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57 of your worst nightmares, come to life. 57 shudders, 57 last gasps. 57 pierces into the deepest depths of your being, while in the background, devils dance and laugh at your demise. Listen to The Weeping Thing, cuddle up with The Devil's Daughters, hear the Confession Of An Old Boxer, or if you dare, spend the night in the haunted Two Bedroom Cottage For Rent.
From this book's introduction page:
What scares you? What really scares you?
What drives you to hide your head beneath the covers, or hurries you to click on the light in a dark, empty hallway? What makes you long to have someone sitting next to you on that lonely couch, anyone at all, just so you won’t feel so alone anymore?
Let me tell you what scares me. Demons scare me.
Demons have put a fright in me like no other thing I’ve ever experienced in my forty plus years of life. Since an early age, and all the way up through my late twenties, I was plagued by them, haunted by them. They did not haunt the house I lived in, nor did they stay in my neighborhood, but they followed and haunted ME personally. They’ve harangued me while I’ve slept; tortured me with their macabre nightmares, pricked at my flesh with what felt like needles, and on quite a few occasions, they’ve even tried to suffocate me while I lay sleeping in my bed.
And they’ve haunted me not only at night, but in the daytime, too. They’ve thrown their ghastly images at me where I’d least expect it; sitting in the passenger seat across from me while I was driving, standing just outside the Laundromat while I was washing clothes, and in broad daylight, they’ve even stood directly in front of me, raising their heads to laugh and sneer at my impotence. These demons were so prevalent around me that for a time I was able to point them out to other people, and when the demons made themselves known, these people became saw them, and became terrified of them, too.
These demons have shown me things. They’ve shown me lots of things, such as dying breaths, bloody hands, specters that drag themselves across a room on their way to my bed, and they’ve even shown me their faces on occasion, to mock me for thinking that I could ever escape from their clammy grasp. I’ve written many of these things down, that my demons have passed on to me, and I’ve arranged these tales together into a sizable, harrowing collection. This is the very same collection you’re gazing through right now.
Dim down the lights, if you would, and close the door shut to cut down on the noise. Start reading this book, and soon, very soon, you’ll be seeing my demons, too.