no. 866: note

Take inspiration from the prompt, write a terrifying tweet and tag your work with &

Thanks to for today's prompt!
📸

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Released Sept 27 - 50th Anniversary: TERROR AT RED WOLF INN (aka Terror House aka The Folks At Red Wolf Inn) [USA, 1972, Wisconsin premiere] Dir: Bud Townsend. Trailer: https://t.co/ZK9L7Gx1Fv

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Of beautiful evil,
And cruel intentions
Behind her unflinching gaze.
Of crimson lips
And body of fire,
She waits in the midnight forest.
Do you want to taste
Her gorgeous poison?
It will be the last thing you do.



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1

Come to me
At the edge of night

Where shadows
Become voyeurs

Witnessing our
Screams & howls

Aroma of blood piercing
Arouses heady intoxication

That first
Had me craving for your depravity

More
&
More

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With a whisper in your nightmare, the hounds begin the chase. In anthropomorphic witchery I ride with the Hunt. Skin shredding to bone, I take my beastly form. This night I will convoke the spoken secrets of your soul



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While out at Capital Comics II, I picked up the Cradle Of Filth cover A and B edition comic from !






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The house lies in a state of ruin, untouched by the community around it. The family that lived there were brutally murdered, and in the basement a grisly sight of blood and gore filled the room... Everyone says evil lives in that house, and evil does

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Allez, la solution! Il s'agit de , le tueur de" en vo, (la réponse était dans les # 🤭).
J'ai besoin de votre avis sur l'encrage final. Plutôt veste claire ↙️, ou sombre ↘️? 🤔
https://t.co/3kr4VHlvof

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Today’s Nightmare: Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers and Leatherface enter a bar. Freddy’s not allowed in because he’s not wearing a mask.

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Three astronomers have gone missing after attempting to view the center of the universe. They hypothesized that whatever created our universe would still be there, spreading in all directions… until everything is consumed so the cycle can start anew

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The tall, dolmen-clad figure with indistiguishable face was a prelevant fantastic motif in the paintings of XX-century surrealist, Claude Bouregresse.

What's odd, the entity also appeares in one of his seemingly-undoctored photographs.

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Joy woke up to sound of scratching. Her own fingernails bore deep into her chest, leaving deep trails of torn skin and gushing blood.

She didn't feel her hands move. She didn't feel any pain. All she felt was the itch. Scratching felt good.

She smiled.

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Monochromatic memories
Of devilish dress.
Bright red, Plunging
Cape billowed on a
Still, silent night.
"Just a little bite,"
She'd said.


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He rushed his horse, burning with desire, thinking about her tender lips, thirsty for his kiss.
She was waiting for him, under the willow by the pond, her eyes gleaming with moonlight. She desired him, too. She was thirsty. But her tender lips were gone.

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