all three shows.

Like his previous work, Midnight Mass is a slow burn of a show that, in the end, is well worth your time. Flanagan deems it necessary to invest the viewer in his characters, but he can only do this by forcing the viewer to spend time with said characters. By the penultimate episode, we know these characters inside and out, which in turn makes the final two episodes all the more seismic. We care about them. We care what they do. We care about what happens to them. And trust me, a lot happens to them.

The premise is this: after spending several years in jail for vehicular homicide, an otherwise decent man returns to his hometown located on a tiny, isolated island near what I presume to be the east coast. Around the same time, a new priest arrives at their tiny church. This new priest replaces their ancient, regular priest, who is presumably ill after travelling to the main land. This new priest is charismatic, empathetic, and passionate. He incites a fresh religious fervor on the island, and before too long miracles begin to happen. True miracles. But why are these miracles happening, just who is this new priest, and why are so many stray cats being drained of blood?

You’re going to figure this show out quite quickly, and that’s okay–that’s totally okay. It’s okay because it’s not the traditional “horror” aspect of it that made it so great for me. For me, Midnight Mass explores those grey areas that infiltrate our lives on a daily basis. It examines what exactly it takes for otherwise good people to embrace heinous behavior. Best of all, it also dives into why some people, when they have every excuse in the world to do evil things, still hold tight to their personal morals.

Midnight Mass will absolutely offend many, especially Christians. (For the record, I identify as a Christian–Lutheran, to be precise. That last bit probably comes as no surprise.) The extended metaphor throughout the series reflects hypocritical Christian behavior during the last several years. I’ll leave it up to you to connect those dots.

The fact that Midnight Mass was willing to take on such controversial subject matter, to really, in some ways, flirt with sacrilege–I found it quite daring. For me, a story is a story. Midnight Mass in no way made me doubt or question my faith. I am able to experience it for what it is–a well-paced, well-executed, unique horror story that dared to call into question Christian behavior. I don’t think it’s a bad thing for we Christians to think long and hard about our actions, beliefs, and purpose.

Of course, were it not for Hamish Linklater, I’m not sure I would have enjoyed Midnight Mass so much. He plays the new priest in town, Father Paul. Linklater lights up the screen. He is frenetic, magnetic, deeply likeable, and burning with passion. I can’t believe I haven’t seen Linklater before, but he immediately struck me as an extremely talented actor.

Of course, Kate Siegel is in Midnight Mass as well. Mike Flanagan utilizes Siegel in most of his work. She plays a pregnant woman who has also recently returned to town. She moves into the home she hated as a child, took over the teaching job of the mother she hated, and is fully prepared to spend the rest of her life on that island. Little does she know the vital role she will soon play.

Other Flanagan favorites include Henry Thomas, Annabeth Gish, Rahul Kohli, Samantha Sloyan, and Alex Essoe. These are all superb role players who know how to make their characters shine. There’s a reason Flanagan keeps bringing them back for every project. This includes The Newton Brothers, by the way, who write some of the best scores out there.

In the end, I think Midnight Mass will divide its audience. I loved the acting, the boldness, the genre mashing, the characterization, and the entire premise. However, I certainly could understand if someone didn’t like it for religious reasons. In the end, there’s only one way to know for sure. Give it a watch, and let me know what you think.

“Swingin the Clown” Now Available At Podbean and Amazon Music

Who likes creepy clowns? “Swingin the Clown,” an unsettling story I wrote a few years ago, is now available in audio format at both Podbean and Amazon Music. You can also listen to it at ScottWilliamFoley.com.

In this short story, Sadie peeks out the back window before going to bed. This night, though, a clown sits upon their swings. Against her husband’s wishes, she confronts the stranger. She will wish she hadn’t.

Want to meet Swingin the Clown? Click any of the above links!

My Short Story, “Besieged,” Now Available At Podbean

I’m pleased to announce that “Besieged,” my short story, is now available for your enjoyment at Podbean. Simply click HERE to pay it a visit.

Careful with that spider you’re about to step on. You might just end the world.

Now Only Available To Read In Happy, Sad, Funny, Mad: Stories

Stasis: A Short Story

Listen to this story at Podbean

Listen to this story at Amazon Music

I’m standing in our dining room, looking out of the picture window. Honestly, that’s not true. It should be our dining room. It’s actually our kids’ toy room. 

I like to see what’s going on out there. Usually, the answer is “not much.” We live on a cul-de-sac, and now that it gets dark early and the cold is here, there’s rarely anything to see. But it’s either look out the window or watch Lizzie McGuire reruns with my eight-year-old—her nighttime show—so I opt for the empty street. 

Here comes some action. A walker is approaching from the other side of the cul-de-sac. It’s hard to tell who it is with all of the winter wear. I generally recognize everyone in our subdivision, but we sometimes have strangers pass through. I notice this person is eyeballing my “Biden-Harris 2020” yard sign. Maybe a fellow fan?

Maybe not!

The guy just tore my sign out and tossed it into the street!

“Brisa!” I yell as I head to the mudroom. 

“What?” Brisa calls back from the TV room.

I pull on my heavy coat while saying, “When your mom gets out of the shower, tell her I’m going on a walk.”

“But it’s too cold, Daddy,” Brisa says.

After putting on my stocking cap, I next slide into my tennis shoes. I’m not going to let some Trump supporter get away with this!

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say while making my way to the front door. 

“What are you doing, Daddy?”

I ignore Brisa’s question as I shut the door behind me.

Our neighborhood is beautiful in that it’s a series of sidewalks weaving through yard after yard. The covenants don’t allow privacy fences, so everything is wide open. I just catch sight of the walker at the far end of the sidewalk leading into the next cul-de-sac. I see him turn left, which means he’s heading towards the elementary school.

It’s only eight o’clock, but it might as well be midnight. There isn’t a soul out here except for the walker and me. As I trot after him, I feel the frigid air bite into my lungs. We could be in for some very serious trouble if it’s already this cold in late October. Like 2020 hasn’t been bad enough already. Between Covid-19 and Donald Trump … But better days can’t be too far off now, right?

I enter the adjacent cul-de-sac and see the guy at the end of it, crossing the street. He takes the sidewalk between two houses that leads to a trail around a big field that the neighborhood school uses. On such a clear night, I don’t think I could lose him once he reaches the field, but I increase my pace nonetheless.

What will I do when I catch the guy?

I have no idea.

I think I’ll start with just telling him that I saw what he did and that I didn’t like it. 

I reach the edge of the field just as he’s made it almost halfway across. Our subdivision ends along the west side of the field, the side I’m entering. Houses line the entire length of it. A retirement community resides on the east side of the field, with the school on the south side. 

The cold grass crunches under my feet as I try to catch up. I’m pretty sure the guy has no idea he’s being followed. Was he just walking around messing with Biden signs? How sad is that?

Without warning, the man stops. I mean, he’s frozen in place—mid-stride. 

I mumble, “What the hell?” 

Then, I scream.

A beam of light shoots out from the sky and surrounds the guy. Within seconds, I see his feet leave the ground. 

Still screaming, I dive onto my belly. 

I watch as the man goes up higher and higher towards the starting point of the light. 

But there’s nothing there! What’s shining the light? There’s nothing there!

Other than my screaming, there isn’t a sound. The man doesn’t move—not a muscle. He still appears as if he’s about to take another step. 

And then …

He’s gone. 

He’s just gone. 

The light’s gone. 

Everything is quiet again. The whole thing probably took five seconds.

What the hell did I just see? 

I’ve got to get out of here!

I jump to my feet and start sprinting. Sidewalks be damned, I’m cutting between houses!

I cross the street and race through my neighbors’ yards. I’m looking up at the sky for any sign of the light, but all I see are the stars. It’s like nothing happened at all!

After bursting through yet another yard, I spill out onto my own street and run towards my driveway. I’m so close! 

I step on the Biden sign and start to slide, but I manage to regain my balance. 

Almost there!

My front door is just within reach when I freeze.

I can’t move; I can’t scream; I can’t do anything. 

God, no! 

Light—the light—it’s surrounding me!

I feel the ground let go of my foot and I float upwards. 

No! No! This can’t be happening!

I move my eyes downward and see the top of my daughter’s head far below.

She’s asking for me—calling out my name. 

Thank God, she isn’t looking up. 

Please, God, don’t let her look u—

______________________________________________________________________________

Copyright © 2020 by Scott William Foley

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles.

Some Nice Words About Dr. Nekros: The Complete Saga

My thanks to Dr. Jane Thomas for writing this about Dr. Nekros: “You will never find a more creative, time-turning, plot-twisting, character-revealing, surprising story anywhere in the fantasy genre. And you will come to love the totally real, frustrating but likable characters.”

Find your copy by clicking HERE. Thank you.

Dr. Nekros The Complete Saga

Dr. Nekros: The Complete Saga Is Ready For Your Enjoyment

Dr. Nekros The Complete Saga

At long last, Dr. Nekros: The Complete Saga is now available in paperback format.

Dr. Nekros: The Complete Saga focuses upon the disfigured Dr. Nekros’ pursuit for vengeance and his estranged loved ones’ quest to save him. Micah Vadenburgh suffered mutilation by the demon Xaphan. The trauma drove him from both his wife, Zetta, and his doctoral degree. Years later, living off the money he swindles from hapless victims, Micah has transformed into Dr. Nekros. He travels the countryside in a haunted 1936 Packard while searching for the monstrosity that ruined him. As Zetta and her new husband, Jason, work to reverse Micah’s downward spiral, an intricate trap has been set—one that began a century ago by something far more evil, far more conniving than anything Dr. Nekros has ever before encountered. A supernatural thriller with a wickedly dark sense of humor, Dr. Nekros: The Complete Saga plays with time, reality, and imagination. Readers will immerse themselves in a tale filled with psychological suspense, nightmarish horror, and … redemption?

Click HERE to get your copy.

Thanks To Nurture & Support For Having Me On To Make a Special Announcement

My friend Alicia of Oh, Alchemy put me in touch with Kelly and Mel, hosts of Nurture & Support, and they were kind enough to ask me onto their podcast. The episode is now live, and I invite you to listen to it. Amidst a really fun conversation, I make a very special announcement, which I hope will excite you as much as it does me. Kelly and Mel were fantastic hosts and I hope you add Nurture & Support to your podcast playlist.

You can listen to my appearance by visiting this link: http://nurtureandsupport.net/nurture-support-177-a-visit-with-book-author-scott-william-foley/

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