Talk to the Hand

More creepy beach sculptures. (h/t Goodshit)

We Need a Little Christmas

A Different Perspective

Who knew that there was such a thing as Polish Film Posters? Two examples:




More here. (h/t Goodshit)

Relax

Watch the sunrise. Or just close your eyes and breath.



(h/t Charlie Martin)

How to Hypnotize a Man

Click here and follow the instructions. Note! Decidedly NSFW (but still amusing).

Stand Like a Man and Give Some Back

Courtesy of Dirty Harry, I am reminded of how much I miss Deadwood and Ian McShane's portrayal of Al Swearengen. It's good advice and given in a manner that you won't forget.



Cross posted at Pajama Guys. Definitely NSFW (language).

Time to Decompress

When October Goes

Epilogue

The police came late that afternoon. They asked questions but voiced no suspicions. The ashes were still hot; they had not yet been raked. Louis answered their questions. They seemed satisfied. They spoke outside and he wore a hat. That was good. If they had seen his gray hair, they might have asked more questions. That would have been bad. He wore his gardening gloves, and that was good too. His hands were bloody and ruined.

He played solitaire that night until long after midnight.

He was just dealing a fresh hand when he heard the back door open.

What you buy is what you own, and sooner or later what you own will come back to you, Louis Creed thought.

He did not turn around but only looked at his cards as the slow, gritting footsteps approached. He saw the queen of spades. He put his hand on it.

The steps ended directly behind him.

Silence.

A cold hand fell on Louis's shoulder. Rachel's voice was grating, full of dirt.

"Darling," it said.

Pet Sematary - Stephen King

Scream For Your Life

True Dat

Suddenly, for some reason, a scene from Stephen King's The Shining leapt to mind. It was the one where Danny, the little kid, was playing in the snow outside the Overlook Hotel, and he found one of those big concrete tubes that kids like to climb through, and he got in, and suddenly he became aware of something else that was in the tube there with him: A kid who had climbed in there and couldn't get out, who had died there, who clamored toward Danny with a pathos that bordered on revulsion and then surpassed it, clearly wanting Danny to die there, too, to stay with him, forever...

Ian found himself simultaneously wondering why Kubrick didn't put that in the film and thinking, Momma, get me outta here, this place is starting to give me the creeps. He was not surprised to find himself walking at a highly accelerated pace.

"This," he told himself aloud, "is ridiculous. Fucking Stephen King. This is all his fault."

The Light At The End - John Skipp and Craig Spector

Tonight's the Night

Tonight the moon was almost full. And tonight was also Halloween.

Their are those who say they don't need to look at the sky or consult an almanac to know when a full moon lurks behind the rain clouds. For they are policemen and firemen and hospital workers and bartenders and ambulance drivers. From years of experience they have learned that the nights just before full moon will bring out more violence, more uncontrolled emotion, more just plain weirdness than any other time.

It has long been known that in mental hospitals the most bizarre behavior occurs in the twenty-four to forty-eight hours preceding the full moon. Now there is scientific theory to back this up: it is accepted as fact that the moon's weak magnetism affects the earth's metal-induced magnetic field. This is primarily true of iron. Based on this fact, a Chicago study concentrated on a single element in biological tissue. It concluded that magnetic and gravitational interaction between the earth and the moon may very well be involved in certain human physiological and psychological changes.

Halloween, of course, takes no account of science.

Halloween concerns itself with only evil forces.

Headhunter - Michael Slade

Clap for the Wolfman

The Boogeyman

Psycho is effective because it brings the Werewolf myth home. It is not outside evil, predestination; the fault lies not in our stars but in ourselves. We know that Norman is only outwardly the Werewolf when he's wearing Mom's duds and speaking in Mom's voice; but we have the uneasy suspicion that inside he's the Werewolf all the time.

Danse Macabre - Stephen King

Time to Take the Masks Off

Peter picked himself up on the stairs and, with no awareness of willing himself to move, went backward up the stairs to stand beside Jim on the landing.

The werewolf came slowly, unstoppably toard them, in no hurry at all. "You want to meet her, don't you?" His grin was ferocious. "She will be so pleased. You will have quite a welcome, I promise you."

Peter looked wildly around; saw phosphorescent light leaking from beneath a door.

"She is not perhaps quite in shape to see you yet, but that makes it all the more interesting, don't you think? We all like to see our friends with their masks off."

Ghost Story - Peter Straub

Listen

Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself, "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney, it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or, "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had found all in vain. ALL IN VAIN, because Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room.

The Tell-Tale Heart - Edgar Allan Poe

Respect the Classics, Man!

Watch Michael Jackson - Thriller (Full Length) in Music Videos | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Legion

Kinderman entered the cell and pulled the door shut softly behind him. A naked light bulb hung from a wire in the center of the ceiling. Its filaments were weak and it cast a saffron glow on the room. Kinderman glanced at the white washbasin. A faucet was dripping, one slow drop at a time. In the silence their sound was heavy and distinct. Kinderman walked toward the cot and then stopped.

"It's taken you a long time to get here," said a voice. It was low and had whispers at its edge. It was sardonic.

Kinderman looked puzzled. The voice seemed familiar. Where had he heard it before? he wondered. "Mister Sunlight?" he said.

The man raised his head and when Kinderman loked at the dark, rugged features he staggered backward a step in shock. "My God!" he gasped. His heart began to race.

The patient's mouth was cracked in a grin. "It's a wonderful life," he leered, "don't you think?"

...Kinderman looked up from the file. "Were you here when this man was brought in?" he asked sharply.

"Yes."

"Search your memory, please. Doctor Temple. What was he wearing?"

"Jesus Christ, that was such a long time ago."

"Can you remember?"

"No."

"Were there signs of any injuries? Bruises? Lacerations?"

"That would be in the file," said Temple.

"It is not in the file! It is not!" The detective slapped the file on the desk with each "not."

"Hey, take it easy."

Kinderman stood up. "Have you or any nurse told the man in Cell Twelve about Father Dyer's murder?"

"I haven't. Why the hell would we tell him that?"

"Ask the nurses," Kinderman told him grimly. "Ask them. I want to know the answer by morning."

Kinderman turned and strode from the room. He walked up to Atkins. "I want you to check with Georgetown University," he said. "There was a priest there, Father Damien Karras. See if they still have his medical records, and also his dental records as well. Also, call Father Riley. I want him to come over here right now."

Atkins stared quizzically into Kinderman's haunted eyes. The detective answered his unspoken question. "Father Karras was a friend of mine," said Kinderman. "Twelve years ago he died. He fell down the Hitchcock Steps to the bottom. I attended his funeral," he said. "I just saw him. He is here in this ward in a straitjacket."

Legion - William Peter Blatty

They're Coming For You

What's Inside You?

She opened her eyes. "Daniel," she said, "your bride is waiting."

There was movement near the door. A figure drifted toward her.

"Daniel?"

"Yes, my love."

She held out her arms.

He crossed the room, and Florence felt the drawing from her body as he neared. She could just make out his features, gentle, frightened, filled with need for her. He lay beside her on the bed. She turned to face him. She could feel his breath, and pressing close, she gave her lips to him.

His kiss was long and tender. "I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you."

She closed her eyes and turned onto her back again, feeling his weight shift onto her. "With love," she murmured. "Please, with love."

"Florence," he said.

She opened her eyes.

In an instant, she lay petrified, heartbeat staggering as she gaped at what was lying on her.

It was the figure of a corpse, its face in an advanced state of decomposition. Livid, scaly flesh was crumbling from its bones, its rotted lips wreathed in a leering smile that showed discolored jagged teeth, all of them decayed. Only the slanting yellow eyes were alive, regarding her with demoniacal glee. A leaden bluish light enveloped its entire body, gases of putrefaction bubbling around it.

A scream of horror flooded from her throat as the moldering figure plunged inside her.

Hell House - Richard Matheson