“The wind screams like ten thousand fiends.”
And I asked her if she was writing a new poem.
She said no, she was remembering a line from a long ago movie she saw as a child. She couldn’t remember the name of the movie; she remembered there was a Cyclops, sword fighting skeletons, and a woman who was turned into a blue four-armed cobra; but the thing that she remembered most was the ear splitting squeal during a gale that the men on the ship had to contend with.
“I remember once reading that the guy who did the effects for the original Clash of the Titans made this movie too,” she said.
“Harryhausen!” I said. I told her she must be talking about The 7th Voyage of Sinbad. I asked her if she remembered the giant two headed chick, and she said she’d forgotten all about that one.
“But why that wind screaming like 10,000 fiends line?” I said. “I don’t remember that line and I’ve seen it a few times over the years.”
“You know I have super sensitive hearing,” she said. “Haven’t you claimed I have dog hearing? That I can hear super high pitches that only dogs can hear?”
I agreed with her. She could hear modems one floor below our apartment, and unattended surge protector alarms drove her crazy.
“I thought you would have been most effected by the shrinking princess,” I said.
“Nah, that was nothing,” she said. “I don’t remember what her story was. She was the token female in the movie. Eye candy for teenage boys.”
She downed her mud-thick Turkish coffee and shuddered.
“It was that minute long high pitched scene — with the squealing wind,” she said. “It paralyzed me with my first bout of existential dread.”
“It was already the end of the world for the people that fighter jet was likely headed toward… It was always the end of the world for someone, somewhere.”
— Mark O’Connell / Notes from an Apocalypse