monster
Monsters and horror go hand in hand; explore horrific creatures, beasts and hairy scaries like Freddy Krueger, Frankenstein and far beyond.
The Owls are Not What They Seem
I wrote this article a few years ago, but I think it is time I revisited this topic. Owls have always been one of my favorite birds, so when I learned that they have some connection with aliens and the supernatural, well, I had to dig my heels in. This is what I found.
By Jen Chichester3 years ago in Horror
The Ride Home
“She was drowning. She thrashed violently against the waves like an animal, but Step-Dad wouldn’t let go. Eventually, the screams stopped and he turned his attention to me. My body was shaking as if an earthquake was happening, his footstep felt that way. He grabbed me by my shirt, I couldn’t resist, my mind had shut down.”
By Blankmarks3 years ago in Horror
‘Cocaine Bear’ Movie Review
Based (rather loosely) on a true story from 1985, Cocaine Bear is about a bear that eats several duffel bags filled with, well, cocaine that had been dropped out of an airplane into the forest below before two drug runners (Alden Ehrenreich, O’Shea Jackson Jr.) can retrieve it for their boss, notorious drug kingpin Syd White (Ray Liotta). When two kids, Dee Dee (Brooklynn Prince) and Henry (Christian Convery), encounter said bear, Dee Dee’s mom (Keri Russell) ventures into the woods to look for them, along with Ranger Liz (Margo Martindale) and environmentalist Peter (Jesse Tyler Ferguson).
By Will Lasley3 years ago in Horror
The Crying Lady in the Dakota
The Crying Lady in the Dakota is a bone-chilling thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat from the very first page. The story is set in the famous Dakota building in New York City, which is known for its rich history and dark secrets.
By Riyaz Ahamed3 years ago in Horror
“Lost to the Temptations of the Night: The Haunting of Apartment 13”
In the heart of the city, nestled between towering skyscrapers and busy streets, lay a small apartment building. It was old and rundown, with peeling paint and creaking floorboards. But for the young, naive college student who had just moved in, it was a sanctuary. A place to call home, away from the noise and chaos of the world outside.
By The Imaginarium writer3 years ago in Horror
The Killing Fields: Inside the Global Network of Serial Killers
For years, the world has been plagued by serial killers. They came from all corners of the globe, with no discernible pattern or motive. Some killed for pleasure, others for a cause. But one thing they all had in common was that they were connected by a dark web website.
By Aisha Raheel3 years ago in Horror
A lunatic moon
Chapter 4 - Jean's story and Fever Dreams Inside the house Jean Duhamel was furious. He took an old hubcap from his kitchen table that he used as an ashtray and hurled it at the wall. It met with such force that the hubcap almost bent in two. A storm of cigarette butts sprayed against the grimy window. He was angry that the cops had been here nosing around, sure, but he was even angrier that the kid had been spying on him. Jean knew exactly who it was, the kid who'd approached his house asking questions about the boy he'd killed at the last turning. His friend he had said. That was why he'd been meddlesome. Acting impertinent. Cocksure and arrogant. He'd been hiding at the edge of the field this time, just before the police had arrived. The brat had been crouched in the weeds so sure of himself that Jean could not see him. Something about the boy worried him, a rare feeling which just infuriated him that much more. He'd never been accustomed to worry or fear, not since that day in the French woods long ago. Something about this boy nagged at him though. He didn't think he'd stayed long, he hadn't sensed him during the cop's questioning. Afterwards, when the police car had left his driveway, Jean had looked for him too, combing the field with his mind and eyes, sensing every cricket, mouse, slug and butterfly along the sweep, but no boy. No boy. Jean, or Ugly and Old had that effect on people. They didn't like to linger long in his presence and his fury temporarily forgotten, he smiled at the thought. It was something he had mastered over the years. Drawing on people's basic survival instincts, exploited their natural fear of him in other ways to ensure that every visit, every conversation and interaction would be brief. Unless, of course, he wanted it to be otherwise. He rarely bathed and never laundered his clothes and therefore smelled bad, really bad. He practiced no dental hygiene, didn't need to. So not only did his breath carry the odor of death and decay, his teeth looked bad. During regular days and nights of each calendar month, his teeth gleamed nicotine yellow, black at the roots. During his turnings, those teeth extended into long, sharp serrated blades and appeared silvery in the light of the full moons. His clothing had the appearance of filthy rags and with dirty cap pulled down to help hide his eyes he very easily passed for a poor old man. People immediately felt pity for him. The majority of people don't stray far from their virtuous feelings and rarely have the courage to approach and engage. They really don't want to know. They have their own lives. Jobs, kids, bills, husbands and wives. They had their own elederly to care for. The frail and weak. Sick, diseased and dying. They all did. They all died too. So why bother with another pathetic old man? Those who had the courage and seemingly rare ability for genuine compassion and empathy would offer help at first. Assistance and aid, neighbourly, brotherly love... A few seconds in his immediate vicinity though and oh how quickly everything would change. His body odour alone was so offputting, the intensity of his aura, of desperation and danger. People could feel it deep down in the primitive part of their brain. Every animal has survival instincts and human beings are no different. They knew right away that something was wrong with Jean Duhamel. They didn't know what. They couldn't even begin to imagine what was wrong with him, but something was. Something so dark and sinister...and ancient. Something that killed, that had a need to kill, but itself could NOT be a killed. A vicious horror that had existed for so long it had reached mythical proportions at some point in history, was forgotten and then vaguely remembered, like a fever dream. A nightmare that made little sense. Remembered and forgotten over and over, so many times that it existed only in fairytales, fables and myths. Legend and lore, so seemingly fictitious that it was no longer believed to even be possible. Something their modern brain could not readily identify, but the primitive brain could in an instant. His countenance could turn threatening at the flick of a switch. He could go from looking like a harmless, feeble, little old guy, to a seething monster of deafening proportions...all in their mind's eye...and all at the drop of a hat. No, people chose not to stay with Jean for very long. They certainly didn't want to engage him, unless absolutely neccessary and then only for the shortest time possible. This was fine with Jean. Exactly how he'd always wanted it. He wanted to be forgotten. Certainly not remembered and hopefully, seldom noticed.
By Jim E. Beer - Story writer of fact and fiction. 3 years ago in Horror
