Matthew Ward
Bio
Creator.
Magic is Real.
Stories (4/0)
Cadmionn
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The light seemed to dwindle and flicker through the dirt stained glass dancing about as if it were an invitation, a subtle wave and nod towards Lucey to enter. Blood still oozed forth from the gaping wound in her neck. Attempts at clasping it shut with her dominant hand began to weaken. A pining and bellowed screech echoed from the distance, cascading throughout the ancient deodar cedars and the vastness of the dark night. “HROWWWW!” The new moon didn’t offer any visibility, save for the starry sky and the twitching flame signaling Lucey from the derelict cabin. Faint and growing weaker by the minute, her mind hindered by confusion, desperate for answers as to what happened during the spell. Lucey journeyed a long way through these morbid woods still unsure of the shadowy spirit’s whereabouts since the split occurred. “HRRROWWWWW!” She lifted a blood drenched arm, curling it over the right shoulder, making certain the grand rod was still straddled over her backside. The priestess’ soiled left hand clenched the aged leather satchel swaying from her hip, still nurturing the Book of Elders in it’s womb. A sigh of relief emitted from her heaving and panting as her escape for survival continued onward. A violent shriek erupted from the distance shocking Lucey’s nerves, causing her body to convulse with fear as she collapsed onto her back from the hellish scream. Now crawling on all fours and desperately clawing for any weapon as her head frantically swiveled in all the cardinal directions. At first, Lucey’s fingers thrusted about only grabbing loose soil, twigs, and dead branches. Suddenly, she halted all movement, bearing witness to the phenomenon before her. A violently luminous glow emanated forth from the peak of Solon’s Mountain, just beyond the tree line, blasting upward towards the night sky. Once covered in nebulous dark clouds, now glowing under the hue of an inter-dimensional color. Green, red, and magenta collided together creating an otherworldly glow in the atmosphere. Lightning, then thunder followed which crackled and split through the freezing night air just before the earth began rumbling. “No. Noooooo!” she shouted with regret and anger, both festering together.
By Matthew Ward2 years ago in Horror
Our Current State of Cinema
How would a Saint in this modern world, with all of it’s hi-tech distractions, live? Operate? Handle his/her duty? Welcome to the journey that is Saint Maud. With it’s dark and dingy look, gaining all the more contrast when Maud’s serene and celestial visitations occur with the Divine Kingdom, not to mention, the voice of God itself. Maud is as close to one can get to witnessing a spiritually endowed being living amongst the heavily distracted and vain attitudes at our present juncture. Could you imagine St. Teresa de Ávila or Ghandi trying to offer spiritual guidance on the streets of Los Angeles or New York with all the hustle and bustle the metropolitan offers its hyperactive population?
By Matthew Ward2 years ago in Geeks
OCSC
SPOILER ALERT! There, you’ve been warned with the all caps. For the past twenty years, there has been a dominant trend in American cinema that has gradually moved into Europe and farther east into Asia (although S. Korea and Japan are a beast of their own) that has dominated the screen. The need for blood...and more blood. More killing, more slaughter. More murder and death and calamity and chaos. Yeah, you get the point. I call this trend, the blood sacrifice effect. The saying “if it doesn’t bleed, it doesn’t lead,” comes to mind as we could see in Dan Gilroy’s 2014 L.A. crime drama, Nightcrawler. One almost senses that the filmmakers of today have become as desperate as Jake Gyllenhal’s, Louis Bloom, making a killing by exploiting his fellow man’s agony and death; showcasing an often excruciating exposé of the fatality on screen. Horror has always been a mainstay in cinema, yet the true essence the horror genre carries has rarely been showcased, save for a few films. Now, it is also subjective, as art is, in considering what is horror to someone and what is not. But maybe this is what I’m getting at; that through this dominant trend of the blood sacrifice effect, it has slowly, steadily, but surely sterilized it’s audience to anything that would of been truly horrific to watch on the screen in our grandparent’s era, to what the current and modern audience has grown immune to.
By Matthew Ward2 years ago in Geeks
MAGÛS
The Rio Derras The full moon and star lit sky illuminate the high desert town of Birchwood, creating an other worldly landscape. The bold, but naughty Rio Derra winds back again from their eleven month hiatus, split through a minor gap in the Devil’s Canyon over looking and maybe even guarding the historic desert town. The seasonal zephyr howled and whistled in a way only mother nature could pull off as it squeezed through more cracks and crevices of the rocky landscape, creeping ever closer towards Birchwood’s county line. Sheriff Callahan holds the phone to his ear. His black steel-toed boots resting atop his desk as he reclined in his worn leather chair inside the solemn station. Small, petite, anything but cute. Wood paneled walls from the seventies still remain, a friendly reminder from the station’s last major remodel. Native pine trees continue swaying outside, dancing with one another. The tender beginnings of the Derra’s week long wrath, already unfolding. “Hell, I’d like to see him try it. The old prick. He can’t just leave that old rickety and busted RV there. For God’s sake, this ain’t the same town he grew up in anymore! There gonna think he’s cooking meth or something else inside. You know how much those houses are going for up there now?” Callahan complained into the phone. A violent bang and a tumble announced itself placing a period on the sheriff’s comments. “What the hell was that?” With his free hand, two fingers split between a space in the window blinds revealing a trash can rolling into the parking lot followed by loose papers and chip bags hovering and swirling in the wind. Not quite the culprit or rabble rousers he was expecting. “No...yeah, yeah, it was nothin’. Just the Derra’s kicking up again.” The sheriff plops back into his worn seat before leaning into the phone gain. “Yep, it’s about that time.”
By Matthew Ward2 years ago in Geeks