Cannibal Corpse Release Details For New Album ‘A Skeletal Domain’

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 14:00

Masters of brutal death metal, Cannibal Corpse have announced that they will be releasing their new album A Skeletal Domain on September 16th via Metal Blade Records. The album will feature 12 tracks that were recorded with producer Mark Lewis (The Black Dahlia Murder, DevilDriver) at Audio Hammer Studios.

Bassist Alex Webster states:

At the end of the day, we’re still making a death metal record, no matter where it’s being recorded.
Consistency is often confused with repetition. We are established with what we do as a band, and we could relax and not push ourselves, but we try to push the envelope. That’s what makes this exciting.

Lewis adds:

There are moments on this record that have never happened in musical history.

Head below to hear the new track “Sadistic Embodiment”. You can pre-order the album here.

A Skeletal Domain Track Listing:
01. High Velocity Impact Spatter
02. Sadistic Embodiment
03. Kill or Become
04. A Skeletal Domain
05. Headlong into Carnage
06. The Murderer’s Pact
07. Funeral Cremation
08. Icepick Lobotomy
09. Vector of Cruelty
10. Bloodstained Cement
11. Asphyxiate to Resuscitate
12. Hollowed Bodies

Categories: Horror News

Get a Sneak Peek of True Blood Episode 7.03 - Fire in the Hole

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 13:51

So far HBO has only released one clip from the upcoming "True Blood" Episode 7.03, "Fire in the Hole," but we'll keep our eyes open for more. In the meantime here's a peek at Sookie and Bill... together again!

As a bonus treat, we have an extra segment from the network's "Farewell to Bon Temps" special that aired June 15th, which you'll find below the preview of "Fire in the Hole."

Related Story: Visit our "True Blood" archive.

Episode 7.03 - “Fire in the Hole” (air date 7/6/14)
Sookie (Anna Paquin) hatches a dangerous plan to take down the H-Vamps, even as Vince (Brett Rickaby) and his armed vigilantes pose an equally serious threat.

Lafayette (Nelsan Ellis) gets high with James (Nathan Parsons); Jason (Ryan Kwanten) eyes a family future with Violet (Karolina Wydra); Willa (Amelia Rose Blaire) is forced to find a new place to stay; Sarah Newlin (Anna Camp) sheds her past.

Meanwhile, Pam (Kristin Bauer van Straten) offers Eric (Alexander Skarsgård) a compelling reason to return to Louisiana – and be the vampire he used to be. Written by Brian Buckner; directed by Lee Rose.

For more info check out "True Blood" on, "like" "True Blood" on Facebook, and jump in on the Twitter conversations here using the hashtag #TrueToTheEnd.

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Categories: Horror News

Exclusive On Set Interview: Eric Bana - Deliver Us From Evil

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 13:00

Eric Bana’s latest role as real-life NYPD Officer Ralph Sarchie finds the accomplished Aussie actor firmly entrenched in a world where evil goes way beyond the typical street crime and routine arrest. As a cop with South Bronx's 46th Precinct in the Nineties, Sarchie had seen it all...

But it was his involvement with cases concerning the occult the revealed his true purpose.

On a rainy night on location in the Bronx way back in July of 2013, Dread Central and a few other outlets had the chance to speak to Bana (fittingly, inside an old church) about the responsibility of telling Sarchie’s story in a believable way.

Dread Central: So it sounds like you’ve been dealing with quite a bit of prosthetics and other things like that on this film. How has that experience been?

Eric Bana: No, not for me. Not too bad. I mean, I have a reoccurring stitch that comes on and off a couple of times a day, but no, my prosthetic load is almost nothing compared to what some of the other characters have. There is a large prosthetic load on that department, but not for me.

DC: We just spoke to the real Ralph Sarchie. How have you been getting into this real-life guy’s skin?

EB: Scott [Derrickson] wrote a really very character-filled script. I mean, that’s why I signed on to do the film. That character was just so strong on the page. So he was really there. And I came out a couple of months before we started shooting. I got to meet Ralph and spent some time with him and just selfishly kind of cherry-picked what I felt would work well for the film. So I have stolen some bits and pieces and some elements, but it wasn’t entirely essential. He was just very giving in his time. There are certain elements to police work in the 46th and in the Bronx. There’s a certain way about them that you can’t get away with not playing. So getting some time with those guys was really helpful.

DC: For you what was the meat on the bone in this story? What interests you about it?

EB: A character who is so complex but at the same time really elegantly written. I remember years ago I read Man on Fire. In fact, it wasn’t offered to me. I always read stuff that I can’t even do. I read Man on Fire and it was a great script, but the central character was… You read it and you thought, "‘Wow, how are we going to follow this guy doing all this stuff?"’ And then Denzel... he’s probably out-and-out my favorite actor. I saw the film, and it was probably one of the greatest acting lessons because he was just so good as that character that you never questioned whether or not you were meant to like him or not. You just experienced his trajectory. That was what it was about. The character of Ralph Sarchie in this movie reminds me, in some ways, whether it be likability or complexity, of that because not everything we see him do we’re going to enjoy. But it’s a great challenge as an actor. In Scott’s films the characters are very strong... really, really strong. When I saw Sinister and Emily Rose, I was really intrigued. I thought this script was in keeping with that strong character at the center of these really interesting, scary stories. So, selfishly for me, it was Ralph that really jumped off the page and Scott’s previous work. I’ve not worked in this genre, and I’m really excited about it. It’s potentially a lot of fun.

DC: Ralph said he was always a true believer in the supernatural, in the occult. Does your version of him in the film have a little bit more of a skeptical edge?

EB: Very skeptical. So I liked that arc. Without giving too much away, certainly for a majority of the film, I’m playing the role of someone who is selling the supernatural to him[self] when he comes across it. It’s the beginning of that character’s journey. He’s just a 46th Precinct, tough-as-hell cop. So that’s who he is. He has no predetermined belief in the supernatural or anything like that.

DC: What’s his trial by fire that takes him through the gateway into this weird world?

EB: Well, I guess that insinuates that he gets there in the end, and I don’t want to give away whether or not he does.

DC: This is apparently a hardcore, no-going-back R-rated story, and was so even from the script. Were you concerned about the content?

EB: Definitely, yeah, but there were some really good discussions. At the end of the day, I think you really have to put your total faith in the director in those instances because tonally and visually, that’s really in the edit. They can make it a smorgasbord of material, and it’s up to them then, according to taste and preference, to go and assemble that, because it’s really all in the edit, how that stuff plays out: how brutal or non-brutal, how gory or non-gory. So I’ve really got just complete faith in Scott. I’d met with him a couple of times long before we signed on, and we got along extremely well and saw things very similar. So I have a lot of trust in him.

DC: As the lead actor, when you’ve got so much blood and gore to deal with and there are so many intense scenes you have to prep for, how do you get in the mindset for reacting to demons and being scared?

EB: Have you seen some of our locations? The first question I asked Scott when I met him was, “Tell me we’re not shooting this in Toronto, please?” He said, “No, no. We are shooting this in the Bronx.” I was like, “Okay. This is a great early actor-director conversation. I’m going to hold you to that.” Because quite often these movies will end up going wherever it’s going to be best on paper and not best for the movie. In this case the producers and the director were just right from the get-go [saying], “No, we’re shooting in the Bronx.” And it’s absolutely essential cinematically. It doesn’t exactly let the production design department off the hook totally. They’ve had to work really hard as well. This is not you come to work and just chill. Every night it’s pretty full-on for the crew and we’re out on the street at night. And it adds... a certain level of tension amongst everyone without even thinking about it; every day we come to work based on locations that really, I think, will help the film.

DC: What kinds of accidents – happy accidents or unhappy accidents – have resulted from doing so much on location?

EB: I’ve got to say the locals have, by and large, been very, very, very good to us.

DC: Were you at all familiar with this borough before doing this? Or just through the movies?

EB: The Warriors was one of my favorite films. But, no. So, like I say, I was really excited when they signed off on… every location. When we were on Long Island for the jail, I think that was a real jail, right? We have a tiny bit of stage work the last week, but basically we’ve been out here every night.

DC: You’re pretty tall and the locations seem pretty cramped. How’s that been working out for you?

EB: My brother is 6'7" so I’m getting a taste of what life is like for him. Joel [McHale] is taller than me, so… Tight spaces are really interesting. You were talking about before how does [location work] help? It just helps. You pare it down to the bare essentials, but you’re always going to have your A-camera operator and focus puller, your boom operator, one actor, and the way that [cinematographer] Scott Kevan is shooting this film, so much of it is very dark and with flashlight. We sort of self-light ourselves through scenes. Scott will quite often be in there with a torch running bounce in the room whilst we’re in there. So I really like it. That stuff never distracts me. I really enjoy that stuff and I enjoy having another job to do, if it’s like, “Is it possible for you to hit that bounce in the corner in this part of the scene.” It doesn’t take me out of the moment. I really enjoy that sort of stuff. So the shooting style of the film also really adds to the experience.

Joel McHale, Sean Harris, Edgar Ramirez, and Olivia Munn star alongside Eric Bana. The film is a paranormal thriller produced by Jerry Bruckheimer Films. Scott Derrickson directs a script he and Paul Boardman (The Exorcism of Emily Rose) wrote.

Look for Deliver Us from Evil in theaters now.

New York police officer Ralph Sarchie (Bana), struggling with his own personal issues, begins investigating a series of disturbing and inexplicable crimes. He joins forces with an unconventional priest (Ramirez), schooled in the rituals of exorcism, to combat the frightening and demonic possessions that are terrorizing their city. Based upon the book, which details Sarchie’s bone-chilling real-life cases.

For more info "like" Deliver Us from Evil on Facebook.

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Categories: Horror News

Get Entranced by this New Trailer for The Possession of Michael King

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:56

A few days ago we brought you a gallery's worth of images from the David Jung-directed The Possession of Michael King, heading our way in August from Anchor Bay, and now today we're back with the first official trailer for the film.

The Possession of Michael King Release Details
Anchor Bay Films is releasing the highly-anticipated, terrifying supernatural horror film THE POSSESSION OF MICHAEL KING in theaters on August 22nd and available On iTunes, On Demand, DVD, and Blu-ray on August 26th.

THE POSSESSION OF MICHAEL KING is an intense supernatural spine-tingler from the producers of White Noise and The Haunting In Connecticut, directed by first-time director David Jung and starring Shane Johnson (Starz’ upcoming “Power”), Dale Dickey (Iron Man 3), Julie McNiven (TV’s “Supernatural”, “Mad Men”), and Tomas Arana (Guardians of the Galaxy). The film is written by David Jung from a story by Jung and Tedi Sarafian (Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines).

The film tells the story of documentary filmmaker Michael King (Johnson), who doesn’t believe in God or the Devil. Following the sudden death of his wife, Michael decides to make his next film about the search for the existence of the supernatural, making himself the center of the experiment – allowing demonologists, necromancers, and various practitioners of the occult to try the deepest and darkest spells and rituals they can find on him – in the hopes that when they fail, he’ll once and for all have proof that religion, spiritualism, and the paranormal are nothing more than myth. But something does happen. An evil and horrifying force has taken over Michael King. And it will not let him go.

THE POSSESSION OF MICHAEL KING was produced by Paul Brooks and executive produced by Scott Niemeyer and Guy Danella.

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Categories: Horror News

Exclusive Artwork Premiere and New Stills for The Devil Incarnate

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:30

Indie filmmaker L. Gustavo Cooper is back with another tale of terror called The Devil Incarnate, and it's getting set for an October 7, 2014, DVD release from RLJ / Image Entertainment. Read on for artwork, details, and more!

Graci Carli and Rod Luzzi star.

The future looks bright for newlyweds Trevor and Holly, but their dreams are about to devolve into a nightmare of unspeakable terror.

On a random visit to a tarot reader, they encounter a mysterious old woman who tells them that Holly is pregnant. As the child grows within her, Holly begins to exhibit increasingly bizarre and violent behavior. Soon their joy is overshadowed by a mounting sense of dread that something sinister lurks within her womb. Desperate to save his wife and unborn child, Trevor searches for answers and discovers Holly may have fallen prey to an ancient curse spawned by an evil demon with an insatiable lust for blood.

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Categories: Horror News

Disney Moving Forward On ‘Hocus Pocus 2: Rise of the Elderwitch’

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:23

The Tracking Board is reporting that a sequel to Hocus Pocus is in the works with Melissa McCarthy producing.

According to there site, “The second installment focuses on a witch hunter who teams up with a magical housewife to stop a power-hungry evil witch.

There’s no word yet whether the original cast will return in any capacity, but they say that Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Kathy Najimy will probably not be resurrected this time around.

There’s more to report as Allison Shearmur Productions has signed to produce Hocus Pocus 2: Rise of the Elderwitch and that Bryan Oh, Stephen Meinen, and Allison Shearmur herself are in charge at the company. Tendo Nagenda and Jessica Virtue are executive producing at Disney.

The aim for the two protagonist female leads is in the vein of Tina Fey and Melissa McCarthy.

Categories: Horror News

‘The Possession of Michael King’ Trailer Finds More Footage

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:15

Anchor Bay Films just sent over the official trailer for the supernatural thriller The Possession of Michael King, another found-footage horror film coming your way.

From Gold Circle Films (White Noise, The Haunting In Connecticut), it opens in limited theaters August 22 with an iTunes, On Demand, DVD and Blu-ray release set for August 26.

David Jung directs the movie that “Tells of a documentary filmmaker who does not believe in God or the Devil. When his wife dies, he sets out to make his next movie on religion and spirituality, hoping to prove those things are just myth. But in allowing demonologists, necromancers, and various practitioners of the occult to try the deepest and darkest spells and rituals on him, he unleashes a horrifying force.

Shane Johnson (Starz’ upcoming “Power”), Dale Dickey (Iron Man 3), Julie McNiven (TV’s “Supernatural”) and Tomas Arana (Guardians of the Galaxy) star.

The movie was by Paul Brooks and executive produced by Scott Niemeyer and Guy Danella. The screenplay was written by Jung with a story by Jung and Tedi Sarafian.

Categories: Horror News

Zombie! “Murder Mansion” Music Video Premiere

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:00

Bloody-Disgusting has teamed up with one-man horrorpunk artist Zombie! (aka Eric Weiss) to bring you the exclusive music video for “Murder Mansion”, which is a gory, sexy, blood soaked video that feels almost like an R-rated scene from Scooby Doo!

Directed by Federico Ichi Scargiali of VisceraVisions, the video follows three vicious villains (each loosely modeled after a classic horror icon) as they try to juggle slaughtering several bikini-wearing ladies while avoiding a priest with a killer Holy Bible and a penchant for gimp masks. Check it out below!

Make sure to pick up The Outbreak via Zombie!’s online store.


Rampaging from the grave since Halloween of 2008, ZOMBIE! is a solo, multimedia horror project created by artist and producer, Eric Weiss. Hemorrhaging a wealth of horror related entertainment, ZOMBIE! encompasses original Horror Punk music, disturbingly dark humor, gory artwork, horrific videos, and a rabid online fanbase thatís encouraged to be part of the project. Inspired by low budget horror films and Danzig-era Misfits, ZOMBIE! resurrects the true spirit of Horror Punk with a vintage sound, shocking visuals, and blood drenched lyrics. Like a relentless plague, ZOMBIE! has infected thousands of victims and has become a global community of horror fans, zombie enthusiasts, and complete lunatics.


Visceravisions is a declaration of love, a possessive, perverted and all-consuming kind of love for latex, the dirt and the blood-stained. It’s the mad doctor lab where alembics and retorts give and take away life. It’s a multiple birth delivery gone bad whose sick offspring at their worst strive to scrape the barrel. Visceravisions traces its ancestry to the monstrous, crude movies VHS players used to spit out, still not irretrievably infected with the Pixel curse. Handcrafted, old-school and genuine. Visceravisions likes to wallow in celluloid offal with the ultimate goal of spreading the word of the Viscera cult in the world.

Zombie! online:
Official Website

Categories: Horror News

Tom Malloy in for a World of Hurt

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:00

More talent is on its way to the upcoming anthology film based upon the stories of Thomas Tessier, World of Hurt, and we have all the details you need right here without having to suffer through any pain at all. Well... some pain is okay, but don't blame us if you get really messed up.

From the Press Release
Producer/actor/writer Tom Malloy (pictured) has just signed on to bring his extensive and multifaceted producing skills to THOMAS TESSIER’S WORLD OF HURT horror anthology.

“My whole life I’ve been an avid fan of scary and horror movies,” Malloy said, “and the idea of bringing Tom Tessier’s stories to the screen was exactly the project I was looking for. And when I saw the caliber of the talented directors involved, I was in!”

Tom not only produces; he also acts and writes. He brought all three skills into play as the producer/writer/actor who starred in THE ATTIC with Elisabeth Moss ("Mad Men") and THE ALPHABET KILLER, which was directed by Rob Schmidt (WRONG TURN, "Masters of Horror"). Tom has worked alongside Eliza Dushku ("Buffy the Vampire Slayer," WRONG TURN), Cary Elwes (SAW), Bill Moseley (TEXAS CHAINSAW 3D, THE DEVIL’S REJECTS), and Tom Noonan (THE HOUSE OF THE DEVIL). Malloy has even shared screen time with Betty White.

“Getting in on the ground floor of a horror franchise like THOMAS TESSIER’S WORLD OF HURT is an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, and I can’t wait to see these five very dark and disturbing stories come to life. And then we’ll start right in on WORLD OF HURT 2!”

In addition to his work as a filmmaker, Tom is an accomplished author whose book BANKROLL: A New Approach to Financing Feature Films is considered the “gold standard” of indie film financing instruction.

For more information check out Thomas Tessier's blog, and "like" World of Hurt on Facebook!

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Categories: Horror News

The Dames of ‘Sin City: A Dame To Kill For’ (Images)

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:35

Dimension Films’ Sin City: A Dame To Kill For unveils two new images of Rosario Dawson and Jamie Chung for the anticipated sequel from co-directors Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller.

In theaters August 22, the film is about Dwight McCarthy planing to have his vengeance against the woman who betrayed him, Ava Lord, while Nancy is trying to cope with Hartigan’s death.

Mickey Rourke, Jessica Alba, Eva Green, Josh Brolin, Bruce Willis, Juno Temple, Jaime King, Rosario Dawson, Michael Madsen, Jamie Chung, Dennis Haysbert, Crystal McCahill, Christopher Meloni, Josh Brolin, Jeremy Piven, Julia Garner, Ray Liotta and Stacy Keach all star.

Categories: Horror News

[TV] Trailer For the Conclusion of “The Killing”!

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:31

Netflix just sent us the official trailer for “The Killing,” which premieres exclusively on Netflix on August 1. I refuse to watch the trailer because of spoilers, but damned if I can’t highly recommend you catching up on the previous seasons on Netflix Instant.

Joel Kinnaman will return for a final season, along with his partner, Sarah Linden (Mireille Enos).

In the slow-burn series, a police investigation, the saga of a grieving family, and a Seattle mayoral campaign all interlock after the body of 17-year-old Rosie Larsen is found in the trunk of a submerged car.

The fourth and final season of ‘The Killing’ picks up right after the season 3 finale. As Detective Linden (Mireille Enos) and Detective Holder (Joel Kinnaman) struggle to manage the fallout from their rash actions at the end of last season, they are assigned a new case — a picture perfect family is murdered, survived only by the son, Kyle Stansbury (Tyler Ross), who was shot in the head during the massacre. Joan Allen guest stars this season as Colonel Margaret Rayne, the headmaster of the all-boys military academy where Kyle attends. The new season also stars Gregg Henry, Sterling Beaumon and Levi Meaden.

Categories: Horror News

IDW's Terrifying New Tale Silent Hill Downpour: Anne's Story Reveals the Past

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:30

The nightmare-inducing series based on the hit video game series Silent Hill by Konami Digital Entertainment returns to IDW this summer with a brand new chapter, Silent Hill Downpour: Anne’s Story.

Featuring the dark origins of Downpour’s enigmatic antagonist, this new comic book series will delve deeper into the history of prison guard Anne Marie Cunningham as well as further explore the fog-shrouded haunted town that is caught between realities.

Introduced in Silent Hill Downpour, officer Anne Cunningham set out on a bloody quest for revenge. The mystery surrounding her journey to Silent Hill and the terrors she faced upon her arrival will finally be revealed, giving readers an entirely new perspective on the acclaimed video game.

Having written both previous Silent Hill series at IDW, Sinner’s Reward and Past Life, as well as co-written the video game Silent Hill Downpour, Tom Waltz returns to the foggy town that bleeds horror.

“This will be my fourth foray as a writer into the dark side streets and alleyways of everyone’s favorite haunted vacation town, and I couldn’t be more excited,” said Waltz. “More so because we finally get to share Anne Marie Cunningham’s canonical backstory, a mystery only hinted at until now. In our new story we can finally present all her grim and dirty secrets to Silent Hill fans, old and new alike.”

Diving head first into Silent Hill is Australian artist Tristan Jones (Ghostbusters, Hoax Hunters), who is handling covers and interior art.

Debuting this August, Silent Hill Downpour: Anne’s Story opens up a whole new experience for fans and players and stands tall as a horrifying tale all its own!

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Categories: Horror News

Artwork And Details Released For ‘Looper’ Vinyl OST

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:00

The full artwork for the upcoming Looper vinyl OST has been unveiled by director Rian Johnson via his Twitter feed and it looks rather stunning! Put together by Jay Shaw, the double gatefold limited 7″ comes wrapped in “blasted” burlap, which reveals the gold bar artwork underneath (those of you who have seen the movie will understand this reference). The movie was scored by Nathan Johnson (Brick).

Head below for images of the vinyl and keep your eyes peeled on Mondo for news on the release of this record, which is said to be highly limited.

Categories: Horror News

Love in the Time of Monsters Gets Distribution; New Stills

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:00

We've been talking about the upcoming Sasquatchploitation film Love in the Time of Monsters for some time now, and the good news is the film has found distro so we'll actually be able to see it, too! Oh, happy day!

From the Press Release
After a successful premiere at the Cinequest Film Festival and a recent screening at the Chinese Theater in Hollywood (through Dances with Films), Indican Pictures is proud to announce that they’ve secured the domestic distribution rights to horror comedy Love in the Time of Monsters.

“We just came to love this gem of a movie, and after watching it on the big screen with a riled up audience, I knew I had to have it!” (Randolph Kret, Indican Pictures VP)

Kane Hodder (Friday the 13th, Hatchet I, II, III, Daredevil, Wishmaster), Doug Jones (Pan’s Labyrinth, F/X’s "The Strain," Hellboy, Hellboy II, TNT’s "Falling Skies"), Michael McShane ("Whose Line Is It Anyway?," "Doctor Who," Spawn, A Bug's Life), and Shawn Weatherly (Former Miss Universe and Miss USA, "Baywatch," Police Academy 3) all star. Love in the Time of Monsters marks the first time both horror legends Kane Hodder and Doug Jones are appearing in the same film!

Love in the Time of Monsters is a suspenseful, campy, hilarious horror film that weaves an outrageous tale of love and zombie Bigfoots through the dark woods of Northern California. While Love in the Time of Monsters is violent and scary at times, its major themes are sacrifice, courage, and forgiveness; imagine if Peter Jackson and John Hughes co-created Night of the Living Dead or Aliens.

Two sisters travel to a cheesy tourist trap where they battle toxic monsters dressed in Bigfoot costumes in order to save the ones they love with the help of one of the redwoods’ most mysterious inhabitants.

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Categories: Horror News

Tattooist Creates Horror Works of Art

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 10:53

Bloody Disgusting reader Efrain Franco tipped me off to this Facebook page i which a tattoo artist has created some of the greatest works of art ever to hit the skin of a human being.

Paul Acker is the main artist and owner of Deep Six Tattoo in Philadelphia, PA, where he creates some astounding works of horror art from Freddy Krueger to Snake Plissken.

Check out some of his work below and get more at the above links.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); = id; js.src = "//"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));

Post by Paul Acker.

Photos Source: Paul Acker and Deep Six Tattoo.

Categories: Horror News

[Video Review] Scarlett Johansson Gets ‘Under the Skin’

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 10:40

Scarlett Johansson stars as an alien seductress in the thriller Under the Skin, now on VOD platforms and arriving on Blu-ray and DVD July 15 from Lionsgate Home Entertainment.

Don Allen, our regular video reviewer, took a look at the film from visionary director Jonathan Glazer (Sexy Beast, Birth).

A voluptuous woman of unknown origin (Johansson) combs the highways in search of isolated or forsaken men, luring a succession of lost souls into an otherworldly lair. They are seduced, stripped of their humanity, and never heard from again. Based on the novel by Michel Faber, Under the Skin examines human experience from the perspective of an unforgettable heroine who grows too comfortable in her borrowed skin, until she is abducted into humanity with devastating results.

Categories: Horror News

Nightmare Presents: The Black Window by Lane Robins

Dread Central - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 10:30

Dread Central is pleased to announce that we've teamed up with Nightmare Magazine to present new horror fiction to our readers. Once a month we'll be featuring a story from Nightmare’s current issue. Kicking things off is our July selection, “The Black Window” by Lane Robins.

We hope you enjoy it; please let us know what you think!

"THE BLACK WINDOW" by Lane Robins

The house looked like a sand castle after the tide had come in. Except sand suggested a crumbling grayness, and the tall, narrow house was a fresh white. A front porch was large enough for a swinging bench if I could bear that level of domesticity. Blue shutters marched from the ground floor to the third, and above that—

“. . . a finished attic,” the Realtor told me.

The house was . . . nice. Nothing I’d ever wanted. I loved my job, loved that my years were split between sublet apartments and archaeological digs around the world.

But things had changed.

New job, new town, new responsibilities.

“There are four bedrooms, two bathrooms,” he said, and ushered me in.

The house was simply laid out—a hallway, a room on either side, stairs at the end of the hall. The kitchen was to my left, and it might have been updated since the thirties, but nothing else seemed to have been. The floor was scarred hardwood, and the doors had actual keyholes. The dining room was dark. Windowless.

“That’s unusual,” I said, roused to comment.

The Realtor sighed. “The house was bigger once. There was even an attached stable. But time takes things away.”

That was the first utterly true thing he’d said. Six weeks ago, I’d been a daughter. Now, I was a parent to my fourteen-year-old siblings, Maddy and Aiden. Now, I was an orphan.

Six weeks ago, I’d been a footloose archaeologist. Now, I was trying not to let my grief sink me, starting a job as a community college teacher in Missouri, and taking on a mortgage.

The twins needed stability. I wished I could have kept them in their Chicago home, but our parents had double-mortgaged and I couldn’t afford the payments.

“There’s even a garden,” the Realtor said. “You like to dig, right?”

You like to dig. That was one terrible way to sum up my now-dead career as a field archaeologist. It wasn’t worth correcting him. Controlling my grief had ground me down to the essentials. I had to be strong for the kids. I had to make it work.

The second floor echoed the first: a regular bedroom on one side, a windowless bedroom on the other, stairs and bath at the end of the hall. “Isn’t there a law about windows in bedrooms?”

“Grandfathered in,” the Realtor told me.

It was good enough. A week later, we moved in.

• • • •

“Holly,” Maddy yelled from the floor above, “I’m claiming this room!”

It was the first thing she’d said to me since I’d told them about the new house. A miscalculation on my part. I’d accepted the necessity of moving; I’d expected them to have done the same. But Maddy had shrieked, thrown her purse at me, and stormed into her room, where she posted her displeasure on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, tagging me so I’d know I was ruining her life. Even Aiden had complained, just once, but bitterly—you’re getting rid of Mom and Dad’s house?

I’d been furious and hurt. Didn’t they understand what I’d given up? Didn’t they think I missed our parents, too?

Didn’t they know I was doing my best?

So now, with Maddy laying noisy claim to a room, I took it as a good sign. Maybe she’d forgiven me.

Aiden stood beside me, contemplating his sneakers. When I nudged him, asked, “Don’t you want to pick a room?” he looked at me blankly. His new normal. He used to be an expressive kid. There were pictures boxed somewhere in storage to prove it.

Another shout from above. “Holly, I can’t get a signal! I need the internet!”

“I’m working on it,” I shouted back. The local cable company had made soothing noises about super-fast cable, made less soothing noises about how soon it could be connected. “Can you wait a week?”

A wordless shriek was my answer.

Aiden didn’t weigh in one way or another. Then again, his laptop had broken and he wouldn’t let me get him another. Not even a tablet.

Aiden had been in the car when the truck plowed through the intersection. Dad had died behind the wheel, and Mom . . . Aiden had been playing with his laptop when the truck hit. His laptop had torn through the car like a missile, breaking Mom’s neck.

“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s go pick a room.” He pulled away when I touched his shoulder.

Maddy had picked the second-floor bedroom with the wide window, alongside the larger of the two bathrooms. It was a nice day and sunlight radiated brightly enough to penetrate through the hall and into the dark bedroom. I put my head in. Not as grim as I remembered. Still, I wanted Aiden to have real light if possible. I urged him upstairs.

Maddy said, “Why can’t he be down here with me?”

“Don’t you want your own bathroom?”

“I’ll have to share with you,” Maddy said. Her grimace made it clear what she thought of that.

I shook my head. I wanted to be on the same floor as Aiden. He needed looking after. “You can have it all to your lonesome.”

That didn’t make her happy either. She scowled and trudged up the stairs after Aiden. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong now, and gave up trying to figure it out.

Aiden ignored both third floor rooms, and peered up the narrow stairs. “There’s an attic? I always wanted to live in an attic,” he murmured, as if he’d nearly forgotten that desire. As if he’d nearly forgotten how to want things.

We went on up. The attic was spacious, shadowy beneath the slanted eaves, but dry and clean. The floorboards had been painted white, and unlike the lower floors, the west side of the attic had a window. In keeping with the blind walls below, the window had been painted black.

A small window on the north wall spilled light across the floor, raising dust motes. Aiden wandered the room, testing how far he could go before the slanting roof made it impossible to walk upright.

“Can I have this room?”

“There’s no bathroom up here. No outlets; it’ll be dark,” I pointed out. But this was the first thing Aiden had asked for since the accident. I wanted to give it to him. I had kept all my gear, had battery operated lanterns from my digs. We could make it work.

“I think it’s painted on the outside,” Maddy said. She picked at the glass with her thumbnail, but the black wasn’t coming off.

It was an odd window. The north window was the usual type of attic window, a wood-paned hexagon that didn’t open. The black window looked like a regular window, two large panes, one above the other.

Maddy shoved at the sill, grunting with frustration, and my heart skipped. “Don’t!” I imagined her falling through, another abrupt tragedy. My hands shook.

She huffed. “Jeez, calm down.”

Aiden ran his fingers along the join of frame and glass. “Maybe they caulked it shut.”

“You’ll roast during the summer,” Maddy predicted. “The whole attic’s gonna stink like sweaty boy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’ll be two floors away!” Maddy said, an edge in her voice. Her inevitable anger.

Aiden said, “You can text me.”

“You’re a dick,” she said.

“Hey,” I intervened. Maddy stomped downstairs, and I tried to remember that she was grieving, not just a pain in the ass.

I found a smile for Aiden. “You sure you want the attic?”

He nodded, studying the window.

“Maybe I can get the paint off.”

The air was cooler in the deep slant of the wall, and the black glass was blacker, the color deeper, dense. I ran my fingers over the glass, testing. It was cold even on the warm day. The glass didn’t have any of the streaks or bubbles I expected from paint. Stained glass, maybe.

I unclipped the penlight from my belt loop. The light bounced back, didn’t seem to penetrate.

I breathed against the glass, laid my palm against it. The window . . . twitched.

I jerked back, falling over my feet, dropping the light. It hit the floor, bounced, and disappeared into a gap between the wall and eaves.

“You okay?” Aiden said. Not quite concern, not quite disinterest. At least he’d noticed.

“Bird must have hit the house,” I said. “Startled me.”

• • • •

I took a bedroom on the third floor, the better to keep an eye on Aiden. I chose the dark one in case Aiden changed his mind about the attic. I never knew what the teens were thinking, and half the time I figured they didn’t either—changing their minds as the wind blew.

It was nearly three am, after a brutally tough series of days—packing, moving out, the drive, moving in—and I couldn’t sleep because Aiden was doing . . . something . . . in the attic. Scrabbling and scratching and thumping.

I struggled up the stairs, leaden with exhaustion. “Aiden?”

He crashed about and swore, a flurry of noise, but no boy. I finally located him, a dark shadow beneath the dark eaves, glimmering light edging his face.

“My penlight . . .”

“I can’t reach it,” he said. “And I can’t sleep with it shining.” He sounded as tired as I felt, near tears.

The penlight had caught somewhere beneath the black window—even more eerie at night, velvety matte and as deep as a starless night. I tore my eyes away and tested the gap between the wall. Two inches. Wide enough to swallow the penlight, too narrow to get a hand down there.

I sat back, tried to think. My penlight had a carabiner at the end of it, making it easy to hook to things. “Get me a wire hanger.” Aiden did, and I pressed my shoulder against the window, trying to get the angle right. Metal grated, wire catching. I pulled.

In my ear, the window sobbed. Something like a dying foghorn over distant waters. I nearly lost my grip. Just the wind, sighing through the eaves outside. Nothing more.

I yanked the hanger up; caught on the end was a small book with a metal clasp.

“What’s that?” Aiden asked, peering over my shoulder.

“Old,” I said, my fingers sandy with dust. “Guess we’re not the first one to lose stuff here.” I passed him the journal and went back for the flashlight.

Once I had it snagged, I switched it off and left us in the dark.

“Can you sleep now?”

“I’ll try,” he said.

“You want me to stay until you do?”


Quick, heartfelt. Hurtful. A clear rejection.

“Sleep well,” I told him, and sought the hall below. The strange wind, that breathless sob of air, seemed to follow me. I shuddered. It took me far too long to realize it wasn’t the wind. I opened Maddy’s door, and her sobs hitched, broke. “Get out!”

Her face was blotched and swollen with tears. When I hesitated, she threw her pillow at me and said, “I hate you! Get out!”

I got.

Mom would have known what to say; she would have soothed Maddy’s tears. Dad would have jollied Maddy out of them, fed her ice cream and made her laugh so hard she nearly puked chocolate sauce. They’d done the same for me once upon a time.

I lay in my bed, in the darkness as absolute as a tomb, and refused to cry. Above me, the window keened.

• • • •

The next night, Maddy got over her huff enough to boot me out of the kitchen when she declared my pizza making skills “pathetic.” I climbed the stairs into Aiden’s attic. He jerked away from the window and I felt that familiar swoop of anxiety.

The window was still sealed. No four-story drop for him.

I wondered if I’d ever get free of that sick sense of terror, that at any moment I was going to lose Aiden or Maddy.

“Hey,” I said. “Pizza in ten or twenty or whenever Maddy gets bored of playing chef.”

Aiden pointed at the black window, greased with his earprint, and said, “Do you hear that?”

He gestured me over to the window. Reluctantly, I put my ear to the glass—so strangely cold on a warm night—and I heard the whistle and suck of a vast wind, stronger and louder than it had been last night. Not just a wind, but a gale. I retreated, went to the other window, and peered out. Late spring evening, the sun still high, and the trees . . . motionless.

“It’s not windy outside.”

“Not here,” Aiden said. “The window goes someplace else.”

“That’s not possible.”

I put my hand back on the black glass, leaned closer, rested my forehead against it, trying to look through. The window shivered; vibrations moved through my skull. I pictured black storm clouds in a black sky, a whole range of inky colors, rising and falling. It wasn’t wind, I thought. It was like whale song, the cries of some enormous beasts some enormous distance away.

I shivered. I’d had this same cold feeling once on a dig in the Yucatan, right before I saw a jaguar stalking our camp. The hind-brain recognized threats before the conscious mind could.

“I think you should move downstairs,” I said slowly.

“What? No.”

“Please.” I looked at the attic room, at Aiden. He seemed small and lost in this space, dwarfed beside the window. We’d rigged lights but all they did was cast shadows. Aiden crossed his arms over his narrow chest.

“No. I like this room. I like the window.”

“I don’t think it’s safe.”

“Driving down the street’s not safe,” Aiden said. He sounded tired and bitter.

Maddy poked her head into the room. “I’ve been calling and calling . . . what’s going on?” Suspicion crawled across her features, shifting quickly to anger. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” I said, just as Aiden said, “The window.”

Maddy glared at me and stomped over beside her brother. “What about it?”

“It’s weird,” he said.

“Weird how?” she snapped.

“I think it goes someplace else,” Aiden told her.

Maddy wrinkled her nose. “Like where?”

“It’s got to be a trick of architecture,” I said, trying for rationality. “No wind outside, but maybe beneath the eaves?”

Aiden didn’t even look at me. “Just someplace else.”

“What’s that?” Maddy asked. She pounced on Aiden’s bed, dragged a book out of the tangle of sheets. I recognized it when she brought it up, and forgot about the window for a moment.

“Oh, the book?” I held out my hand, but Aiden snatched it from Maddy.

“It’s about the house,” he said. “About that window.”

The window loured behind us, black and cold. I thought about that bluster of wind, about the sounds that traveled thinly through the glass. “The book’s about the window?”

“I just started reading,” Aiden said.

I licked my lips. I itched to have the journal in my own hands, but Aiden cradled it close. Maddy shifted to stand at his shoulder. A united force.

“You tell me what you find out,” I said. “And don’t mess with the window.”

• • • •

Aiden delved into the journal with all the fervor of a born-again into the Bible. At first, I was glad to see it—I wanted to know about the window just as much as he did. Was it paint or some special glass that made it so dark? What made the winds—an accident of architecture, or design? I imagined the three of us talking about it, bonding. But though Aiden spent all his time with the journal, he shared nothing with me. When I asked him direct questions, his answers were unsatisfying, and full of covert glances at Maddy. He was talking to her, but not me.

After six meals spent in attempted interrogation, while Aiden ignored me and Maddy rolled her eyes and bitched about the food, I gave up. At least, I gave up asking Aiden. All he’d coughed up was that the window had been in the stables and was moved to the main house after the stable came down.

I decided I’d have to read the journal myself. Easier said than done. Aiden guarded the book zealously. I was determined. I couldn’t let it go. Now that I’d heard the winds behind the black window, I couldn’t stop hearing them.

At night, in my room, the sound crept through my walls, moaning like the spirits of the forsaken. When I wasn’t listening to the window, I was listening to Aiden cry out in his sleep, to Maddy sobbing in the dark.

I was equipped to solve old mysteries. To be a parent? I was ill-equipped, digging without a plan.

When Aiden was out of the attic, I was in it, poking at the window. The glass stayed cold, but when I breathed on it, the glass refused to let my breath touch it. The sounds outside were louder, it seemed, or maybe I was just . . .

The window scared me.

The black window felt like a threat, a looming storm over our heads.

The next time Aiden headed for a shower, I braved the black window’s judgmental eye and tossed his room ruthlessly. I found the journal with my fingertips first—the cracked leather binding, the thick paper, crumbling at the edges—and pulled it out from his pillowcase. I locked myself into my bedroom, journal in hand.

Aiden shouted through the door, but I ignored him. Did him good to get upset about something other than our parents for once. Besides, he’d lied to me when he said he hadn’t read far into the journal. Aiden had bookmarked dozens of pages—the journal bristled with curling scraps of paper. He’d read it through more than once.

Maddy joined Aiden, drawn up the stairs by his unexpected fury, and she added her protests to his. “It’s not funny, Holly!” she shouted. “Give it back. It’s not for you!”

“When I’m done!”

As I read, my outrage at Aiden’s lies turned to a brittle anxiety. Aiden had bookmarked it like a textbook, studied it. And the material was . . . disturbing. Each scrap of paper marked another horrifying entry about the window.

The window had been in the stable. But no one knew who had put it in. The stable hand said it just appeared one night. It had been a mystery, but a benign one.

Until the stable hand disappeared.

The horses shrieked and Annabel fled the supper table, gathering the boys as she went. I followed, quick as my bad leg would allow. I feared fire, but what we found was something peculiar. The horses frothed with terror, and Annabel and the boys hastened to get them to the paddock. I lingered, and when I saw . . . when I understood, I fell back against the doors, numb and bewildered.

Our stables are small, as befit our small family. Eight stalls, eight horses. Yet, the eighth stall had vanished as if it had never been.

Four stalls along one side; three along the other, a smooth expanse of sanded wood where there should be another space, and Edward and Pretty, the spotted mare, vanished along with that eighth stall.

My breath failed as I saw the unaccountable window had not disappeared with Pretty, but moved, closer to the house, settled into the first stall.

I read on; apparently the horses never recovered their nerves and Annabel had the stables torn down, the land given over to a much needed vegetable patch. I checked the date—1942—the midst of World War II, and the homeowner’s bad leg probably a result of World War I.

The pounding on my door stopped.

I flipped to the next bookmark, though my fingers were numb from clutching the book so tightly. The paper fluttered free and I lost the spot.

I browsed roughly, the pages tearing beneath my fingers, scanning the tiny text. The page that I stopped on was a faded sketch of a house plan. I recognized the tower at the end—where we lived now—but most of the page was taken up by the main house. The western wall of the house was marked with a black X. The note alongside it was laconic, a simple—the window is returned here.

I flipped the page, read more crabbed text.

The boys are fascinated by the black window, though Annabel tries to keep them from it, mindful of Edward’s incomprehensible fate. We have sealed off the parlor, much to the relief of the daily girl whose job it was to clean beneath that window’s gaze.

Though we have barred the door, the boys prove most enterprising at finding the key. How many mornings must I drag them out of there? They wait to see how daylight fails to seep through the darkness, and wonder at the shadows untouched by the sun’s rays. Annabel is distressed, nearly to hysterics. She has locked the room once more, and thrown the key away. Perhaps that will be the end of it, and we will, like one of Poe’s tales, have this room bricked in.

The next page dropped a photograph into my lap, showed me the family. Mother, father, two boys about Aiden’s age.

They looked nice, I thought and cringed. There was disaster looming on every page of the journal—the main house gone, the black window moved to the attic.

I opened to the next marked page, close to the end. The handwriting, tidy through all previous pages, was pen scratchings and damaged paper here.

The boys went through the window. I woke this morning certain that something was wrong. Houses become a part of you. Our breath lingers in the halls, our hearts beat in the empty spaces, our nerves search out the measure of our walls like they are our skins. I knew, even as I woke, that the house had changed. It was too empty, too small, too . . . terrible. A silence had crept inside where there should have been boyish voices.

The dining room was vanished. Only a smooth expanse of faded wallpaper remained. The boys . . . I knew they were gone. That they had managed to coax the window open. Annabel came upon me there and screamed. She tore through the house haranguing the servants to “look for the window! The black window!” By the cook’s shrieks, we found it, a black gloss in the pantry, shelves missing where the window had come to rest.

Annabel is determined to retrieve them, and may the good Lord forgive me, but I can not encourage her. The boys are lost to us; I know that. Nothing lives behind that false glass. I have heard the eerie cries, seen the darkness massed behind the window. It is the land of the dead waiting there, and nothing living can abide in it. But she will not be swayed.

I will use the servants’ exodus as cover for our own. I will plunder the house of our possessions; I will send Annabel to the church to pray and prepare for her rescue attempt. While she is out, I will fire the house and see if fire will do what tearing down could not.

The next pages proved that he had followed through, that he had burned down their home, and that Annabel had not forgiven him. She left him in the ashy rubble and returned to her family.

He moved into the ramshackle tower—the only remnant of his home.

I had cause to store all my goods in the attics while the rebuilding occurred—a rebuilding I had no desire for, but the community pitied me and in a paroxysm of civic duty subjected me to a welter of dust and noise, the chatter of strangers who commiserated with me over the loss of my family, and would not see that I had become that most useless of citizens: An old man who wants to be left alone. An old man with a secret.

The black window, you see, returns; it always returns. I have barricaded it behind furniture and hope that left alone, it will sleep. That it will remain unopened.

I closed the journal. I didn’t want to read more; I didn’t need to. So much of Aiden’s obsessiveness made terrible sense. The land of the dead? Aiden was still young enough to believe what was written. And Maddy—she hated me, sided with Aiden no matter what.

Panic broke through me, a lazy roll deep in my guts.

The house was silent. Aiden had stopped yelling at me. Maddy had stopped trying the door handle. When?

Aiden hadn’t wanted me to read the journal. Why?

Because I would stop him.

Would stop them.

But now they knew I knew.

I was on my feet, fumbling with the door latch, the slippery key, the old knob fighting me. I clung to hope. Aiden might be grief-stricken, guilt-mad, despairing, but Maddy . . . she was so angry. She wouldn’t let him go; she’d already lost so much, our parents, her friends, her school, her home . . .

I had climbed rock-strewn hills alongside goats, navigated tight underground caverns with ease, but I made a series of pratfalls as I raced out of the room, toward the attic. Toward the faint sounds that told me I wasn’t too late, wasn’t too late—

Glass cracked like a gunshot. Like a broken window.

• • • •

When I burst into the attic, Aiden was just dropping my wood ax to the floor. Beside him, Maddy held a lumpy woven coil that I recognized—the rope ladder from my field gear.

A silvery crack raced across the pristine blackness of the window, like a zipper pulling apart.

The space beyond moaned, hungry.

“Don’t,” I whispered, breathless. “Please, don’t.”

The window tore. Darkness spilled into the attic, icy and thick as fog banks. Maddy spun and hurled the rope ladder into the darkness. Aiden slipped over the side, vanishing like he’d been swallowed whole.

“We just want Mom,” Maddy said, her voice as broken as the glass. “We want Dad. It’s okay, Holly. You tried.” She slung a leg over the sill.

I forded the room, blackness spreading like ink over my legs, sneakers, ankles, jeans, coiling hungrily around my hips. I caught Maddy’s arm, but she slid from my grasp, sucked out into the eclipsing darkness. My nails left rake marks on her flesh, and her blood spotted the floor between us.

Then they were both gone.

• • • •

I went after them though my legs shook and tears slicked my face. I crossed the sill, and slung myself down the first rungs.

Maddy and Aiden were so young. They believed blindly. If some delusional writer said it, it must be true. It could be built on. The land of the dead? A fact; therefore, our parents would be waiting for them.

The ladder’s rope steps curved and swayed beneath me as I climbed down into . . .

I wanted to think ‘void’ but void suggested emptiness and this place was anything but empty. It was black and cold and so full of dark, broken things that the air vibrated with their passings and collisions. So crowded that I felt my lungs constrict. My bird’s eye view was dark, dark, dark, but there were shapes moving around me, above me, below. And threaded beneath all of that movement, other dark lines. Buildings? Roads? Nothing I understood.

Something bellowed in the darkness, a foghorn burst of loss and hunger, a cry that weakened my bones.

Maddy’s pale hair was an unmoving beacon. My hands and feet were slow to move me down one rung to the next. Maddy clung, shaking, to the ladder. When I reached her, she launched herself at me, holding hard enough to bruise.

“Go up!” I told her. Tried to tell her. The words were torn from my lips and shredded. Nothing human was welcome here. I shoved Maddy upward.

We both looked up, and there was nothing to see, no sign of the window to our world. Her face contorted, terror and fury and betrayal—this wasn’t what she’d wanted.

I had to believe we could escape; I shoved harder. “Go!”

Her lips moved, Aiden, and I nodded.

She climbed slowly, so terribly slowly, and I felt all of that black within the black swooping around us, noticing us . . .

I forced myself downward. Aiden had been just a moment before us on the ladder. He couldn’t be too far . . . Unless he’d fallen.

My throat and eyes burned.

This place felt like it was eating away at my bones from the inside. Some sizzle in the air made my lungs ache. I leaned into the ladder, coughing. I rubbed my face on my wrist and left it smudged black.

I went down.

Hand under hand, foot below foot, I went, swaying through the caustic air, buffeted by cold, fume-laden winds.

I nearly stepped on Aiden’s head, his pale hair coated with black streaks. He clung to the end of the ladder, a flutter of cauterized nylon dangling below us, into an abyss.

He stared down, hypnotized, one foot free. Ready to step off.

Wanting to believe.

His wrist felt like it was in rigor, ice cold and stiff. I recoiled, then seized hold again. He turned his head, slowly registering my presence. His eyes were black holes in a black-smeared face. His lips moved. I thought I saw the word why, the word find.

Below, the darkness shifted, revealing a landscape so inhospitable, the last of my breath went.

Aiden leaned forward, the ladder swaying, shifting with his weight, leaning over the darkness like a lure above black waters. I had one hand locked on his wrist, the other on the ladder. I tried to pull us up even one rung, but he resisted.

It was the final shock, piled on all the others. I couldn’t save him. No matter how desperately I wanted to. I couldn’t drag him up the ladder if he wouldn’t go.

I rested my face against his cold cheek and sobbed, the cries scoured out of my throat. “Please, please, please. They aren’t here. They’re gone. All we’ve got is each other.”

He couldn’t hear me. But he could feel my tears on his skin.

A cold touch on my hair, not a creature passing too closely by, not a gust of that foul, cold wind, but Aiden’s tentative fingers. An awkward pat. Offering comfort.

Aiden’s eyes glittered with tears, damp black streaks on his skin. The first connection I’d made with him since the funeral, and it was over the grief I’d been refusing to let him see.

I had been an idiot.

I pulled at the rung above, staring at his tear-stained face, and after a long, painful moment, Aiden did likewise.

We scaled the ladder, the fabric of it thinning, wearing beneath the constant winds.

We climbed and we climbed, stiff, cold marionettes. We climbed, sobbing and scared. We climbed. Just when I decided the window had vanished and left us stranded, clinging to the ladder, Maddy reached out her hand.

I pushed Aiden through the window, followed after. The attic was creaking and dead around us, the boards gone silver and cracking beneath the dark fogs.

“Hurry, hurry!” Maddy croaked.

We staggered from the attic, down the stairs, and out into the afternoon light. The kids looked like hell, skin grayish, lips and eyes stained black. Twin streaks of blackish blood ran from their noses, their lips. I didn’t feel much better. My nail beds were black and my breathing bubbled.

We huddled against each other, watching the house, watching the attic disappear.

• • • •

We ended up in the hospital for three nights, coughing up blood and bile and something that tasted like machine oil. The doctors were horrified as well as bewildered, though they assured us we were recovering.

Maddy and Aiden refused to leave my side so they found us a room to share. Aiden whispered on our second night, “Do you think Mom and Dad were there?”

“No,” I said.

“But it was dead there. It was the land of the dead,” Maddy said. She sounded like a two-pack-a-day smoker. “The book said so.”

“The book was wrong,” I managed. “I’ve seen humanity in every stage of ruin. There was nothing human over there.” I took a needed breath. “If it was the land of the dead, it wasn’t our dead.” I had been dreaming of what I’d seen, waking shuddering and anxious.

Maddy shivered, fell silent. She should have been the healthiest of the three of us, but the long minutes alone in the attic had done their own sort of damage.

We’d all come out with damage, but I reminded myself of the key part. We’d all come out.

• • • •

Three months later, Maddy and Aiden came home from a field trip and said they’d driven past our old house. They said it was being sold as a one story cottage, and that the front window was black.


Nightmare Magazine is edited by bestselling anthology editor John Joseph Adams (Wastelands, The Living Dead). This story first appeared in Nightmare’s July 2014 issue, which also features original fiction by Mari Ness (“Death and Death Again”), reprints by Denis Etchison (“Talking in the Dark”) and Tom Piccirilli (“The Misfit Child Grows Fat on Despair”), the latest installment of the horror column “The H Word,” plus author spotlights, a showcase on the cover artist, and a feature interview with Del Howison of the legendary Dark Delicacies bookstore in Los Angeles. You can wait for the rest of this month's contents to be serialized online, or you can buy the whole issue right now in convenient eBook format for just $2.99. It's a great issue so be sure to check it out. And while you're at it, tell a friend about Nightmare!

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Categories: Horror News

Bigfoot DNA Samples Prove People Will Believe Anything

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 10:21

Back in October we reported on a group who claim to have found proof of the existence of Bigfoot, which became a household name in 1967 with the Patterson–Gimlin film (footage I’ve personally heard was faked by an unconfirmed horror legend).

Bigfoot is so famous that he’s been spoofed all over in Hollywood, while also inspiring in a wide variety of films from Harry and the Hendersons to the upcoming Exists. But what if he isn’t real, and mankind would believe just about anything (no way, right?).

Science Magazine took historical evidence and embarrassed believers across the globe by reporting that these humanoid creatures are nothing more than bears, horses, and dogs.

In North America, they’re called Bigfoot or Sasquatch. In the Himalayan foothills, they’re known as yeti or abominable snowmen. And Russians call them Almasty. But in the scientific laboratory, these elusive, hairy, humanoid creatures are nothing more than bears, horses, and dogs. That’s the conclusion of a new study—the first peer-reviewed, genetic survey of biological samples claimed to be from the shadowy beasts.

“There are very few reputable scientists who have ever been willing to go publicly on record as far as Bigfoot and yeti,” says anthropologist Todd Disotell of New York University in New York City, who was not involved in the new work but has performed unpublished analyses of anomalous primate samples in the past. “This study did it right, reducing contamination and following all the standard protocols.”

Supposed evidence for Bigfoot and its ilk comes from observers who spot apelike creatures darting through the woods or who find giant footprints in the mud. Bigfoot believers have various ideas about what the animals are, often revolving around the survival of a prehistoric humanoid. Yet many sightings have later turned out to be hoaxes, and scientific support for the existence of the primates is scant.

Click the above link for the entire article and tell me, do you still believe?

Categories: Horror News

[TV] “Nathan For You” Helps Haunted Realtor With An Exorcism!

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 10:08

I’m going to jump at any reason to write about Comedy Central’s “Nathan For You”, easily the funniest show on television.

For those of you unacquainted, the gimmick is that comedian Nathan Fielder uses his “business degree” to help local mom and pop shops with their promotions. If you’ve never seen the show, I highly recommend hunting down last season’s episode in which he helps a gas station offer a rebate.

Anyhow, last night was the Season 2 premiere, which saw Nathan helping a Los Angeles-based realtor by turning her into the first ever Haunted Realtor, in which she sells houses “guaranteed free of spirits and demons.” Shit gets crazy when he he hires an exorcist to rid a house of an incubus, which rapes women to death. Six minutes of the segment is available online below. You’re about to get hooked.

In a house Nathan hopes to advertise as ghost-free, a psychic discovers an evil presence.

Categories: Horror News

White Sea Release Mysterious, Creepy Video For “Prague”

bloody disgusting - Wed, 07/02/2014 - 10:00

I’m not sure if this video falls under the “horror” category or not but I spent enough time thinking about it that I wanted to get your opinion. It has a serious David Lynch dream-like vibe, with slow, sensual shots mixed with strange visuals. So, below is “Prague”, the newest video from White Sea (Morgan Kibby of French electronic group M83).

The track comes White Sea’s debut album In Cold Blood, which you can snag on iTunes.

Categories: Horror News