I feel good about this year's stories. Not to slight anything from last season, in the beginning those were stories of mine that had collected for a while. As time progressed I wrote a couple new stories, then all of them were new. Year 1 was good. There were a lot of good plots. Like many creative people I can be critical of my own work. I knew I could do better in the writing department. While there is always room for improvement...

There is a decision to be made every time a horror creator starts in on a new story. That decision is about just how much detail to present in describing the more visual and graphic portions of the story. Such detail not only presents itself in the form of guts and gore, but also the level of description unnatural things such as monsters receive, and the amount of explanation a phenomena or device requires. The level of this sort of detail can drive the direction that the story takes, contrast the plot against the mood, and determine the intended audience.

In 1987 horror author Clive Barker turned his wildly popular novella "The Hellbound Heart" into a movie script. Donning the hat of director Barker created the movie Hellraiser. Hellraiser revolved around four central characters but a fifth character with relatively little screen time stole the show. That character had some of the most quotable lines in all of horror history. Beyond that he had incredible presence and one of the most imaginative makeup jobs ever seen.

Daphne wrote her name on the blackboard. She pushed her glasses up her nose, looked it over, and then erased it. They wouldn't be able to read her writing. She had best write it out in neat block letters. Nodding her head in satisfaction she turned around and sat down. The day's lesson plan lay open on top of the desk. Daphne settled down to go over the first section once more. Next thing she knew her watch was beeping at her. In five minutes the kids would be back in from the playground.

Warning: May be unsuitable for some readers.  This story contains mature subject matter, disturbing situations, and coarse language.  Reader Discretion is Advised.  No opinions in this story are reflective of those of the author;  they are purely fictional.

He would dispose of the body later. Right now he needed to catch up on his sleep for tonight's job. There was a rich guy living in an almost hovel on the other side of town. Greg had it on good authority that the bastard kept a fair chunk of change in his safe in the basement. Greg would break in, scare the shit out of the guy, and get him to open the safe. It would be a cakewalk. Greg soon began to snore, visions of hundred dollar bills dancing in his head.

Claire Spencer is sending her daughter Caitlin off to college. Although her husband Dr. Norman Spencer, a professor, is supportive of his wife he is often busy doing his research. Norman expects Claire to have a tough time with being alone in the house and with missing her daughter, his step-daughter. ...Then when the woman next door goes missing Claire begins to find her own house suddenly haunted.

Stir of Echoes is written by horror legend Richard Matheson who has also written "I am Legend", "Hell House", "What Dreams May Come" and many more highly acclaimed novels. His works have influenced many other great writers and film makers. Stir of Echoes is about a man named Tom Wallace who is thrust into the nightmarish world of unbelievable and uncontrollable psychic phenomena.

Ben listened, but all was quiet. He started to get up when he heard movement in the attic above him. It sounded like footsteps. He looked at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed. It was seven o'clock. The alarm wouldn't go off for another hour. His mother should already be up and puttering around in the kitchen. His father would probably still be in bed and should have heard the first noise if not the footsteps.

Hanging is all about lines. There is the spiralling line of the coiled rope. There is the straight line that the rope makes under the weight of its burden. There is the line between life and death. There is also the invisible line between those who should be witness to the grisly spectacle, and those who should never see such a thing. Life is all about lines as well, and since art imitates life so too is horror.

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