Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.

I Have Always Had A Facination With England, And Their History.

You Can Not Me Honest To Others, If You Are Not First Honest With Yourself.

I Know Many Horror Authors Are Depreesed or Act Misabrle With Their lives. This Seems To Go With The Territory. For Example, Best-selling Horror Author, Joe Hill Talks About His Own Depression And Anxiety And How He Is Too Afraid To Take A Pill Because, of How This May Deminish And Destroy His Creative Side of Writing Horror. I Myself Happen To Feel The Exact Opposite. I Almost Always Noticed A More Creative Output In My Writing When On Pills.

You Can Not Be Honest With Others, If You Are Not First Honest With Yourself.