Darkness. There is noise, but not surrounding me. It seems to be coming from inside me, as if my brain was flicking around in a hundred different directions. It’s insufferable. My numb hands lift up off the imitation silk to touch my face, but instead they hit the ceiling. Feels like wood, but then my hands are numb so it’s hard to say. One thing is certain, the space I am in is tight. I guide my hands to my face and my cold fingers touch my eyes. They are closed, I can tell that much. They refuse to open, even when I pull at the lids. Starting to panic, the kid gloves come off. With my thumbs and forefingers I pry them open with great force, snapping the threads that had sewn my eyes shut. Darkness…still. The sounds in my head continue. They squish and scream, never slowing and never building. It’s maddening, but also inspiring. While there are no discernible words spoken, nor any true rhyme to their shrieks, I am still able to translate them. “Pull yourself out of this hole,” they yell. “Punch, claw, scoop, pull!” I listen because I have no other choice. I shatter my hand against the low wood ceiling, not expecting much, but then pleasantly surprised when I feel it splinter a bit. A few more thrusts and my hand rips through and the feeling comes back. It was wood! I can feel the jagged edges of the hole I just punched as they cut into my wrist. I can also feel the source of my imprisonment. The cold, wet dirt that weighs down on what I now understand to be my coffin. Larva. The noise inside my head. hundreds of infant flies, flipping their bodies back and forth as they find nourishment from brain. I am hearing only the sounds that they make. Squirming and eating. I know there is nothing I can do to silence them, but there is a way to soften them. Grabbing the newly made hole, I pull at it with my weight, breaking it around me as dirt fills in. I slowly begin to dig my way up, knowing that a simple six feet will defeat me if I am not careful in my pacing and thoughtfulness. You might think rising from the grave is a no-brainer, but you would be wrong. There is a science involved, and if your heart isn’t in it then you will drown with lungs full of earth. Not me. Not today. I scoop the dirt from above my head, then push it towards my feet. One handful at a time. Over and over again. Suddenly, my fingers break through, feeling a chill cut across their tips. Still in complete darkness, I can tell it is night. I lift my dead body out of the hole in which I put myself in so long ago. I drag it up, using my own name etched in stone as a pulley. My head hits the unkept grass with a thud, followed by the rest of me, my toes still dipped in the ground. I wiggle them, a smile streaking across my face. I keep my head on the ground and have a look around the graveyard. It’s more beautiful than I remembered. The dead, still living. The moon letting them glow. I was exhausted from the escape, but still had the energy to stand. The larva in my head still squished. The larva in my head still fed. Only now it was tolerable. Softened by the noise of a small wind. Softened by the noise of rustling leaves. Softened by the distant bark of a dog. Softened by the slight creak to the swaying, rusted gate. I smiled a deathly grin, but breathed the song of life.

Ummm...why is there a zombie in a ghost possession movie?

Production on my feature film, horror musical, THE DEAD INSIDE, is complete. We wrapped Saturday night, March 13th, 2010. For two days we finished up in a little house in the middle of 29 Palms desert. Production ended like it began; two actors, one cinematographer, one producer, one sound mixer, one make-up special effects guy, one costumer and me, your movie blogging director. For nine weeks I have been bringing you the updates from the set, and as I sit here typing out the final production blog, I am filled with satisfaction. Going over it all in my head reminds me why I do this in the first place. I have to, because the larva in my head can not be silenced, only muffled by life force that is art.

Our to-the-bone producer, Galy, standing in for the actors.

A new journey is about to begin. I will edit this monster, reshaping the story further. I am tingling all over with the thought of putting together everything we shot. You never truly know what you have until the editing begins, but I know this much; I worked with most talented cinematographer I have ever met and kissed. I had actors that took two very complicated characters and gave them life, causing me to occasionally have chills while watching over the monitor. I had a producer who worked until her fingers bled, but never once let her smile fall away. I had a make-up special effects guy who gave me his best even when I showed him my empty pockets. I had a composer whom I

I want Tom to do my make up at my funeral.

approached with lyrics, and whom produced ten original and completely awesome songs to shape the story. I had a sound guy, who had never done sound before but learned how to do it just for my movie…just because I asked him to. I had a costume designer who had zero time to do my film, but did it anyway, even when I flipped the schedule around daily. These were the main players. The folks that threw themselves together for two months in the name of cinema. It is because of these fine people that I was able to shoot the movie I wanted…or even shoot the movie at all.  Outside of the die hards there were also a

Galy, Aaron and Tom - 3 people I can't seem to make movies without.

number of people that kept this ball of awesome in motion. My executive producer who helped with all things legal and even scored us some important props, even though she’s crawling out of her own pile of projects. My good friends who allowed me to torture them for a few hours on a Saturday so that I could use their hands in my movie. My creative soul-mates who sometimes stopped by to bring our crew coffee. The other half of my tug who helped us out with vocal recording. There was even the cinematographers mother who so generously got our production rolling by investing her own money into our crazy dream. These good people may not have been on set dripping the blood some of us were, but they were still pushing us forward with all the same heart. Thank you.

The martini slate - Cinematographer Shannon Hourigan and myself.

The Dead Inside still has a ways to go before the general public can throw their eyeballs at it, but I hope many of you will continue on this journey with me so that when it is ready to watch, you’ll be part of its history. It is then I will be thanking all of you.

Much love

Travis

Related Posts: