The Woman In Black

Here’s the trailer for Daniel Radcliffe’s new film, The Woman In Black.

This film looks like it’ll be really creepy, just the kind of thing for Halloween–except it won’t be released until February 2012. Duh, guys.

In an upcoming post, I’ll share a couple of true stories about the Woman in Black from my family history. Stay tuned.

The Mewlips by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Mewlips, from The Adventures of Tom Bombadil

The shadows where the Mewlips dwell
Are dark and wet as ink,
And slow and softly rings their bell,
As in the slime you sink.

You sink into the slime, who dare
To knock upon their door,
While down the grinning gargoyles stare
And noisome waters pour.

Beside the rotting river-strand
The drooping willows weep,
And gloomily the gorcrows stand
Croaking in their sleep.

Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way,
In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey,
By a dark pool’s borders without wind or tide,
Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.

The cellars where the Mewlips sit
Are deep and dank and cold
With single sickly candle lit;
And there they count their gold.

Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip;
Their feet upon the floor
Go softly with a squish-flap-flip,
As they sidle to the door.

They peep out slyly; through a crack
Their feeling fingers creep,
And when they’ve finished, in a sack
Your bones they take to keep.

Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely road,
Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode,
And through the wood of hanging tees and the gallows-weed,
You go to find the Mewlips–and the Mewlips feed.

-JRR Tolkien