The Mist and a mysterious whistling sound -- posted by Amy

We watched Stephen King's The Mist last night after being warned not to by my father-in-law. He said the ending was terrible and didn't have nice things to say about Stephen King. He was completely justified with his distaste about the ending and I guess somewhat justified in his remarks about Mr. King as he apparently signed off on the movie ending. The movie was a great horror flick, but the ending was horrible and horribly hopeless. It was shocking, yes, but terrible. In the beginning and through most of the movie, I was impressed with how well the story translated from text to film. That of course is the great tribute to Stephen King's writing as he is fabulous with description – my hero, really. I was in awe of the parts of the action and setting that looked exactly how I had imagined them when I read the story. Everything was beautifully King until [SPOILER ALERT] they ran out of gas. I could feel a screeching halt to my fandom fondness and the feeling came from a strangeness, the writing of a stranger. The film maker changed the ending. I hated it. I'll say it again: it was hopeless and terrible. In case anyone wants to read the story as Stephen King wrote it, it ends in hope. Literally. So, my defense of Stephen King is that while his text ending left us hanging, it was a good ending and I wouldn't have minded if the film maker kept that ending as well.

After being deliciously spooked from the movie, Brad and I locked up and went to bed. Hannah had been a little stuffy, so we turned on the baby monitor just in case she was coughing a lot, we wanted to be able to hear it before it fully woke her up. No sense in having a 2 a.m. party when I can run in, adjust her pillow, apply a little Vicks rub, and pat her back to sleep. Trying not to think of creepy alien creatures while I was trying to fall asleep, I heard a small squeaky whistling sound. Maybe it was the dog whining? Brad checked it out - no, not the dog. Some nighttime bird? No, weird. Brad continued to lock up and I went near the window to see where I was hearing this tiny little whistle. I tried not to imagine some creepy serial killer whistling while he stood in our driveway or maybe it was the squeaking of mice in the walls? Wait, the sound is coming from the baby monitor. Whoa, and it's not feed back. Brad went and checked on Hannah and started laughing. She had a whistle in her stuffy little nose that the monitor was picking up. It's funny because you could barely hear it standing next to her. We think we might be able to spy on our neighbors down the street with this handy gadget.


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