stephen gammell's horror art is so fucking good
the way the values are done so they look so soft in contrast to the ragged and gnarled edges of things is amazing. the lumpy flesh looks as soft and resistant as a ball of dough. and isnt it crazy to make something soft scary? when i went to this one beach as a kid, i had to ask my parents where there were beds of clay in the water, because i Hated the soft, clingy beach sludge on my feet. rot is soft. fangs and claws are scary because you know they can shred you. soft, yielding organic matter can be even scarier bc it can just immerse you. like the RE8 nightmare house baby.
anyway yeah the softness communicated thru value is really one of my fav parts of gammell's art. it is also amongst other great textures like stringy and hairy. also love the hairline cracks in skulls and dark thin hairs, branches, tendrils, that extend to the art like webs.
the surreal elements are another great part. any bizzarrities just added to the fear for me. big eyes floating in hollow darkened sockets in heads coming out of the ground look like they dont want to eat you but will tell you when you die, and lie about it, just to see you live your life that way.
i dont even remember the story of the invisible friend. the picture in my memory right now is a room with a human silhouette bulging under plaster or drywall. it scared me that it was an invisible presence that was so physically there.
i either cant find the image online or my brain misremembered completely, but this is the most likely match:
it doesnt match what i said. but i'd also read parts of the third dark tower book, which did have something manifest under ceiling plaster, so maybe i confused childhood fears. but i swear the image in my head is this art style.
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“During the spookiest time of the year, there are a few guidelines all ghosts and goblins should follow. Always stay on sidewalks. Never go to a strangers house, and never go out alone”
Entry #7 of the “Sugar Slashers and Arcade Horrors” collection! This time, we are back on track with the Sugar Rush racers. Gloyd Orangeboar takes on the role as the mischievous Halloween spirit, Sam! You best make sure to wear your costumes, and hand out candy this Halloween if you’re not the one trick or treating! Oh, and don’t disrespect the undead!
Bonus doodle that ties into this! Since Halloween is a collection of stories that tie into one, why not give some sort of representation of these stories in this crossover world? All of these newspapers are based off the conclusions of the stories though, so be wary of indirect spoilers, hehe ;)
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Inspired on @starbyop 's headcanon.
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◇◇ CHECK THE TAGS BEFORE READING! ◇◇
Lord of the Flies modern au.
Simon wakes up with sleep paralysis.
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Muted - Simon
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It's dark and suffocating.
He feels wet creepers and foliage against his face and body as he goes on in the sultry darkness. Ahead of him is a flickering light from a bonfire he can never reach.
Simon hears voices. Laughter. Chants like from the Sunday masses. But the words don't make it to his understanding.
He tries to call, but his voice doesn't come out.
He shouts.
Screams.
But he makes no sound.
He becomes strangely aware of how loud his heart is beating.
The fire gleams with every beat, but he never gets close.
Darkness crumbles around him. Hugs him. He tries to call someone.
Nobody hears him.
The branches and foliage become denser. Thicker. It have fingers and hands and sharp claws.
And it hold his arms and push and pull on him.
He needs to get to the bonfire.
He needs to get to the voices.
He needs to tell them something.
But he has no voice.
And the hands and claws don't let him move.
His heart is drumming. It beats in his throat and he feels that pulsing ball preventing him from breathing.
His voice doesn't come out.
Hands and claws hurt his arms and legs. They scratch his body. They pull him from side to side. He want to tell them to let go, but they don't listen to him. The dark hands have no face. He has no voice.
Mass chants echoes and sounds like waves.
He seems to be falling now.
Or floating.
He tries to scream and water gets in his mouth.
He has no voice.
He tries to scream still but more water come in.
Salt.
Ice cold.
The bonfire is getting distant. Far away.
It's cold now and the hands are pulling him to the bottom of the darkness.
He can't scream.
He can't breathe.
He has no voice.
.
Simon opens his eyes slowly - a false peaceful awakening.
Everything is dark.
For an instant he still sees the dark hands clutching him and the distant fire. Then he is staring at his bedroom ceiling.
His heart is pounding in his chest, but his breath isn't keeping up to it. He can't breathe enough.
He can't get enough air.
But he is peacefuly laying on his back.
He tries to move, but his body won't obey. He's scary. A unnameable fear posses his mind. He tries to call someone. But only his eyes move, searching for God knows what in the darkness of his bedroom.
He can't tell if he's awake or not. He can't feel his body. But he feels a painful tingle creeping up his immobile limbs. From his fingertips, through his arms and legs.
He can't breathe enough. He feels dizzy.
The tingling of his body now becomes painful. Like needles and then spears piercing him.
He struggles to move. No reaction, only more painful tinglings. He looks in all directions because his eyes are the only part of his body that seems alive now.
There's something heavy in your chest that prevents you from breathing deeply. But he feels like floeating.
He can't say for how long that last. Feels like an eternity. Maybe a few seconds.
When he finally manages to move his head to the side, he manages to take a deep breath too. And with the air come the control of his muscles.
His whole body is still tingling terribly and every movement is a torture.
But he moves.
He can move.
He turns on his side and curls up. And take a deep breath again. And again. And again. His heart slowly calms down.
And he tests his voice softly.
"... Hullo...?"
He let out a soft, shy smile at the sound of his voice.
And sings quietly to himself staring into the night.
Simon is afraid to close his eyes and not open them again. He is afraid that the little air he can breathe will be his last. He is afraid of something unspeakable.
And he is afraid to think about it.
He thinks of his friends from the Church choir instead.
And sings to himself.
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Thinking about Laura saying "I was alone with him" three times.
It reminds me of two things... The first, from earlier in the book [about Count Fosco and Madame Fosco]:
The rod of iron with which he rules her never appears in company—it is a private rod, and is always kept upstairs.
The Woman in White - Second Epoch, Part 2
And the second from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall [between Ralph Hattersley and his wife Milicent, when she tries to remind him that they are in company]:
“Do let me alone, Ralph! Remember, we are not at home.”
“No matter: you shall answer my question!” exclaimed her tormentor; and he attempted to extort the confession by shaking her, and remorselessly crushing her slight arms in the gripe of his powerful fingers.
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Chapter 31
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