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Actor Kevin Pollak; abstract A group of young people, guided by an app which connects living with the dead, find themselves at an abandoned castle. A place with a horrific history tied to each of them, for reasons they'll soon discover; average Ratings 3,4 / 10; country USA; Directed by Waymon Boone; Horror.
Free watch preston school of industry deaths. That reminds me of a story. “ MY NAME IS? ” our driver yells as he points out the grimy van window at some random outdoor apparition. “MOMMY! Why is he yelling all the time? ” Tasha wails. “Tash”, Es explains, “That’s just the way they talk over here, I guess. ” “Valosh? ”, I ask, “What are you on about? ” “ MY NAME IS? MY NAME IS? ” Valosh ramps up the decibels, whacking the driver’s window with his index finger. Evidently, we’ll all understand things much more clearly if he just yells louder. “PUTIN HOUSE! PUTIN HOUSE! ” Valosh gesticulates wildly as we drive past the Kremlin. “KGB! KGB! ” Valosh gesticulates wildly as we drive past Lubyanka Square. “MOSCOW RIVER! MOSCOW RIVER! ” Valosh gesticulates wildly as we drive over the eponymous river. “INTIM STORE! INTIM STORE! ” Valosh leers at Esme and me; laughing riotously. “Just wait until I figure out what they sell at the ‘Intim Store’…” I muse sourly. “Oh! ”, I say as the light goes off, “Valosh wants to know the English word for what he’s pointing to. Now I get it! ” “DA, DA, DA! ” Valosh hollers triumphantly. Valosh is wanting us to teach him English. In return, Valosh will help us out with our Russian. “Gotcha! ” I smile at Valosh. “Rock Russian, Valosh English! ” “DA, DA, DA! ” Valosh bellows triumphantly. Valosh takes his eyes off the road, even though were in 12-lane deep hell-bent-for-leather Moscow well-you’re-in-it-now-up-to-your-necks traffic; smacks me lightly on the cheek and smiles “Damn good Joe! ” We’ve made a major breakthrough in international diplomacy… “Valosh? The name’s ‘Rock’…Jesus Christ, Valosh! Watch out for that fucking semi! ” I yell. Valosh just chuckles to himself, “Damn good Joe. ” as we quite literally slalom sideways around the truck. Since this was not my first time in the Rodina, or Mother Russia, in fact, my last visit cost me a few fingers; Es and the kids were the ones now freaking out. I was handling with the usual “Oh, well, whaddya gonna do? ’ aplomb. I did my best to comfort them and assure them that this was in fact, what passes for normality around the place. It didn’t much help. What did help is that Valosh finally found our hotel, the ridiculously opulent and baroque Hotel Ekaterina right in the heart of downtown Moscow. It was located on the MOSCOW RIVER, according to Valosh, and fairly close to some local рынок (rynoks) or markets. Which was good, as Es and the children needed a bit of help to shakily make their way to our suite. Evidently, they’re nowhere near as acclimated to jet lag and Moscow traffic as was I. Once I got everyone checked in, de-pressurized, and settled, I suggested that I head to the local рынок, or market. I’d find us some bits and pieces to nosh upon until the hotel restaurant opens in a few hours. Since the kids were already snoring in their rooms, Es waved feebly in my direction and wished me well on my trip. Thus emboldened, I exchange some US currency for Russian and am once again, a-walkin' talkin’ Texas millionaire. “Watch out, ye hoards of the proletariat”, I snickered, “Big Amercanski capitalist comin’ though. ” I knew my millionaire status would last just until after my first taxi ride. But, it was a nice day and I felt like a bit of exercise after being stuck in an aluminum tube with 250 of one’s closest friends for the last 11 hours. Even in Business Class, you still get to breath all the same recycled air. With the current times being what they were in Russia, the airs were very fragrant; tinged with trepidation, fear of the future, and really, really awful Russian cigarettes. But, it was a clear, blue Nu Pagodi sort of day. I had my rubles, I had my rudimentary Russian, and I had my marching orders. Off to the local street market to see what wonders I could find for my famished family. Mandarins. Clementines. Tangerines. Whatever you call the little orange-y bastards, they’re my crack cocaine. I’m not normally frugivorous but ever since that first trip to Eastern Siberia where I bought a kilo of the little beauties outside, literally, of Ulan Ude. I sat eating them overlooking Lake Baikal in December. I was hooked. Communist China, to my back, smiled on approvingly. So, back to the marketplace. Oh, look, it’s Bulgarian Sneaker Week. A full 40-foot container of Bulgarian running shoes have arrived, all the same colors and style. I hope my European-American shoe size conversions work as I buy a half-dozen pairs for Esme and the kids. Alas, that’s not for eating; so I need to look for some of the more unusual comestibles that abound in these open-air markets. Oh, look! Daralagjazsky cheese. This stuff is unbelievable. And only 2 rubles per 100 grams. “ Да, один килограмм, пожалуйста. ” [“Yes, one kilo, please. ”]. “Oh, holy wow! Gollandsky cheese. Poshekhonsky cheese! Sovietsky cheese! Oh, my giddy aunt! Uglichsky cheese! ” “ Да, по одному килограмму, пожалуйста. ” [Yes, one kilo each, please. ”] “Sausage? Where? ” I ask. I am directed over to Колбасный уголок, “Sausage Corner”. There’s ливерные колбасы, liver sausage, сырокопченые колбасы, dry, fermented sausage, and варено-копченые колбасы, smoked sausage. “ Да, по одному килограмму, пожалуйста. ”] Damn, I note. I need a cart, or at least a string bag. I find a bag vendor and buy several. Next is bread. Look here: borodino bread, or Russian sourdough with caraway. Oh, yes. That’s a kilo. Then there’s ржано?й хлеб, or Russian rye. Yep. Another kilo. Well, so much for sandwiches. Now, some drinks. Kvass? OK, a liter or three. Sok? Juice? Ok, a couple of liters of burberry, dilberry and bounceberry. Some soft drinks? "Baikal, " "Tarhun” and "Sayany”? Ok, fuck yeah. Some beer, perhaps. Just a few. A twelver of Baltic Number 9 should hold me until dinner. And well, since we’re new in town, maybe a couple of bottles of Moskovskaya Vodka, just in case. In case of what? What have you got? I purchase six. Just in case. I find a young neo-capitalist Russian boy with a wagon and offer to rent his wagon for an hour or two. Through my strangled Russian, we negotiate the princely sum of 10 Rubles. I take the wagon and my purchases back to the hotel and he’ll pick up the wagon from the hotel’s concierge later. “Done and done”, I say and hand him more money than he’s probably ever seen in one place at one time. Yeah, the international ambassador of amity and cirrhosis. That’s me. He even helps me Tetris ™ my purchases into his rickety wagon. He runs off and finds some twine for me to secure my stash. I slip him a couple more rubles just for fun and he’s well pleased; as he returns with an cold beer for me and one for him. Beer is considered a soft drink in Russia. It’s openly available for anyone. He mooches a cigar from me, “For his father”. I can only snort and chuckle. Damn, I like working here. I surrender a cigar that costs more than the average monthly salary these days in Russia. Not gloating or making out like I’m the nasty old capitalist, I’m just reporting the facts. With hyperinflation, my hard currency dollars are better than gold. Plus, I like helping out those that help me. Also, I like to be generous to those who help me out and don’t laugh too loud at my rickety Russian. Which is how I came to be arrested, again, in Russia. I’m sitting at the edge of the market, where there are several seats and chess tables set up. These are permanent fixtures as chess is somewhat of a mania in the RSFSR. They are also convenient places to sit, take a load off, and have a chat with your fellow man on the street. Well, one thing leads to another, and I’m now handing out cigars while the bottles of vodka appear. Here come the 100 gram glasses and the inevitable bread, pickled mushrooms, sliced cucumbers, and dried fish…one simply cannot drink here without a nosh. I’m working on my rusty Russian and I have a coterie of new friends willing to help the hapless Amerikanski who’s struggling with their language. They appreciate that I’m working on learning the language and even more appreciative that I’m free and easy with the beer, cigars, and vodka. We’re having a large time until the police arrive. They look over the crowd I’ve amassed and wander through it like a snowplow down an early January Wisconsin backroad. “Что все это тогда? ” “What’s all this then? ” they ask. Everyone clams up and looks the other way. Suddenly, I’m on my own. “Nothing much, Officer”, I say to what I figure is the head police guy. He looks at me like I’m ready to sprout zucchini. “Какая? ” “What? ” he asks. “Извините, мои русские не слишком хороши. Я американец. ” “Sorry, but my Russian’s not too good. I’m American. ” He stops, looks, and asks for my papers. “Ваши документы? Пожалуйста? ” I hand over my red Diplomatic Passport and all my internally KGB-vetted worker’s papers. He looks at them and visibly stiffens. “We go! Now! ” he orders. “NOW! ” “OK. Whatever you say. ” I’m not about to argue. I know we can sort this out once we get to the police station. If not, then the American Embassy. They know me there as well. “Your hotel? ” he asks. “Hotel Ekaterina. ” I reply, quizzingly. We walk along in silence; only punctuated by the occasional squeak of the wagon’s wheel. After a few blocks, I hear: “Doctor Rock does not recognize Igor? ” he asks lowly. I look and damn it all to hell. It’s Igor, one of my ‘handlers’ the last time I was in country. “Igor! Holy fuck! How the hell are you? How’s the family? Doing OK? ” I ask. “Not now. Comrade Dr. Rock is in big trouble. Walk with me. Say nothing. ” Igor commands
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Free watch preston school of industry science. I've seen film students write better movies than this. The dialogue is basic and delivery is at times unbelievably bad. Its not quite bad enough to be one of those movies that is so bad that you like them, it is just bad. The jokes in the film are forced and unfunny. The camera shots are weird and it moves quite a bit at certain points in the movie. There are also massive plots holes in the big reveal (and you already know what is going to happen. Overall, don't pay to watch this movie. My friends and I rented it on Vudu, solely because the only review called it "reprehensible and off-putting. I wouldn't go that far, but it was definitely a waste of money.
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" Gyre continued to bow as she spoke. "I was shocked at how they insulted our beliefs. They saw reflections as mere simulacra rather than a way to strengthen our souls and our magic. " "Hmm. Such strange creatures, " the king mused. "But please, don't be so formal. You've long since earned the privilege. " Gyre ceased her bow, and gave the king a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "As you wish. " The king smiled. "I think I'll hold a feast to celebrate our achievements. The kingdom should be reminded of our power. " Later, as the king and his palace slept, Gyre crept through the hallways and down several sets of stairs. She avoided the patrols with a combination of wit and a cloaking spell. Once she descended the final set of stairs leading to a lone door, she paused, listened for any noise, then pushed it open. In this room she was flanked by mirrors at least three times her height and several metres wide. Each mirror was affixed with a plaque designating the name of the species trapped within. They did not show Gyre's reflection; they were instead misted with grey. "Human, " she said. At once, the mist from one of the mirrors started to dissipate. A silhouette started to appear; however, a second one then appeared next to them and seemed to give the first a shove, and after a moment the first faded back into the mist. Before Gyre had time to consider this the rest of the mist vanished. Before her stood a human female. She was in a military uniform with her hair up in a bun; there was an expression of fury on her face. "The fuck do you want? " Spat the human. "Don't summon any of us like that. Piss off. " She turned to the side, and made as if to walk beyond the edge of the mirror. "Wait, " Gyre called. "I have a proposition. " The human stopped, and turned her head towards Gyre. "Oh? " She said. The beginnings of a smile began to appear on her face. "Spit it out then. I'm interested, mage. " ~ The king's feast was held a week later in a cavernous room underneath the palace. Torches adorned the walls; the remaining space was taken up by mirrors of every shape and size imaginable. It was impossible to look around without noticing oneself in a reflection, whether from a mirror or from the range of silvered tableware. The room grew quiet as the king got to his feet. He was holding a half-finished glass of wine and seemed to be merry, though he was able to remain composed enough to speak. The flickering light of the torches cast shadows on his face which shifted and changed by the second. Gyre, who was sat on his right, was monitoring the crowd. "My fellow Kral'ee, " The king announced, voice booming and echoing around the room. "This feast is to celebrate a momentous occasion. With the entrapment of the group who called themselves 'Humans', the Mirror Voids now hold fifty different sentient species. " Murmurs snaked across the room. Some seemed impressed and others seemed more interested in the food and drink. The King continued, "Incursions on our territory have increased in the past year. Regardless, our wish to remain separated from the Allied Council's civilisation is maintained. Long may it continue! " He raised his glass, and everybody in the room hurried to copy. A smattering of applause began, then increased in volume and intensity, cheers weaving their way amongst the clapping as Kral'ee set down their empty glasses and joined in. One of the attendees, who was holding a spoon up to the light rather than applauding, gasped and let it clatter to the floor. The sound was not heard over the applause. One of their friends noticed, however, and turned to them, asking, "Are you alright? " "Oh. Um, yes, " The first one responded, looking sheepish. "I could've sworn my reflection winked at me. I've had a bit much to drink. " "Ha! " The second burst into peals of laughter. "You should drink more so you can't see the reflection at all! " The second Kral'ee laughed at this also, and both proceeded to refill their wine glasses until they were almost overflowing. Neither noticed Gyre, who was watching the pair with narrowed eyes. Although she was across the room she had heard every word. One hand sat on her lap, glowing a soft blue, and her left ear was similarly hued. "Hmm, " she muttered to herself. "So soon? " ~ Later, the king sat in his quarters. He was looking into a mirror which stood on a table, adjusting the crown on his head; at some point in the evening, it had tipped to one side. Nobody had dared to point it out, much to his consternation. He suddenly became aware that something, or some one, was whispering to him. The source was unclear. It seemed that it was coming from all directions; it was close enough, however, that the source had to be nearby. He lifted the mirror and reached for the base, separating it from the rest. Out came a blade. Noiselessly he stood, and turned to face the assailant, shifting into a battle-stance. There was nobody there. The whispering continued, too faint to discern any words, and they did not stop as the King's eyes flicked from corner to corner, unblinking, searching the shadows. His movement was copied by his reflections in the many mirrors, giving the impression that there was an army of himself present. "Show yourself, fool, " He snarled. "I will not play your petty game. " Something flickered in the corner of his eye. His head snapped left. In one of the many mirrors, his own reflection had waved and then stuck out its tongue. He threw the knife with barely a thought. It arced through the air and straight through the mirror to embed itself in the wall behind, and the mirror itself exploded into shards, first the glass and then the frame itself smashing into the floor with a cacophony of sound. The whispering stopped immediately. Four guards kicked open the door then sprinted into the room, two holding a double-bladed axe and two holding spears. "Sire! " One of them shouted. "Has there been an intruder? " The king turned to face the guards. "There was. " He sounded irritated as he spoke. "And yet you heard and saw nothing? What could slip past the finest of my guards? " The guard who had spoken looked perplexed as they first looked at the knife then the remnants of the mirror. They seemed unsure as to how to react to the king's simultaneous praise and disapproval. "My… My sincere apologies, sire. " They seemed to want to say more, but their mouth clamped shut, unwilling to cooperate. A second, more confident guard opened his mouth. "Sire, we have neither seen nor heard any intruders. If I may-" "You may not, " snapped the king. The guard, feeling their confidence fall out of them like a punctured balloon, also closed their mouth. There was an awkward silence. To the relief of the guards, a woman in red robes stalked into the room, ignoring the guards and looking furious. She was wearing earrings; they softly jingled as if they had conspired to announce her presence wherever she went. "Vala, what in the hell is happening? " she demanded. "All of my alarm-wards are shrieking at me. Shrieking. " The first guard started at the informality, but opted to stay silent. The king met her eyes. The woman could have sworn that for a moment she had seen fear, but it was already gone, replaced by impassivity. "Ah, " said King Vala. "Good evening, Gyre. I suspect I've had a little much to drink again. " "Bullshit, Vala. Those wards don't lie. " The first guard had started to look rather pale. The second, content that the King was not in danger, gestured to the group and they filed out of the room, though one had to grab the wrist of the first and pull on it before he would move. "Hmmph, " The king responded once the guards had left. He glanced towards the shattered pieces of glass. "Yes, well, something did happen. " Gala sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes, then replied, "I know that. Tell me everything. I'll ward the doors so the guards don't hear. " In the ensuing hubbub of investigators, guards and attendants cycling in and out of the king's quarters, each thought the other had removed the knife from the wall. ~ In the days following the incident in the king’s quarters, reports of strange happenings flooded in from all corners of his domain. Mirrors had fallen off of walls by themselves. Children had woken up parents, screaming about monsters who had whispered things to them in the night. Silvered cutlery screamed when they were picked up. One Kral’ee reported seeing, on the surface of a lake, shadows moving and shifting just underneath the surface. Rumours spread, some plausible and others fantastical, though all said something about monsters and mirrors. Fear amongst the populace increased by the day. Some Kral’ee, spurred on by the rumours, were seen throwing mirrors into bonfires and lakes and acid-pools by mountainsides. Such actions were treasonous; they led to scuffles at first, and then fights, and then entire towns became pitted against each other, some fighting to preserve the old ways, others try
The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly. F. Scott Fitzgerald General Info Name: Nora Doris Place of Birth: Pakistan Godrent: Melinoe Age: 16 Sexuality: Homosexual Immediate Family: Father: Omar Doris, a man who used to be an eccentric forty-five-year-old cemetery worker. Recently deceased. Appearance: Faceclaim: Hania Amir Height: 5 foot 4 inches General Appearance: Quite short for her age. She has muscles, but not very many. She has emerald green eyes that seemed to sparkle when she was happy. Her hair is long and black as night and flows free. She has a higher than average voice that cracked when she’s nervous. She generally wears heavy clothes and tries to hide behind her hoodies and sweatshirts. Powers: Spirit Lordship- She can summon a couple of ghosts to do her bidding. Most ghosts stay for 2-3 minutes, but stronger ones can stay for up to 5. This works better in an area where lots of people died. Ghost Guide- One of her favorite ghosts, Luci, stays for a lot longer than other apparitions. Luci can guide Nora through things, like how to get through a maze or something that requires an eye in the sky. Luci cannot speak, but she and Nora speak in a telepathic way. Ghost Talk- She can speak telepathically with ghosts. If you want the latest underworld gossip, Nora’s your girl. Attitude: Nora is a kind and caring person but is very, very nervous. She has social anxiety, which means she has difficulty dealing with social interaction and is often nervous and embarrassed. She thinks very low of her self, which leads her to make decisions that benefit others. She's very humble. Hobbies: She's into the arts. She likes expressing herself without words. She loves reading and taking a break from the world. Backstory: Locked, for now ? Now: The cold wind blew against Nora’s face, forming tears in her eyes. She had no idea if this was the place, or if her two weeks of running from monsters would be wasted when she found out this was an ordinary strawberry farm. She was scared. She walked up a hill until she reached a pine tree. She saw a bustling camp beneath her. She stopped and took a deep breath. Finally.
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