The People from the horror stories are out there.

We're not in a fairytale story. This is not a movie. Scriptwriters don't write our fates. We do.

There, conspicuous in the light of the conflagration, lay the dead body of a woman__he white face turned upward, the hands thrown out and clutched full of grass, the clothing deranged, the long dark hair in tangles and full of clotted blood. The greater part of the forehead was torn away, and from the jagged hole the brain protruded, overflowing the temple, a frothy mass of gray, crowned with clusters of crimson bubbles__he work of a shell.The child moved his little hands, making wild, uncertain gestures. He uttered a series of inarticulate and indescribable cries__omething between the chattering of an ape and the gobbling of a turkey__ startling, soulless, unholy sound, the language of a devil. The child was a deaf mute.Then he stood motionless, with quivering lips, looking down upon the wreck.

Horror as for me is the best choice, you can gain a lot of. I like to be afraid like to see this shit happening on me, I feel happy.

Horror is a curiousity, it's used we to go over on real horror it just prepare us for the hard battles. To laugh at somebody's harm... there is even and scientific explanation.

It wasn__ that she necessarily wanted to __ocialize_ at the bonfire, but she wanted to broadcast to the general population that her antisocial behavior was a personal choice not a sentence to social leprosy.