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“Your mother sucks cocks in Hell, Karras, you faithless slime.”

Possessed gals say the sweetest things…

Happy Halloween, folks.

– Hardy recoiled from the blow of the belt across his back. White-hot pain shot across his nerves. He started to cry. Keenan closed in, the belt raised to strike. His wide eyes raged like a fire across a forest floor. Veins throbbed on the sides of his neck. Stained and chipped teeth—the color of a snail shell—grinded into a snarl. Hardy retreated through the dimly lit trailer, thin arms shielding his face from the next strike. Robin followed close behind their father, her cheeks glistening with tears. — Kenneth W. Harmon in Dark Fire Fiction

– She saw the thing, and now she had a name for it, the scouting head, she knew its purpose; a dark swaying mass of shadow, trembling in the silence, it grew out the empty windows of empty buildings, searching. — Frank Duffy in Fantastic Horror

– They watched the souls drift up from the lake; they dreamt that the old men and women of Westeria were alive, alive, so they could sing their old songs again. Alive, so little Amelia could let her mother tuck her in and not complain. Alive, so Mr. Fantastic could serve food on a silver tray once more, down in the old home, down, down where the men once chauffeured the women to parties and balls and high school graduations. He touched the hem of Amelia’s dress, hoping she would look away from the scene, away from the broken memories, away away as far away as his machine heart could guide her. — Garrett Ashley in Eschatology

– The sudden flood washed out the grid of civilization, made flotsam of mailboxes and fence posts and so much else. In both its surging nature and fecal color, the river gave the area the look of an open sewer, and even a hundred feet up in the Channel 7 Skywitness chopper, Ian could detect a fetid stench. — Joe Nazare in Untied Shoelaces of the Mind

– Laura watched the heads bobble and the flesh slough off them to form a greasy iridescent film on top of the liquid. She lowered the net. She inspected several heads, careful not to allow Olivia to see them. A few were clean, but Laura figured she had one shot to leave without being caught, so she returned them to the pot. — Karen L. Newman in Sex and Murder