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Just plain horror... Greylight Library - By Killer Klown This is my first posting in a long time, fans. I am sad to see that so few of you are on here with posts and talking about what is out there to stir the blood and curdle the skin. This board gives me a lot of ideas and a lot of new ways to tell a story. I guess that you could say that i am upset a lot at the movie industry and their blatant lack of fresh ideas for horror. It seems like if you want to go mainstream - remake a classic. If you are original and want to go mainstream - you end up direct-to-video. One of the things that really upset me was the news that there is going to be a remake of Stephen King's "Carrie", a movie that has stood on its own, and not exactly one of my favorites. Dont get me wrong, folks, Carrie is a classic, and is among the greats of the genre, but i am sporting me own opinion. :) I feel that there are many books from many authors that could use a screenplay. I wont go into them at this time, but im sure that many of you could come up with several. The one off the top of my head that needs a movie is Richard Laymon. I stay up many a night deep into the midnight hours and think to myself what a great thing it would be to see a movie made on one of Richard's classics like "In The Dark" which i honestly think would give "Saw" a run for the money, in terms of gaminess. But that will be for another day. I am at work at the moment and there is a lot in the way of real-life horror here to fill a book. When i was a kid, i used to get chills all over me when i was taken past the Danvers State Hospital, and my parents would tell me all about the type of people that were in there. Now, as a member of the mental health field, it is interesting to see what goes on for real on a daily basis. It really stinks to be sick with a mental illness in this world. I am going to be on the move again for a little bit, but i will be back to this board in a few weeks. Perhaps then i can share a little something that i wrote a few years ago with you. I hope you all are well and i will talk with you soon. -Killer Klown This entry was edited on August 27, 2012, 10:00 pm. Filed under: Literature, Movies 08/27/2012, 9:38 pm | Rating: 0/0 | Permalink | 0 Comments   Savannah Shadows now available on Amazon Savannah Ghost Tour - By Blueorb Savannah Shadows is now available in Hardcover from Blue Orb Tours (Destination Guides Best Savannah Ghost tour). Watch the trailer for more information or visit Tobias McGriff personal page at IMDB. Filed under: Literature, Television 06/10/2012, 7:38 am | Rating: 5/1 | Permalink | 0 Comments   Savannah Shadows now available on Amazon Savannah Ghost Tour - By Blueorb Tobias is the author of Savannah Shadows: Tales from the Midnight Zombie Tour . Tobias will appear on Syfy's new series Paranormal Highway (now called Haunted Highway) from BASE productions in August 2012 on The Skin Stealer/Hag episode. Filed under: Literature, Television 06/10/2012, 7:31 am | Rating: 0/0 | Permalink | 0 Comments   The Poe Toaster Nevermore? 10-31-365: Halloween/Horror Lifestyle - By Tom G For sixty years, the mysterious black-clad figure known as the Poe Toaster would make an appearance at the Old Westminster Burial Ground on the anniversary of author/poet Edgar Allan Poe's birthday. The unknown individual (who is assumed to be male) pays a yearly tribute to Poe by laying three red roses and half-empty bottle of Martell Cognac upon the author's gravestone. The gift is occasionally accompanied by a note from the mysterious mourner. Last year, for the two-hundredth birthday of Edgar Allan Poe, the Toaster failed to leave a note. This year, on January 19, 2010, the Poe Toaster failed to show up at all. A crowd of around fifty people stood vigil throughout the night (a larger crowd than had been present for the year prior), keeping an eye out for the Poe Toaster and occasionally singing Happy Birthday to Edgar Allan Poe. They were disappointed when the Toaster did not arrive with his annual tribute. It has led to speculation on what may have happened. Some have wondered whether the Poe Toaster may have died or was in ill health. A week earlier, David Fanks, a local poet and performance artist known for his pranks passed away, leading some to speculate that the Poe Toaster had been him. Others have speculated that the tradition may have just ended at the sixty year mark, on the two-hundredth birthday of Poe. ESPN reporter Cam Martin even suggested that the Poe Toaster may have failed to show because he was upset about the Indianapolis Colts beating the Baltimore Ravens in a football game on the Saturday prior to Poe's birthday. Whatever the reason for the Poe Toaster's absence this year, Jeff Jerome, curator for the Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum (see Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum), has said that he will continue to watch for the Poe Toaster until 2012. If the Toaster fails to return by January 19, 2012, Jerome will give up the vigil he has kept since the 1970s. Pay a visit to the Old Westminter Burial Ground to learn more. -Tom G Filed under: General, Literature, Dark Destinations 01/24/2010, 5:59 pm | Rating: 0/0 | Permalink | 0 Comments   "The Devil's Hour" Greylight Library - By Killer Klown No one was really sure just how long it had been there anyways. No one knew if it had been there for 100 years or even 200, but the fact was that the West Hills Cemetery was there for a long time. West Hills had gravestones that dated back to 1801, some even further. It wasnt the history that intrigued me about the 112-acre spread of hallowed ground, but it was the mystery and the magic. It was a place that a lot of us in the town went to when we needed to get to school a lot quicker, or if Halloween came, and we needed a place to hang out. West Hills did a lot for us. It gave us a place of quiet in the busy town of Shanton, and it also gave the locals something to talk about. Like the case of Bill Benson. Bill Benson was a local worker in the town mill and had himself a wife, and two beautiful little girls. Bill was born in 1937, just outside of a town called Daughtry, to Big Bill and Iris Benson, local townspeople and members of the town committee. Bill Benson had a tough upbringing from his dad who, on most good days, could stay sober until 5pm. Bill got the job in the mill shortly after graduating high school. He had chased off a dream to go off to Franklin University to work with the rest of the family in the mill. Bill moved up in the world of textiles and got himself a promotion to the position of supervisor. It was around that time that he met Emma. Shortly after that first year together, a wedding sprang up, and 9 months later, Debbie Sue showed up. His first year of marriage to Emma went along smoothly with Debbie Sue making her parents lose sleep, and Bill getting her bottle in the middle of the night. As if the problems from fatherhood were not enough to deter him from the course of life, fate wrang the Benson house again, when Emma announced she was pregnant again. This time Katy Benson came along and graced the world with her presence. More importantly than the world, she graced me with her presence because little did she know that 19 years from that day she would be my love. One day when Debbie Sue was real little, probably about five or six years old, she left the house in the middle of the night when Emma and Bill were in the midst of a heated argument. Something had gone wrong at work and there was a possibility that Bill's company was going to shut down. She went out the back door and charged into the blackened woods. Bill and Emma began to call out for her, but she was already well into the woods. Bill grabbed his baseball hat and his industrial flashlight as he went out the back and into the dark woods. Debbie Sue ran as fast as she could, only the moonlight lighting her path. Bill was in pursuit screaming her name, but Debbie Sue never came. She reached the wrought-iron fence belonging to the West Hills Cemetery and squeezed through the fence. Bill chased into the woods deep still screaming Debbie Sue's name out into the cool night. The breeze whipped across Debbie Sue's face and glazing over the sweat that was running down her forehead sending an eerie chill run through her body. As she ran for the entrance gate to the rear half of the cemetery, she heard in the distance, the bells at St. Pious Church chiming away. After the third chime, she passed into the rear half of the cemetery, she disappeared into the cool night air. Bill chased and chased but came out empty. Despite his desperate cries for his daughter to return to her father, she never returned. The next day, Bill and the mass of the Shanton Police went through the woods behind the Benson's house. Thirty officers combed the woods looking for little Debbie Sue, but they came back with nothing. Why would she run out of the house at two in the morning into the darkness? Why would she hide all this time? No answer would have ever been good enough for Bill Benson. He began to repent as a man, thoughts in his head already blaring a message that he was the one responsible for this. As the day drew to a close, a young deputy screamed out loud for the search party to see what he found. As the many came running over, the Sheriff pushed through to see what it was. "You wont believe this, Sheriff." the Deputy said. The Sheriff looked down at what his Deputy found and could not believe his own eyes. A tombstone in the graveyard just outside of the entrance to the Historic section was there with the inscription "Debbie Sue Benson - 1961 to 1966" on it. "What in the hell?" The Sheriff stated. The Sheriff was beside himself and ordered all the men back and to let in Bill. Bill Benson was unable to believe that the marker in the cemetery was hers. Could it be another Debbie Sue? The Sheriff and the rest of the team went to the main house of the cemetery and asked to speak with the groundskeeper. The man came to the door and opened it. The Sheriff explained to him what the situation was and what it was that they found. "That's impossible. I saw that girl yesterday playing with her friends from the neighborhood." The man said. "Well, did you bury her, or make the stone?" The Sheriff asked. "Ask her father. Do you really think that there is anyway that i could have made the stone, dug the hole, and buried the girl, all in a matter of hours? I'm good Sheriff, but not that good. And if that still doesnt set your mind at ease, then you should take the next step." "Which is?" "Dig it up." Hours later, The Sheriff came back to West Hills with a search warrant and a backhoe. The search party stepped back as the machine scooped huge amounts of dirt up in its bucket and dumped it into a neat pile. Bill Benson and his wife looked on in horror at the scene that was in front of them. They were looked at a search party that was looking for their daughter, and standing at a gravesite for her that was only a few hours old. The both of them were saying prayers to God to make them wake up from this nightmare. Just then, the backhoe operator screamed that they got something. Personnel went into the hole with shovels and began digging as fast as they could. The faster they dug the more the outline of a casket was appearing. They dusted off around it and threw out the last remaining shovels of dirt. It was now time. The Deputy grabbed the side and flipped the casket open. Inside was the body of a young girl about 5 years old. She was dressed in a set of pink pajamas, the same ones that Debbie Sue wore last night. Her body looked as though she had been there for years. Bill Benson made no mistake about it; it was Debbie Sue. Bill stayed up for months after the funeral just staring out into the darkness of the woods on his back porch waiting for Debbie Sue to return home, like it was all some sort of bad dream. She never came, and somewhere in his logical mind, he knew she never was going to. Emma came out to check on Bill and he told her that he was ok, and that he would be up to bed in a moment. On this particular night, Bill felt more sad than usual, and had more alcohol in him than usual. He decided to go for a walk into the woods anyways, and clear his head. Maybe there was something that he missed? Some path that they didnt take, and there she would be?; standing there in her PJ's calling for him. No such thing happened. His mind a playground for the preposterous. Bill made it into the cemetery and began walking around. A mist was creeping only an inch or two off of the ground, giving the cemetery an eerie look to it. He walked and walked until he got to the section where his little girl now lies. Bill got down on his knees and cried to her. Tears flooded his eyes in a way that only a father will ever know. In the midst of his misery, the lonely bell of St. Pious Church rang. Three tolls of the bell rented the midnight air. Bill rose to his feet and decided that it was time to return home. He walked towards the back part of the cemetery through the gate and into the Historic Section... Weeks later, the search party had just about given up. Bill was nowhere to be found. They had checked everywhere in the State looking for him, and still found nothing. He did not show for work, he was not seen at the bowling alley, it was as if he just disappeared off of the face of the Earth. Later that week, there was a phone call made to the Sheriff's Department. It was Mr. Whitten from West Hills. "Sheriff, you and the boys better get up here. There is another "something" that you are going to want to see." "We'll be there in twenty minutes." The Sheriff and his men climbed the roads and hills to finally make it to West Hills. There, Mr. Whitten met them for the walk through the cemetery again. "I tell you that my landscapers found it this morning. He was mowing the grass and that's when he saw it. This is not supposed to be here." There next to Debbie Sue's tombstone was another new tombstone that read "William E. Benson (1937-1966)" This time, The Sheriff huffed up and said "You still have the backhoe, Whitten?" "Yes, sir, Sheriff." Whitten replied. "Screw the warrant, dig it up." Minutes later the groundskeeper drove the backhoe into the cemetery. As the men moved out of the way, he began his first scoops into the moist earth. An hour later, the crew was ready with shovels and anticipation. The Deputy was again unveiling the outline of a casket, when he reached down and grabbed the side. He flipped open the casket, and as he expected, The Sheriff was looking at the remains of Bill Benson. His arms crossed, his body decayed, his life gone. The Sheriff began to cry as did the rest of the team. Another loss for the town and father is with his daughter. Years later, it was still a topic of discussion around town that if you go into the cemetery, you dont come back. Many of the boys around town have tried it, and everyone of them returned safe and sound. Heck, even i tried it a few times myself, yet here i am. Katy and I grew very close, although she doesnt like to talk much about her sister or her dad. That semester at college we were studying Fiction and a lot of the methods that are used by the great horror writers of the time. We had been reviewing a story by Ray Bradbury entitled "Something Wicked This Way Comes" which revolves around a devilish carnival that rolls into a sleepy town like Shanton. During the review of the book, a line hit me. There was a scene in the book when Will was talking to his father late, and he tells him that it is time for bed and the clock chimes 3am. Will's dad states that it is "The Devil's Hour" and that most people usually die at that time. My ears perked up at the sound of it. After class was over, i stayed and talked to the professor about it. He gave me a lot of insight into it and stated that there was a lot of power at that time, and supposedly, that is when the door between this world and another is open for a little bit. When i returned home, i called Katy and talked with her about it. She thought that i was out of my mind. We had discussed the possibility of going out there and seeing whether or not it was really true. Friday night we met up and talked about it. She already knew that i made my mind up, she just wanted to talk some sense into me. "Isnt it ironic that both times, the person disappeared in the middle of the night, right around three? Maybe that is true, and maybe there is a place like the teacher says." I said. "Seth, that is crazy and something that i am not going to indulge you in. My father and sister were murdered, thats all i know. My mother has very little left and what if it is true? I go up there with you and end up dead.?" "Maybe that is not always that case, Katy. Maybe there is a way to save them." "You are totally crazy, but i love you, Seth. Alright, i will go along with this, but if its nothing, I dont ever want to talk about this again. Agreed?" "Agreed." We packed for the journey and got what we needed. It was a clear night and a little warm for September. Trying to get everything right to test the theory, we brought our watches and flashlights. After walking for what seemed like hours, we reached the cemetery. We walked around and looked at the many tombstones that were there. We made our way to the back of the cemetery near the historic section. Katy shined her flashlight on the graves of her dad and sister. She began to turn back. I went over and grabbed her to comfort and to encourage her to go on. This was our chance to see what happened to her family. I told her that we would only go to the pond in the back and then that was it. Katy was ok with that. She smiled. As we walked on, the bells from St. Pious began to toll. We stopped and looked around. Nothing. No lights, no monsters, no nothing. We continued on as the third bell tolled. I looked at my watch which read 3am "The Devil's Hour." Katy and I held hands as we continued on to the pond in the rear. We then passed through the gate into the Historic Section... Epilogue - The groundskeeper went out to the garage at the side of the house and started up the lawnmower. He put it in Drive and took off out of the garage. In and out he weaved around the tombstones. As the day wore on, he made his way to the back of the cemetery. With his ear protectors on he could not hear much over the sound of the mower. He then cut out of the last line and then put the mower into Park. He turned the engine off, and got off of the mower. He stared for what seemed like forever to him at the new sight in front of him: two new tombstones. "I dont remember those being there." he said to himself. He took the ear protectors off and then he heard the sound of people talking and of radio static mixed with intermittent voices. He turned back and saw that the names on the tombstones were Katy Benson and Seth Murray. The people coming might be interested in seeing these. These two went missing months ago. Filed under: Literature 08/30/2009, 8:15 pm | Rating: 0/0 | Permalink | 0 Comments

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