Circus of Horrors

I had an evening out at the theatre yesterday. My husband and I went to see London After Midnight from  The Circus of Horrors, a show inspired by the 1927 'lost' film of the same name from director Tod Browning of Freaks fame.

I loved being immersed in the atmosphere created by dramatic gothic costumes and make up, colourful hair, tattoos and piercings... and that was just the audience!

The story starts in London at the time of the plague through to the Great Fire and incorporates the odd grizzly murder. The story is really a thin framework upon which was hung a lavish spectacle of acrobatics, stunts and illusions with a distinctly macabre theme. There was a sprinkling of nudity and sexy writhing that kept my husband interested and grotesquely shocking moments that had me cringing with a mix of disgust, intrigue and pure delight in equal measures (memorably a dwarf attaching a vacuum cleaner nozzle  to his penis and dragging said vacuum cleaner around the stage with the power of suction)

My favourite characters were fantastically sinister doll like twins that did an aerial silk performance (the fabric was blood spattered of course). The strength, precision and beauty was breathtaking. I loved that our seats were close enough to the stage for me to notice that one of the performers had a tear in her tan tights. Close enough to see every twist and turn they made of the ribbons around their bodies before relying on that combination to bring them to a halt as they allowed themselves to unwind and fall. If I were to run away and join the circus (highly unlikely at my age!) I would want to train in this discipline. I can close my eyes and imagine myself swirling and twirling to the oohs and aahs of appreciative onlookers. The reality would no doubt be much less graceful and considerably more painful!

The whole show was set to the loud rock music of Dr Haze and his band. I have to admit that it gave me a bit of headache (possibly the downside of having seats close enough to the stage to see holes in hosiery) but I had a wonderful nostalgic moment when they performed a reworking of The Sweet's song Hellraiser.

Hellraiser was a hit in 1973. I would have been 9 years old. I remember buying the 7" single to go with my other favourite record by the same band Blockbuster. I carefully wrote my name on the sleeves. I was madly in love with Steve priest, the bass guitarist. Those singles were treasured possessions which I still own. And I can still sing along to all the words.... which I did! I am having a strong desire right now to search through my vinyl and power up the turntable.

After the performance we shared a bag of chips (no ketchup!) before driving home to relieve the babysitters from duty.

I am so grateful that my husband indulges my passion for the macabre. I can't imagine that going to see a show like this would be high on his wish list. However, as much as I enjoyed indulging his passion by going to see Brighton and Hove Albion playing at home, I think he did take a certain amount of pleasure from it (if only on account of the scantily clad females).

Me (with stupid expression) meeting the wonderfully camp vampire from Circus of Horrors (that's me on the left!)

Something to make me smile

Some things I love (and to use the words of X Factor's lovely Dermot O'Leary) in no particular order, are:

• chocolate
• Hallowe'en
• the gothic and macabre
• beautiful things
• thoughtful gifts
• wonderful friends

It is no surprise then, that by ticking all of the above, this chocolate skull, embellished with edible gold from the devilishly decadent Hotel Chocolat, was guaranteed to put a big smile on my face..

I am grateful beyond words for having someone on my life who would see this and think of me. The only grey cloud to this dazzling silver lining is that I can't quite bring myself to remove the chocolate work of art from its plastic wrapper, let alone allow anyone to eat it! 

Flashback Friday - Horror

 

Hannah from Metal Mummy had us all thinking about Horror this week for her Movie Meme.

My sister Wendy and I both share a love of the genre.

I bought my first SLR camera when I was at University in the early eighties. It was an expensive hobby back then with the film developing costs but I had so many ideas that I wanted to experiment with. Wendy was always a willing model.

My Flashback Friday contribution this week shows a couple of photographs that we staged in our back garden exploring the theme of 'horror'. We were quite pleased with what we achieved with a little bit of make up, some fake blood and a lot of eye rolling!

Movie Meme #10 - Horror

I love the horror genre above all others and I am looking forward to watching The Collector tonight (courtesy of the DVD Library Inside the Wendy House!)

My all time favourite horror film would have to be Hellraiser from the brilliant, visionary mind of Clive Barker. There is the strangely charismatic Pinhead played by classically trained actor Doug Bradley as well as a visual feast of dark and dangerous characters collectively known as the Cenobites.

The tag line "He'll tear your soul apart" does sum up the extreme nature of this movie. It is not just your mortal flesh that will suffer should you fall foul of the Cenobites.

The message that the film delivers is don't mess with what you don't understand and if you should find yourself in possession of a peculiar looking puzzle box, DO NOT under any circumstances be tempted to fiddle with it!

I was given a 'Pinhead' Mask a long time ago (possibly the best present EVER). It is very old and fragile now yet still maintains the power to freak my children out! Here he is dressed for Xmas!

A Rose by Any Other Name...

Recently in the Memetastic Award blog post  I revealed that I have two recurring dreams, one about my teeth falling out and one about fish.

This inspired my daughter Liberty to write a 500 word short story for a competition with a Valentine Horror theme. I think her story is fantastic. You can read it here if you have a spare few minutes.

As usual, we were chatting in the sauna after a 20 minute Sunday workout at the gym and I suggested that I might like to have a go at writing a 500 word horror story. She, of course, was full of encouragement and told me to enter the competition. Not one to ignore a new challenge, I did just that.

This is my story, as yet untitled.

Untitled

I love the feel of the sun in my face. It helps me to forget.

I never knew my mother. Never knew her gentle touch or breathed her special perfume. I am alone.

It’s always been Jack that cared for me, fed me, told me I was beautiful.  I know I should be grateful but he scares me. I don’t like the way he looks at me, his eyes linger a little too long, making me want to turn away. The tone of his voice chills me when he says, “Rosie, how tall you are growing”. And now he has started to touch me differently. Not a nurturing touch. A touch I can’t comprehend.

He is coming now across the grass to where I dream. He has that look on his face that I have come to dread. His gaze makes me aware of my vulnerability. I stiffen and recoil as he cradles my head in his hands. I feel his breath, hot and acidic.

“My special girl”, he says. “Soon you will be ready”

My mind is in turmoil. Ready for what?

I wish my mother were here. My mother could help me make sense of my confusion. I don’t know why she went away but I am sure that Jack had something to do with it. Sometimes I think I can hear her calling to me, warning me. Or maybe it is nothing more than the wind in the trees.

I turn my face to the sun. I forget.

******

I am in my bed.

I feel him before I see him. How long has he been standing there, watching me?

Something has changed. There is heaviness to him like he is almost regretting what he is about to do.

I want to scream but I have no voice. I want to run but I am rooted. I want to turn my face to the sun but today there is no escape.

He steps closer.

He reaches his hand towards me.

I am gripped with paralysing terror.

One hand holds me tight as his other hand comes into my field of vision. I do not know how to interpret the glint of light that reflects from the hard steel of the knife he carries. The intense pain as the blade slices into soft tissue crystallises my awareness.

Silently I scream “Mothherr!!!”

******

I am not dead.

I can feel the life draining from me but I am not dead.

Jack is carrying me.

There is nothing I can do but watch and wait.

He is dressed in his best suit, hair brushed. I don’t understand. What is happening?

He carries me into a darkened room. There is flicker of candlelight. I can hear another voice, a softer voice, gentle but expectant. A woman?

“Jack”, the voice says, “what’s that?”

“It’s for you, darling. Happy Valentines Day”

The woman takes me, lifts me to her face and breathes in my dying essence.

“What a beautiful rose, Jack. Thank you.”