Books · Television

The Girl, the Cult, & the Boy Who Wanted His Girlfriend Back

Like most people I let my imagination run wild when I first heard about the Dark Web – the seedier side of the Internet only accessible with a special browser like TOR.

Photo by Junior Teixeira from Pexel

A simple search on YouTube will uncover creepypastas, “true” stories of people venturing into the unknown, and mystery boxes purchased on the Dark Web. You’ll hear stories of people buying narcotics, hiring hit-men, and things only meant for the most depraved – Red Rooms and more. We built a monster out it. But are surprised by this outcome? After all, it was Lovecraft who said, The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.” And what is more unknown than that which lurks behind the screen?

Curiosity – as it usually does – got the better of me. Before long I was searching through online forums in order to gain access to the Hidden Wiki – an online index of some of the more popular onion sites. As the page loaded, I didn’t know what I expected. My paranoia got the better of me. I taped the lens of my laptop’s webcam before entering.

When its secrets were presented before me, it was anticlimactic to say the least. Sure the links to hit-men existed. And yes, there were sites in which you could purchase drugs – at this time, the Silk Road was still operational. Links that sent you to cannibal cookbooks and one detailing human experimenting. Marketplaces for stolen credit cards and identities. And several links leading you straight to scams. Because on the Dark Web, it’s hard to trace a conman looking for his mark – the unsuspecting noob looking for a cheap (rather expensive, actually) thrill.

Netted: A Dark Web Horror Series Box Set by K. T. Rose

I didn’t, however, find links to any red rooms, a virtual urban legend where you can watch – even participate in – a person’s torture and eventual death at the hands of a sadistic executioner. Using bitcoin, you can have a man’s eyelids sliced off and salt poured on his face as he screams in agony.

While red rooms are stuff of urban legend, in Jessica Frey’s world they have become her escape. One in particular, however: The Silent Red Room Show. From a distance, Jessica began to admire Father Paul. He filled her fantasies, the man – the butcher – behind the mask. What she wouldn’t give to be part of that world. A world where you can put those who have tormented you on the hot seat. Strap them in and watch the master fillet them to an inch of their lives for the entertainment of strangers online. But this isn’t the only dark secret Jessica Frey carries with her. There are much darkness inside her and all she needs is a mentor like Father Paul to help her set it free.

Dale Tilson, on the other hand, is looking for a new beginning. Taking the advice of his younger sister, Diane, he’s making an attempt on a second chance. Using a dating app, he meets Marla at her place. But after a drink of wine, things begin to feel wrong for Dale. And only gets worse when Marla attacks him.

And so the story begins, a three-part saga written by K. T. Rose. A story where Dale Tilson and Jessica Frey are fated to encounter Father Paul and his Silent Red Room cult. The trilogy keeps the reader on the edge of their seat, while sprinkling a few silly name brand products and restaurant names.

Currently, the trilogy – The Beginning, Inside Out, and The Crash – are currently free to read with a Kindle Unlimited subscription. Or you can purchase all three as a set for $2.99.

On the other spectrum of the Dark Web, sits Moritz Zimmermann whose girlfriend, Lisa Novak, has returned from her trip abroad a completely different person. She’s hanging out with Daniel Riffert, the high school ecstasy dealer. In a brash attempt to win Lisa back, Mortiz buys – and blackmails – Daniel’s ecstasy supplier. When things go sideways, he’s only left with one thing to do – sell the drugs online. Fast.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy. With a new found purpose in life, Moritz and company are thrown

One part Skins and one part Breaking Bad, How to Sell Drugs Online (Fast) was a whirlwind of a series – both seasons are currently available on Netflix.

The only thing that got me on my nerves is the dubbing. Because the original series was German, the English voices and sync can be off putting. This is, of course, a superficial issue which I can ignore easily – sometimes.

While the Dark Web is shrouded in a created mystery, we can all agree that the best fruit it bears are the stories that come out of it. Until next time, keep on huntin’.

Film 365

Death Note

It’s not that I’m a major anime fan. I can honestly say that I prefer dubs over subs. Guess what I mean is, there is no pretension when it comes to my watching cartoons—doesn’t matter what country the animation originated. That doesn’t mean that the Netflix adaptation of the classic anime/manga Death Note didn’t send a shiver down my back the moment it was uttered into existence. I had hoped that the production team would try to keep it faithful to the source material. And if not that, maybe set in the same universe but deviating away from the original characters. Like how I once imagined a FLCL adaptation would work out (college was a strange time, kids).

death-note-netflix

It’s not just the whitewashing that got to me, though that’s a fatal epidemic running rampant in Hollywood these days. It’s the entire massacre of the source material. Nothing about this movie even echoed the genius behind the manga and anime. And that’s damning for Death Note fans everywhere.

Light Turner isn’t Light Yagami. While Turner is painted as some sort of high school genius—he’s caught helping other cheat for a fee—it’s never touched upon. Where Yagami was clean cut and pristine, Turner comes off more as the kid you’d buy your nickel bag from. And maybe not even that. Yagami’s sense of justice is what drove him to do terrible things; meanwhile, Turner is the epitome of pussy-whipped. Turner treats the Death Note like an twelve-inch cock, whipping it out to impress the girl at the first opportunity he has.  Yagami knew better. He kept it secret, hidden. Even when Misa turns up, he’s restrained.

On the subject of Misa—what’s with the Mia character? Her emotional acting range is the love child of Kirsten Stewart and Megan Fox. She’s a beauty—nice to look at, but less than a one-dimensional character. Misa’s motivation behind following Kira is adoration and admiration. Mia has no real motivation. There isn’t a backstory that makes her character meaningful. She serves no purpose other than someone the boys can fawn over.

L. Where do I even begin with L? Lakeith Stanfield isn’t the issue. He’s proven his acting ability in movies like Straight Outta Compton and Get Out. The problem isn’t his ability. L isn’t L. Not even a little bit. His emotions run wild, unlike his anime counterpart who’s collected and in control. Watching Light Yagami and L plan each step is watching a chess match between genius. Watching Light Turner and L doesn’t even get a checkers metaphor. There is no build up. There is no relationship. There is just blame and nothing more. The scene toward the climax, L goes as far as stealing a police cruiser to chase Turner through the streets with every intention of killing him. And it ends with L struggling against knowing what’s right and writing down Turner’s name on the single sheet torn from the Death Note.

Ryuk is—well—the white man’s version of the character. Most of his badassry is washed away. Dafoe’s voice acting doesn’t fail to send shivers of glee down the viewer’s back. But what we’re given isn’t the same apple-loving death god we all came to know and love. He even notices that Turner isn’t suited for the Death Note moments into his introduction.

There are a few inconsistencies throughout the film, but what movie isn’t full of them? It’s the over all destruction of the source material is what hammered the final nail in the coffin. We can’t just be mad at the whitewashing, though we should. We should always be mad at the whitewashing in any film. (I’m looking at you Ghost in the Shell.)

I do make a plea that Adam Wingard, Charley and Vlas Parlapanides, and Jeremy Slater never make another movie, music video, or even a YouTube video again. And that Netflix removes and destroys all copies of this film. So that it never has to waste the time of another viewer again.

Doldrums

“Can’t Escape Anything in This Town”

Started watching 17 Girls on Netflix today. The French film is loosely based on the Glouscester High School pregnancy pact. Didn’t finish it, though. Not because it was dull, my mind and heart weren’t into watching anything. A depression has seeded itself deep within my metaphorical soul. My imagination, however, has been hyper active.

I started thinking about a piece I started years ago. And like most pieces I started years ago, this one never made it past the skeleton stage. I’m not even sure if I still have it. The working title was “Damaged Little Fuckers.” I didn’t intend to write a young adult story, but possibility is there. The original idea told a story of a teenage boy who falls in love for a “damaged goods” girl who finds herself pregnant without knowing who the father is. It was cliché in every sense of the word, if it weren’t for the underlining autobiographical aspect (a story I didn’t tell anyone, and never intend to).

I’m feeling inclined to write a semi-romantic drama with guns. I don’t know how that’ll work out. Another idea is about a serial killer and a girl. This has been an ongoing thought that I’ve expressed throughout my blog about a real conversation I had with my boss’s daughter.

There’s one more autobiographical piece that I’m contemplating. A love story, maybe. Who knows. A  new leaf has turned. I also have to work on my Bad Sex with ****** *** ****. I’ll carve out some stories for that (short blog posts, actually). I might even be daring enough to ask erotica writers (erotic writers?) for some advice.