M.J. Pack

I fondly remember spending my summers on the deck by our pool, reading about Derry and Christine and the Overlook Hotel. A lot of the material went over my head — rereading The Shining at age 27 VS age 9 was quite an experience — but the King of Horror had firmly planted the seed for me to wildly enjoy both reading and scary stuff.

June, 1977. Tent number 6. That’s where I was. Until I heard the noise outside.

I’m starting to have that feeling that I shouldn’t spend so much time on the Internet because I find out stuff like this — things that are so crazy I can’t believe they actually happened. Allow me to introduce you to Elmer McCurdy.

Dear horror fanatic friends, I decided that once I stopped hyperventilating I’d check out the service and let you know what I think.

But there’s a twist no one saw coming.

I knew by now not to look outside. Not to check the porch. Last time, that seemed to let it in my head somehow. Let it get me off the couch and almost open the door.

I guess the most disappointing thing is how sloppy he was. Like he didn’t even care enough to hide his tracks. Didn’t he know how it would tear me apart? How it would tear us apart?

Hasn’t anyone ever wondered exactly HOW Charles brought his son Thaddeus (AKA The Infantata) back to life?

As they got closer I realized it was fire. Torches. And people carrying them.

The next day, Marilyn was seen to have bruises on her shoulders and back. The studio hairdresser covered them with makeup.

Listen, I’ve told the cops my story three times now. You can keep asking but I’ll keep saying the same thing. I know what I saw – I’m not crazy.

It ends with the singer asking himself: underneath it all, is he just like the Killer Clown? The answer: “Look beneath the floorboards for the secrets I have hid.”

The twins began to speak only to each other and their younger sister. Therapy didn’t work, and sending them to boarding school caused them to go completely catatonic when separated.

“Jeez, Red, you got a lotta rules,” she laughed, but there was tension in her voice now, something I hadn’t heard back at the rest stop.

I listened hard and heard it again: two notes, one high, one low. Like someone calling to me.

There’s something super unsettling about her smile, like the opposite of Mona Lisa.

After I really heard it the first time I waited to see if it was a fluke. But after a second, again: tap-tap-tap-tap.

At night, when we’re almost asleep, we can just barely catch the scuttling sound as they hurry across the hardwood floor.