The Turning is the latest film adaptation of the book The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. Here, the setting has been updated to the 1990’s. Kate Mandell (MacKenzie Davis) is hired to be the private tutor for a little girl named Flora (Brooklynn Prince), an orphan who lives in an old mansion with her brother, Miles (Finn Wolfhard), and their housekeeper, Mrs. Grose (Barbara Marten). Flora is still haunted by her parents’ untimely deaths, and Miles is a borderline sociopath. But it also appears that something else is going on in the house; possibly something supernatural.
They say spirits move on when they pass as others walk the earth because of unfinished business. Most people don’t know some stay because they’re trapped and can’t leave or move on...
"I told you before: I don't know what you want from me, but please, leave my family alone."
Crup had fled to the highest tower to have the best vantage point to look upon the city. He knew they would be coming for him in a short while and the last sight he wished for was the sun setting over the place of his youth. A gentle breeze brought the smells of the market; freshly made breads, exotic fish from the orient, and various salted meats. It was perfect. The narrow winding streets were emptying as the vendors packed their things. Kids threw rocks and danced out of their way in play as their mothers beckoned them inside before the dust storms came. Crup lifted his hand to wipe his eyes but it didn’t matter at this point. He didn’t care if the tears came, it was over. All because of one small mistake. His mistake. But was it a mistake? Crup would argue that in all his life he had never been so free. And wasn’t freedom something to be heralded not punished? Footsteps echoed up the stairwell with the clanging of armor. But did he care? He shook his head to answer the internal question. The sounds of the soldiers heightened as they drew nearer to their goal. Crup prepared himself by disrobing and turned to face the entryway.
Baying dogs. They're closer than the last time I heard them. Catching up. I don't know how long I can keep going; I can barely breathe. Cries of "Witch!" ring in my head, a pounding rhythm that builds with every panicked step. My dress catches and tears, my hands long ago reduced to a bloody, mangled mess. My feet are probably worse, but I can't stop to think about it; if I don't make it out of the woods I won't survive. I have to keep going.
Stories of Alien abductions rose in the 1960's after the mysterious case of Barney and Betty Hill, an American couple who claims to have been taken by Aliens. As these claims of abduction rose, so did the many different signs and events people who claim to have been abducted by aliens.
It's almost 2 AM but sleep seems not to come yet. I have to get up early to have my job hunting again. It's been six months since my graduation and I'm still jobless. Most of my batch mates are already out there in the corporate world. They are already making their names known to the world by now. I'm still here confined in my room thinking what else must I do to finally land that dream job.
One cold January afternoon a friend and I decided to walk through Laurel Grove cemetery in Port Townsend Washington where the intricate beautifully hand-crafted head stones seemed to beckon to us as we drove by. I have always loved old cemeteries for the beauty of the old headstones and the stories they told.
It’s so loud. It wouldn’t stop and it feels like it has been going off for years. Aside from that though, why the hell do I hear a man speaking so casually as if he doesn’t hear that blaring sound? Why do I hear a woman laughing at everything this casual man is saying? Why do I hear a damn audience laughing as if this casual man is the funniest human being to ever walk on this planet? His jokes seriously aren’t that good. More importantly, why do they all seem to ignore that blaring, annoying sound as if it isn’t there?