Hello, and welcome to the second issue of Killing Time - Horror E-Rag™. Did anyone actually wonder if there would indeed be a second issue? I'd like to say shame on you if you did but a magazine, even a rag, is a lot of work. Many people can't hack it, especially in addition to thier regular jobs.

What is true in real estate is just as much if not more important in the creation of horror films, and horror stories in general. The setting of a story, the location in which all of the action takes place, can make or break your story. It's all about location location location.

A Nightmare on Elm Street is probably the most famous horror film franchise in the world. It's main character, the villainous Freddy Krueger, is an icon everywhere. In Europe he is a figure of gargantuan status capable of standing toe to toe with the likes of David Hasselhoff and Kevin Sorbo. He's that big. And here in North America, his homeland, he is a household name.

Warning: May be unsuitable for some readers. This story contains graphic sexual scenes and coarse language. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Jeannie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her nose almost touching the cool glass. With the lights off her eyes glittered, almost evilly. She stared deep into them losing herself for lengthy moments. Soon her eyes became accustomed to the near darkness. She looked one final time into her eyes. She shivered at what she saw in them. Something lurking deep within her.

Shree'talo-kilio stood upon the dais with his back to the assemblage. Hands held close to his sides he began to draw in omadii from the air, in through the opening in the roof, and up from inside himself. It swirled around him, through him. It caressed his skin, his mind, his soul. He began his gramarye, slowly, softly. The words were soft and lilting. They merged with the tune hummed in the back of his throat. Behind him, the people swayed to the rhythm and one by one their voices raised to join his. They did not know the words. They did not need to. The cadence, the tempo, the spirit of the song was all that they needed to cultivate.

Strangeland is about a man who follows the path of Neo-Primitivism and wants to share his knowledge and foresight with less fortunate people. The Neo-Primitive movement involves tribal scarring, tattooing, and body piercing. Using the internet the villain draws in young people to his world and inducts them into the movement against their will.

Bag of Bones is a new paperback book from Stephen King (1999). It is to some degree a haunted house story, but as with King's other masterpieces nothing is straightforward. It is written in the first person, and follows the same sort of writing style that has come out in his newer books such as "Insomnia" or "Rose Madder".

He screams and it barely comes out of his mouth. It's thick. His vocal chords are still asleep and his lungs and tongue are attempting to fill the gap. She is right over top of him on the ceiling. Quickly her tongue darts out of her mouth. It's long and forked at the end. She does it again and again.

I write in the dark both literally and figuratively. I live in the dark much the same. Each is part by choice and each is part by circumstance. We all live in a world of darkness. Some of us chose to ink it upon paper and to display it in the minds of others. We dwell upon it as a matter of business, and of pleasure. We love to hand out invitations to all of our friends, and to all of our inner demons. To tell them, friend and demon, that the dark is best shared.

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