That's because only a real artist knows the actual anatomy of the terrible or the physiology of fear - the exact sort of lines and proportions that connect up with latent instincts or hereditary memories of fright, and the proper colour contrasts and lighting effects to stir the dormant sense of strangeness.
H.P. LovecraftOn a Creep Scale from Hello Kitty to Cthulhu, I award it a Freddy
Krueger.
Granuaile MacTiernan
Orospu çocuğu kan emicilerle çıkmaya başladığından beri bana hiç bir konuda tüm gerçeği anlattığına inanmıyorum Anita'
'Politik olarak doğrusunu söylemek gerekirse,senin o orospu çocuğu kan emici dediğin vampir, ST Louis'nin Şehir Efendisi Dolp'
'O seninde efendinmi Anita?'
'Ne?'
'Şehir Efendisinin insan hizmetkarımısın?
Tag: dance anita-blake macabre blake türkçe alıntı dans Ölümcül
If I were pressed, I would admit that she was beautiful, in a dead bride sort of way.
Melika Dannese HickTag: humor vampires macabre corcitura hybrid-vampires dead-bride
You walk a fine line between beautifully macabre and uncharacteristically psychotic.
Solange nicoleTag: humor life insanity macabre
I wonder if I could eat a child if I had the chance.'
'I doubt if I could cook one,' said Constance.
Tag: humor dark-humor cannibalism macabre
Murder is only killing in the wrong place.
Pat BarkerWilliam sees it all happen again. The pain is not in the event. The subjection to it and his powerless state each time is where his anguish lies. He is unable to influence the situation, despite his desire. He sees the nest outside his house. He sees the baby bird that fell. The mother bird cries frantically for her lost chick. William knows as he approaches the chick that if he touches it his scent will linger, and the mother will reject it. Circling around the fallen creature William hopes it will flee from him, back toward the tree from which it had fallen. His presence only intensifies the creature’s fear. It speeds to his left, heading for the street. Again William tries to flank the bird, but it is too frightened to return to the nest. The chick’s mother wails vainly. William walks into the street trying to herd the bird to safety. The stop light a block away has just turned green. The driver accelerates. William moves from the car’s path and it runs over the bird. The momentum from its wake lifts the bird to the underside of the car, breaking its neck, but not killing it. William watches the bird roll helplessly. It is silent for a second, before it begins to whimper. Its contorted head dangles limply from its body. The noise is tragic. The bird’s mother hears the chick’s pain, but nothing can be done. She laments. A second speeder crushes the chick, leaving only a wet feathered spot in the street. As the cars continue to pass, only one bird is heard. A mother’s grief falls deafly on an unconcerned world.
M.R. GottThe bodies draped down through the leaves like rancid baubles in the locks of a horrible harlot.
Daniel WoodrellTag: macabre
The macabre who lived through the war have a story they loved to tell about the soldiers of the Foreign Legion giving a ball in the expanses around Verdun and dancing with the corpses. Alabama's continued brewing of the poisoned filter for a semiconscious banquet table, her insistence on the magic and glamor of life when she was already feeling its pulse like the throbbing of an amputated leg, had something of the same sinister quality.
Zelda Fitzgerald« prima precedente
Pagina 2 di 3.
prossimo ultimo »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.