halloween

There were cracked head stones, dead flowers and weeds coming through the ground. Even the trees looked lifeless. --The Body By the Tree

I stared into the man's lifeless eyes. His face was blue, but it could've been from the cold. His body was bloated, but he could've just been fat. None of this explained the crows lining up on the tree branch though. --The Body By the Tree

A bloody guy in overalls, wearing a straw hat, began chasing us. He held a saw, pointing it at us. We were gonna die! --The Body By the Tree

After a few brief simple moments, he found her neck, kissing the nape as if it were a peach, grazing her skin barely, causing her to moan out a small tiny little whimper. Before she could take another rbreath, his lips met hers in rapture, and suddenly, she was lost within the tragic abyss of falling beneath a lovebinding spell.

There was only one thing about his own appearance which really pleased Hercule Poirot, and that was the profusion of his moustaches, and the way they responded to grooming and treatment and trimming. They were magnificent. He knew of nobody else who had any moustache half as good.

Real life... Witches: Wiccan practitioners. Werewolves: rare strain of rabies. Zombies: Prions/Plague. Vampires: Hemophilia/Porphyria

Painfully, the tips of his fingers grazed over her neck, torturing her soul. She didn't move as his hand stroked the length of her nape, feeling the slight warmth of her aura make him lightly tingle with a frenzied anticipation. Her blood burned for him, feeling her veins bubble hot as he continued to linger his seductions along the rims of her body. He listened attentively as the beating of her heart increased tri-fold, the quickening pulse thump beneath his horny fingertips.

He looked up at the stars as the storm closed in and saw them extinguished, one-by-one, until just two remained. They glimmered and shone through gaps in the clouds like two great eyes in the darkness, burning on a demon__ face that chased him across the sea.

Hello?_ I ask. No one is there. Not a word. Not a whisper. Not a single sound resonating from the other side of the receiver. __ello? Anyone there?_ I ask again. Repeating myself. I am beginning to feel rather anxious now. Scared, would be a better word to use. Shivers have begun to creep up my spinal cord, and I can feel the urgency of goose pimples begin to line up on by frightened pale skin.

...in the middle of the field, Harry suddenly stopped and looked back. Mr. Chad was all alone in the creepy woods. He could take care of himself...couldn't he? Of course he could, he was a teacher.

I got a rock.

Hannah Rose Brown was not quite 13 years old when she discovered her family was cursed. THE PUZZLE RING

As a kid, she'd always loved Halloween. A magic night. A night when anything could happen. Monsters could be real. Magic could whisper in the air.

Imagine being just strong enough to remember what life was like, feeling things, your heartbeat, the world around you. And imagine you couldn__ have it anymore, couldn__ even properly remember it, but there was just enough that some deep part of you knew what you were missing. Wouldn__ you do anything to get it back, if it was right there for the taking? Wouldn__ you be willing to kill for it?

The strange thing is, this truly horrifying experience planted a seed deep within my heart that germinated and grew into a desire that, I have to admit, I've never completely overcome.

Why__ you want to kill yourself? Didn__ you feel anything, or didn__ it hurt you?_ Mandy questioned, looking puzzled. __es, I suppose it did, _ it was strange, it was sharp, that__ all I can think of to describe it_ and cold, but not cold like ice, more like_ I don__ know, like something much worse, something horrible_ and it seemed like the ground was falling upwards, becoming the sky_ for a moment it made me consider that it was just a dream, that I was on some sort of drug, and then I remember being overjoyed to see the sky was still above me, then just really sad, really tired_ and then I don__ remember much else about it,_ Alecto told her, glaring straight ahead at the sky with narrowed eyes. __ don__ mind, I__ not supposed to mind, anyway. Mearth already told me that eventually I would want to be dead, that it was inevitable_ still, I sometimes wish that I could have done something good for other people in my life, it might have made up for all the bad stuff I__e done.

I dropped the candies into the children's bags, thinking: You small mortals don't realize the power of your stories.

This is the gateway to Hell, baby_ Welcome to The Underworld.