Entertaining piece from my friend Margaret concerning her terrifying experience with M. Night Shyamalan’s movie Signs, Whitley Strieber and a mylar balloon. Trust me, it all makes sense when you read it.

It is Friday night and the movie Signs is on TV. I settle in to watch it with my ten-year-old son at my side, snuggled under a throw. I’ve seen the movie before, years ago, but all I remember of the story line is that it involves extraterrestrials. This will be my son’s first, official scary movie. A bit over-protective, you say? Perhaps, but Jaws ripped a bloody hunk of wide-eyed innocence out of my childhood, so deal with it.Maybe I’m a wuss by … Read More

via Conjuring My Muse

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