Half-Minute Tales of Horror

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Merm Nathan I drew for when I met Brendon and Gene in London AAAAAA the concert was so much fun, they were so lovely

My husband Shaun and I love… well, loved, camping. We would go all year around, snow and rain was no object. We didn’t have kids and our trips didn’t have to be long, we’d pack up on Friday and be back on Sunday night when we couldn’t get any time off.

Last July we’d managed to scrounge up enough PTO for a whole week trip. We were heading down to Tennessee and it was going to be one of our best trips yet.

Our campsite was right smack dab in between two others. The family on our right were the Schultz family. They were the new to the whole camping thing, I had to end up going there to help the guy out with his fire. Greg was grateful though and he could grill with the best of them. His wife Anna was mostly fussed with taking care of their four year old daughter Genesis, but their son Ace was a treasure. He kept coming over to our campsite to tell us stories about giant bears that they’d seen while driving here. Shaun took to him and would swap even more ridiculous tales with the creative six year old.

Here’s this year’s 24 hour comic – a 37 page adult horror comic, with CWs for murder, body horror, violence, gore, animal death, and nudity.  Click below to read the whole thing.

Isaac was hungry.

This wasn’t a hunger that could be solved by going to the fridge or ordering at a drive through. Unfortunately, this hunger could only be solved by one thing-

Blood.

The sun had just gone down, the cool autumn air nipped at noses but Isaac wasn’t bothered by the cold anymore. This quiet suburban neighborhood was as sleepy as it got, making it a perfect place for Isaac to strike. Sure in the cities, it was easier to find prey outside their homes, but they tended to be more guarded. They expected danger.

No one would expect something like Isaac out and about.

Now it would be a bit trickier talking himself inside of a home, needing an invitation and all that. But Isaac had learned many ruses over the years. Broken down car, dead phone, lost, the right excuse would open the right door for him.

His eyes landed on the house on the corner, which still had lights on in the living room and he could see movement inside. Perfect. Isaac turned up the sidewalk and headed to the front door. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one,” the vampire murmured to himself before he reached to knock on the door.

The door whipped open and Isaac was left with his hand raised awkwardly in the air.

The woman on the other side of the door was likely in her early thirties and judging by her dress and make up, she was dressed to go out. Isaac dropped his hand and was about to make an excuse when the woman said, “Oh, finally! God, what took you so long? Get in here!”

Read On…

TW: Mentions of Pedophilia

When we moved to Pine Drive, I never expected to find a conspiracy among the kids there.

I was an only child and a loner, thanks to my parents always moving. My dad’s job had him hopping from state to state. It was a pretty tough going if you wanted to make friends. But he promised that we’d stay at least six months here, so I had a chance to make at least one friend.

And whadya know, on my block, there were a ton of kids to make friends with.

I didn’t even really have to try. Two days after moving in, the Langley twins Diana and David were pounding on my door, asking who owned that bike parked in the front yard and if they wanted to play. I was shy but the twins were ecstatic to meet me.

Apparently their group had an odd number before I moved in and they needed equal teams to play their games with.

There was Alicia, who was six, she was the baby but she was very sweet. The oldest was Fletcher who was thirteen but his social skills were a bit behind so he didn’t mind hanging out with a bunch of nine and ten year olds. I think there was about ten of us all in all.

But I learned soon enough that there was a secret each of them shared.

My dad wasn’t great at being a dad.

I’m not saying he was Satan incarnate, he just had a bad temper is all. There was five of us kids, and after mom passed he was stuck raising us on his own, so he had to run a tight ship. Otherwise we would be nothing but lazy troublemakers.  

I was the second oldest, my sister Naomi was the oldest, and then there was Abby, Caroline, and Lil’ Liam. The moment Naomi was in highschool she was in charge of keeping house and making sure we were all good by the time dad got home.  

She was super bossy about it, but she just didn’t want to see Dad mad. And he was pretty scary when he was mad- threw things against the walls, screamed how we were all selfish brats who didn’t respect him, sometimes we got whacked but it was mostly just the yelling. Naomi was pretty grateful when I entered highschool- meant she wasn’t the only one who had to be bossy.

Test subject 43 – 2017-08-19

Male

Height – 178 cm

Weight – 94 kg

Age – 22 years

Smoker – no

Drug use – none within the past two years

Alcohol – none within the past two years

Subject 43 is a bit of a rarity; very healthy, near-peak physical conditions. Subject 43 was previously considered to be a borderline Olympic sprinter before financial troubles landed him in severe financial debt. His mental status, up until very recently however, has also exceeded nearly every other test subject.

His extremely durable constitution has enabled us to push him further than any of the previous test subjects by considerable lengths. He has also survived longer than even subject 11 and displayed an unparalleled resistance to light and heat that even subject 19 could not match. Subject 19 was the only test subject so far that could survive direct sunlight exposure for any time longer than a few seconds. Unfortunately, subject 43 began to show signs of mental decay and it was decided to end his experiment before the end of the month.

2017-08-21

Just one day left to pick up your Terry Pratchett taleoid pin! Head over here to get yours before it vanishes forever:

Now…

9/17

Lucy, you’re gonna be so mad when we’re back, but maybe knowing I’m keeping this daily just for you will make it all better.

Alex was right, I’m actually a natural sailor. Luke’s already ate shit on the deck twice, his face is all banged up because he doesn’t have his sea legs. Better than poor Jake already though. He’s been barfing below deck this whole time. Fucking gross.

But oh man, once the heat dies down at home, we’ll be back, and we’re gonna be so rich. It’ll all be worth it babe. All worth it.

I did everything for her.

Please remember that, and I will start at the beginning.

My wife and I, we woke in a suspended cage. All of our clothes were torn in places, but our bodies were fine. The cage was dirty and bare, the only thing in it was us. Outside the bars of the cage was an unending landscape of jagged rock, featureless except for the things that moved across it’s surface.  People and things that were not people. This is how my wife and I woke up in Hell.

We were both rational, but rationality only lasts so long. We cried, we screamed for help, we moved past emotion. The cage was our home for a time, but eventually the hunger forced us to make a decision. The cage was unlocked, why would it not be? It was hung from the ceiling with a massive chain, suspending us thousands of feet from the floor. The landing was not soft, but in Hell your body never stays broken. We learned this after the jump.

We walked for a very long time. Many people around us had either given up, choosing to lay on the floor and moan, or they walked like we did, my wife and I. She kept me going, and I like to think I her. The things that were not people were the only true reminder of where we were, all different from the next. Some of them were massive, crushing people in their wake, and others worked like a hive, a single mind for countless bodies. All of them had teeth and claws, stained from use.

There was a ceiling, so there had to be walls. It was a goal at least, something to do amidst the terrible hunger and pain. The ceiling was as flat as the land before us, it’s only feature was a gaping hole that only the ragged, winged creatures could travel.  A way out, maybe.

I did everything for her.

A long enough time, and you get used to anything.  Hell almost seemed redundant. The sound of unending pain was boring and the sound of bone cracking was common. Only two things needed avoided.  The dark, and the sacs.

In the shadow of the greater creatures, people sunk into the floor, almost as if the dark came alive, their desperate fighting and screams lost to the total blackness. We only saw this twice.

The other peril, the sacs, were large, unmoving, and made from burned flesh. My wife and I watched a man limp to one. It screamed at him, a high piercing noise that drew us closer from our vantage point. I thought of a siren briefly before the man was sprayed with blood, the force of it sent him backwards. My right arm was also covered, and it began to itch with a force I thought impossible. Before my eyes, my arm became a deep red as it hardened like steel, my fingers sharpening. In my terror, I paid little attention to the monster that sprang from the place the man landed. The sacs were the forges in which demons were made.

My arm never stopped itching, and my attempts to satisy it with my left hand made my fingernails cracked and broken. But I had a way to provide for my wife. I used my arm to cut and maim people, stealing clothes, food, shelter. We forgot our pain by forcing it on others.

I did everything and more for her.

There was no way to keep track of time, but it was so long I forgot my name. The only thing I never forgot was my wife, and my love for her. What got us in the end was one of those sacs, the sirens.

The call of them was undeniable, at least to my wife. I tried to stop her, but she was always faster, and my arm made running impossible with its great weight.  I followed her, screaming, begging her to listen to me. But she was coated in the sick blood of that thing by the time I got to her.

Her body grew larger, her arms longer, almost tentacle like. Her screaming deepened as her feminine form was lost to the changing. I can not imagine the agony she was in. Her head grew horns, her back grew great leather wings, her legs fell off at the knee with a snap.

Once her transformation was done, she gave me a knowing, pained look. I had tears in my eyes, the first true liquid I felt since we got down here. I was picked up by one of her new arms, and a flap of her wings took us up. I felt the wind ripping through me, and the roar of our fellow demons as we tore through the hole in the ceiling, darkness taking over us.

My waking mind found myself sitting in the smashed car. The truck had hit us head on, sending my alcohol bottles all over the interior. I knew they were mine because my wife did not drink. In the passenger seat, my wife’s legs were crushed, my own arm hanging limply by the smallest amount of flesh possible. I looked into her dimming eyes, her iris’s bright red and glowing with fire before she shut them forever.

She did everything for me. I’ll never forgive myself, and I don’t think I should.

Hey everyone. We’ve been going through something really rough behind the scenes lately, and we finally feel ready to explain our situation.

We’ve had a really hard time just working on this. It’s not the kind of thing we like to post on our channel, but it’s really important this one time. It’s not terminal cancer only treatable at a certain level of funding, but it matters to us. This is someone we care about with everything we are, and someone who made it possible for us to create this whole… amazing… thing. We have to take care of her however we can, and this is the only way we know how.

If any of you can help us help her, it would be mean the world to us.

Now…

“Unlikely hero emerges after a horror filled month in the dungeon of most prolific serial killer in history, saving self and classmate who used to bully her.”

Tonight: Nancy Johnson recounts her nightmare month at dungeon of David Grace, serial killer responsible for hundreds of murders. Taken with her entire senior class when Grace hijacked their bus, Ms. Johnson was locked in a cage and forced to watch as he would take a classmate out each day and torture them for hours before killing them with a hammer. When police burst in, finding 27 horribly mutilated bodies in various stages of decomposition, Ms. Johnson had already overpowered him and set him on fire, killing him and ending his four-year terror-filled reign of the news. Police described the methods he used to torture the teenagers uncharacteristically cruel even for Grace. Only other survivor Laura Lance is catatonic and brain damaged from a lobotomy attempt that was cut short by Ms. Johnson overpowering David Grace. Formerly bullied Ms. Johnson credits her faith in God for her will to survive.

“There is not much to it, just my faith and going for it when I had the opportunity. Going forward, I hope I can inspire others to do the same, never give up no matter what the circumstances.”

Where are they now: Ten years after surviving serial killer ordeal, Nancy Johnson graduates from medical school.

“Dr. Nancy Johnson touring war torn areas in Africa to help the poor and sick.”

“Laura Lance dies after 25 years in catatonic state after barely surviving David Grace’s Dungeon of Horrors”

Ask anyone who works with law enforcement and they’ll be able to tell you that one case that stands out over all the others. Maybe they had to resort to something they never thought they would do, maybe they have doubts about how it turned out, or maybe the case was just never solved at all.

After 38 years in the special crimes unit, I know what case mine is. The case number was 89-1-00316-5, and don’t ask me how long it took before I knew the number by heart. Nineteen kids who all went missing over the course of two years. The public was scared, and for good reason. I can still remember some of the news reports about keeping yourself and your children safe at night.

The worst part about this case, the part that has burned it into my memory, were the emails. About a week after the first kidnapping, the police station received a strange email from a throwaway email address. There was no subject or text, just a single video file. The poor secretary who first saw it gave a bloodcurdling scream, the kind that shakes you deep down in your core. It was the missing child, bloody and tortured. Once the video had been sent to my department for analysis, we were able to determine that the child was still alive, but not much else. The video of the room was too dark and poor quality to distinguish the location and the sick bastard who was recording never spoke or showed their face.

This became the trademark of this case, each kidnapping would be followed by an email from a new throwaway address containing a video of the victim. Sometimes you could see a child from a previous video, meaning the kids were not being killed. I wouldn’t be too happy, because from what we could tell by the videos, death might have been a release from the fresh hell they were trapped in.

Nineteen videos of tortured kids later, the department finally had enough evidence to make an arrest. An old loner named Paul Schneider was the guy we took in. Despite the poor quality, frames from the videos were be matched up fairly well to areas in his basement. Tools that the forensics team said could be used to inflict the wounds on the children in the video were also found, and Paul had no alibi as he lived alone with no job or family to occupy him. He was sentenced to life in prison, and once he got locked away the kidnappings ended and the emails stopped. They never found the bodies though, and he denies it to this day.

I bring up Case 89-1-00316-5 today, long after my retirement, because today I received a new email. It had attached an image of nineteen dirty, bloody, and weak looking men and women were chained up in a dingy concrete room with a message scrawled in red on the floor.