(Spoilers, please go watch this movie if you haven’t already)

I’ll come right out and say it-I love dinosaurs. Always have. Before I even knew how to say the term correctly (I’ve no memory of this, but according to relatives, I called them ‘gwannies’ in my toddler years), they were one of my primary fixations. I had toy chests teeming with plastic prehistoric creatures, books of facts and illustrations, and an unyielding desire to learn all I could about the extinct titans who once walked the Earth. By the time I was five, I could identify a plethora of species at a glance, and decades later I continue to keep up with the latest paleontological discoveries and theories. Over time, however, I found that my innermost passion for dinosaurs (which helped me decide to be a writer rather than a paleontologist) was in their stories, particularly those of the cinematic variety. And not just the typical childhood watches of my era like Land Before Time or Disney’s Dinosaur. I watched every CG pseudo-nature documentary I could convince my parents to rent from the video store and rejoiced whenever Animal Planet or a similar channel promoted a new one. I forced myself to sit through the more nightmarish parts of Peter Jackson’s King Kong because I knew I’d see dinosaurs later on. And as you might imagine, my all-time favorite was Jurassic Park. I watched the original when I was nowhere near the suggested age range and was too busy being enthralled by its Cretaceous creations to be scared (except the Dilophosaurus scene, which still chills me to this day.) On road trips, you’d find me watching it or its sequels on the overhead video player in my dad’s SUV. And at age fifteen, my love for Dinosaurs was rekindled once more in Jurassic World, which left me satisfyingly thrilled and ready to see what the next generation of films had to offer.

Yet as I grew older and‌ my taste for films sharpened, the franchise that raised me seemed to dull. Between the patchwork mess of a direction change that was Fallen Kingdom to the disappointing finale of Dominion, I became disillusioned with what I’d hailed as the gold standard of dinosaurs in film. Even the direct sequels, though they will always hold a soft spot in my heart, did not keep the luster they had in my youth. And while I could always rely on the original feature for my fix of terrible lizards, after dozens of rewatches, I sought new specimens for observation…and came up mostly empty-handed. Eventually, I realized the Jurassic franchise had been such an apex predator of cinematic success that it had no natural competitors. Beyond direct to video B-movies and SY-FY channel originals, there wasn’t enough fresh material being added to the primordial gene pool to make any real difference. Sure, every now and again a film like The Good Dinosaur or 65 would challenge their dominance, but they would be in and out of the public eye in a blink, never even shaking the vice-like grip the jaws of the Jurassic franchise had on dinosaurs in film. Despite this, I elected to withhold from Jurassic World: Rebirth’s latest attempt to plunder the IP for all it was worth under the guise of something original, hoping another would come along with enough bite to contend. And sure enough, I believe I’ve found that contender.

Released with a limited theatrical window in 2025, Primitive War adapts the sci-fi alternate history novel of the same name and follows a ragtag crew of American soldiers as they encounter living dinosaurs during the Vietnam War. The premise alone got me hooked, as beyond the presence of the prehistoric, I ‌also have a soft spot for ill-prepared military units facing supernatural phenomena. I, of course, was there on one of those stolen theatrical evenings, and while it lived up to the concept as advertised, the film played out how I was expecting otherwise. It’s an independent B-movie that’s mostly held together by thrilling action sequences with wisecrack-spewing army war movie stereotypes shooting at dinosaurs of varying rendering quality to the best hits of the 70’s. Regardless, I’ll stand by that it formed a more enjoyable, more cohesive, and overall better dinosaur movie than Rebirth, if nothing else than for the effort of its cast and crew.

Before we continue, I’d like to clarify that while I will make multiple comparisons to Rebirth throughout this review, analyzing certain characters and scenes, I haven’t actually seen the movie. Beyond not viewing in theaters, I’ve done my best to avoid it on streaming and YouTube, as I feel the only way to garner change from major studios is to deprive them of money and attention as much as possible. Despite this principle, I believe I’ve viewed enough summaries, wiki pages, and reviews to have a firm grasp of the plot, which from what I’ve observed wasn’t all too complex to begin with. Not a tremendous deal, I know, but I wanted to get this out of the way in case I display a gap in knowledge watching the movie in its entirety could fill…which I highly doubt.

Right from the opening scene, Primitive War proves to be a different beast. We open to the sound of thunder amidst the jungles of Vietnam, as a pair of clearly shaken Green Berets desperately try to request evacuation amidst the raging storm. Suddenly one of them disappears, his screams echoing from the shadowy brush, the other one firing blindly as strikes of lightning illuminate his surroundings in brief intervals. And the attacker, a deadly Utahraptor (which they accurately never refer to as so with species not being discovered until 1975), does not reveal itself until it’s ready to feast, the thrilling cold open closing with the beast pouncing upon the screaming soldier before the title card. It’s concise, intense, and a delectable morsel of what’s to come. Contrarily, Rebirth offers something eerily similar to ‌the original feature, showing an incident at yet another InGen facility on yet another Costa Rican Isle, where the genetic abomination of a dinosaur Distortus Rex partially breaks containment and kills an unlucky scientist. And yet, between the distasteful use of product placement as the inciting element in the crisis and the sluggish movement of the dinosaur itself, it comes across as a watered-down version of a masterclass in hooking your audience. And while Primitive War’s early kills prove valuable to the plot, Rebirth’s first few minutes seem only to introduce an antagonistic dinosaur that doesn’t reappear until the movie’s end—but more on that later.

The narrative then introduces our band of brothers in arms for the runtime, named the Vulture Squad for their search and rescue speciality. There’s the commanding officer Baker, who leaves no man behind and trails a dark past behind him; Miller, who seeks penance through newfound religion, Keyes, who serves as the heart and soul of the team, the irreverent Eli, the pragmatic Xavier, the haunted Logan, and the newcomer Leon. Having just completed a hostage recovery mission, their overzealous superior, Colonel Jericho, now tasks them with recovering the missing Green Berets seen in the introduction. With the dramatic irony already being present in spades, the ragtag roughnecks are left even further in the dark, with seemingly every other detail of their assignment being deemed ‘classified’. Meanwhile, the leading cast of our opposite movie comprises the pharmaceutical mogul Krebs, mercenary Zora, smuggler Duncan, and paleontologist Henry. In their mission, all cards on the table-go to the previously seen InGen owned island, retrieve DNA samples from its three largest inhabitants, and use it to make a billion-dollar cure. No one has become any less wise, and the potential for dramatic tension remains unrealized. There’s also a family that gets stranded on the island with them, but they’re so inconsequential I won’t be mentioning them again.

Both films fully display their true strength when our adventuring parties reach their destinations and the plot kicks into gear—through, of course, their portrayal of dinosaurs. Beginning with Rebirth, to its credit, from outside observations these appear to be among the most colorful depictions of prehistoric animals in the franchise, with several scenes of their scenes described as inventive and gripping, such as a T-Rex scene inspired by the original novels river raft attack and a cliff side encounter with a Quetzalcoatlus. However, much of it remains the same as we’ve seen from previous entries, with almost every dinosaur behaving more like a monster than an animal, unrelenting in their desire to kill the protagonists specifically. Yet while Primitive War allows its Dinosaurs to be terrifying, it still keeps in mind (mostly) that they are animals acting on instinct, most notably when a pair of Spinosaurs who momentarily assail our heroes break off to feed on a nearby herd of Triceratops. And on top of each creature appearing as accurate to current scientific findings as possible (and compromising with some, like having only the male T-Rex boast feathers) provides a unique experience in each encounter. The ravenous Deinonychus attack the Vulture Squad in swarms like that of coyotes, while a flock of Quetzalcoatlus descends from the sky and feeds on them with movements akin to herons. For me, the best example is when an Utahraptor ambushes Keyes when he becomes separated from the others, puncturing his intestines and beginning to eat whilst its prey lives. And unlike the infamous ‘Clever Girl” scene of Jurassic Park, rather than mindlessly consuming in a very audible frenzy, here the raptor is quiet and methodical, eating with the impunity of a true predator.

While the dinosaurs are undoubtedly Primitive War’s genuine stars, the human characters really aren’t too shabby as far as creature features go. In interviews, director Luke Sparke stated he wished for the film to feel as though “the characters…walked out of the film Platoon and into the jaws of the greatest predators the planet has ever known”. And while these close-knit grunts don’t provide the same nuance or tragic grit as the characters of that film, mostly boiling down to your typical war movie archetypes, they each commit to their role so well that their earnestness deserves admiration. With the par for the course being that most of them will be dinosaur food by the time the credits roll, the narrative allots time for the audience to learn of their experiences and the inner demons they carry while also showing how said trauma affects their decisions. A prime example is the self-sacrifice of Logan, who, after grappling with suicidal tendencies for much of the film, draws an attacking Deinonychus horde away from his companions before taking his own life, giving the predators an easy meal while the others escape. While Rebirth may objectively have a stronger cast with names like Mahershala Ali and Scarlett Johansson, their characters develop little beyond their initial impressions. Even when the latter’s character, Zora, reveals she lost a partner during a previous job, this information does not seem to influence her choices or actions meaningfully. In short, it’s better to have actors playing clear archetypes with full sincerity rather than attach big names to cliches and do nothing else with them.

The true killing blow of Primitive War to Rebirth comes, as one might expect, during the finale. Beforehand, Vulture Squad encounters a Russian paleontologist named Dr. Wagner, the last survivor of a USSR research outpost. She informs them that Soviet wormhole experiments, helmed by the insane General Borodin, caused the dinosaurs’ return. General Borodin sought a means of instantaneous assault upon the United States that would ‘send tanks onto the White House lawn’ and would be successful if they did not stop him in his next attempt. Realizing that not even their own government should possess such destructive power, the remnants of Vulture Squad conduct a last-ditch raid on the Russian base, leading to a high-octane, explosive ultimate climax. Coinciding with their operation, a pair of Tyrannosaurs lay siege to the base in retaliation for the killing of one of their hatchlings, a rampage of epic spectacle that puts The Lost World to shame. Even after successfully deactivating the machine, a second crisis emerges as seemingly endless waves of Utahraptors storm the stronghold, forcing our surviving heroes to shoot their way out in a scene that looks and feels like the end of an FPS (in the best way). And as the rescue choppers ferry them away, they watch as herds of dinosaurs migrate from the valley and spread out into the larger Vietnamese jungles, and the credits play against a montage of authentic archival footage edited with CG dinosaurs. It’s an exhilarating, fittingly over the top conclusion that not only brings the story to a satisfying close but hints at a brave new altered history to be explored in future installments.

Although Primitive War’s ending produces a war worthy of a tyrant lizard king, Jurassic World Rebirth offers only a whimper. At the start of the third act, our remaining survivors learn that Krebs, whom the film excruciatingly emphasizes as a heartless corporate scumbag who’ll sacrifice whoever he needs to for riches, is…exactly that. After a poor attempt to recreate the classic Raptor kitchen scene with mutant Pteranodons, it’s revealed that the D-Rex from the opening scene is…still around. It sluggishly pursues the remaining crew for a few minutes before Duncan lights a flare to draw it away, sacrificing himself in the process before being revealed to have survived and regrouping with the others. They sailed away with their ultimate aim completed, agreeing to open-source the cure so all who need it will have access. Disregarding the lackluster final action scenes and the fact that any character with no difference could have performed Duncan’s fake-out sacrifice, the movies’ closing moments provide neither meaningful changes to the narrative’s universe nor a foundation for future installments. The events that transpired will have no lasting impact beyond the removal of deadly disease, and the characters have no apparent reason to return to this island again. While perhaps the director was intending for a self-contained ending, once again harkening back to the original, a healthy amount of setup is required when your work is starting a new series- a lesson Primitive War keeps well in mind.

I’ll reiterate: Primitive War is not a perfect movie, and not one you’re likely to see talked about at an awards show either. The effects are a little choppy, especially when you can clearly see the cutoff point on a blood splatter effect. The plot is straightforward, hitting similar beats to most monster and war movies you’ve seen before. And the dear members of Vulture Squad are cheesily gung-ho, cursing every third line of dialogue and delivering one-liners like my favorite below-

“Just smile, pull the trigger, the problem goes away. It’s…the American way.”

However, it’s clear that people who made it know how to create dinosaur-filled experiences audiences will enjoy, putting in a million percent effort using all they could afford. Despite its short-lived theatrical run, a sequel is in the works for next year, and Sparke is currently attempting to develop a tv series titled Dinosaurs of The Wild West, which, if properly funded via its’ Kickstarter, will probably be as epic as it sounds. Depending on how the upcoming suburban dinosaur film The End of Oak Street turns out, we may see others throw their hat into the ring to end the Jurassic franchise’s Mesozoic monopoly. Though a part of me is sad to be leaving the latter behind for now, the rest is excited for what Sparke and similar minds have to offer, hopeful they will usher in a new age when dinosaurs rule the cinema again.

There is a predator that stalks all

An apex, some would say

For it is not fettered to any one prey

Does not care for species, size, or age

It has no competitor

And none can hope to challenge its strength

No one know’s when it’ll strike

Or how it’ll strike

For some, it comes without warning

In broad daylight, or as they sleep

These are the lucky ones

For others, a far worse fate

Some it rakes with its’ claws

The marks obscure as that which left them

Only with time will they be made known

Deepening, misshaping

It leaves these scars as a warning

That they’ll soon be in its’ teeth

Others it bites, gnawing at the bones

Wearing them down at the joints

So that when the time comes for the kill

They are unable to run or fight back

Oftentimes, it’ll take a whole limb

A morsel to stave its’ hunger

And for those least fortunate

It stings with deadliest venom

The infection tormenting from within

Corrupting, corroding their being

For them, being fed upon is more a mercy

Than to live another day of misery

None have ever seen it

But all have felt it

For it is always on the hunt

Feeding without ever showing its’ face

The only proof we have to show

Are the endless bodies left in its’ wake

One year ago (plus twenty days), I leapt from my comfort zone to do something I’d never done before-I put together an online space, here on Substack, for everyone to read and place judgement on my work.

Before then, I’d kept the sharing of my literary creations confined to my classroom instructors and peers, family, and friends. But being an aspiring writer, I knew I’d eventually have to begin my journey somewhere, and a friend suggested a certain online platform to me. And so, after prepping for a month, I launched this site with steadfast intent and minimized expectations, if nothing else hoping it would at least be a good exercise in writing consistently and posting within a concrete schedule, and at most a suitable launching point for my eventual novel.

But within just the first month, I found so much more to be in store for me. I ended up getting subscribers beyond my friends and family, outnumbering them even. I’ve discovered other creative minds of similar wavelengths that inspired me to be more interactive amongst fellow users. And despite wanting only to focus on Infiknights related work, I was eventually driven to create my Double (re)Viewing movie essay series as well. And while not all of it went according to plan per se, having to backtrack more than once and accept that some of my works weren’t going to get the views I’d hoped they would, the first few months working on my So-Called Substack made me feel like a legitimate writer for the first time, hopeful for the future ahead of me.

And then, as it tends to, life happened. I lost my job right as the holiday season was beginning, and while it didn’t affect me too much at first, the strain eventually led to me forgoing my planned final works before December and then being absent from Substack altogether. This creative block persisted well into the spring, as I’d begun substitute teaching while working on alternative certification to become an educator. It was only after the long-overdue admission that I didn’t want that life path I felt able to write again, and soon I planned a relaunch of my Substack, and find a job that would allow me to do so whilst supporting my wife and our new shared livelihood. Within a month I succeeded at both, and while I knew it would take time to regain the same traction as before, I was once again optimistic towards my future as a writer.

And once again, life happened. From unexpected complications in work scheduling to a loss within my family, I once more failed in my attempts to rekindle my creative drive. To keep from remaining in an endless cycle of failed attempts, I took a step back and thought things over, taking time to remind myself why I started this journey and determine whether to continue. And after taking some time to disconnect on a camping trip to New Mexico, I realized what had been missing from my first attempt at relaunching-a post like this.

As I’ve gone back and re-read entries like this one, I’ve found they’re for so much more than advertising what I was planning to post in the coming weeks. They recapped what I’d experienced and how it had affected me, not only as a writer but as a human being. It allowed me the chance to thank those who had read my work and followed along in my endeavors, whether from the beginning or only for a few days. Most importantly, they’ve created a space for me to not only be consistent, setting goals and standards for me to commit myself to, but to be authentic as well.

And so, to be consistent and authentic once more, I have posted poetry in its own category on my primary site, titled Poems and The Like. I don’t write many poems, but I have a few from my college days I’d like to share and have recently felt inspired to make more. It wasn’t part of my plan for this So-Called Substack, but it is a part of who I am as a writer and deserves to be shared along with everything else. I’ll be starting with The Unseen Predator, which will release alongside this post, and attempt to provide at least one each month. Along with that, here’s what else I have planned:

7/29-8/1: Double (re)Viewing: Primitive War—How an independent film formed a better cinematic saurian experience than the latest Jurassic World.

8/2-8/8: Tales of The Infiknights: The Tale of Daxul—Still mourning the sacrifice of Baniel, Altervant Daxul undertakes a survey assignment to a derelict space station discovered on the fringes of the Outerspheres and makes a startling discovery. (I know I already promised this, but like I said, I’m committed to at least getting it started within this timeframe.)

8/9-8/15: Tales of The Infiknights: The Tale of Krei—In a gathering of several civilizations poised to take up arms over a world between Spheres, Palaten Krei Owens faces his most dangerous negotiation yet.

And that’s all I’m looking to set in stone for now. I can’t promise it’ll all go as planned. It won’t. I can’t promise life won’t interfere. It will. However, this time around, I at least intend to set myself up for success as much as possible.

Anyway, that’s going to be it for now. I encourage you to check out my poem The Unseen Predator once you finish here, as it concerns a subject I’m sure we’ve all dealt with in our lives. Here’s to a happy one year on Substack, and with any luck, many more to come!

The exit ramp of the carrier boat lowered onto the stark, dull sands of the beach, and Thomas joined the collective chorus of his platoon’s boots as they crashed down upon the battlefield before storming forward into the fray.

He raced forward alongside a hundred other men with the same purpose and grace under pressure he had upheld in every campaign before, charting his path as he advanced towards the enemy. Yet all the while, he prayed that each step he took would not be his last. Around him, soldier after soldier — many of whom were of his own unit — dropped dead onto the sediment from the suppressing gunfire, piling onto the uniformed cadavers already littering the coastal sprawl. The sounds of torrential bullets filled his ears, each one seeming to come uncomfortably closer to their target, alongside the thunderous sounds of explosives bombarding the coastline, sending dirt and sea spray upward akin to geysers. The maritime breeze, which would otherwise have been welcome, was now a plague carrying the mind-numbing smell of salt, smoke, and bloodshed to his nostrils.

Still, Thomas did not allow any of this to break his nerve and resolve, never slowing as he and the others fought their way towards the defensive lines, slowing only to take cover and return fire. From what their C.O had said, this would be the defining battle of the war and decide whether the spoils would go to the Allies or the Axis. And so, he knew he would do whatever it took to help his side win. Not just for his wife, Hannah, and their boy Elliot back home, holding on to hope that all would be well. Not just for the memory of his brother, Mitch, who’d been among the casualties at Pearl Harbor. But for all those who’d suffered under the brutal reign of this wrathful regime.

As his unit regrouped and huddled together behind an overtaken barricade, he took the time for a headcount. They were down to less than half their ranks, a handful of weary, battle-scarred survivors remaining in the onslaught’s wake. Though Thomas did his best to remain anchored in the moment, a part of his mind drifted back to his best memories of all of them together. When they would talk about their families back home, their plans once the fires had settled, second-hand stories from the front lines-and, to spice things up, rumors of the secret practices being carried out by the Nazis from within the shadows.

Indeed, these had been his favorite parts of their gatherings, for the ghost stories of research into the supernatural side of history left him both terrified and mystified, as he’d always had a secret interest in such things. And just a few days ago, he’d heard a recent intelligence report that a German expedition into the Alps yielded a discovery. Something they believed would turn the tide of-

Without warning, an artillery shell crashed down into the sand near their shelter, and in the mere seconds they had to react, Thomas and the remnant of his squad instinctively dove away into the dirt. While the blast had missed him, he still caught the full, deafening wave of force generated by the impact. And so, he lay there for what felt like an eternity, the sharp ringing in his eardrums disturbed only by the faint crossfire and muffled screams of the battlefield, half-tempted to lay there and let whatever death awaited take him.

However, he remembered a promise that his commander had made them all swear before they boarded the boats. That no matter what happened, they would die on their feet, weapon in hand, standing tall in the face of destruction. With this memory now echoing over the sound of the fading ring from the blast, Thomas mustered everything he had to push himself up off the ground, prepared to face whatever was waiting for him up ahead.

What he found left him more dumbfounded than the shellshock, as the enemy forces had ceased firing and were in retreat. But why would they be falling back unless…

The sound of explosions shook the shoreline, emanating from the sea behind them.

Thomas’s heart sank as he turned and bore witness to their entire invasion fleet of warships, over a thousand ships strong, engulfed in flames. Through the thick clouds of black smoke rising into the atmosphere, he saw large, airborne shapes flying in circles over the ships, setting fighter planes and ships ablaze with what looked like a hundred flamethrowers fired at once.

Some kind of new experimental enemy aircraft?

Then one of the aerial object’s wings moved downwards in a flapping motion. Despite the abject terror and disbelief encompassing his mind, extended by the sight of the entities changing course towards the beach, Thomas knew there was no mistaking them for anything else.

They were dragons.

As the distant inferno turned the storm-grey skies to black and illuminated the seas with hellish red, Thomas willed his eyes away from the oncoming monstrosities to his fellow soldiers as they staggered around him. Their faces, caked in the wartime blend of ash and blood, mirrored the same look of hopeless dread he knew adorned his own. No one spoke, for it went without saying that if the naval and aerial power of the Allies wasn’t enough to stop the flying terrors, there was little some stranded ground pounders could do.

Still, Thomas had a promise to keep, and he was sure the rest had taken similar oaths. With the dragons nearly upon them, he took aim at the hostiles on the horizon and unloaded, continuing to squeeze the trigger as fire swam over the beach and turned it to glass.

(Spoilers, but you know that by now)

The concept of the home has always held a position of great importance in the world of horror films. In Tobe Hooper’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the to-be-butchered teens are bound for what they believe is a home away from home, only to arrive at the hollow ruins of a dilapidated rural property with predatory cannibals lying in wait nearby. The shark-hunting protagonists of Steven Spielberg’s Jaws spend much of the movie on the open ocean, seeking to bring down the marine beast plaguing their seaside home, and at one point come together in a shanty about finding their way back to it. Much of the genre’s films, and the hapless victims which inhabit them, have a discernible, almost reward-based fixation on the home-a place which remains out of reach for most of the runtime.

Such fixation is logical, of course. Even those of us who are ordinary and not assailed by monsters and madmen consider our homes sanctuaries. Places of warmth and rest, where we make joyful memories and sweet dreams await after the onslaught of nightmares that daily life offers-both in fiction and reality. Yet, it is all too easy for these citadels of safety to be compromised. Whether from outside intruders or otherworldly hauntings, such breaches can easily transform what should be a haven into a hellscape, with those who were once inhabitants in comfort now fighting to survive its halls. I find, however, that the most sinister of these threats comes not from beyond the abode, but from beneath its very foundations. When that which should never have been forgotten creeps upward through the fractures of the polished framework, it shatters the visage of domestic bliss it was cast aside in favor of and rears its scorned head for the reverence it was denied. And I can think of no film that better exemplifies this, or whose production more accurately mirrors this, than the film born of collaboration between the two aforementioned filmmakers.

I won’t hold it against you if it’s your first time hearing of this connection. When I first watched Poltergeist back in 2018, as my first ‘true’ horror film, I was so taken in by it I didn’t even question who sat in the directorial chair. I only knew it as a film by Steven Spielberg, a man whose work had shaped my formative years of watching movies, and that was enough. It wouldn’t be until the October of last year upon viewing it again that I learned of Tobe Hooper’s involvement, although in my defense I didn’t even know of the man ‌as at the time I’d avoided viewing his visceral tale of Leatherface and kin out of a sensitivity to the subject I’ve long since outgrown. Wanting to know more, I tracked down a video essay on the production and found that Spielberg brought Hooper on to direct the film, a long-time passion project of his initially imagined as an alien encounter film set in the remote countryside, so he could serve as writer and executive producer whilst working on other projects. According to reports, the former would prove unable to leave the reins securely in the latter’s hands, often taking over scenes and micromanaging development to ensure the final product met ‌his vision. Eventually, it became necessary to hold investigations to validate the titles granted in the end credits. To this day, people debate who truly deserves the title of director for Poltergeist.

Regardless of whether Spielberg’s on-set interference is responsible Hooper’s large lack of a common association with Poltergeist, their influence is obvious throughout most of the film. Granted, the story radiates an ethereal aura of the charm, scares, and comedy audiences expected from Spielberg at the height of his career, often invoking laughter, gasps, and joy within a few minutes. Despite this, we periodically observe scenes with a distinct harshness compared to the rest of the movie, boasting a bone-chilling bite even the likes of Bruce the Shark or Jurassic Park’s Rexy couldn’t hope to match. And I believe these stolen moments, spared from the cutting room floor, are the shattered remnants of Hooper’s directorial contributions, fighting for recognition against the sphere of Spielberg’s influence encompassing them.

We see examples of this from the very beginning, as the film’s opening minutes feature something very familiar and warmly comforting (at least to the target audiences at the time of the film’s release)-a televised playing of the American national anthem, set against the Marine Corps War Memorial. A symbol of hard-fought victory, set to the harmony of a country built on ideas of freedom and pursuing happiness, serving as a synecdoche of the American Dream Spielberg so often indulged in. The patriotic program gives way to total static upon completion, and a silent call from within the white noise stirs the sleeping child Carol Anne, who answers to the bewilderment of her parents and siblings. In the morning, however, all seems to have returned to normal in sunny suburbia, where children prank hapless bike-riding beer runners with remote-controlled vehicles and next-door neighbors war over shared channel-changer signals. Each scene is a vignette of charming domestic bliss, where all is right in the world…until the mother, Diane, discovers their pet canary has died, lamenting that it had to be ‘on a Saturday’ when the children are home. She attempts to unceremoniously dispose of the bird’s body via a toilet before being discovered by her daughter, who insists upon a proper burial. For such a small and unassuming scene, it effectively emphasizes the central theme of the consequences that arise when one neglects that which should be sacred in favor of the exterior image, while also foreshadowing the source of the haunting in its early stages.

This consistent corruption of comfort is par for the course for the rest of the film, particularly in terms of the style and content of scenes. The film meets moments portraying the paranormal as mystifyingly unusual yet exciting, with ones that remind us of its inherent macabre terror. For every instance of chairs organizing themselves upon a table or toys floating around a child’s bedroom, there’s the sight of a gnarled tree attempting to swallow a young boy or a man hallucinating the flesh melt and peel from his face. The best examples, from what I observe, are when the horrors directly subvert and overturn the homeliness. When supernatural phenomena turn the house into a chaotic nexus after Carol Anne is taken to a dimension between life and death, academic researchers are brought in to reach the lost child. Eventually, their instruments contact the child, with the softening score and tearful relief of the family upon hearing her voice crafting a touching scene. Then just as the audience can reclaim a sense of security, a rift between dimensions deposits dirt covered possessions from ages past-another hint at the haunting’s dark causation-before the overture hastens as Carol Anne cries out at another presence whilst the echoes of her voice fade into the recesses of the homestead. While the scene ends on a softer note, with those gathered in the living room feeling the child’s presence and gaining newfound hope in her return, it does not outshine the audience’s newfound knowledge of the being hunting Carol Anne in the space between-a creature we come to know only as “The Beast”.

A more subtle case comes awhile after, as the father Steven takes a walk with his boss Mr. Teague, where they discuss an offer for relocation to a soon to be constructed neighborhood and his long overdue promotion. This unassuming scene quickly takes a darker turn. A camera pan reveals a cemetery that complements their hillside stroll, and Teague reveals they built the neighborhood they live in upon its previous location. While Steven questions the morality of such actions, his employer is quick to deflect the objections.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not an ancient tribal burial ground. It’s just…people.”

On the surface, the scene is only a reprieve from the nightmares of the homestead, with the promise of a rewarding light at the end of the tunnel for the family. Still, this discomforting knowledge chills the spines of the audience, along with Mr. Teague’s irreverence towards the dead in the name of progress. And despite the real estate moguls’ reassurances that they took good care of the occupants, given what we’ve seen beforehand, one can’t help but wonder…

It is only at the film’s close when the full extent of this hidden darkness is (quite literally) unearthed. A psychic medium aids Diane on a daring journey to the space between life and death, saving Carol Anne. The family prepares to move away, leaving their homegrown traumas behind. At their final night in their hollowed-out former house, all seems quiet-with Steven and the eldest daughter out, the children lie snug in their beds whilst their mother bathes and dyes the streak of grey hair from her interdimensional rescue (seriously, did these people learn nothing?). However, in the grand tradition of bait-and-switch horror movie denouements, the domicile comes alive in an onslaught of preternatural nightmares. Terrifying toys attack their owners while the laws of gravity itself turn against Diane, and the Beast arrives in all its spectral splendor, so ghastly and grotesque one would never guess it was ever human. And yet, it all pales compared to the sequence’s piece of resistance seen above, as coffins filled with rotting cadavers erupt from beneath the suburban foundations, refusing to be ignored any longer. The catalyst of the hauntings and the film’s underlying motif become clear in these adrenaline-fueled last moments. During the development of the neighborhood, they moved only the headstones, leaving the bodies to be desecrated and disturbed, as Steven furiously conveys in his concurrent berating of Teague. The house implodes in a burst of phantasmal spectacle as the family reunites and escapes, bringing the once-happy home and the white picket lie it stood upon to a final resting place.

I’ll leave it up to the reader’s interpretation whether the offscreen clash for control is responsible for Tobe Hooper’s quiet disappearance from the film world, directing a handful of B-movies afterward despite the film’s success whilst Spielberg continued to reach greater heights. What I will say is that the director ensured his contributions would not be so easily forgotten, and whether viewers remember him at the forefront of Poltergeist’s production, his uniquely nightmarish vision of horror shall continue to haunt the homes of all who view it.

Hey everyone, happy Fall!

I know my presence here has still been a bit on and off as of late. I’ve recently taken up substitute teaching, and every day I’m not is spent working on course work for alternative certification for the real deal, and I’m still trying to find a proper balance between that and this. However, if nothing else during the month of November, I intend to return to the classic schedule of writing and posting, along with a few extras I intended to get out last month but never did.

Moreover, during December, I’ve decided I’ll be taking a step back from weekly posting whilst maintaining reading activity on Substack, so I might focus on writing without deadlines for a bit while also enjoying the holiday season. If I do post something, it’ll likely be a holiday movie Double (re)Viewing, we’ll seeBut until then, here’s what to (mostly) expect from the So-Called Substack in the coming weeks-

11/9/25-11/15/25: Double (re)Viewing: Poltergeist— What happens when the horror follows you home.

11/16/25-11/22/25: A Different D-Day—On the shores of an alternate Normandy, the war will take a turn for the worse.

11/23/25-11/29/25: Tales of The Infiknights: The Tale of Daxul— Still mourning the sacrifice of Baniel, Altervant Daxul undertakes a survey assignment to a derelict space station discovered on the fringes of the Outerspheres and makes a startling discovery.

There’ll be other postings within the coming weeks besides those listed here, but I’ll be keeping them a surprise for the time being. As always, I’m grateful to all those who have kept up with my writings. Reaching over 90 subscribers last month was an astonishing occurrence that left me overjoyed, and even if I don’t make the hundreds by years end, Ive accomplished more than I ever thought I would with this site.

Anyways, that’s all for now! Good evening, and good reading!

Back to Chapter 7

The intruder’s unearthly screams rang throughout the cabin, limbs flailing from beneath Red’s paws. With untempered primal rage, he tore through the neck and face of his prey, stripping away more flesh with every bite. The creature’s cry eventually turned to a gargling warble as it drowned in its blood, and its spasms soon gave way to total stillness.

It was dead. Red had killed it.

For a time, Red stared down at his masterpiece of carnage, the raging fire within him lessening to smoldering cinders. He then looked back at Emery and saw her eyes fixed on the body, unblinking as she looked on in horror. From the ashes of his aggression emerged a flood of guilt, polluted with fear. He had never wanted her to see him like this, to witness firsthand the merciless carnivore buried beneath generations of domestication. For all she knew, her dog had gone feral and killed her father in an act of utter savagery. Would she ever trust him again?
“That’s…not…Dad,” she stammered.

A swell of relief countered his initial worry. Emery understood. He slowly trotted to her, fur dripping with pieces of his kill, and nestled into her chest as she embraced him.

The sound of something massive cut their tender reunion short, dragging across the stone. Red saw the creator had recovered from its wounds, and it sluggishly glissaded towards them, poised to avenge its fallen spawn. Red could cut and gnaw at its hide all he wanted, but he knew he could not defeat it.

But he could give his family enough time to escape.

He barked thunderously at the behemoth to get its attention, then ran around its flank to draw it away from Emery. It twisted its faceless head toward him, taking the bait. Meanwhile, Emery took advantage of Red’s distraction by rushing to her encapsulated family members, doing her best to free them with her bare hands. As the hulking beast stretched open its maw with a bone-chilling hiss, Red darted back and forth before it without pause, intent on using his smaller size to his advantage. His adversary reared its head back before plunging downward to reduce the dog to a paste.

Red sidestepped the maneuver just as the skull slammed into the cave floor with the force of a truck. The impact cracked the previously untouched stone and shook the chamber; the quaking intensified by the monster’s infernal bellowing toward its folly. After recovery, the monster returned to the position, intending not to fail again.

Once more, however, Red was ready and dodged, the enormous onslaught striking nothing but rock. They continued this several more times, with the titan’s body crashing into every part of the chamber between agonized squeals, and Red continuously evaded the sloppy attack. Assured of his strategy, he drew his concentration away from the abomination to Emery, who had successfully freed a dazed Mom and Dad and now worked to uncover Alex. Everything was going according to plan. Maybe they could all get out of this-

Suddenly, he felt something latch onto his fur. Then, a dozen more.

The tendrils!

Red squirmed and snapped at the appendages in a bid for release, but they coiled around him with unforeseen speed and force before slowly lifting him from the ground. All he could do was whine with terror as the monster pulled him upward towards its tooth-laden pit, which grew closer by the second.

Closer…closer…closer…

There then came a great sound of tearing flesh followed by a deathly screech, and Red plummeted to the ground. Thankfully, it had not been too steep of a fall, and the living snares released him, taking strands of shedding hair with them as they receded whence they came. Following their trail, Red discovered his savior- the brutish bashing had loosened a spike-shaped rock formation from the ceiling, which now impaled the creature’s midsection.

No movement came from it. Dumb luck or otherwise, the beast was dead. Red rose to his feet, stumbling slightly from the fall as he rejoined his family. Alex was still fast asleep, but Mom and Dad had fully sobered, and the family came together for a tearful embrace.

The sounds of crumbling sediment and the groaning foundation around them cut their reunion short, and the chamber began to rattle and fracture.

“Cave-in!” Dad exclaimed. “We have to go now!”

Dad cradled Alex in his arms, and the family ran for the slope, only to find their copies waiting for them above. Their faces were seething with fury, incited by the bodies of their compatriot and creator.

“There-there’s another way!” Emery exclaimed. “The way I first came in, near camp! This way!”

She hurried off into the dark recesses of the now collapsing chamber, with Red and the others following suit. Amidst the falling rocks, he heard shoes scraping against sediment- the intruders were hot on their trail. Emery led them through winding corridors as they dodged the showers of debris around them. Red’s nose filled the gaps in Emery’s memory, as the scent of fresh air allowed him to guide his family in the chaos via barks and pointing gestures with his snout.

But by the time they reached the cave’s other mouth, fallen geodes had already blocked half of it. Red prepared for a last stand with their pursuers closing in, intending to hold the line while Red’s family helped each other over the rocks. He snarled and lashed out at Mom, Emery, and Alex’s would-be replacements while his loved ones safely scaled the obstacle.

Once they were out, when the barrier of boulders had almost reached the roof of the entryway, Red turned and clambered upward desperately to his last chance of escape, mere inches from the reaching grasp of the intruders.

It was late afternoon, and Red was enjoying himself, sprawled across the bed in Mom and Dad’s room he’d missed so much.

He’d barely made it out of the cave alive. Thankfully, a small space remained between its roof and the wall of stone that had formed in its exit. Red scrambled through before the hollow duplicates that had infested his home could seize him, leaving them in their earthen tomb. He had no fear that they might escape—he was the only one who was small enough to fit through the opening.

Once they were finally safe from harm, Red and his loved ones huddled close for their overdue reunion. They sat there in the early hours of the morning, alone in the woods, sobbingly holding one another tightly as if they all might slip away. Once they’d wiped their tears, they found the car, the false Dad having left the keys there. They returned home without speaking of what had occurred, no longer wanting to dwell on the ordeal. A few days had passed since then, and it seemed life had returned to normal. As Red lay resting from his encounters with such terrible unexplained forces, the rest of the family was outside, playing in the backyard while Dad prepared dinner. He planned to join them in a moment, but for now, he allowed his nose to paint a picture of the scenic moment.

Such wonderful scents came from outside. The grass. Hot dogs grilling. Water spraying from toy pistols-

And then another scent that made his head shoot up. One that was still strange to him, despite becoming all too familiar.

They were back! The intruders had returned and were closing in!

He smelled only one, yet there was no mistaking it. But how? Even the one meant to replace Alex could never have-

“Red?” he heard Mom say from the back of the house. “What happened to you?”

His heart sank with the realization. The tufts of fur that had come loose in the grip of the tendrils…the opening big enough only for a dog…

The sound of barking and screaming filled his ears, and with a burst of momentum, he leaped from his resting place and hurried to the back patio. There he barked combatively as he positioned himself defensively between the family and…himself.

It had his fur and his deep eyes. However, its creator had failed to replicate scent, just like those before.

It seemed the beast who created the intruders wasn’t as dead as he’d believed.

As with any fight between dogs, they began by circling each other, viciously growling as they waited for the other to strike. In this time of darkening skies before the storm, Red took the time to study his nemesis. Mud and strewn leaves matted its hide, mementos of its long journey to be here. There wasn’t a trace of warmth in its eyes, sincere or otherwise—only bloodlust.

The horror in the cave had not created this to infiltrate as with its predecessors. It was here to silence—a last attempt at a killing blow.

As expected, Red’s assassin lashed out first. Red avoided its jaws and responded with his own. The two merged in a blur of fangs, growling, and bloodied fur, simplifying their existence to attack and counterattack. Red held his own well enough, causing plenty of irreparable damage. However, despite his best efforts, the invading party got him on his back with a clear shot to his throat.

A crashing sound rang out before it could sink its teeth, like a lightning bolt had struck the ground nearby. The impact of the bullet sent the false Red rolling on the ground, a sizable chunk of flesh now missing from its side. Red turned and saw Dad standing on the patio with a freshly fired hunting rifle. He reloaded as he approached the last intruder, who managed a pleading whine despite its wounds.

The whining stopped once the following shot passed through its skull.

Red slowly lifted himself off of the ground. His body ached and burned from the encounter, yet he didn’t pay it much attention. His total focus was on the deceased pretender. It was one thing to see a family member dead before you, by your own fangs, no less. But a mirror of yourself…

Emery’s arms wrapping around him broke him from his existential trance. In that moment, being reminded that she might not have been here holding him were it not for his efforts put him at peace.

And it was then that Red decided he enjoyed hugging.

And thus, our story concludes—the end of a long series of twists and turns, otherworldly terrors, and, as promised, a happy ending.

For Red, at least. He saved his family from the forces that sought to harm it, and that was all that mattered. Dogs have the luxury of thinking so straightforwardly, so simply. A human might wonder if the thing in the cave was just a single anomalous abomination or an agent of a much larger force. One that had already successfully invaded homes worldwide, replacing hundreds of families not fortunate to have a pet so daring and determined as Red. One poised to consume the whole of this world…

And on that cheery note, I wish you all a good night and a Happy Halloween.

A̸̡͠p̸͎͛ǫ̵̅l̴̀͜o̴̟̍g̴̨͋i̷͍̅é̴̠s̸̩͗ ̷͖̑e̸͚̋v̸̜̏e̶̤͌ŗ̵͛y̶̘̓o̴̝͠n̶͈̄e̵̙̽,̴͖̚ ̵͍̎ň̴͇o̸͗͜t̸͖́h̶̙͝i̸̤͝n̴͚͐g̷̱̈́ ̵̪̆ț̸͂o̸͙̽ ̶̜̔w̵͈̔o̸̰͐ṟ̶̋r̵̦̓ý̷͉ ̸̗͛à̵̲b̵̞͠o̷͈͌ǘ̷̥ṱ̶̇.̵́͜ ̵̧̀

H̷̩̋á̶͉p̴̜͒p̴̺̈ỳ̴͕ ̸̇ͅȞ̴̖a̵͙̾l̸̫̈́l̷͉̊ȍ̷̬w̶̝͒é̷̩ě̴̝n̸̗͂.

Back to Chapter 6

The mere sight of it sent a chilling shiver shooting through Red’s skeleton. His instincts urged him to follow his pursuers’ example and flee into the safety of the woods. If such ravenous pack hunters held enough fear for this place to supersede their hunger, then what lay inside wasn’t something he could take lightly.

Red decided that, for now, the best course of action was to take the time to recuperate as much as he could before venturing inside. He settled on the forest floor, making a bed of untamed grass. It was no substitute for the one he had in Mom and Dad’s room or even that of the back room, and yet something about it felt strangely natural, as if he’d made a slight reconnection to the dormant wild animal within.

As he rested and his breath returned to him, Red directed his sense of smell to the cave, hoping its odors would give him some clue of what he’d be up against once inside. From the flood of scents that entered his nostrils, he picked out the irrelevant aromas-damp rocks, vegetation, a few small animals- and honed in on the ones that truly mattered.

The intruders were in there. All three of them had passed through recently. Alex, who he hoped was still sound asleep amid this terror, had been with them. And further into the cave-

Mom! Dad! Emery! It was not just their hollow duplicates; it was them!

Red’s heart swelled with joy. All this time, he’d kept himself going, hoping to save his family. And yet, there had always been a dark whisper scraping at the back of his mind, mocking his heroic trials with the thought that the pretenders had killed off his displaced loved ones. But there was no doubt in his mind now; with scents this fresh, they had to be alive! They’d all be going home!

Wait. That wasn’t all. There was something else with Red’s family and their copies. Similar to the intruders, but not exactly one of them.

It smelled…larger.

Red realized that if he spent any longer shuddering at what might lie within, he’d never save his family. His bearings regathered, he cautiously stepped forward, immersing himself in the umbral unknown.

He’d been walking in the cave for some time now. Red’s eyes were useless within its narrow interior; he could barely see more than a few inches before him. He allowed his nose to guide his way and his ears to survey for any dangers ahead or behind. Moisture dripped from above. Little creatures scurried in the dark, scattering rocks. Nothing of any consequence- only the beckoning scent of his family held his focus.

Suddenly, another smell came to him: smoke and burning wood. Had the intruders lit a fire?

Traveling onward, a flickering luminescence dancing on the cave walls ahead answered his question. That had to be where they were. Red picked up the pace, arriving at an elevated cliff side overlooking a massive chamber within the cave.

And what he saw next made him forget how to breathe.

It reminded Red of the long, rope-like creature that had bitten him as a pup. But the likenesses to anything he knew stopped there.

It was huge, more immense than any animal he’d seen. As tall as a house, maybe taller, with the circumference of a live oak tree. Its elongated body comprised pulsating, bulbous segments coiled together in a spiral at the center of the great chamber. A secretive residue dripped from the gnarled and wrinkling hide. Its head featured no eyes, ears, or other facial features Red could make out. Instead, it appeared more like an unbloomed flower bud, with petals pressed tightly together over what he could only guess would be the beast’s mouth. A rumbling emanated from its body, a gurgling growl reverberating across the cave walls and beneath Red’s paws.

Looking at it filled Red with abject fear, unlike anything he’d experienced. No wonder the dog-like pack animals didn’t dare come near this place. This atrocity was beyond their comprehension, beyond anyone’s. He wanted to run. Run and hide and forget this terrible place, this terrible thing-

No, Red’s family was counting on him. He had to help them.

When he finally could take his eyes off the behemoth, he saw the intruders kneeling before it against the dancing light of a raging bonfire. They stared unblinkingly towards its oozing mass, yet there didn’t seem to be any terror in their expressions-they looked at the monster the way Red looked at his family when told to sit. Near where they knelt, he found four large concentrations of the substance that coated the creature, each varying in size yet all vaguely humanoid. Though their faces were unseen, Red’s nose determined each housed a family member, every one of them alive within.

But why? What did this thing want with them? The obvious answer was food, but why was it waiting this long to consume them?

Suddenly, the creature that posed as Dad lifted a hand to the horror. Though hard to see, Red could make out a tuft of hair in its palm. With a sluggish movement that quaked the earth, the beast lowered its massive head to meet the offering. The flower blossomed, the petals revealing themselves as a quintet of jaws with needle-like teeth that sprawled into the darkness of the creature’s throat, reminding Red of the inside of the thornbush he unluckily crashed into last year.

Without warning, a swarm of tendrils erupted from the maw, writhing and slithering through the air in all directions. One of these appendages took hold of the hair, and as quickly as they appeared, the entire cluster retracted. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a sizable growth in the middle section of the monster’s body. It slid downward with sickening slowness until it reached the tail end of the beast. An opening formed at the tip, and with a sound both disgusting and guttural, what looked like a great sack of viscous flesh pushed its way through the newly formed hole before plopping onto the cave floor.

Though its odor reeked worse than death, Red could tell by how it moved that something was alive inside. The contents of the sack pushed and fought at its prison before finally tearing through, and the newly formed organism rose to reveal-

Alex?! No, not Alex, but yet another of these intruders. Its body was without clothing, utterly bare save for a thick layer of the unknown substance.

So, this is how these things came to be.

The newborn intruder turned to its predecessors, then upwards at its faceless creator. It opened its mouth, producing a steady sound between a clicking and an insectlike chirping. The others followed suit, and then the titan joined them, their unholy chorus echoing through the chamber and straining Red’s sensitive eardrums.

But through the pain, Red gained understanding. He knew why his family was still alive. This thing was more intelligent than it appeared; it knew not to threaten its secrecy and supply of food by taking one at a time. Before feeding, it waited until it had replaced an entire family with its hollow scouts. Now its collection was complete, and it had no cause to hold off the feast; no one would suspect anything. Red had to stop this somehow. He had to-

At that moment, a clump of rocks and sediment near his forepaws shifted and came loose, falling freely before crashing down on the cave floor. The intruders stopped their droning cry and looked to where Red was watching them.

They’d found him.

The beast let loose an ear-splitting cry, and like trained attack dogs, the intruders began clambering up a slope below where Red stood. His mind raced faster than his legs as he quickly retreated through the tunnel. Red had lost the element of surprise, but he couldn’t retreat. He had to throw these hunters off of his trail and get them away from their grotesque creator long enough for him to save his loved ones. If he could only find somewhere to hide…

There, Red barely could make out a large crevice in the wall, big enough for him to fit. But would it be enough to mask him from the intruders?

There was only one way to know for sure. He hurried to it and crawled inside, the space wide enough to scrape through on his belly. After a few minutes, he heard pounding footsteps stampeding by, the intruders likely believing Red to still be on the run.

But what if they were still close by?

Red waited as long as he felt necessary, then slowly backed out of the aperture. Once freed, he thankfully saw no sign that the intruders were still nearby. Making haste, he rushed back into the chamber, arriving just in time to see the sludge-encrusted titan looming over the entombed family member closest to it. Its jaws had unfurled once more, and the tendrils enclosed around its prey.

The feeding had already begun.

Without delay, Red hurried down the slope the mimics had used to reach him, leaped towards the wriggling appendages, and clamped his jaws down on the nearest one. The creature screamed- a grotesque, haunting sound- and withdrew its extensions with breakneck speed, causing the flesh within Red’s teeth to tear. As it reeled back and contorted its body in pain, Red took advantage of the moment and went to work pawing and biting at the residue coating, which broke apart with surprising ease. Eventually, he uncovered the face of the person beneath.

It was Emery!

All this time since her disappearance, all the nightmarish occurrences that had followed, and here she was! Caked with the substance but alive! Overjoyed, he took to licking her face, an act of celebration that stirred her.

“R…Red?” she asked as she weakly blinked open her eyes, voice hoarse from lack of use. “Wh-what’s going on? Where are we?”

Oh, the sweet girl. Red wished he could explain everything to her, how much he missed her, how he had fought to find her. He supposed Mom and Dad would take care of that first item, but first, he had to free them and Alex.

Then, Emery’s eyes turned to the space behind him.

“Dad?”

Red realized far too late what was happening as the great arms of Dad’s doppelgänger restrained him. He hadn’t even smelled it creeping up behind him in all his excitement over finding Emery. And now, it was carrying him kicking and thrashing towards the nearby bonfire.

Thankfully, before they could make it there, Red’s jaws reached his captor’s nose and clamped down. It released him immediately and clutched where he had bitten, which was now flowing with sticky, inhuman blood. It eventually lowered its hand, revealing a terrifying glare in its mangled face, and stalked towards Red with malicious intent.

Emery, who had freed herself completely, ran up behind him and began tugging on his arm.

“Dad, what’s going on?” she demanded. “What are you doing to-”

Without warning, the intruder struck her with the back of his hand, and she crumpled to the ground. At that moment, time seemed to slow around Red.

It…it had struck Emery. After everything, it had the absolute gall to lay its filthy hands on her. Red growled as an intense rage boiled up inside him, one that had been rising for quite some time now and was ready to erupt.

It seemed biting wasn’t enough. This transgression required a more permanent solution.

He pounced upon the false Dad, tackling it to the ground with a deadly snarl.

Then, he sank his teeth into its throat.

Final Chapter

After days of torturous exorcisms and rituals, the entity that took possession of my brother has been banished.

Tonight, I’ll sleep soundly knowing my family is t̴͎̦͈̍͋̄e̶̱̔͒͝m̶͕̟̔̈́̀͘p̸̥̱̽͛̚͝ŭ̴̯̣̼̃̾ṡ̵̭ ̶̧̛̛̱̥͕͆̾a̸̤̹̾͜ḓ̵̢̜̬̉͝è̷̩͊͋̋s̶̨͚̜̾͗̕̚t̶͇̗̙̽̎̇ͅ ̴̛̝̻̲̑̽u̸͙̒̃̄͠t̸͙͗̀̀͘ ̴̭̯̂r̵̢̉͠ę̸̩͈̞͆̄d̴̩͔͊ë̶̄͋̈́ͅa̸̬͊̈͠m̸̦̬̹̓̄͜͠,̴͉̂͆ ̸̜̓ä̸̡̲̮́n̴̡͈͓̞̒͋t̷͕̥̭̳̏i̸̱̊q̷̨̻͖̖͝͝͝u̷̢̫̟̾̄̕a̶̟̺͚͍̓̔ ̶̡̹̖̉n̷̡͍̠͈̚u̷̠̦̦̺̽́͊m̴̼̰̹̪̍͌̃í̵̛̻̜́n̴͇̈́ä̸͖͇́̂̾̐,̷̢̥̞̞͊͝ ̸̖́u̸̡͕͎͐t̷͔͆͌͘ ̵̢͙̗͂͋̔r̸̛̫̊̐̀ë̷̥̗͈́̐d̴͍͙̖̩̿̍̅e̷̬͒̽̽a̸̡̮̱̅̂̀m̶͈̞̗̪͆͂̍

I gaze upon my former flesh lying on the workbench through my new robotic eyes, as the first human to transfer their consciousness into a machine.

But if the process was a success, then why is my body still breathing?

Back to Chapter 5

When Red awoke the next afternoon, his head felt clear, and his senses had returned to their optimal state. As expected, the smell of another intruder filled the house, accompanied by the overwhelming stench of the cave.

He kept to himself most of the day. Part of it was the understanding that they outmatched him, and if he tried to fight now, the creatures infesting his home’d surely overwhelm him. The rest was from shame, having now twice failed to save his family from the invading adversary, with only Alex remaining. He didn’t bark or growl when the intruders came too close, doing his best to stay out of their way. Not that Red thought they would bother him; they’d already won.

He was sure even Alex suspected something by this point. On a day like today, he’d ask Mom to watch television, play basketball in the front yard with Emery, or help Dad with the lawn work. Instead, he spent the day closed in his room, only coming down for meals filled with silence, interacting as little as possible with the ones who looked and sounded like his loved ones.

The hours blurred together, and eventually, it came time for dinner- the last one Red would spend with a family member; he imagined. He sat nearby, somberly viewing this hollow imitation of what had once been a joyful event. The only sounds present were the clinking of silverware on plates.

Until Alex spoke up.

“Mommy, why were you screaming last night?”, he asked

“I wasn’t,” the thing calling itself Mom answered almost immediately, its voice devoid of emotion.

“Yes, you were,” Alex objected. “I heard you. And I heard something break, too.”

“That was me,” the one posing as Dad lied, mimicking the tone of the first. “I bumped into the flower vase while getting some water.”
“Then why’d you get in the truck last night?” Alex persisted, his voice growing more confused.

“It was probably just a dream,” the new intruder replied.

“No, it wasn’t.”, Alex countered defiantly. “I saw the lights in my window and heard you scream before the doors closed.”

“You shouldn’t be making things up, Alex,” the first intruder warned with Emery’s voice.

“I’m not making it up!” Alex yelled, slamming his hand down on the table. In response, the false Dad stood up from his chair.

“Go to your room,” it demanded. Alex looked up at it, his face a mix of startlement and fear.

“I-I’m not done ea-”

“Now!”

With that, Alex quickly got up from the table and ran upstairs, with Red following behind. Once they were both in his room with the door closed, the young boy fell onto his bed, sobbing. Red quickly moved in to console him, even allowing for another hug.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Alex choked, holding tightly to Red. “I’m scared, Red.”

Even though he hated the idea, Red also felt scared. Scared of what was bound to happen to this sweet boy holding onto him for comfort, of what would happen to the family once they had all been taken-assuming nothing had already happened to them-and of what these intruders would do to him once there were no more humans in the house. But they outnumbered him three to one. There was no way Red could stop the taking of Alex.

…but perhaps he could use it to his advantage. He’d tried fending them off from his territory and had failed. Maybe it was time to bring the fight to them.

At that moment, Red decided. Tonight, he would follow the intruders to the cave and end this once and for all.

That evening, someone placed another of the new treats atop Red’s food, as expected. He played along, pretending to consume it while discreetly holding it in his mouth, keeping it there until he could spit it out in the backyard. To sell the ruse, he slowly limped to the back room and made his bed there, keeping his eyes closed while remaining alert for what would come.

Once the dark of the night encompassed the house, Red heard the sound he’d been waiting for: footsteps on the staircase. The intruders were on their way to pluck Alex from his bed. Despite knowing full well the abduction was taking place, Red lay in wait. For all they knew, he was fast asleep and drugged out of his mind, and he intended for them to believe that falsehood as long as possible. So he held fast, even as another set of footsteps filled his ears, and the front door to the house creaked open.

When it closed, Red made his move. Thankfully, the false family members had neglected to close the door this time; not that such action would have stopped him, but its absence bought a few more precious seconds to enact his plan. He scampered through the hallways and out the back door, this time maneuvering to its right side, where the garbage bins sat filled to the brim. It took only a single push from his snout to topple them over, spilling their contents with clanging thunder.

Posthaste, Red raced back around the corner of the house as flashlights illuminated the area he had been in seconds before. Bounding to the other side of the yard, he squeezed through his usual spot in the fence before slowing to a quiet trot as he approached the car. Fortunately, his distraction was still taking effect, and the intruders were all huddled by the fence, scanning for the source of the interrupting crash.

In an even greater stroke of luck, they’d left the driver’s side door open, allowing him to hop into the cabin. Stealthily, he climbed over the console to the backseat and found Alex buckled in his usual place. He looked fast asleep. Red wondered if they had drugged him as well. A part of him hoped it was the case, as he’d be less likely to get into trouble in an unconscious state.

In his peripheral vision, Red saw the beams of the flashlights disappear. Knowing they’d be returning to the car soon, he leaped over the back row of seats and tucked into his usual hiding place, a small unfilled area beneath the trunk that divided the second row from the collapsible third row. He’d taken refuge here during many vet visits and used it unsuccessfully to stow away on trips.

Now, he had to hope it wouldn’t fail him this time.

The moment of truth came when the car doors chimed open, fabric rubbing against leather as each intruder took their seats. Red didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe. If they found him now, it would all be over. His heart pounded as he braced for whatever came next, half expecting a pretender to look over the seat and see him cowering below.

After seemingly an eternity, the engine turned over and ignited; the car lurched forward as they began their drive toward the cave. Relieved, Red allowed himself a slight, inaudible exhalation. There was no going back now, but at least things were going according to plan.

Now, all that remained was whatever unknown horror awaited him inside the cave.

They’d been driving for half an hour. The lack of conversation between the intruders and the lulling drone of the road beneath their tires tempted Red to fall asleep. However, he held himself conscious, knowing he’d need to be awake and alert for what was to come.

Eventually, the car stopped as the engine silenced. Seatbelts began clicking, followed by the opening of doors. Now was the time to make himself known. A part of him wanted to stay hidden, to wait until they were gone. But he knew the impersonators of his family would lock him inside and kill him once they returned in full force.

He’d have to be quick.

Before the doors closed, he burst from hiding and scrambled over the console, barking with wild abandon. The intruders shrieked in fear and surprise at his sudden appearance; the chaos allowed him to rush past them, out of the car, and into the woods.

The woods!
A veritable onslaught of sensory stimuli set upon Red as he darted through the tree line: scents, sounds, and even a few sights. The wind filled his nostrils with wild fragrances, both floral and fauna‌. The rustling of tree limbs and the chirping of insects filled his ears. He saw the glowing eyes of nocturnal mammals all around him, viewing his mad dash from above and below. His total concentration went to his four legs as he put as much distance between himself and the intruders as possible.

Once the scents of his enemies were well out of the way but still trackable, Red allowed himself to stop. Panting rapidly, he viewed his surroundings. The collective shadows of the trees obscured almost everything, with only faintly piercing beams of moonlight penetrating the veil. In the darkness, Red saw no sign of flashlights. He imagined the intruders wouldn’t put the search for him over whatever plans they had for Alex and were likely relieved they were now finally rid of him.

Or so they thought.

Moving with purpose, Red kept his head low to the ground and allowed his nose to guide him through the thicket, locked onto the trail of the intruders and Alex. It was no easy task- he couldn’t get close enough to see them, and their path through the woods was anything but straightforward. On top of that, the exhaustion of their travels had worn on his muscles, which had never been so active this late at night. Still, he forced himself to keep marching on. He couldn’t afford to lose their bizarre scents even for a moment-

Just then, a distinct smell made him stop in his tracks. One more familiar than that of the intruders but still dangerous .

And it was growing closer by the second.

With a low growl, Red raised his head and entered a battle-ready position, attempting to appear as threatening as possible before the oncoming threat. He bared his teeth, hackles rising as the approaching scent grew near.

It was then that it appeared from the bushes.

One could almost mistake it for another dog. It had a similar four-legged stance and rust-and-silver fur covering its body. Yet the finer details gave it away- the pointed ears and snout, the flatter forehead, and the yellow eyes pierced through the night. Its body was sleek and lean, built for the hunt, and it reeked of dried blood and rotting flesh.

Red had first seen this animal on an evening walk in the park. Though at first fooled by its appearance, his nose quickly informed him of the danger, and he sought to defend his present family members. They had held him back, and it had gotten away.

But this time, there was no one standing between them.

With a shrill series of barks, it drew closer before being repelled by a warning growl from Red. His bark would have been more effective, but it might have alerted the intruders he was tracking them. Their scent was fading. He would need to drive off this predator quickly before-

Suddenly, another appeared. Then another. Soon, an entire pack emerged from the brush, calling to one another with high-pitched howls. Red knew he couldn’t stand his ground against these carnivores lest they outflanked and brought him down, even though he continued to put on a brave front.

He ran, and the pack gave chase.

With everything he had, Red sprinted without direction through the woods, not daring to slow down or look back. His pursuers’ howls filled his ears as they rejoiced in the hunt, drunk on the chase. Had he been at full strength, perhaps he could’ve outrun them. But he’d been traversing uneven terrain at such a late hour for some time. His pace was already beginning to waver, and he could see them closing in from both sides-

And then, suddenly, they were behind him once more. The victorious cries turned to low whimpers. Looking back, he found them all reeling and fearful, refusing to go further. As they retreated, Red pondered what would cause them to give up on easy prey.

Turning forward, he quickly understood. He hadn’t even noticed what was ahead of him in his attempt to escape. It was a wall of shadow outlined in stone. Spike-like formations protruded from it like massive fangs, forming a bestial maw poised to swallow Red whole.

There was no mistaking it. Red had found the cave.

Chapter 7

She got goosebumps as the warmth of his breath graced her neck.

Then she felt his teeth sink into her throat.

As the masked killer drew closer, he dialed his wife from where he hid, if only to hear her voice one last time.

At that moment, there came a faint buzzing sound from the figure’s pocket.

As the pounding on the door increased, he fought every urge to unlock it as the voice of his brother screamed and begged to be let in.

It mimics anyone it hears, he can’t take that risk.

I was only supposed to travel an hour back in time, when the machine still existed, but we made a miscalculation.

Now I’m trapped millions of years in the past, with no machine to bring me home, in a world full of things that want to kill me.

Seeing my girlfriends’ long dark hair floating just above the unlit pools’ surface, I step into the water and begin wading towards her, overjoyed she agreed to meet me after closing.

As I reach the deep end, I hear her voice from the deck call out and apologize for being late, right before the ‘hair’ wraps around my throat and pulls me under.

I don’t know if it’s been hours or days since I found myself in this empty, pitch black void and began walking in a straight line hoping to find something.

All I know is that there is something else here with me, and each step I take brings me closer to it; I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

Back to Chapter 4

A short time later, Red followed Mom upstairs and found her sitting at the edge of Emery’s bed across from the first intruder, seated at the desk.

“Em…” Mom began hesitantly, “You know I’m here for you, right?
The thing with Emery’s face nodded in understanding.

“And you know you can talk to me about anything, okay?”

An identical nod.

“Good. Now, I know last night, after dinner, you said you and your dad went back to camp for your summer book. But I talked to Amber, and she said they never saw you that evening. Your phone tracker says you were in a part of the woods near there, so I just need to know, what were you and Dad doing so far?

There was a pause before the creature spoke up. “Just out for a drive.”

“Honey, you don’t go thirty minutes out into the woods for a drive, out of cell phone range that late at night, just for a drive.”, Mom said, raising the severity of her voice.

“Where did your father take you?”

“Nowhere important,” the intruder replied flatly. Mom turned away at this, biting her lips as she planned her next move.

“Alright, you don’t want to talk about that, so let’s talk about camp,” she continued.

“Amber also told me you went missing for a while the last night you were there.”

“I was out exploring,” it replied, as if the answer were obvious. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it is a big deal.” Mom countered, her volume steadily increasing. “You were out past curfew. All the counselors went into the woods with flashlights to search. They were calling your name for almost two hours.”

“I…guess I just didn’t hear them then.”, the intruder offered.

“Then where were you when you couldn’t hear them?!” Mom snapped.

It did not respond, and Mom’s face hardened.

“Okay, until you’re ready to answer, you’re grounded. One week.”

“Fine,” the false Emery replied indifferently. This singular word caused Mom’s jaw to drop. She had to know this wasn’t her daughter now. If it had been Emery, there would have been lots of yelling.

“Two weeks then.” Mom continued after gathering herself.

No reaction.

“Three weeks!”

The same effect.

“Four! That’s the entire rest of the summer! No phone, no friends, nothing until school starts!”

Still, the intruder’s face remained unperturbed. Red couldn’t help being impressed by how it resisted Mom’s bluffs.

“Did-did you not hear me just now?!” Mom demanded as her anger cracked, revealing the fear underneath. “I just took away your summer! Why don’t you ca-!”

“Mommy, what’s wrong?”

All three turned their attention to the small voice. The open doorway revealed Alex standing in the hallway a few feet from where Red sat. He was so focused on this encounter that he hadn’t even noticed the young boy approaching.

“N-nothing, sweetheart. Mommy’s just…” She didn’t have a suitable answer. “...hey, why don’t you go downstairs and feed Red? He slept through breakfast.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed with unease before hurrying off to complete the chore set for him. When he was gone, Mom lowered herself to the floor in front of Emery, placing a hand on her knee in a reassuring gesture.

“Emery, look at me,” Mom pleaded desperately. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Whatever has happened to you, it’s okay. But I need you to talk to me. Talk to me. Please.”

The creature simply stared down at her with blank eyes. Its copied face held no trace of warmth. Seeing this, Mom got up and left the room, closing the door on her way out.

At least now Mom understood the extent of the intrusion upon their home. Still, they had to get rid of this pretender, and they were no closer to finding the real Dad and Em-

Suddenly, a fresh scent. One of a salted variety. Red looked up and saw tears rolling down Mom’s face. She was crying.

Of course. Red should’ve realized by now the emotional toll this would have on her. She crumpled to the floor and broke into ‌full sobs. Immediately, Red went to her side, and Mom wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“I’m okay, boy,” she lied with a muffled voice. “I’m okay.”

Typically, Red didn’t like being hugged like this, always finding it to be constricting. Yet he made an exception in this case.

Red silently sat there as Mom cried into him for a time. Then, from downstairs, he heard dog food clattering into its bowl. Mom looked up at him then, wiping away her remaining tears.

“I’m okay,” she assured. “Go eat. I’m okay.”

Believing her, Red left to consume his late meal. He passed Alex as he trotted toward his food, affectionately brushing against him as thanks. However, he immediately knew something was different when he reached his bowl. There was a small, light brown cube sitting atop his usual kibble. The scent it produced was delightful, bringing sugar and bacon to mind.

A new treat!

Without a second thought, he scarfed down the sweet-smelling confection, ignoring the other contents of his food bowl. Red found that the only thing better than the aroma was the taste. It was savory and salty, easy to chew through without sticking to the inside of his mouth, unlike that peanut butter he’d unfortunately-

Suddenly, his back fangs crushed something hard at the center of the treat. It seemed to have no flavor and left behind a strange powdered texture on his tongue. Curious, but nothing he couldn’t overlook.

Then Red saw it. Standing a few feet away, the intruder calling itself Dad stood watching him as he swallowed the last remains of the treat. It walked away afterward, and its side profile revealed it carried a white cylindrical bottle. The same one the vet had given to Mom earlier that day.

The treat… had that thing done something to it?

For a while, Red felt fine. Then, without warning, his head felt like a ton of bricks. Every movement became a sluggish labor, his vision blurring as his eyes struggled to remain open. Instinctively, he made his way to the back room.

Despite the hours of uninterrupted sleep, Red was tired. Drowsy beyond belief. But his weariness was unnatural. Something had brought it on.

Perhaps something he ate…

He knew the intruder had put that treat in his bowl for a reason. Since killing him was no longer an option, it had resorted to incapacitating him with whatever was in that bottle, leaving Mom and Alex vulnerable to replacement. And it was working.

Red did all he could to fight it even as he melted into his bed. These efforts were futile; it seemed nothing could stop the onward march of the poison through Red’s body.

He could probably sleep for a while, just long enough for this fatigue to leave his body. It couldn’t take longer than an hour.

And then everything went black.

“What…what are you doing here?”

Red drowsily opened his eyes to the pitch black of the backroom. He struggled to see past the shadows surrounding him and even more to think clearly. A fog clouded his mind. How long had he been asleep? And what had awakened him? Some kind of sound…

“Get away from me!”

A voice had stirred him. They…they were shouting. And yet, within the artificial blur induced by the treat, they echoed softly in Red’s ears like faint whispers.”

“Get off of me!

Mom…it was Mom’s voice. She was screaming. Why would she be so loud this late at night?

“Help! Someone help me!”

Help…Mom needed help. But why-

Another sound pierced the night- glass shattering on the hardwood outside. With that, the realization struck Red like a ton of bricks. The intruders, they were taking her! He had to save her!

With every fiber of his being, he attempted to rise. It felt as though there was an invisible force above pushing downward, trying to crush him into the tile. But he fought against it, eventually standing.

That had been the straightforward part, Red would find. His legs were like stilts made of jelly beneath him, unbalanced and quivering. Every step was sluggish and unending, like when he’d gotten stuck in the muddy creek on the neighborhood’s outskirts. His head pounded with painful fury, trying to relieve itself of the burden of consciousness.

Beyond the room, Mom continued to make desperate pleas for help, her cries accompanied by the front door opening. Red battled without yielding for every movement, telling himself there was still time to save her. He could go through the hole in the backyard fence and cut them off before they got to the car. He just had to make it out of this room and-

Suddenly, something halted his march. A tall wooden object blocked the way forward.

The door! Why hadn’t he thought about the door?!
From the driveway, the roar of the truck’s engine. Red had to get out there and stop them, even if it meant giving himself up so Mom could get away. He had to get to the handle…if he could just get up on his hind legs to reach the handle-

Tires grinding on concrete. The truck’s mechanical grumble grew ever softer as it drove out of sight. There was nothing Red could do now. They would take Mom to the cave. Tomorrow, something else will be living here in her place. There was no point in fighting to stay awake anymore.

He collapsed to the floor, and the world again went black.

Chapter 6

I lay in bed and try to ignore the cries for help from within the nighttime fog outside, even as they turn to desperate screams.

My neighbors will do the same, for we all know what travels with the fog every night, and that all who enter it are as good as dead.