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A limited edition hardcover collection of horror, signed and numbered by all, featuring 13 tales with an introduction by Mark McLaughlin and artwork by Jamie Oberschlake.
13 TERRORS include...
A deaf woman develops a strange bond with a bizarre lamp.
A mysterious house in the forest conjures up the amorous dead.
Another dimension awaits behind a sealed attic window.
In Hell, once a year the damned are granted a bittersweet respite.
The ghost of a madwoman creates a new body for herself from whats at hand.
On a seemingly lifeless planet, a team of explorers discovers a displaced Victorian house.
A shattered marriage opens the portal to a terrifying dream land.
In a post-apocalyptic world, mutated infants are banished to an enigmatic island.
A man on the brink of insanity finds himself tormented by alien beings.
The grotesque subject matter of a series of T-shirts brings horror home to a callous man.
The spirits of murdered animals find refuge in the body of a compassionate zoo worker.
In the future, the notions of beauty become hideously distorted.
A father murders his own daughter, but there has been a six-legged witness.
yellow—to make the explorers identifiable to each other and to the other two who remained aboard, should communications fail. These three were the most vital instruments the globe had extended. It was a drab landscape, as stated. There was barely even a breeze to stir the bone dust grit beneath their boots. It was this chilling salt-flat emptiness, in addition to the mind-shaking incongruity itself, that made the old wooden house looming before them all the more startling. “It’s a Victorian, I
late. I’m back in Sesqua, Jude. I swore I’d never come back here...even though I knew my poor mother was sick. But when we broke up, when I had nowhere else to go...” “It isn’t too late...” “It is too late!” he half shouted, half sobbed. “I have things to do here, things you could never understand. Things I can’t even describe, and that you’d never even believe...” “What are you talking about? Robert, please—I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll even move here with you if that’s what you want. I’ll
ceiling. Had he simply neglected to notice, or were they more pronounced than they ever had been? He didn’t remember them ever being so extensive before... Could the alien—the aliens—have something to do with this? Were they lurking even now in the attic above him? For months now he had heard stirrings up there, creaking boards, faint scampering he had taken to be squirrels that had gotten into the eaves, storing nuts or whatnot for the winter. The beings’ weight up there where no one ever
for freaky?” “Yuck.” “Marie.” He looked up at her. “I’m wet; go make me a cup of coffee, will ya?” He was good-naturedly ugly from drinking and from coming back empty-handed from the hunt. Marie didn’t doubt at this moment that Edwin would also buy a shrunken head or a lamp shade of human skin if he could find them. She set aside her feather duster to go upstairs. Freaky, her mind echoed. * * * The smell of sex always seemed to repulse Edwin afterwards, so he went to take one of his long,
twisted trees; Alan felt it through the broken corner of window, and though the breeze was merely cool he shivered as though it were an arctic gust. He realized then that he could also hear this hallucination as well as feel it; he heard the scrape of those barbed wire branches against one-another as the breeze stirred them. And there were the distant cries of birds, perhaps. Very faint...but he wished, from their odd child-like quality, that he could not hear them at all. What had that