Hi, guys. My name is Niki. I write about everything and little by little. Subscribe, I'm happy for everyone
Message in the Bottle
I want a house by the sea. To listen to the quiet hum of the waves at night, bringing with them fairy tales and songs from distant countries. And in the evenings, when the sun floods the blue surface with red reflections, I will walk with you on the warm sand and feel the salt on your lips.
Flesh and bone
The world was dead. Everyone thought it was. But they were wrong, the world still kept dying, gasping in agony. Its lungs were charred, turning into black backbones that pointed at the gray sky with sharp peaks. All greens have turned into nothing, and now, that nothing was slowly falling from torn dirty clouds that stretched almost to the very horizon. Ash flakes fell from the smoke-and-soot-sealed skies, covering the dark earth with gray cashmere.
When it's dark
The orange disc of the sun had already touched the treetops, slowly sinking into the uneven line of the high horizon. In the distance the birds chirped preparing for sleep, John saw them fluttering from place to place like dancing dots in the darkening sky. The air freshened up, the cool wind brought a leafy smell and a barely discernible scent of pine needles.
A Frozen Flower
In addition to horror movies and all kinds of monsters, I really love dramas. True, until recently, I preferred Chinese doramas. But some time ago I discovered South Korean films. Although I was watching Train to Busan and #Alive. I really liked it. South Korean cinema is quite ready to be a Hollywood scale, although sometimes there are some complaints and shortcomings. But Hollywood often makes frankly bad films too.
14 Thrillers about bloodthirsty killers
True stories of serial killers have often inspired filmmakers to create unforgettable and chilling images in thrillers. For example, Ed Gein, one of America’s most famous and violent maniacs, became the prototype for Norman Bates in Psycho and Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs.
Kyle couldn't tell exactly when the idea came to his inflamed mind. Perhaps, it was ripening in him, taking root as he lay awake in a cold bed, watching the shadows galloping on the ceiling. The sheets beneath him smelled like frozen loneliness, time ticked silently, and the whole room turned into a dark, silent crypt. The walls were moving forward on him, crushing him with a load of memories, and the young man slowly but surely lost his mind, drowning in his pain.