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This is a question Blood

Like a scene from The Exorcist, I once spewed a stomach-full of blood all over a charming nurse as I came round after a major dental operation. Tell us your tales of red, red horror.

(, Thu 7 Aug 2008, 14:39)
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But I can explain, honest.
I've never grown out of my childhood love of horror films, and while excessive gore for gore's sake without decent plot behind it is boring, a bit of the ol' claret is kinda inherent to the genre.

I made my first zero budget effort at nine years old. 'Wolf Streak'. A classic of the werewolf sub-genre which blended the mundane realism of early Shane Meadows work with a powerful methaphorical statement on pre-pubescent angst and alienation. The special effects bought to mind Tom Savini's finest work.

Actually, it was me with cotton wool on my face unconvincingly killing two chums. The severed arms were my mum's neon-pink marigold gloves stuffed with newspaper and the transformation scene, a classic piece of stop motion photography, which was only slightly spoiled by the sound of the cameraman, my dad, laughing at his moomin of a son.

Real Son Of Rambow stuff.

24 years later, the films haven't improved much. A couple of 'em are on YouTube if you can be arsed to look.

Skip joyously forward to 2006. A chum of mine was in a pretty good heavy metal band and wanted to make a video to one of their songs. Being a fellow horror nut, he wanted something of a Hostel *sigh* vibe to it. Scenes of grim, graphic torture spliced with images of them performing live. Fair enough, that's what he wanted and I'm willing to film any old cock for a laugh.

My flat was the location. I knocked up a quick set using whatever I could. I played the victim, him the torturer. The benefit was that it was the start, Saturday, of my week off where I had to do a lot of work on the place for it to go on the market to be sold. Repainting, new carpet and a few other things.

We filmed it, using the hallway and my bedroom. To make the place suitably grim looking I hang a few chains on the wall, splashed lots of fake blood and drawings on the wall which were a combination of weird, made up runic script and pub toilet like obscenities, genetalia, swears etc.

The filming went well, in the sense of one fat guy pretending to torture and kill another.

As everything, decoration wise, was being strpped out and replaced/painted I didn't really bother with much of a clean up.

So, Monday came around and I was woken up early by the entry buzzer. It was the guy from the carpet shop come round to measure up for Wednesday's fitting. Bleary eyed, I let him in and confirmed a few details. He was a pleasant chap. One of those fellas in their late fiftys, doing the easy carpet job until the pension plans kick in properly. Thick of sideburn and a cheery face that suggested an appreciation of cricket and real ale. Like your dad's best mate who you always enjoyed visiting. I almost expected him to pull a pound coin from behind my ear.

Anyway, I left him to it as I went for a piss, clean my teeth and whatnot. I could hear him whistling happily in the front room, then into the spare bedroom, still whistling, then into my room.

The whistling stopped.

I noticed this and thought "Why has he gone silent?.."



The bedroom was still covered in fake blood, ripped, 'bloodstained' sheets and clothing, chains, hacksaws, irons, crowbars. Walls with pictures of odd occult symbols, tits, cocks and fannys and things like 'die c***!' written on the wall.

His silence was matched by my stillness. I kept thinking, if you didn't know I make really shite horror films for the amusement of myself and my friends, you could probably wander into that room and think something odd had happened.

I came out of the bathroom ready to make my excuses, he came out of the bedroom, still silent, at opposite end of the hallway our gaze met.

The whistling resumed and he cheerily wrote me out the quote for fourty square yards of carpet and said that the chaps would be round on Wednesday to fit it.

He might not of seen anything?

He left and I decided it was a good time to start painting.

I spent the reast of that week a little worried my door would be kicked down at any moment by the murder police.

The vid's online somewhere.

Length and stuff.

(, Tue 12 Aug 2008, 18:31, 4 replies)
(, Tue 12 Aug 2008, 19:37, closed)
The guy's dining out
on that story!

Good one.
(, Tue 12 Aug 2008, 19:42, closed)
Ta :o)
To you both.
(, Wed 13 Aug 2008, 1:31, closed)
Well written and imagining the guy's horror, camoflagued by polite whistling leaves quite an amusing image in my mind.
(, Wed 13 Aug 2008, 9:22, closed)

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