A Week is Enough

This exploration of classic and contemporary horror has provided me with the ideal opportunity to revisit some of the iconic films that are recognizable to people, even if they haven't seen them. One of the remarkable aspects of great horror, in contrast to many other genres (except perhaps superheroes), is that individuals can identify the movie or the villain's name just by seeing their image, without any firsthand experience.

Shifting focus from the traditional slasher films featuring elusive psychotic killers to more conventional supernatural horror/thrillers, I aimed to begin with something so groundbreaking and terrifying that it warranted a remake from its Japanese origins for a Western audience. This one was a lot of fun to do and I hope you enjoy it. I have several other titles I would like to explore in this sub-genre.

Unlike some of the previous editions, which may have been relatively apparent from early on, what they were based on, I tried to provide subtle hints throughout this to maintain some speculation.

A child from a broken home,

Sent to sleep in the barn, alone.

A mother too enraged to care,

A father too passive to dare.

Horses offering fright and fear,

Lonely, with no source of cheer.

Blamed for the poverty and blight,

Ostracised and kept from sight.

One hundred and sixty-eight.

Consumed with frustration and self-doubt,

Taking her child far out,

Out past the fields, thicket, and wood,

To where the forgotten bore stood.

Sending the trouble down in the cold,

With the damp, the dark, and the mold.

A great stone to seal in the deep,

Left treading black water to weep.

Survival guaranteed to fail,

Trapped, sleepless, a ring of light in the icy-veil.

One hundred and forty-four.

The mother passes at an unknown time,

The father buries all knowledge of her evil crime.

Renouncing the world and living in shame,

Convincing himself his daughter is to blame.

One hundred and twenty.

Time passes and the omens recede,

Just a lull in the ether, meant to mislead.

Rumours of a home film begin to spread wide,

A nightmarish view and a malice inside,

A sinking feeling and dread in the wake,

Lights flicker and fear creeps in,

Amongst the static, the phone will ring.

A child’s voice with little to say,

A two-word statement, simply “seven days”.

Ninety-six

No one believes the warning at first,

Just a cruel prank being the worst.

Lives go on, the event forgot,

Never expecting the noose and the knot,

The time expires when you least expect,

Without the feeling of doubt or regret.

Seventy-two

The nightmare returns, filling the screen,

It cannot be stopped, it must be seen.

This time it’s different; simply one frame,

An open well and a girl with no name.

Moving closer with each flicker and flash,

Until she reaches the screen without a clash.

Climbing through she passes from film to the real,

Dripping water from head to heel.

A face that’s hidden in soaked black hair,

When it’s revealed you die in despair.

Fear is the last thing you’ll embrace,

Twisted, contorted, and frozen in place.

Forty-eight

Only one way can you save your fate,

Once you’ve watched the tape and heard the date,

Make a copy and escape your demise,

Expanding her reach, unwilling allies.

Dooming another, you have a lifeline,

Trapped in the web of her hate-filled design.

Twenty-four

One who was cursed works to find a root,

The place where the malice shoots.

Journeying to where the mother cast aside,

Her sanity and where her daughter died,

She descends deep into the blight,

To retrieve Samara’s remains and bring her to the light.

By bringing her peace the curse will be broken,

Is this the end or has she now, truly awoken.

Time’s up!