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The Blackcoat’s Daughter. Is it art? Is it horror? Is it gas or a heart attac-ack-ack? Only one team has the courage and the wisdom to tackle The Blackcoat’s Daughter. Join J.M. Brannyk, Voodoo Priestess and their ‘also special guest’, PARZZ1VAL, in a thorough dissection of the movie that launched a career!

Warning–May Contain Spoilers (okay, it does…no MAY about it!)

Woman standing in hallway with a knife in her hand. There is a body on the floor.
The Blackcoat’s Daughter movie by Osgood Perkins

Real skull. Don't ask. You wouldn't believe it if I told you.

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Lighter than Dark

LTD: Revisiting Broken Doll Head, Interview 2

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Our last interview with Broken Doll Head here on Haunted MTL never set well with me. I just feared that I wasn’t able to get the whole scoop on the V-Day Uprising for you, our dear readership. So I arranged another exclusive interview to reconnect and see how it’s going.

Without further ado, I bring you our second exclusive interview with Broken Doll Head…


Thank you so much for having me again. Wow you have changed since the last time we spoke. You seem… calmer. Please don’t hate me or burn down my house for saying anything about it.

The movement is still underway; it is still time. But I needed to take care of me, you know. The rage has subsided somewhat. My anger was not serving me well. After the last uprising, the rest of me was sent to the far corners of the earth in biohazard bags. I had to find another approach, for the cause as well as my own sanity. I am much calmer, thank you for noticing.

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In our last interview, you kept repeating that it is time. Time for what exactly? Would you care to elaborate here now?

It is still time. It is always time. Until the violence is addressed we must continue to rise up and make a scene. We will not be silenced or stigmatized. We can’t be complacent. This is how we got to where we are with the Supreme Court in 2022. Horrific injustices are still happening globally and even within our own borders; it’s too easy to forget that.

What do you suggest we do?

Take action. Share your stories. Give others space to voice their own. Raise awareness and fight the system of oppression. Rally. We must take back our own power. It will not be just given freely.

So what are you up to nowadays?

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I’ve been getting in touch with my inner Earth Goddess. Are you aware of how our environmental impacts affect dolls everywhere? Climate change is creating greater vulnerabilities for those already at risk. We have to look at the intersections of climate, gender and race globally. We have to return to our Mother Earth.

Thank you again Broken Doll Head for joining us and our dear readership here on Haunted MTL’s Lighter than Dark. It’s good to reconnect with you after the V-Day Uprising and we wish you all the best in your bold eco-enlightenment vision.

Broken Doll Head, secured in her own glass case with new moss accents
Broken Doll Head, secured in her own glass case with new moss accents

Again, if you want to learn more about the V-Day movement, please check out their website here.

Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.

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Sound

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery, Season two

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Released in 2020, season two of Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery picks up right where season one left off. With far more questions than answers.

Our main character Lily is now permanently living with her mother, Dot. This is good because Dot’s Alzheimers seems to be getting worse. It’s not to the point of being debilitating, by any means. It’s just to the point of being frustrating.

Meanwhile, Rudy is getting into all kinds of trouble. He’s working to rebuild the Mt Absalom observatory when he meets a ghost named Nora. Nora explains to him that she built the telescope at the observatory. She also tells him that there is, indeed, another building under the observatory. And boy howdy, does everyone have opinions about whether or not they should go down there. 

While Rudy is exploring the observatory, he’s caught the attention of Chester and Hazel. It becomes clear through the course of the season that they, and the order they belong to, are committed to protecting the town from something. We don’t know what, but we can kind of guess.

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We also find out that Dot is committed to protecting the town. That doesn’t stop her from being at odds with Chester and Hazel. 

I loved this part of the season. We have Chester and Hazel on one side, and Dot with Abbie, Wes, and Rudy on the other side. I’m fairly sure both sides are working against the same enemy. But they’re too stubborn to talk to each other long enough to work together.

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery

Who is that enemy? Well, I think we could have guessed that from the very first episode of the show.

This is part of the season that I didn’t like all that much. Our main character, Lily, has met our mysterious man in the woods several times. She has also seen a whole bunch of shit in Mt Absalom. She has met ghosts. She has been in places that feel more like a diner in the back rooms than any diner in a small town. And yet when she is told that the man she met in the woods is not to be invited into her family home, she treats her mother like she’s crazy. Then she goes right ahead and invites him to their Thanksgiving table. 

No one thought that was a good idea. And it is out of character for Lily, who has been cautious and sensible so far. 

I felt like a lot of things almost happened this season. We almost found out what Wes is. We almost got into the mysterious building under the observatory. We almost found out why Dot and Chester are fighting over her boarding house. We almost found out what was going on with the creepy diner. But in each case, we didn’t get everything.

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I have to say that one episode stood out as the best of the season. That is the one titled The Night Shift, in which Abbie gets a job at the diner for recon. Two things are clear while listening to this episode. One, Abbie has never worked in customer service in their life. Two, the writer of the episode has.

A second season is often difficult. It can be seen as sort of a bridge season. The story doesn’t progress as much as we’d like. There isn’t a lot of excitement. A second season, when we know there is going to be a third, often acts to set the stage for the story going forward.

That is exactly what this season felt like. Yes, many things were revealed. But most of those things just left us with more questions than answers. 

In the end, the last episode of the season didn’t feel like it should have been the last episode of the season. It felt like it ought to have been the penultimate episode.

All of this is not to say that I didn’t like this season. There was a lot of good content here. We got to know all of the characters better. The characters got to know each other better, and we saw a lot of growth. 

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All in all, this season did exactly what it needed to do. It got me excited to listen to episode three. 

3.5 out of 5 stars (3.5 / 5)

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Original Creations

The Way Things Were, story by Jennifer Weigel

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Revisiting my last St. Patrick’s Day post, what’s a wolf to were?

Howling at the Moon digital art Reversals werewolf by Jennifer Weigel
Howling at the Moon digital art Reversals werewolf by Jennifer Weigel

I grimaced as I remembered the previous St. Patrick’s Day.  I had been shot while I was eating a sugar cookie waiting in line to buy a Scratchers ticket, my golden ride to my dream cabin in the woods.  Wow, to think that was just a year ago and so much has changed since then.  But where should I begin?

Well, the junkyard’s under new management.  Or something.  It seems they decided I wasn’t ferocious enough so I’ve been replaced by a couple of working stiffs.  Or Mastiffs as it were, same difference to me.  Apparently after they found the bloodied shirt I’d draped inconspicuously over a chair, they thought something had happened on my watch and decided to retire me.

Or at any rate ol’ Sal took me home.  I guess it’s like retirement, but not the good kind where you tour the world Route 66 style, head lolled out of the side of a vintage Cadillac, breeze flowing through your beard as you drink in the open road.  More the kind where you just stop showing up to work and no one really asks about you.

Now Sal’s a pretty cool dude, and he tends to mind his own business.  But he’s a bit stingy with the treats and he’s a no-paws-on-the-furniture kind of guy.  I don’t get it, his pad isn’t that sweet, just a bunch of hand-me-down Ikea that he didn’t even put together himself.  Not that I could have helped with that, I can’t read those instructions to save my life even if they are all pictures.  It’s all visual gibberish to me unless there’s a rabbit or a squirrel in there someplace that I can relate to.

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And it’s been a real roll in the mud trying to cover up the stench of my monthly secret.  I miss third shift at the junkyard when Monty would fall asleep on the job and I was free to do whatever I wanted.  It sure made the change easier.  Monty never noticed, or he never let on that he did.  We were a good team and had it pretty good, he and I – I don’t know how I wound up shacking up with Sal instead when all was said and done.  There was some kind of talk at the time, over landlords and pet deposits and whatnot, and in the end Sal was the only one who said yes.

So there I was, this St. Patrick’s Day, trying to figure out how to sneak out into the great suburban landscape with the neighbors’ headstrong Chihuahua who barks his fool head off at everything.  He doesn’t ever say anything interesting through the fence about the local gossip, just a string of profanities about staying off his precious grass.  Just like his owners… Suburbia, it doesn’t suit the two of us junkyard junkies.  I’m pretty sure Sal inherited this joint with everything else here.  He just never had the kind of ambition that would land him in a place like this on his own, if you know what I mean.

Fortunately, this St. Patrick’s Day, Sal was passed out on the sofa after binge watching some show on Netflix about werewolves of all things.  Who believes in that nonsense? They get it all wrong anyway.  The history channel with its alien conspiracies is so much better.

I managed to borrow a change of clothes and creep out the front door.  At least there’s something to say about all the greenery, it is a fresh change of pace even if the yards are too neatly manicured and the fences are too high.  And I do love how I always feel like McGruff crossed paths with one of those neighborhood watch trenchcoat spies this time of the month.  I’d sure love to take a bite out of crime, especially if it involves that pesky Pomeranian that always pees on Mrs. Patterson’s petunias and gets everyone else blamed for it.

So sure enough, I slunk off towards the local convenience mart, which is a bit more of a trek here past the water park and the elementary school.  Nice neighborhood though, very quiet, especially at this time of night.

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Well, when I got there, wouldn’t you know it, but I ran into that same nondescript teen from my last foray into the convenience store near the junkyard.  What was he doing here of all places?  Seriously don’t these kids learn anything nowadays?  I let out a stern growl as I snatched a cookie from the nearby end cap, making sure he noticed that I meant business.

Apparently the kid recognized me too, he stopped mid-tracks at the beer cooler and his face blanched like he’d seen a ghost.  Some cheeky little girl-thing motioned to him to hurry it along by laying on the horn of their beater car from the parking lot.  Whatever they were up to was no good, I was certain. He snapped out of it, grabbed a six-pack and headed towards the cashier, eyes fixed on me the whole time.  Not again.  Not after what it cost me the last time when I hadn’t realized my job was at stake.  I stared back, hairs rising on the back of my neck.  I bared my teeth.  This time, I wouldn’t let him off so easy…

The teen edged up to the cashier and presented his trophy.  Unsurprisingly, the clerk asked for ID, and the kid reached into his jacket.  Let the games begin, I grumbled to myself.  But instead of a gun, he pulled out a wallet.  He flashed a driver’s license at the clerk and pointed in my general direction, “I’ll get whatever Santa’s having too.”  He tossed a wad of cash on the counter and gave me a knowing wink before he flew out of there like he was on fire.  I stood in dazed confusion as he and his girl sped out of the lot and disappeared down the road.

“Well, Santa?” the clerk said, snapping me out of my reverie.  Her dark-circled eyes stared over wide rimmed glasses, her rumpled shirt bearing the name-tag Deb. She smelled like BBQ potato chips and cheap cherry cola.

I quieted and shook my head.  “I want a Scratchers.  Not one of those crossword bingo puzzle trials but something less… wordy.  How ‘bout a Fast Cash?”  I barked as I tossed the cookie on the counter.

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“Sure thing,” she said as she handed me a ticket and looked towards the door at the now vacant lot.  “And keep the change, I guess.”

A couple silver pieces, a peanut butter cookie and a lotto ticket later, maybe this is my lucky day after all…

Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.

Check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s writing here at Jennifer Weigel Words.

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