Sorry Professor I Did Not Do This Asisgnemtn Becuase I Was Too Sad! NO Consequences Please. Goodbye

“Oh my god you’re a writer? Can I read your stuff?”

behold the most moving voice acting of all time

In my humble opinion, Coraline is one of the best movie adaptations out there because it actually strays away from the book a lot and adds/changes several different things, but it does so all for the sake of a visual medium which is exactly what a movie adaptation should do!

There’s nothing showing the Beldam making the doll but darn it if that’s not the most aesthetically pleasing scene in stop motion animation:

The appearance of the tunnel is never described (other than it being musty and her feeling a force behind her) so they made a psychedelic tube: 

In the book, she meets the three ghost children at a generic picnic but the movie, for reasons I will always love, decided to show them against an animated, interconnecting, version of the Starry Night:

The blue hair, the garden, the world falling apart—

Everything is tweaked to be more visually pleasing.

Which is the point of turning a book into a movie in the first place!

Me when I crawl through the thick underbrush of the local woods and come across a live unexploded landmine

if you need me i’ll be in the forest, searching for portals to another dimension,

🕉.

Too often, it’s said that black cats are wicked. One with the dark magicks. Their croon the last sound heard of someone stuck in the forest in the pitch night, reverberating like the communal howl of devil worshipers.

Too often, these fables forget to mention their less passive, more aggressive counterpart. The black dog, swift shadows, paws scampering, howls and barks that sound like the screams of the sinners... never leaving you, a reminder of where you’ll be soon. When temptation engulfs you too far for you to escape, desperately groping for solace in bible passages and confession as you play pretend that sins aren’t a permanent black stain on the conscious, the howls will be there. Times like this are where black dogs will find you, their sickening penumbra flickering over the light of John 1:9, your most recent turn in desperation…

The howl echoes around you, enough to knock over candles, clawing at your skin, ice against your ears like the centre of Hell itself reached out to scrape your skin and mark you. Now, you are nothing but a target, precious time slipping away akin to sand tap, tap, tapping against the bottom of an hourglass. You can loom over a bible passage all you want (ephesians 1:7, this time) but their snarls will still grow ever closer, shaking you like it’s knocking the last fight out.

It wraps around you and sends you, ironically, to your knees; too close to prayer for your feeble mind to collect that it is your doom. They’re being polite in their own sickening, twisted way, by giving you your final chance to beg for mercy like God will ever listen.

Crows tore against the sky to get away, akin to rips in time on patches of infinite black. Part of you- the lesser sane part, turned mad by fear, but a part none the less- will feel like screaming after them would somehow save you. They are one with death, sin, Satan, they will do nothing but release a caw like laughter- it shoots into the ear like a cross-bolt: sharp, painful, instant.

Nothing like what will happen to you.

Eyes. Eyes everywhere, fighting to meet yours- dark as night but burning with the hellfire they clawed their way out of- trapped behind them as a symbol of home, a symbol of what they fight for, a symbol of where they will return to. They want to see the weakness cowering in your eyes. They want to drag your twitching, bloodied body behind them as their prize.

They’re getting closer.

Further, further inwards.

Feel their iron claws and leather footpads paw you. Slobber and drool soaking your skin, clothes, the tracking device that will never leave you. Smell: ash- burning elder and holly to be specific- hopelessness, Fire.

Fire.

Of course. Feel it lick against your skin- remembering the taste like a starved animal. The warmth of its shockingly gentle caress. For a second, you’ll be convinced it’s like the demons generously welcoming you. In reality, it’s just a precursor for what you’ll soon feel.

Death will be swift… a blessing, ironically. So much different from black cats, dogs just cannot wait for the main event.

Me, Forget Black Cats