"All American Zombie Drugs" screening to help Operation Kindness

Most years, the period between Halloween and Christmas was pure seasonal anthrax. Usually, holiday tunes had already bludgeoned us senseless and we were all already looking forward to the alcohol-blasted forgetfulness of New Year’s Eve. This year isn’t a whole lot different but now we have a chance to briefly revisit the halcyon nights of October and get our zombie on for a good cause.
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The king is dead.

I would wager that there isn’t a person alive who hasn’t seen something they love fall into decline. Whether temporarily, permanently or even fatally, it’s one of those times that leaves us with a well of sadness in our stomach and our mind’s eye cast back to better times.

And that’s how I find myself feeling about Parker House.
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After working at the karaoke bar in Dallas Alley for who knows how long in the late 90’s, I have plenty of horror stories about the West End. One of the most vivid involves me puking most of my internal organs out after having about seventeen too many shots of Grand Marnier.

A Pepperoni Lover’s pizza never looked so… colorful.

These days, Dallas Alley is gone and all that remains are empty husks of clubs. However, a new spirit haunts those old buildings these days: The Fatal End in the West End.
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On an average Sunday night in Bedford, you can probably enjoy the stillness of the cool autumn air. Sandwiched midway between two metropolitan areas, things are calm. It’s the last place you’d expect to see a grown man being chased through a parking lot by a man with a chainsaw.

Unless, you’re at Moxley Manor.
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Ah, October. There is a crispness in the air, the leaves on the trees burn with reds and oranges, and the cloying aroma of chainsaw exhaust hangs in the breeze.

All of it just screams “Halloween”.

Yes, it’s haunted house season: that glorious time when we can enjoy bloody and fantastical horrors before having to return to the horrors of the real world. This year, I’m going to review all the houses I hit this season. As somewhat of an admitted “horror snob,” I will try to keep the perspective of both the dyed-in-blood genre fan and your more average attraction goer (without spoiling it).

First up – the Boneyard
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Chloe (Melissa Revels) and Abby (Aley Krienz) from the Tammy Dupal-penned "X Marks the Spot".

I’ve said it before and it’s worth repeating, “Indie horror is where life is breathed into the genre. Hollywood is just where it goes to die.” As my disillusionment with the corporate horror machine continues, I find some solace in the fact that small film makers are still keeping the home fires burning.

Before I go on, it’s time for a little full disclosure. Tammy Dupal, writer of the screenplay for the upcoming short, “X Marks the Spot” and founder of Twisted Central.com, is not only a friend but also a charter member of the TerrorScribe Mafia (she provided make up effects for the short, “Annotated”).

Today, I cornered her on Facebook and demanded she answer my stupid questions about making the leap from just commenting on movies to making them.
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For some people, the sight of seeing a same sex couple holding hands is pretty frightening. Most of the rest of us prefer to find our frights in the confines of a movie theater. However, this weekend, Bloodbath Entertainment puts the two together in practical fashion when they present the Fears for Queers 2 Film Festival this Saturday, June 25th.

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When you’re an independent film maker, you don’t always have the luxury of having an FX person or a makeup person or even different people to write, direct or edit. Many times, all of these people are the film makers themselves.

It shouldn’t be a surprise then that when you look at Tony Brownrigg’s IMDb page that he’s held quite a few jobs in a film’s production. The director of the quirky horror, “Red Victoria”, Tony’s latest project, “Archaic Redemption” adds yet another title to his list: virtual pioneer.

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Many people hit TFW to meet their icons, see the stars or hobnob with the newsmakers. Hidden behind the big names though are numerous independent film makers, lots of them local folks, just looking for their opportunity to scare you silly.

One such person is Houston film maker, Kerry Beyer.

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I know what you’re thinking, “Big deal, there are people around the pool,” but Saturday night around the pool was deceptively calm.

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