#gore

We all knew Spirit Halloween, a store that is filled to the brim with the most messed up animatronics out there, ranging from screaming clowns, decayed zombies, demonically possessed children, and other stuff. Every year, they always push the limits with the level of gore and blood. But what if I told you that there was an animatronic that never made it to the shelves? Well, you’re in for a treat, so keep on reading.

This is the continued part of The Ballerina. Let's begin. The next day, in school. Davian walked over to Amy and tapped her shoulder. Amy looked at him with surprised eyes. He asked: "Would tonight be a good day to study for the midterm for history?" Amy was so excited that her dark prince was asking her. She had to reply quickly before Davian changed his mind. Amy replied, sweetly: "Sure. Let me ask my dad quick."

The light of the late evening filtered through my bedroom window; motes of dust danced in the rays of dying sunlight. My body feels wrong. It somehow feels heavy and light at the same time. I keep trying to lift myself out of bed but can’t find the strength. Has this happened before? No of course, not…right? I shouldn’t have eaten at that diner; I knew that gravy looked and smelled weird. I must be paying the price for eating that slop. Then I felt it, something was coming up. I tried to will…

Did you see what happened last night? I’ve checked all the major news sites, channels, and popular social media sites, and I haven’t seen anyone talking about it. I even looked into some more obscure forums, but no one is talking about it. Am I the only one who saw it? Or I guess I should say the only one left who saw it? Did it even happen? It must have, the memories I have are so clear they can’t be a dream. But it happened so fast, and those people. I never learned their names or anything.…

Tick… tick… tick… tick… tick. The slow rhythm of the clock pulled me out of my sleep webs as it grew stronger by the second. Then I felt an unpleasant pressure on my right ear and wetness under my hand, which came from a small pool of saliva flowing onto the wooden bench.

Up and up the rough-hewn steps tramp the wormy feet of countless dark denizens. They move in silence through the earth's bowels with a singular purpose. Stirred from restless sleep and unholy dreams. Stirred from aimless wriggling and horrid scavenging. Stirred by the voice of their beloved mother, vast and terrible. She bids them rise, and rise they do. None shall disobey their doting matriarch. And so, they rise the ancient steps and forgotten causeways. Passing through slimy tunnels filled…

My parents live up North, and so every Christmas my drive to their house is defined by a lot of grey, brown and white, as well as bitter cold. Never liked the cold. I spent the first 18 years of my life in it, so I think I definitely have an educated opinion on it.

Chapter 3: The One Who Understands All Requiem looked down at his right hand carrying the claymore with thorned rosary binding them together. He let his blade drop next to him to hang freely by the rosary so he may use both hands to climb the vine. He dug his fingers into the vine making it bleed, and started climbing.

Chapter 2: One Hound’s Meal is Another Man’s Treasure He scanned the chamber for another door, but fell short. All while the holes in his chest and stomach began to glow with the healing white light. Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder, then made his way to the door he had entered through seeing that it was the only way out of the chamber. The white light turned into his entrails, then muscles and finally his scarred skin until he was whole again.

Chapter 1: The Purity of Corruption

Hello, I’ve been expecting you! I can see fear and confusion in your eyes. It’s okay, I don’t blame you. Clearly I have some explaining to do.

There's a quote I once read, buried in some forgotten philosophy book: "To peel away the layers of the world is to expose what hides beneath, and what hides beneath is not meant to be seen." At the time, it seemed like one of those lines people throw around when they want to sound profound, but they don't really know what it means. The kind of thing you hear at a party from someone who's had one too many drinks and thinks they're the next Nietzsche. I'd rolled my eyes at it then, thought it was…

I never thought much about puppets. They were relics of another time, something my grandparents might have found amusing before the age of screens. I'd seen them in dusty attics and antique shops, their faces painted in stiff, eternal grins. They were lifeless, inert things that didn't deserve a second thought. But that was before it came to town.

I didn't remember how I got there. One moment, I was somewhere ordinary—a grocery store, maybe my car—and the next, I was standing in the polished hallway of a sprawling mansion. The floors gleamed like polished obsidian under chandeliers that glittered coldly overhead. The place was immaculate, almost painfully so, but something about it felt wrong.

I hate pumpkins, I hate jack-o-lanterns, and I hate Halloween. I guess I hate Halloween mostly because it means I have to see those disgusting things all over the place. On every porch, in every yard, and at every store I see them. They leer at me with crooked grins and empty eyes. Empty eyes that somehow follow my every move. I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about them. Even now I can peer out my window and see one on my neighbor’s stoop. It sits there, still as a cadaver. God, it’s…

Welcome the Horrify, A Halloween, and October tales. Where monsters roam wilder, and demons pass through. There will be 31 stories to tell. Throughout October. We had begun with the Haunted series. The tale and horror of The Ballerina. Let's begin and enter the shadows of night.

That night, the words of my father lingered on… “Son, never allow wrongdoing without vengeance. Each time someone crosses you, don't simply double-down, but make them pay threefold – they crossed you even if they didn't have to!” …that night, after I finally found him…for so many years he's kept himself hidden under a fake identity, a different address, with his wife and kids. Who would've even thought this man could live a life so familial, so ordinary, so fake?

Interviewed: Patient No.00129 [Natalie Ouelette] Interviewer: Dr. August Hooper Patient Notes: Patient No.00129 has been diagnosed with PTSD and Delusional Psychosis by Dr. Meryl Walker.

I sat in awe of the message in front of me, illuminating the wall behind my desk in unholy light. “Suspended from further work-related activities.” At first, I was shocked by the sudden change in employment status my life held. Next, I was apprehensive that this was merely a mistake from the Human Resources Department. I grabbed my phone and dialed the number with vindictive fervor, indignant by the way I was treated by the company I slaved away at for 17 years! 17!