The Ruins
Last night I was watching a double-bill of episodes from the latest season of Peep Show again. Later on I watched a 2008 movie called The Ruins, directed by Carter Smith and based on the novel by Scott Smith. The story revolves around four American tourists: Amy (played by Jena Malone), Jeff (Jonathan Tucker), Stacey (Laura Ramsey) and Eric (Shawn Ashmore). They are enjoying a holiday in a Mexican resort when they learn about an archeological dig at a recently discovered Mayan temple. Teaming up with another couple of tourists: Mathias (Joe Anderson) and Dimitri (Dimitri Baveas), they decide to take a day trip into the rain forest to explore the temple. Once there they discover that the archeologists have vanished, and discover that it might be connected to the rapidly growing vines that cover the outside and inside of the temple. It's a pretty effective and pretty gruesome horror movie. It's one of those films that (like the Hostel films and Turistas) seems to be set on discouraging people from ever going on holiday again.
I was also reading some stories in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror Volume Nineteen. One of the stories I read was called "Still Water" by Joel Lane, in which the police tracing a gang of jewel thieves to an old house discover the gang have vanished except for one who seems to be obsessed with a pool in the back yard. The other story was called "Thumbprint" by Joe Hill in which an American soldier, recently returned from Iraq, is haunted by her past. The third story was called "Lancashire" by Nicholas Royle in which a young family discover that their new best friends seem to have far too much in common with them. I always like horror short stories, because usually the scare comes at the end, and the horror often isn't destroyed at the end, it's still there.
It was a very quiet and dull day at work as usual. I listened to some of my iPod songs (including some Sarah McLachlan tracks) and I'm still researching the move to Canada, but I certainly have come up with a reasonably solid plan of action.
I was also reading some stories in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror Volume Nineteen. One of the stories I read was called "Still Water" by Joel Lane, in which the police tracing a gang of jewel thieves to an old house discover the gang have vanished except for one who seems to be obsessed with a pool in the back yard. The other story was called "Thumbprint" by Joe Hill in which an American soldier, recently returned from Iraq, is haunted by her past. The third story was called "Lancashire" by Nicholas Royle in which a young family discover that their new best friends seem to have far too much in common with them. I always like horror short stories, because usually the scare comes at the end, and the horror often isn't destroyed at the end, it's still there.
It was a very quiet and dull day at work as usual. I listened to some of my iPod songs (including some Sarah McLachlan tracks) and I'm still researching the move to Canada, but I certainly have come up with a reasonably solid plan of action.
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