Reaper

An old (true) story that inspired a prop...

Giving out candy on Halloween night for as long as I've been doing it has made me something of an observer.  I get to study how adults and children act when approaching my Haunt. If they're the type to pause and appreciate everything, or the sort that rushes up and away without hesitation and without looking back. There are the people that kneel down and study props, tapping lightly at the mache.  And the ones that get brushed with threads hanging down from the porch or trellis like thin spider webs and scream and run off before getting candy.  There are parents that get frustrated with their children who clearly are too terrified to walk onto the porch for candy.  And parents who love to sit back and watch their children slowly approaching the Haunt, with huge proud smiles.

Back when I gave out candy at my parents' house in the old neighborhood, I saw children grow up - going from trick-or-treater to parent.  That was the most peculiar feeling.  I'd see a young man carrying his own child, and I remembered when he was too scared to come up for candy. Crazy.

Then there was something else - Death.  There was a cloaked figure that walked slowly around the neighborhood.  A black hooded cloak, the deluxe variety, and a rubber skull mask.  I'm assuming it was an adult male based on the height and build.  I'm not exaggerating or embellishing in any way - I saw him every single year and had seen him for as far back as I could remember.  I don't know if it was the same guy or maybe a few guys over the years.  But there was always just the one lonely figure, keeping to himself and not stopping at houses for candy.  He was in character too, with a strange slow walk, like a one-man funeral procession.

It's a neat concept, an adult who never gave up on Halloween.  Keeps a cloak and a mask in a drawer or closet all year long. On Halloween night, he leaves work early, has dinner, puts a bowl of candy out on the porch with a "Help Yourself" sign, and then dons a rich dark cloak and an old, tattered latex mask, the kind that smells like new sneakers.  I bet he was smiling under there the whole time.

Or maybe it really was Death.

The Nutshell Studies Of Unexplained Death

Back in 2011, I blogged about (entry here) a book featuring the beautiful photos of Corinne May Botz - The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death.  This book featured the incredible works of Frances Glessner Lee.

Frances Glessner Lee (1878−1962) crafted her extraordinary ​“Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death” — exquisitely detailed miniature crime scenes — to train homicide investigators to ​“convict the guilty, clear the innocent, and find the truth in a nutshell.” These dollhouse-sized dioramas of true crimes, created in the first half of the 20th century and still used in forensic training today, helped to revolutionize the emerging field of homicide investigation.

Text source.

Yesterday, we took a trip to see the Nutshell Studies at its home in Baltimore, Maryland, at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner.  On our drive down, we listened to a terrific podcast about these incredible dioramas and the woman who built them.  If you're curious, here's the LINK.

The exhibit was fascinating.  The detail was staggering.  The notion that each tiny scene represented actual human deaths was chilling.  I am very familiar with the gorgeous photographs in Botz's book but seeing the display in person was an entirely different experience.  There was a strong sense that you were looking into someone's hurt, a tragic moment frozen in time.  It was very comforting to know that these miniatures have been used for decades and decades to train investigators, and we wondered how many eyes have studied the tiny blood stains and splatters, the discolored corpses, and the miniscule bullet holes.  

It's hard to imagine a time when a crime scene wasn't scrutinized for clues.  I'm feeling really thankful we had the opportunity to see where this started to change.  Frances Glessner Lee's contributions to this cause have earned her the title of 'Mother of Forensic Science.'  

Below are some photos we took of the exhibit.

Death's Grip

The rate of preventable injury-related deaths occurring in or around the home has increased 253% since 1999. This rapid increase has erased the progress made over many decades. Between 1928 and 1990, the death rate decreased 65%, from 25 per 100,000 population in 1928 to 8.6 in 1990. In the last 10 years, the death rate has increased 86% while the number of deaths increased 96%. This increase in deaths is largely driven by increases in unintentional poisonings and falls.

Image source.

Text source.

Future

Click below...

The Fourth Seal

When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, "Come!" I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.

Image by JASS 413.

The Man Who Trapped Death In A Trunk

'Course I wasn't the only one in the room.  Death was there, too.  I'd known he was coming.  Evelyn and I had talked about him on occasion when she was feeling her worse.  "Just leave him be," she'd said.  "You promise?"  I crossed my heart and hoped to die, which I knew I would want to do if I ever lost her.  It was no easy chore watching him steal that last breath from her, but I let him do it because that's the way Evelyn had wanted it.  

When he was done, his attention moved from her to me like the second hand on a clock.  "You can see me."

I nodded.

"I remember you.  The trunk."  He crept across the bed - right over Evelyn's body, which made me sick - and we came face-to-face, so damn close I could smell that godawful stench on his breath.  He laughed.  "You know what I think I'll do with you?  I think I'll let you live forever."

David B. Silva, from Out of the Dark

Image by Stevenson Cemetery.

Death's Day Job

A sixteen year old boy worked on his grandfather’s horse farm. One morning he drove the pickup truck into town on an errand. While he was walking along the main street, he saw Death. Death beckoned to him.

The boy drove back to the farm as fast as he could and told his grandfather what happened. “Give me the truck,” he begged. “I’ll go to the city. He’ll never find me there.”

His grandfather gave him the truck, and the boy sped away. After he left, his grandfather went into town looking for Death. When he found him, he asked, “Why did you frighten my grandson that way? He is only sixteen. He is too young to die."

“I am sorry about that,” said Death. “I did not mean to beckon to him. But I was surprised to see him here. You see, I have an appointment with him this afternoon – in the city.”

From the Scary Stories Treasury.

Image by scottnj.

Suffer For Your Art

Death has come to your little town, sheriff.

Turns out Loomis was talking about the guy on the left.

My poor brother in a heavy stalkaround costume I made, probably in the late 90's.  Unlike the way a standard stalkaround costume is constructed, where the "actor's" shoulders hold the weight of the costume, I was in a hurry with this late concept, so his head did the heavy lifting.  Terrible.  

And regarding my Myers costume, I remember being bothered that kids could always see my actual eyes (I hated seeing his eyes in any of the films).  Since I didn't have the blackest nor the Devil's eyes, I put a piece of black mesh on the inside of my Myers mask.  I recall having severe flood lamp glare the entire time I handed out candy.  I could barely see.  

I've mentioned this earlier on the blog somewhere, but my brother would receive "acting" instructions from me throughout the night.  [Annoying] acting instructions.  He would start by standing in our neighbor's driveway.  And then slowly glide up over their lawn towards the approaching kids.  He then was free to roam, staying close to our house.  "Free."

In the photo above, you can even see his eyes looking out of the rib cage.  Note you can't see my eyes in the Myers mask (I should have used more mesh on my brother's costume [though I'm certain that would have resulted in a child being stomped by accident].  Also please note that my brother is wearing black pillowcases over his shoes (impossible to tell from the photo).  That makes me laugh every time.  Totally unnecessary.

It was a really fun night.  And I remember putting the Death costume on at one point and running as fast as I could up the street.  We were all laughing pretty hard.  But it was then that I realized the costume was a horror show inside.  And it was heavy.  Like you hated to even open your mouth from the weight of it resting firmly against the top of your skull.  My poor brother.  

Mother: A Photo Shoot

It is essential that the forensic pathologist or medicolegal death investigator recognize and appreciate the uniqueness of immersed and submerged remains. The typical decomposition changes proceed more slowly in the water, primarily due to cooler temperatures and the anaerobic environment. However, once a body is removed from the water, putrefaction will likely be accelerated. 

Text source.

The Hereafter

I hope when I die, Cabby pulls up and yells to get in and that he'll explain it all later, and then I hear the music below start to play...

Death

...a soft, irregular sound of footfalls on the stairs! They were slow, hesitant, uncertain, as of something that did not see its way; to my disordered reason all the more terrifying for that, as the approach of some blind and mindless malevolence to which is no appeal.

Ambrose Bierce























Image by october_dreaming.

The Fourth Seal

When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, “Come.”  I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.

Revelation 6: 7-8

Images by JD (More here).

Lost

Before mine eyes in opposition sits
Grim Death, my son and foe. 

John Milton

Image by FirstSpartan.