Buried and burned. Never find them. Never. Buried and buried.

I could not help feeling that they were evil things– mountains of madness whose farther slopes looked out over some accursed ultimate abyss. That seething , half-luminous cloud-background held ineffable suggestions of a vague, ethereal...

Believe in yourself, Follow your dreams, and all things are possible!

I didn’t want to be the woman who gave herself over willingly to the first man to notice her. I didn’t want to be the stupid girl in every novel who loved without question and...

The dead have existed for as long as the living, give or take a few years. But what good has that done them?

Darkness is a defining characteristic of Rotters. But it’s worthy to remember that darkness is just that—it’s dark—and what is being concealed in the dark is not just the horrible and fearsome, it’s also the...

PG-13 horror, I just don’t watch that.

If the town were a black hole, I was the helpless star being sucked into oblivion. It was an oblivion I craved.

The unknown characters of writing seem to be endowed with an evil of life of their own as though sentient, and fain would wrest themselves forth from the parchment and wreak mischief on whomsoever gazes...

In the deep Mysteries of the world, their belong time, still unexplored and to be explored.

There’s a queer streak in human natures. Men come back to places for secret reasons, for feelings they cannot resist.’More than men come back,” I said.

It’s only after you’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.–Chuck Palahniuk

We lie to protect our children, and in lying we expose them to the greatest of harms

My brothers’ faces haunt me. I hear their children, my nieces and nephews, asking me why I came home without their daddies. I think of their wives, imagine their questions. Our parents, forever seeing the...

The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.

Fred Ruskin barreled through the rain down Buchanan Street in his battered Pacer, the jar his dead wife had directed him to retrieve from his nephew’s coffin bouncing in the seat beside him.

…a fissure appeared. Splinters of plastic broke away around it, and the fissure widened, radiating further fractures.When the first leg broke out, Simon tried to shriek.

From “Lady In Waiting” in the anthology The Morgue :Now I have yet to meet the corpse could hold up its end of a conversation, so at most I might whistle while fixin’ one up...

All of my chupacabra books are like novelizations of movies that haven’t been made yet.

There’s no better way for a woman to punish a man than to make him sleep away from her.

‘Eighth one this week,’ he said.

Did I never tell you Sassicaia makes me horny?

Blood is really warm,it’s like drinking hot chocolatebut with more screaming.

Blood began to flow, at first cautiously, as if embarrassed by its appearance; a few thin red lines exploring the gravitational trajectory of its new terrain. Now it flowed faster, steadily staining her pale flesh...

We ask only to be reassuredAbout the noises in the cellarAnd the window that should not have been open

It ain’t the blows we’re dealt that matter, but the ones we survive.

We’d stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You’d think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn’t.

When they were silent for a moment the quiet weight of the house pressed down from all around them.

Yeah, there has to be a few screws loose when a girl asks you to drop everything to spend a three-day weekend on very short notice, and you say okey dokey without a care in...

For a moment or two before the spell took effect, he was aware of all the sounds around him: rain splashing on metal and leather, and running down canvas; horses shuffling and snorting; Englishmen singing...

Everyone knows a Wixen when we smell one. You smell the prettiest, a mixture of strawberries, sex and deceit. Dior should bottle it.

I feel a blood moon rising” Neesa

Self-confidence is usually little more than wishful thinking in a thigh-high pair of Come F*ck Me boots.

This is why it is important never to pick or smell flowers, and to always wear headgear when admiring them.

She grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth tighter against her lips. She wanted to possess and devour him.

But if what interests you are stories of the fantastic, I must warn you that this kind of story demands more art and judgment than is ordinarily imagined.

Kaufman almost smiled at the perfection of its horror. He felt an offer of insanity tickling the base of his skull, tempting him into oblivion, promising a blank indifference to the world.

She wasn’t religious. She didn’t believe in heaven or hell, only in ghosts, Ouija boards, tables which rapped and little inept voices speaking plaintively of flowers

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas...

Would to Heaven we had never approached them at all, but had run back at top speed out of that blasphemous tunnel with the greasily smooth floors and the degenerate murals aping and mocking the...

Hello, Kanta. They’re saying interesting things about you on the news,” she said. “I wondered if you’d survived.””He didn’t,” I said. “I killed him.”Silence.”I killed Mkhai, too,” I said. “Tens of thousands of years, gone...

As McMasters raised the shotgun, the man removed his glasses. There were fields of stars where his eyes should have been. But they weren’t reflections of the night sky. These stars were a glimpse of...

The result is … that there’s no room left in the world for the weird – though plenty for crude, contemptuous, wisecracking, fun-poking imitations of it.

In one picture, the pool was half hidden by a fringe of mace- weeds, and the dead willow was leaning across it at a prone, despondent angle, as if mysteriously arrested in its fall towards...

They’ve made her something else now.

The tales of pure terror, of course, are completely naturalistic in their content, and must stand or fall by their merit alone. But what about the supernatural stories? Can we, the children of a scientific...

Black vomit came gushing out Samantha’s mouth, adding to the puddle already on the floor. Samantha was covered in a sheen of sweat, crouched on all fours on the wooden hallway floor, like an animal....

Jo’s whimper rose slightly but the scream she yearned for wouldn’t materialise. Instead, as she looked at her hand, she began to make a gurgling, gagging noise, more animal than human.

The best horror novels open up, “It was beautiful summer day and the smell of flowers emanated throughout the air.

I turned to him and he reached for my hand. It would have been easier to walk away. But the wind still blew around us and the house still stood.