paranormal-thriller

There's a transparent face that looks deep into my eyes, baring my soul, right before terror consumes me and the image becomes a black mass of horror.

It felt oily inside her head. There were strings of Xavier Stancliff caught inside of her, holding on and spiderwebbing out as he plotted and waited and thought: this is all the bitch deserves. Swallowing, Sandra pushed herself off the bed. It was late and the room was dark. She could see the bundled lump of Jack beneath his own covers. He__ left the television on and the light flickered down the tiny hall. Shadows danced and Sandra shivered as she left the room.In another life, she would have told Danny and Jack about the man. Danny would have whispered, __t__ alright,_ and smoothed back her hair from her face and kissed her, lips dry and coarse on her forehead. Then he and Jack would__e left while she was sleeping. They would__e trampled the flowers and climbed into Xavier Stanliff__ window and when Sandra woke up there would have been one less man in the world.

My whole life changed after I drowned and died in the flood.

Sometimes the truth is so bizarre and mind bending that it must be presented as fiction to be accepted.George SaundersThe Bookseller

Evil takes only prisoners_.Time takes none."From The Tenth, chapter 28.

So much for a great opening speech, that sucker done tucked tail and is hiding in the deepest part of my brain, sucking its thumb.

Red glowing eyes... No one could see her. No one could hear her. No one was coming to save her. Because Death had come sooner than expected.

he night beyond the window was still, mordant white snow, punctuated only by the eerie dark of the trees, gumshoeing their way along the edge of the path outside. Their skeletal fingers clawed up at the stars, held down by an insidious, weightless lacing of snowflakes. I gazed idly at the moon and wondered if it truly had the power to sway the will of men.

The night beyond the window was still, mordant white snow, punctuated only by the eerie dark of the trees, gumshoeing their way along the edge of the path outside. Their skeletal fingers clawed up at the stars, held down by an insidious, weightless lacing of snowflakes. I gazed idly at the moon and wondered if it truly had the power to sway the will of men.

You don't die of a broken heart, it only wears you down__ust another rainy day._ _ Grey Daze

Lucy in the sky. Without her I am the walrus, likely to lose myself in dark gibberish and fade away._ Lance Underphal, Cut-Throat Syndrome.

Don__ waste a minute fretting over the infinite destructive possibilities of The Singularity. Think of all the fun we__e going to have along the way! It will all be one glorious adventure, start to finish!

There is a place where the mountains tumble one upon the other off into the far distance, peak after treeless peak. Steep ridges connect them and deep canyons slash them apart. The grassy summits are wreathed with black sage. No roads intrude upon this jumble of oak-filled canyons and steep-sided hills, only the ambling trails made by deer, coyotes, and bears. The local Indians believe the spirits of the ancients still travel these roads.

She was our guardian angel. Lucy saved us from mystery. Without her, our marriage would be ruined. Her disappearance created an open wound that we can't fix but the most devasting reality is probably the fact that her body will never be found. She is a living ghost in Wilmington, North Carolina.

I am who I am and always shall be.

My eyes meet his and I understand exactly what he's saying. He's my person. He's my home.

What is your secret? What could you possibly know, more than 80 years after you death, that someone doesn't want us to find out?

He wasn__ gullible enough to be bullied by the ghost__ accusation _ for Andrew Fletcher had his share of guilt, but he__ never thrown anyone down a well, either.