Thought I might denote this. Every two week Ken Beggs of Jabootu hosts a watch party. Usually quite painful. Tonight was the gloriously terrible Ghosthouse. God, I love this flick. I got a review of it over at the Sister Site. Check it out! And check the flick out. It’s on YouTube.
The header image is AI generated and frankly better than the movie.
The above feature image is AI generated.
I can’t stand it.
I do a little cleaning up to put myself in a better place, and what happens? I end up doing a ton more work that I should. On this I lose what little I had in the process.
Anyway.
Had a dream last night, won’t bore you with the details. Towards the end someone tells me something happens to one of my brother on 11/11. I wake and the time is 3:33. It’s probably nothing, but I wanted a note reminding me of it. Thus.
No story of questionable merit today. Did some cleaning, worked on notes, played video games. Kind of worn out. Still, not a bad day.
Not one of my better works, but oh well. It’s practice. The header is AI, and was a bear to get even this close to right.
One morning I found an elf sitting on the bust of Pallas that sat on my work desk. Where the raven that usually sat there had flown off to I couldn’t begin to care about.t.
Funny little fellow, this elf. Green shirt with stripes, pointed hat, red shoes that curled at the toes.
As with my raven I bade him good morning. He sobbed, then moaned, “What’s good about it?”
I strolled from the study door over to my writing desk. “Well for starters, it doesn’t look like I’m going to be cleaning raven poop.”
“I suppose you would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“You like it?”
“No, but I wouldn’t, would I?”
I took out a fresh sheet of paper. After watching my quill dash out a few lines, the elf spoke again. “You really think you should start like that?”
“Of course. It sets the scene.”
“‘It was a dark and stormy night,'” the elf read, then snorted. “Everyone knows that’s a non-starter.”
“This is the first draft,” I countered. “I can change it later. All I want is a place to put my feet.”
“Uh huh. Judging by the quality of your prose, you’re going to have to change a lot.”
“So far you’ve only seen just this page. How can you fairly judge?”
“Nothing says you have to judge fairly. Plenty of judges judge unfairly, in fact.”
“Well I’m going to have to content myself with you judging me fairyly.”
“I suppose you think that was clever.”
“Why should I waste my good japes on you?”
“That,” the elf sighed, “is not an uncommon rebuke.”
I worked in peace for a while, filling one page, then another. The elf just sat atop Pallas’s head, frowning. Once or twice he opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it.
Finally I asked a relevant question. “Where’s the raven?”
“Went south to a tropical island. Wanted to hook up with some chicks, make a nest for himself, that sort of thing.”
“Ah. He was looking a little down in the mouth. Hope this helps.”
“He’ll be sorry. Nothing good ever happens hanging out with female ravens.”
I let that pass. “So you’re here taking his place.”
“That’s the size of it, yeah.”
“How long?”
“Till he gets back.”
“Good.” I moved to the next page. “I’ve never been this productive with him around. Might even finish a novel.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“I assume you’re going to try and destroy my work, like he does.”
“It’s a part of the job.”
“Rip it up page by page into tiny shreds.”
“Wow. I feel a trilogy coming on.”
“Do you have to?”
“I must, I must.”
“I’m real little, you see? And I have to tear things up to a precise size.”
“So?”
“So I’ve got this pain in my back and paper, it always seems to cut me.”
“That is a shame.”
“I don’t suppose I can talk you into stopping, oh, about now?”
“At the height of my creativity? You must be joking.”
“Seeing what you’re writing… creativity ain’t the right word for it.”
“TWO trilogies. A trilogy of trilogies.”
The elf moaned, then asked, “You do this with the raven?”
“Oh no,” I said cheerfully. “He and I have an arraignment.”
“What sort of arraignment.”
“Oh, nothing much. I don’t write much, he gives me three wishes, that kind of thing.”
“Wishes.”
“Anything I want.”
The elf shook his head. “I can only do one big or three small.”
“Works for me.”
The elf perked up.
“Of course, this will have to be every day.”
The elf slumped down. “Of course it would.”
I sat down my quill. “Deal?”
He nodded.
“Alright,” I set my quill down with a small smile. The raven had been right. The elf would do nicely.
Nothing for today, as I got busy. However! Tomorrow? I have an idea…
Should I tell you the header is AI generated? Sure, why not?
This is the start of the first whole week of returning to posting every day. I haven’t done this since I started this blog nearly… depressing number of years ago.
I’m considering taking weekends off, but I’m not certain yet. The key to this, I think, is writing every day. Sometimes long, sometimes short. So days off might be counterproductive.
I will most likely miss a day. My hope is to not miss a week. Or, as this site’s been going, whole months.
This is today’s post. Tomorrow’s might be interesting.
No promises.
You may note a lack of AI header. This is not because I’ve abandoned AI slop. AI slop amuses me. In this case, though, WordPress’s darling AI kept making me Apple products, and I will never willingly use Apple products.
So.
No header.
The header image is AI generated.
Tonight in the street below stands a shadow.
It’s just at the edge of the street lamp light. It looks man shaped.
Maybe it is a man.
But in the dark night no features can be seen.
It just stands there.
A winter wind howls about. It’s frigid cold out. I know, I was out in it not ten minutes before.
The shadow doesn’t move. It doesn’t even shiver.
It simply… stands there.
Did it see me come into the apartment building? Was it waiting there, waiting as I came home, came into the warmth.
Has it always been there?
Or is it there for me?
A part of me, braver than I really am, wants to go out there. Not to confront whoever it is, of course. It’s nobody’s business if someone wants to be out freezing. Only to see if there is someone there.
Maybe see if the shadow has a face.
I hope it has a face.
Sitting up here, looking down, I see no features. The shape of a head, that’s all, that’s all.
It seems to be looking up. Staring up.
Maybe at me.
It doesn’t move. It’s not harming any one. It only stands there, stands where I can see, yet can’t see.
It maybe evil. It maybe kind. It may not even be there for me.
Tonight in the street below stands a shadow.
NOTE: The featured image was generated by AI
Once the King decided he wanted to see magic. Not the sleight of hand that passed for magic in those days but an honest to goodness Wizard casting spells.
So the King sent out a proclamation asking for such a person to come. He offered a heft coffer for proof of the Wizard’s skill. Those that didn’t prove themselves would be beheaded.
Many interesting weeks passed. A lot of people trying to prove themselves to be Wizards or Witches or what not. None succeeded. But the King wasn’t put out too much. He liked a good beheading, and there was a nice variety coming his way.
One day a man calling himself a Warlock came to the court. Unlike the other applicants he made no moves, performed no acts. He just stood there and said, “You’ll have your proof soon enough.”
Well the King didn’t like this guy at all. The others at least PRETENDED. So he ordered the guards to seize the Warlock and drag the fool off to the dungeon.
He then brought the Executioner to the throne room. With a cruel smile he suggested the fellow find himself a dull ax. For the next time the job needed doing, you understand.
That morning, out the Warlock went for his date with the block. A crowd gathered to watch him go. The King, knowing what he knew, was nearby, eager for the first drop of the ax.
The Executioner shoved the Warlock into position on the block. Then a strange thing happened to the King. He went from standing where he was to kneeling on cold stone. Rough hands were on his person, holding him down. No matter how much he struggled and cried out they wouldn’t let him go.
A man walked into view and knelt beside the King. To the King’s absolute shock, this man looked exactly like him. From the crown on his head to robes on his form, the very image.
This man gave the King a cruel smile, then, before the ax dropped, said one thing.
“Is that proof enough for you?”
With the start of 2026, I’m hoping to make changes with my life. Starting with this blog. I’m shooting for a post a day, or, failing that, once a week. I’m trying to get a backlog of reviews over at the sister site. I’d like to finish the second draft of my novel, as well as improving my writing career in some fashion.
I make a lot of plans, only to fall short. Here’s hoping for the future, though.
[The header above was done by AI on this site. Policy is, if I know it’s done my computer, I say it is.]
The header image is AI generated and doesn’t really reflect the flick too well at all. But it’s fun.
Treasurer hunters unleash an invisible prehistoric horror.
Hey, I’ve been watching. Just haven’t been posting.
Anyways, this was a pleasant surprise. It’s no worse than most B-Science Fiction films. A little too talky in the beginning, a trifle slow here and there. I felt, though, it picked up nice towards the end, despite a rather silly attempt to fight the monster. Most of the Special Effects come in at the end and are so-so.
Honestly, a tighter script, bigger budget, and you’d really might have something.
I’d say a low good. I liked it and will watch it again in future.
This was a part of a Horror Movie collection I’ve had for years. Never watched it till now. Kind of sorry I waited.
Oh! This is also this was the first film for Ingrid Pitt, Vampire Lover extraordinaire. She made a place for herself in Doctor Who history as the only person to try karate on a dinosaur.
It wasn’t super effective.
3 out of 4
WELLTUN CARES PRESENTS 