Drathmoor's regular movie column has been indefinitely suspended due to disagreements over content. This week we're trying out a new reviewer, Marvin Tremins, local storyteller and movie bon vivant. Enjoy!
The Burning
When I was younger, the kids used to whisper/ rumor of a man. A man who was once the caretaker of this old summer camp up North. A hard drinkin' cruel man who used to carry around a huge, menacing set of garden shears. All the kids were scared of him. Just the way he walked was threatening. Made you want to give him a lot of space. Well, this caretaker fell victim to a prank. Some of the kids wanted to scare the lifeblood out of this old drunk. So, they get this old skull. (Don't ask me where from.) They place a flaming candle in it. Lit up the sockets of those eyes and the old, dead teeth. They also dug up a mess of nightcrawlers & dirt and smeared it all over. Well, that old caretaker was passed out drunk on his smelly old cot so it was no big deal getting it in there. The boys just peered in the window at him and smiled. Then, they started pounding and yelling. It took a while but finally that old caretaker woke up. Rheumy eyes were hazed over so he had to blink. A lot. Then, the glowing object focused itself. The bare skull slithering with worms and so shiny it could have been alive. Except for the fact that it was dead. That old drunk, so soused that he felt like he was floating, got so scared he lashed out at this terrifying apparition. Lashed out and knocked the nightcrawlers off and tanked it over. But, flame moves on its own and a spark hit his old sheets, soaked with grime and booze. They burst into flame so fast that nobody had a chance to move. The first one who did was that old caretaker. Every inch of his body was burning bright. The kids took off. Too much fear. The caretaker burnt and burnt...but he lived. And, he spent 2 years in the hospital. And, the pain was unbearable. When they finally let him out, he was too horribly burnt to be much to good to anyone. You couldn't look at him...He hadn't been a good man but he was a man. A man so horribly burnt that it hurt to speak. But, there was no need to speak. Everything he needed was in his mind. The campers, the kids. They would pay. He may have been homeless, broke & damaged beyond repair but he still had those shears, sharper than any scissors, sleeker than any knife. The campers would pay. All the campers would pay.
His old camp was closed but there was another: Camp Blackfoot. To his rarely delighted but heavily scarred joy, one of the boys who had burnt him was there. Punish the children. It doesn't matter whether or not they deserve it. The caretaker was insane, these considerations weren't even a part of it. They would be destroyed and they would feel all the agony he did. His determination gave him his strength. And, he hadn't touched a drink in two years. His head was never clearer. Of course, he was totally & utterly insane but...
Enjoy The Burning. People get killed. It's pretty gross.
Rialto.
Buy War Bonds.
No comments:
Post a Comment