By Ronald Kelly, Brad Smith, Crossroad Press
From the grasp of Southern-Fried Horror comes a set of reports that may simply beat in the dead of night, diseased center of Dixie...- An deserted furnace, full of shadow and haunted by means of tormented ghosts, stands as a grim testomony to a time whilst cruelty and the abuse of human flesh was once woefully commonplace...- A man's obsession with mysterious roadkill on a lonesome kingdom street awakens a frightening starvation that cannot be satisfied...- boys permit interest get the higher of them and realize collector of monster motion picture memorabilia is anything greater than a retired grasp of greasepaint and latex...- A dimwitted projectionist at a small-town drive-in theatre upsets a Saturday evening crowd whilst he unwilling releases a dismal mystery from a dusty and forgotten movie can...- A grandfather's Christmas Eve tale of a unfinished trip via a drunken peddler captivates a tender boy and brings in regards to the supply of a yule present as soon as considered without end lost...- It began as not anything greater than a shortcut home... a detour via a shadowy stretch of woodland often called Tanglewood. yet what awaited an unsuspecting motive force, amid the comb and bramble, made an easy flat tire look like a scary trip into madness... 22 terrifying stories of Southern darkness and depravity from Ronald Kelly, the acclaimed writer of worry, Blood kinfolk, Hell hole, and dead night Grinding & different Twilight Terrors.
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Extra info for Cumberland Furnace & Other Fear-Forged Fables
I had just stepped off the school bus a few houses down, when I saw Grandma standing at the Mason’s door, holding a plate wrapped in aluminum foil in her hands. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. The Cookie Patrol was on the roll again. As I made my way down the sidewalk toward our house, I could hear Grandma talking to Betty Mason at the doorway. “Things will be better,” Grandma told her in comforting tones. ” Mrs. Mason nodded sadly and smiled. “We appreciate your concern, Miss Sarah. And thank you for the dessert.
He laughed wildly, madly, straying far beyond the limits that humor tastefully allowed … until, finally, he could laugh no more. ” hollered Big Vern, banging on the ceiling of the concession stand with a mop handle. ” In the projection booth above, Billy Bud had been reading an old dog-eared copy of Famous Monsters of Filmland in the flickering light of Projector Number One. “I forgot and left the reels for the second feature at the house,” his father told him. “Run over there right quick and get it, will you?
Waiting for someone stupid enough to stop by and wake it up. Paul held onto the tree branch, but knew that it wouldn’t serve as any sort of effective weapon. He’d fare better going against a pit bull with a toothpick. He took a couple of wary steps backward as the thing stood up. Its legs were short and stubby, like a weasel’s, but powerful. It shook its coat off with a shudder, shedding a couple weeks’ worth of debris. Dead leaves, gravel, an old Snickers wrapper someone had tossed out a car window.