Italian Masters of HorrorMore Like This
Italian Masters of Horror
Zombie by liliesformary
Giallo is Italian for yellow… and Horror
In the wake of the real life horrors meted out on Italians during World War II, brutalized by Mussolini and then by Nazi occupation and then having their country used as one great battleground chessboard between Nazis and the invading U.S. and Allied forces, there was for a long time little appetite for horror in movies. It wasn’t until 1956 that the first genuine horror film (a vampire story) was produced and released. It bombed, soundly rejected by the public. The film would be of little note
Clive Barker: Return of The Dark MasterMore Like This
His Books of Blood in the 1980s established him as a premier master of the horror narrative, on an equal level or even surpassing Stephen King, who said of him;
I have seen the future of horror, his name is Clive Barker.
Like King, Barker’s works of horror have been adopted and adapted for movies, his stories becoming the basis for the Hellraiser and Candyman series and many more. Beyond his stories being used as source material, Barker has worked as screenwriter, producer, actor and director in the film world.
As with Stephen King, many of
What is the most ghetto thing you've ever done?While talking with ElectricGecko about Canada I spilled out the following:More Like This
"There is so much ball-to-the-wall insanity I can't believe it. I lived with a transgender schizophrenic who worked in a nursing home and told me he was simultaneously the Antichrist AND Odin in one body. I hung out with an elderly hippie who lived in squalor save for one room in her house that was a lush massage parlor. Fuck, the very first day I was in Toronto I saw a dead junkie lying in a dollar store and folks were just stepping over him to pay for their groceries. That was hands down the most hardcore and ghetto thing I have ever experienced, and I lived in the backwoods of Ohio for 14 years - I have seen some shit, believe me. But "Pardon me, dead tweaker, I need to buy this here Kraft Dinner" took the prize."
Which leads me to ask the following question to you:
What is the most ghetto thing YOU have ever experienced?
It is a question that must be asked.
It is a question that must be a
More Wiki Pages that could be CreepypastasHere's the first one!!More Like This
1. Idilia Dubb
Holy crap this is sad and disturbing.
Pay no attention to the published book version of her diary - it's pure Twilight-level bullshit used to cash in on an awful tragedy.
If the REAL thing was published or at least available to read online, well... that would still be horrible but at least honest and worthy or respect.
2. Texarkana Moonlight Murders
I just... this is the shit that Hollywood masturbates to. WHYYYY is this not famous??
What surrounds the story to make it interesting though? A Texas town under siege by a "SEX MANIAC", massive number of phone calls and shotgun shells filling the night, a posse of hardened Texas Rangers, cops using hypnotism on suspects, one black dude being singles out because reasons, and teen sleuths pretending to fuck mannequins to lure the killer out. You have the locals
They Say I Do NothingAs I lay on the cold carpet that covers the hard floor.More Like This
Being the most selfish human I can possibly be.
Not caring or giving two damns about any aspect of life.
Everything is simply done on its own.
As the dishes pile up to the high heavens.
The faucet's knobs magically turn on their own once ready.
First warm water then a splash of cold.
The plastic bottle of soap lifts itself from the counter.
And squeezes it's fragrant, oily liquid onto the filth stained platters.
While the shriveled up rags make their way into the clouded water.
Cleaning every dirty dish til clean and placed away.
The crumbs, strands of hair and dirt make an army across the floor.
Declaring war to ruin the carpet.
Until the vacuum's cord snakes its way to a plug.
Igniting it's on switch that eventually allows it's suction to glide over and win the war.
The empty fridge and cabinets talk among themselves.
Exchanging grocery ideas as a pen rises in the air.
As a piece of paper slides underneath it.
The pen writ
Arcadiai. You know how sometimes you want to be a playlist for someone? To be a fifty-three minute and forty-five second track on ambiguity, longing and nostalgia. A homemade mixtape they’d take with their late afternoon drives, when the borders between the dusky setting sun smudge into the perfect shadowed sky. You’re not there with them; your scents not intermingling with each other. But somehow, they’re closer to you than the salty and sugary wind you breathe, while thinking at the same time whether or not they’re in their own world; their own genre.More Like This
ii. And maybe it’s because we’re all gripped with a little bit of hypergraphia that goes vomiting on every awkward angle we have. An intensified gripping of intra-fireworks display only happening in our own ossified skulls. It’s thinner than a paper-thin margin how exhales of exhaustion could immediately turn into staccatos of hysterics.
iii. Yet that’s the imperial of music: multi-handed