Hey guys! Right here I’ve got some mystery/thriller movies that I found interesting. Hope you guys will like it! I’ll put a star rating on the ‘fear scale’.

#Warning: Some are quite intense. Watch at your own risk.

1. The Haunting of Hill House (⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐)

This is a horror series that’s only available on Netflix. It’s about a family being haunted by their house.

Watch it on Netflix:

https://www.netflix.com/my-en/title/80189221

2. Light As A Feather (⭐⭐⭐)

This is also a series, but about teenage girls who play a horror game and get cursed. There is no gore or violence, just the suspense of them being in danger.

You can watch it for free on:

https://fmovies.pink/tv-show/light-as-a-feather-season-1/828blRsa/NzlaPpeB/bmCvjx7V-watch-online-for-free.html

Or check out:

https://www.hulu.com/series/light-as-a-feather-faded4ba-099c-41f3-a84c-300a7ff526ba

3. Into the Dark: They come Knocking (⭐⭐⭐)

This is a movie about some kids who go on a trip with their father, only to end up getting tracked down by who know’s what’s out there to get them.

You can watch it on:

https://www.hulu.com/movie/they-come-knocking-87e20bb9-c8bb-40e6-bb8d-5af89a509b24

4. RUN (⭐⭐⭐⭐)

This is a movie about a disabled girl who lives with a mother. One day, she notices her mother acting strange and goes on a run, suspecting she is doing something sinister.

You can watch it for free here, but you’ll need to create an account.

https://myflixs.xyz/movie/546121/run.html

5. Bird Box(⭐⭐)

This Netflix movie is about a dark force. If you see it, you die. Watch the journey of a family as they try to run for safety.

The Netflix link is:

https://www.netflix.com/my-en/title/80196789

6. A Quiet Place(⭐)

Of course, you guys should know about this. It’s about a world where noise-sensitive mosters will kill you even at the slightest sound.

The link for the movie is:

https://vw.ffmovies.sc/film/a-quiet-place-2018/

7. Happy Death Day and Happy Death Day 2U(⭐⭐⭐)

This one is my favourite; it’s about a girl named Tree Gelbman who gets killed on her birthday, only to wake up from a dream. Her day keeps repeating until she finds out who the killer is. However, she will get weaker every time. It’s also available on Netflix.

The links for the first and second movie is(some may not work, so Netflix works best):

https://www1.solarmovies.co/movie/happy-death-day-22407/1-1/watching.html

https://www1.solarmovies.co/movie/happy-death-day-2u-27996/1-1/watching.html

8. Nancy Drew- 2019(⭐⭐⭐⭐)

I am head over heels over this series; I LOVE IT!!! (Don’t judge.) After her mother’s death, Nancy swore off detective work, until she finds herself in the midst of a murder. Watch as she solves this one, with many shocking plot twists. You can also view it on FoxLife, or on CW.

Watch it here:

https://www1.solarmovies.co/movie/Nancy%20Drew-1-100208/18-1/watching.html

Hope you guys like it, and have a happy Halloween!!! UwU

A Good Writer:

Transcends the rules of writing: Knows and uses them to great effect, but breaks them at the right time. Can create a style all their own.

Transcends the boundaries of time: Can ground us in the modern day of social media and slang, recreate the past in vivid colour, or race ahead to the future.

Transcends the barriers between people: Making us feel, see and hear alongside another person, or even another species.

Transcends the words on the page: To immerse us in the sounds, smells and sights of any world they want to take us to. Doesn’t matter if they take us there with facts and figures, or fiction and fantasy. We get so lost in the writing, we no longer see the words.

A good writer uses every facet of the craft, of themselves, and of the world, to create something that transcends all of it, seperate from, yet part of, cultural influnces like social media. ^_^

Honestly, I don't get to sleep much between writing, school, and work.

This is legit my weekly routine unless I have a specific day off:

Get up, Go to my first class, get ready for work. Leave about 30 minutes early in case there's traffic of something. Get to work 15-30 minutes early. Skip my 2nd and 3rd clas because I'm working. Get home. Watch recordings of my classes (which are about 1 1/2 hours each so that's 3 hours of recordings.) take a small break. Start on actual course work for 4 different courses. Write whilst working on the course work. Finally go to bed anywhere around midnight to 2 AM. Toss and turn for an hour. Then I get up 8-8:30 again that morning. So I average about 4 hours of sleep. Oh, did I mention I help cook too?

On my days off of work it's a bit different. So if I don't work but have school work, this is how it goes: Around 8 to 8:30 I wake up and start my first class. Then I do my class work for said class. I go to my next class and do that classes' work (if I can, my second class is always messing up on the actual course.) Then I go on "lunch" which is always me doing MORE work. I go to my 3rd class do that course work. Then my 4th class doesn't have actual classes, just work. So I do that course's work. Then I start cleaning. Then I write. Then I cook. Then I clean more. I typically go to bed around 11 to midnight.

And when I don't have school OR work, (a rarity because I have to work on crap for school on the weekends too), I sleep in anywhere from 9 to noon. I get up and typically, I'll chill a bit and then I start cleaning. I'll make lunch and eat. Clean some more. Write a little bit. Then clean more. Just for the hell of it because I can get more writing done on these days, I stay up and write more and don't go to bed anywhere from 11 to 1.

Oh and while I do everything (except working at my actual job) I am also texting my boyfriend.

I have to somehow manage to fit showering, eating, and sleeping into my schedule. And I get 2 days off of work, typically one day "off" of school that I don't even fully get off.

All that being said, I'd do one of 3 things. 1. sleep. 2. write. 3. talk to my boyfriend more. And really, I'd probably do both 2 and 3 if I could.

Foggy night.

Footsteps drawing closer.

Afraid to look.

Breathing harder, faster.

Winds bellows, tree limbs crackle.

What is this fear?

Death comes for me.

Only children in costume.

But next time?

**********

With Halloween right around the corner,

there will be tales to be told,

and words to be chilled by.

When I was a little girl, my absolute favorite thing in the world was to go for a drive to visit my cousins. Several of my cousins lived in town and they were literally my best friends. At one house there were 3 girl cousins named Ju, Trice, and Sis. At another house was Vettie. I called them my "cuzsters" because they are my cousins but they felt like sisters who for some strange reason lived at another house. Nobody could have ever had more fun than I did with these girls back in the day.

There were also many other local places that gave me sparks of joy when I visited them with my parents—especially with my dad. Running errands with dad was one of the highlights of my childhood. And so...as a 9 year-old, Saturdays were a big deal! Everyone in the house, my big sister and 2 older brothers, as well as mom and dad was out of school and off of work. I was happy to get up early to watch cartoons in my pajamas, eat cereal, and sprawl out on the couch in the TV room. There was never an exact time when the house was going to officially wake up; when my parents would start to move around and real-life voices could actually be heard. Some mornings the awakening happened by the smell of bacon and pancakes. Other times you knew things were coming to life by the smell of Pine Sol or Pledge. On one of those mornings I heard the jingle of keys and the apparent sound of a jacket zipping. I jumped to the scene to find my dad on his way out of the door! “Can I go?” I begged. “Nah, you’re not dressed, Crys...I gotta go. I think I'm just running to the store and I should be back soon", he assured me.

I was surely disappointed, but the real devastation would come later after he returned home.

“Hey dad....where’d you go?”

“Well I went to the store but then I stopped at the bank." This was a violation for me because everyone knows the bank tellers always give me lolipops at the bank.

"Then I ran to the liquor store." My head was spinning with hurt because the man behind the counter always offered me a free pretzel rod at the liquor store!

"Oh and then I ran by the barber shop." This was just not fair! My Uncle Bill owned the Shape & Shear Barber Shoppe and as soon as he saw me coming he ALWAYS gave me his spare change for the vending machine!

Then my father sprung the ultimate disappointment on me.

"At the last minute I realized that I had to stop by your Uncle Hershel’s for a minute."

HEY—THAT’S WHERE JU, TRICE, AND SIS LIVE! I was BETRAYED. PUNISHED FOR NOT BEING READY. HOODWINKED!

I missed out on my version of 6 Flags--all because I wasn’t dressed and ready to go when I heard my dad's jacket zipping that morning. Needless to say, from that point on I began waking up on Saturdays—immediately getting dressed and putting my shoes on; lying in wait and longing to hear those keys. Even today, my boyfriend asks me why I am walking around the house with shoes on—which subliminally I realized was because I taught myself decades ago to always be ready or I would miss out.

He thinks I’m a psychopath.

The rain falls, on the hard stone roof of a woodland cottage. The wind swishing and swaying the many trees making up the woodline. There is an unsettling fog across the land; a dim light breaking through the dense smoke like air.

It came from a tiny window of the cottage, where a boy suffers from poison like cancer. The young boy sits in an arched chair looking out at the murky world behind the stained glass window. The boy with a gloom face thinks about the existence of God. He has never truly believed in God and has no real faith of his own.

The boy thought and thought; if there were no God then where do the answers come from? Is there a Heaven? Do we all just disappear and rot in the ground? The boy started to cry not knowing what will happen when he dies. The boy gets up from his chair and saves himself from his overflowing thoughts of death by falling to his knees before the window and prays for the first time.

"Dear God, this is the first time I have ever prayed to you because I do not know if you are truly there, give me a sign my God, and show me you are my Lord. Tell me I will ascend to a place where I am immortal and where I will feel no pain let me know God, please let me know!" the boy sadly pleaded.

The boy prayed for hours; emotionally and physically exhausted, the boy's head fell to the ground. Panting and trying to catch his breath as tears fell from his sullen face. An excruciating pain comes from within his chest and all the thoughts that told him God did not exist went through his mind over and over.

Suddenly, the boy's pain went away and he heard a calm, but stern voice,

The boy whimpered, "God are you truly there?"

"I have always been." God replied, "All you had to do is call out my name."

With warming ease in the boy's heart, he recognized His holiness. The boy feels joy for now knowing that God had always been with him. His worries of death and oblivion have all been washed away by his newly acquired faith. It brought so much relief to the boy's soul he began to cry tears of joy.

The boy then replies with tears in his eyes and with his righthand laid upon his heart, "I can now die knowing you are always there."

The boy closed his blue eyes and everything in his world grew quiet and still. Finally, at peace with all he had suffered.

Talent's relationship with writing is a limited endeavor. Talent's doses are few and far between, with some of the best talents locked away in the cages of their own mind, unable to see past their own perspective.

Social media has drained perspective with opinions swayed into objectivity. Noise overtakes quiet moments of serenity, voices swallow individuality like a poison permeating creativity's airways.

Ideas are limitless, but powerless without pursuit. When written down, they are humbled to their origins, a pen scribbled over a pad of paper, where they will crumble and rot without the writer's mind and heart furthering its journey.

What does it mean then, to be a good writer in a society such as this? Above all, determination. A "good writer" is an oxymoron, for a natural way with words is nothing without passion, bravery, and the wit of a soldier outnumbered a thousand to one. A good writer embraces our anti-writing environment, finds serenity in the noise, inspiration in a single thought, and significance without pronounced talent.

A good writer writes.

Note: This is not finished

The night is dark and the wind causes goosebumps to rise on my flesh. A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth as a memory danced behind my eyes.

“Why do we get goosebumps?” Ty asked, curious about everything.

A smirk spread across my face. “We have tiny geese living under our skin and when we get cold, they think it’s winter so they try to break past our skin to fly south.”

Panic spread in his eyes, “Really?!”

Nodding, I watched to see if I’d taken it too far.

Ty smiled his big toothy smile before shouting, “Cool!” Then he ran off to tell his brother Griffon, who came to ask if it’s true.

For two weeks they believed it until their mother forced me to tell them it wasn’t true. I think they still believe it though...

Snapping out of my thoughts, I wear a friendly smile and walk to the door of my best friend’s house. Without knocking I walk in and find Mrs. Lynn and Mr. Taylor sitting on the couch. “Sup y’all, where’s your son?”

Mrs. Lynn smiled and replied, “Caleb is in his room.”

Without another word I raced to his room and ran into his room. And there on his bed, was a girl. Not just any girl, but my girl.

Caleb was sitting with her, kissing her. Too lost in the moment to realize I had come in.

Betrayal hit me like a line drive to the gut. My girl, my sweet Lilian was in my best friend’s room and they were kissing. He knew how I felt about her. He knew everything about my feelings and this is what I find?

“I don’t want to interrupt your heart felt moment but...”

The pair jumped and I saw terror fill Lillian’s eyes and

> i am a few days sixteen.

> i have been a follower of Jesus since the age of eight.

> i have a dog (Sadie) and a kitten (Sheba).

> i adore reading (Marissa Meyer and Madeleine L’Engle are my favourite authors).

> my earbuds are just another appendage of mine, a part of me.

> i am likely either listening to TØP, ABBA, Switchfoot, Oasis, Eloise, some film/musical soundtrack, or a new artist from my Spotify recommended (typically rock— classic and alternative).

> i am decent at ukulele and learning guitar. my, i wish i could sing, though.

> i love the shows “Psych”, “Gilmore Girls”, “Full House”, “The Office”, + “Drake and Josh”.

> i have seen the movie “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” eighteen times.

> i hate the film “The Princess Bride”.

> i would much rather converse via paper letters than text/call/facetime/DM.

> i am a vegetarian (more about where the meat comes from than it simply being meat. commercial farming is... yikes.).

> it bothers me how many people say they are accepting of all, but if they meet someone who disagrees with an opinion of theirs, they “cancel” them. to love/accept and to agree are TWO SEPARATE THINGS (check out @zoe_christina ’s piece titled “yes,”)

>i am terrified of... well, most everything.

> i eat my Oreos by dropping them in a glass of milk and letting them sit ’til they’re all goopy and then i eat them with a spoon :p

> cold showers are better than hot showers, in my opinion.

> i really like windows.

> SOMEONE TELL ME WHY THE WORD “BEAN” IS SO FUNNY (but also, like, so cute)

> i am a hopeless romantic, only trapped within the body of a socially awkward scaredy-cat.

> i have a strange obsession with floating on my back in an empty pool.

> the stars never fail to steal my breath. they are so beautiful and endlessly fascinating.

> one of my favourite memories is shag-dancing in the summer rain.

> i DESPISE cliques/stereotypes/aesthetics (i.e. soft girls, e-girls, vsco girls, cottagecore, skater bois, jocks, etc. ---- OK, unless they are fictional. i mean, come on? peter kavinsky?!). you don’t have to fit some silly label! just be you, in your beautiful imperfection.

> i tend to speak a great deal, despite the fact that i hate the sound of my own voice and i rarely say things worth hearing. this is one of the reasons i adore writing: i can pick and polish every word, every letter, before anyone even catches a glimpse.

> i am an introvert, all the way; although, many people misunderstand the definition of introvert versus extrovert. by saying i am an introvert, i mean social interactions exhaust me and being alone is my time to recharge. plus, i just feel heaps more comfortable alone.

> i am PUMPED for season four of “Stranger Things.” anyone else?

> i lived in Africa for a year of my life.

> raspberries are my favourite fruit.

> i tend to get bored very quickly. sports, friends, hobbies. this makes me hesitant to date; i am afraid i will get bored and hurt their feelings.

> i am an enneagram four. not sure what wing... i will have to explore that further.

> i’m in Gryffindor (what’s a scaredy-cat like me doing in Gryffindor? ask the sorting hat.)

> i have been playing “Among Us” a ton lately, so if you ever want to play, PM me a code and you will make my week.

> i feel anxious almost all of the time. i need to see a therapist but, of course, that makes me very anxious.

> i don’t see myself getting married in the future.

> watching “Ocean’s 8” makes me want to be a con-woman.

> most people see me as soft, a goody-goody, and it makes me want to scream!!!1!!1

> tight clothes make me uncomfy.

> you guys are some of my favourite human beings on this planet.

> poetry makes up a great portion of my heart (surprise?).

> i say “dude” a lot.

> i wish i was funny.

> i am running out of things to say about myself.

*gasps for air*

thanks for making it this far, friends.

i love you, but Jesus’ love for you far surpasses even that.

xxx

Coronavirus took another casualty today: the oldest person I have ever known. He was born in 1911, and was one hundred and nine years old - older than any of us. I will refrain from naming him out of respect for his family. He was without a doubt the kindest, most warm-hearted individual I have ever had the pleasure to meet. He would tell stories, stories of how he would wander to New York Harbor as a child and watch the British steamers coming in. He told stories of how they spoke of the sinking of the “Lusitania” during the Great War, of his HAM radios (he always had one, up until he died).

He told of the Great Depression - he had been a runner on Wall Street when the market crashed in 1929. He said that he saw people, upset people, jump. He said that their shoes always came off before they hit the ground. He told stories of his frist automobile, of his college experiences. He spoke of his contributions during World War Two (he was one of the head foreman in charge of building a runway at Guadalcanal).

He met Major Jimmy Doolittle (yes, that Major Doolittle), Babe Ruth, and, if I remember correctly, Walt Disney. He was a living history book: his memory was fantastic. Everything he said lined up - all the years and dates and names. I never doubted anything he ever said. And most of all, he was just a kind, sweet elderly man, always happy. He had all sorts of photographs in his room: black and white ones of people long gone. And now, so is he.

When he was born, there was a completely different set of people on the planet. Think about that: 1911. His grandfathers literally fought in the American Civil War. And with his death, nearly all of that living time period has died. There are a few others who still remain, yes, but I do not know those others. It is different when you know a person. I didn’t even know him that well - I spoke to him but on a few occasions, but how fantastic were those conversations! All I can say now is “au revoir, until we meet again...” Life goes on, I suppose...

I am not sure why I am even posting this: no one else will be able to relate to my words. I just feel like I have to make some sort of statement about it, to memoralize him. I know this pandemic has taken many, and those deaths are no less important, but he is the first casualty I have known, and I feel like I have to do something.