We went to a cemetery, which is a place of rest, to watch “The Exorcist” outdoors with around a thousand people.
It was all Holly Valentine’s dangerous idea.
She promised a comforting shield from spooks and wraiths of the underworld.
So we ran through the gates, charging furiously over hallowed ground on such a momentous evening of evil, one filled with inner demons being excised while feeling the spirits of afterlife clashing against our bare flesh.
We luckily found a great spot to post-up.
I never realized the trance-like state I entered before the film even began; a shadow of dread brought out by ominous anticipation covered my soul.
Surely, something strong was rushing through my deep red blood, probably brought about by the Smirnoff green apple vodka we were drinking.
One of our friends feared the dark, and knowing dusk was leading into night put forth a panicky mood among our group, as if the gates of the cemetery were going to hold us in, never loosening its grip.
The fiery scent of Hades was transparent. It certainly got a hold of Roxie during our exploratory walk, and she attempted to shake it loose.
For a few moments the manifestation formed into spontaneous shrieking, almost like the wailing of a banshee fulfilling the omen of death.
At our picnic sanctuary she returned to becoming the Roxie we all know and love.
While roaming the mythical grounds, the richness of its historical value was evident.
Rudolph Valentino and Paul Muni are buried at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, which also boasts the grave of Jayne Mansfield and Darla Hood’s crypt. My favorite resident would have to be Cecil B. DeMille.
The highlight of a night surrounded by endless rows of tombs and mausoleums was finally meeting Roxie’s famous sister Rita, a brilliant fashion designer.
She truly Bashed me into submission by forcing alcohol upon me in shot form. We all became possessed by the strength of the chilling specters, the pressure unwittingly weighing us down into a lightheaded state of elation and nervous laughter.
The only person who kept soothingly calm the entire night was Holly.
Not sure if the devil feels comfortable in a cemetery, but something sinister was amiss.
From what I witnessed, the dead don’t talk when dancing with ghosts.
It was all Holly Valentine’s dangerous idea.She promised a comforting shield from spooks and wraiths of the underworld.So we ran through the gates, charging furiously over hallowed ground on such a momentous evening of evil, one filled with inner demons being excised while feeling the spirits of afterlife clashing against our bare flesh.We luckily found a great spot to post-up.I never realized the trance-like state I entered before the film even began; a shadow of dread brought out by ominous anticipation covered my soul.Surely, something strong was rushing through my deep red blood, probably brought about by the Smirnoff green apple vodka we were drinking.One of our friends feared the dark, and knowing dusk was leading into night put forth a panicky mood among our group, as if the gates of the cemetery were going to hold us in, never loosening its grip.The fiery scent of Hades was transparent. It certainly got a hold of Roxie during our exploratory walk, and she attempted to shake it loose.For a few moments the manifestation formed into spontaneous shrieking, almost like the wailing of a banshee fulfilling the omen of death.At our picnic sanctuary she returned to becoming the Roxie we all know and love.While roaming the mythical grounds, the richness of its historical value was evident.Rudolph Valentino and Paul Muni are buried at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, which also boasts the grave of Jayne Mansfield and Darla Hood’s crypt. My favorite resident would have to be Cecil B. DeMille.The highlight of a night surrounded by endless rows of tombs and mausoleums was finally meeting Roxie’s famous sister Rita, a brilliant fashion designer.She truly Bashed me into submission by forcing alcohol upon me in shot form. We all became possessed by the strength of the chilling specters, the pressure unwittingly weighing us down into a lightheaded state of elation and nervous laughter.The only person who kept soothingly calm the entire night was Holly.Not sure if the devil feels comfortable in a cemetery, but something sinister was amiss.From what I witnessed, the dead don’t talk when dancing with ghosts.
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