Don't open that door! Psycho made slasher films a hallmark of the horror genre; explore iconic hackers, slashers, and chainsaw-wielding psychopaths, from the safety of your living room.
'How's my father?'' Angela Loomis asked. ''Stable,'' Dr. Collins said, his voice, clinical. ''Can I see him?'' Angela questioned. Her voice, weak, child-like.
The Harmony Slasher: Mr. Winslow's Revenge
“ESCAPED!!” I screamed! Scrambled and in shock, I started to pace around my apartment, “How did he escape?” I was scared to death. He would come after me; I knew he would. I was the reason he got caught in the first place. I thought after all these years I would be safe. I was just starting to move past all of all the psychological trauma caused by Mr. Winslow's murdering spree.
storm rages It was a dark stormy night and Bobo the Clown was sitting at his makeup desk. He hadn’t stopped crying since it all happened. He had seen a lot in his circus career but tonight was the exception. He threw his wig in the corner of his tent as he reached for his bottle of wine. He took a drink of the wine and grimaced as the warm liquid ran down his throat. He didn’t really care it eased the pain in his heart and his head. He got up from his chair and looked in the mirror. The bandage on his head was still there for all the good it did. He strolled to the door of his tent and looked at the lightning flash in the southern sky. What a night it had been and now it was only going to get worse. He took another long swing of wine and sat back down in his chair. What went wrong? How could everything have gotten all screwed up?
Grandpa used to sit in that chair. Sometimes I can still envision him rocking back and forth as he smoked his cigar reading the day's newspaper.
"Lizzy, mija, ven aca, come here." Mommy always speaks Spanish when she has too many tall drinks. Mommy is still in her underclothes, black but with stains and the robe with flowers that feels nice when you touch it. Her face is falling off, yesterday's face, like a snake, because she says 'I need to put on my face.' I don't like her old face; it looks sad, and dirty.
The Copycat Killings of Pierre
In which an incongruitous event is examined, trespass is committed, blackmail is attempted, a story changes, fanservice is given and the plot thickens.
Before we start, I want you to do something for me. I just need you to say out loud, “Sluvercrum, you are nothing to me.” That’s it, pretty simple. You can say it from wherever you are sitting or lying, no need to look in a mirror —unless you want to for dramatic effect.
Copycat 2: A serial killer comic book story
In which a tour is taken, a resource uncovered, alibi's are challenged, a connection is made, a trip is taken and accusations are leveled.
Copycat 1: A Serial Killer Comic Book Story
Is this the work of a copycat, or is the Pierre Piercer still out there? The first instalment of the Copycat series. PAGE 1
Anna Just Wanted To Watch Her Show And Relax
Ding! Damn, it's another Facebook notification. I swear it has been about the fifth time today. Different guys trying to slide into my DM's. Picking up the phone sliding the screen open and before I could put the phone on silent. The bubble picture on the screen caught my eye. Tan skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. With the name "Love Stud." What a name, haha, opening up the message:
The Ashen Horse
The dead banker body was completely lifeless. Her blood slowly seeping into the ground. The grass appeared slightly dry, and it actually looked like it welcomed the steady flow of blood that was leaching around it. The woman watched a flower that the banker had somehow missed when she collapsed, appear to open it’s leaves and pedals as the blood oozed near it. Interesting. She didn’t know if she had ever taken the time to observe that before.
The Book of Secrets
After moving out from my parents house I finally had enough money to get a house of my own. I had gotten my close friend Ryan to move in with me and help out with some of the costs. Ryan is a rather timid guy, he jumps at any strange sound and is terrified of simple things. Small animals, pests, and insects get the best of him. Thankfully the house we are moving into is very maintained and doesn't have problems with pests. Ryan wears tight clothing most of the time, he's so skinny that you'd think the wind would fly him like a kite. His hair is as dark as night and he wears glasses with really thin frames, they look as if they could snap any second. We both worked together in a mailing warehouse. Fortunately for us it paid well but occasionally one of us worked the night shift from time to time.