Laudus Himself

If you’ve taken the time to read my writing, you’ve probably worked out I love horror. You may also (I hope) love it too. I’m not great at top ten lists, in that I’m a person for whom scoring a subjective thing such as film tends to know my opinion will change, and just isn’t regiment enough to stick at it. This is not a list of what I think the best made, most wonderful, genre altering horror films of all time are. It is not a history lesson in the genre either, it is personal. This is my list, picked entirely emotively, I can’t guarantee that this list would be the same in a few years, but then isn’t that the brilliance of film? I’ve tried to explain my reasons for each film. Effectiveness, influence and longevity are, I suppose, my criteria. As well as what each film means to me. In the twenty five years since I would scan the back of horror VHS boxes in the video store for grisly images, my love of gore remains intact, but an appreciation of the more subtle stuff has evolved. I’d...

Many years ago, a King ruled from the land on which you stand to where the earth meets the ocean in all directions. The monarch was a tyrant, a glutton and a man of moral turpitude. Not unlike other kings, and some Queens, it could truthfully be said. This King, however, had a religious zeal which flew like a gale and the consistency of conviction of a wind cockerel in a storm. The two do not mix well, and his favour fell where it fell depending on his mood and desires. This, combined with his absolute rule and power, led to the execution of thousands of his own people because of their differing beliefs in God, during his near forty year rule. Here follows the story of one of them, a young lady by the name of Daralis Drewet. A most interesting lady, who suffered a cruel and unusual end. Daralis was married off at a young age by her parents, to a man she did not love. It had been arranged that this man, James, was to marry her elder sister, but she died prematurely as people t...

There once was a man who, tired and downtrodden by his Conscience waiting for him when he got home, hatched a plan to kill it. He was not a bad man, but after years of coming in, to round after round of questioning over his actions and decisions, decided his Conscience was not something he wanted. One day, just when his Conscience was in full swing and distracted, berating him over an earlier insignificance, the man put both hands around its neck and choked the words, air and opinion from its throat. At first the man felt guilty for the act but once his Conscience was completely dead, he felt nothing. This pleased the man and he congratulated himself on a clever idea, well executed. His Conscience lay pale and deflated on the kitchen floor; so the man scooped it in his arms, and put it in an old chest in his basement. As he closed the lid the man noticed his Conscience did not resemble him as it had in life. His first few days without his Conscience around flew past- he had forgotten a...