people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17
[footage of the inside of an ordinary Eastern-European home, taken with a handheld phone camera, the man filming is walking from the living room to the back door of the house]
man, narrating in russian: Every fucking year, this time of the year, the pond at my backyard gets infested. What do ponds get infested with? Frogs? Poisonous weeds? Geese? No. Not my pond.
[The man opens the back door, stepping out into a garden. Three or four nude, human-like figures dash from the borders of a pond back into the water.]
man: Rusalki! I don't know where they come from or how they get here, and I can't afford to hire an exterminator every year. I can't let my cat outside anymore. Last year a rusalka managed to drown a whole deer in my pond, the stench was unbearable.
[He walks as he speaks, approaching the pond. There are several eerily beautiful female beings peering at him from under the surface, their long hair floating in the murky water. Their eyes are gleaming in an unhuman way. The man holding the camera stops to film them.]
man, calm and deadpan: What the fuck are all of you staring at. Get jobs or something.
[One of the rusalki, smaller than the others and clearly not a fully matured adult, slowly reaches out of the water with her white, thin hand, grasping his ankle. He appears unconcerned.]
man: You can't drown me, you little idiot. You're too small. Shoo!
[A loud thud startles the rusalki, making them scatter. A second thud makes it clear these are the approaching footsteps of something massive. The man turns around and points the camera at what appears to be a house, walking past above the treeline with chicken-like legs]
man, now yelling: IF YOUR HOUSE SHITS ON MY YARD AGAIN I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD-
las vegas is a special kind of horrifying compared to the rest of the southwest because you get three different flavors of horror all together. there’s the strip, obviously, the hypnosis of the casinos. you know they intentionally don’t put clocks in casinos? and they put mirrors wherever they can? they’re trying to disorient you so you stay inside. they’re trying to trap you. and the casinos are different but they’re all the same underneath, slots and shows and roulette wheels, the same bones in different bodies. but then you get outside the strip and you’re in the suburbs. it’s flat. barely anything outside the strip is more than two, maybe three storeys. everything is in a strip mall. the houses are identical wherever you go. even the schools - there are two major architectural blueprints for high schools in las vegas. if you’ve been inside one school you can navigate them all. it’s all the same and it’s all normal, in defiance of the neon of the strip. (you can see the beacon from the luxor from anywhere in the city, you can always find your way to the strip, but- is that better, than being somewhere that you know? somewhere that’s the same wherever you go?) and then of course if you step too far outside you’re in the desert. much further and you’re in the mountains. the suburbs are creeping out further and further, taking over, but there will always be desert. summer will always be 120 degrees. there will always be heat and scorpions on the edges and no matter how far you push out you will not be able to build on the mountains. no matter how hard you try the desert will find you. and none of these things are mutually exclusive, not as much as you think. there are slot machines in grocery stores. there are houses behind casinos. there is undeveloped desert in the center of everything, reminding you that the desert was not built to hold you, the desert was not built for this, you should not be here. you shouldn’t be here.
i think the hottest look you can give someone after they commit acts of unspeakable violence is approval. like don't get me wrong if there's lust there too that's great, but staring at someone with gore dripping down their chin and coating their hands to the wrists with undisguised appraisal and admiration. maybe giving them a little nod as if to say 'well done'. THAT'S what says "yeah we're gonna fuck nasty later".