While shaking the proverbial journalistic research tree, your intrepid author has found reports of unspecified occult paraphernalia in the same space as where this sick, violent psychopath held the dead body of a 13-year-old boy.
It is in reading descriptions like that in the press, dear reader, that you are best served to be more skeptical about the report. …
From 1973 to 1981, sibling serial killers Anthony and Nathaniel Cook terrorized Toledo, Ohio with a string of violent crimes. The entire case would shock and bewilder the city’s residents…
The tall drink of water with the Texas Ranger badge walked into the interrogation room. He sat across the table from the unassuming little man who lived to please anyone he perceived as an alpha. The media dubbed him, “the Confession Killer.”
Unlike some of the small-town detectives who made the trip from out of state to talk to his prisoner, Texas Rangers know bullshit when they smell it. Henry Lee Lucas reeked of it.
The Confession Killer was a violent vagabond, a drifter with zero propensity to control any impulse he felt. He definitively killed three people. …
“The eyes are not responsible when the mind does the seeing.” — Publilius Syrus
Fear compelled her heart to build up to a terrifying and deadly 100 mph crescendo…
Shallow, rapid half gasps emanated from the 62-year-old widow as her skin turned a pallid blue… the Monster garroting her with steel wire from her kitchen.
Slow… FAST! … Slow… FAST! … Slow.
The hands of the Monster were possessed by the brute strength of a seasoned bare-knuckle boxer and the dexterity of an accomplished concert pianist — completely enveloped by fury spawned in the latter circles of hell.
The Houston Mass Murders sent the Lone Star State and the world reeling in a spiral of moral repulsion and righteous anger. The case also exposed a rabid, multi-tentacled monster hiding in 3 men showing signs of an under-reported psychological curiosity.
Six rapid-fire thunder bolts rocked the tiny hallway in the house on Lamar Drive. All finding their mark.
Trigger cocking hammer igniting primer firing round. One fluid motion, six times. All coldly mechanized in the lean, metal death machine 17-year-old Elmer Wayne Henley Jr. wielded like a fierce, adrenaline-possessed Zeus atop Mount Olympus.
As the God of Lightning slew…
You may have seen Netflix’s special The Confession Killer. It revolved around the very real criminal history of drifter Otis Toole and his lover Henry Lee Lucas who acted like the pied piper or stronger personality in their twisted relationship.
There’s no doubt Lucas was a murderer. Lucas did kill 11 people. Yet, that number is nowhere near the 600 or so that he would confess to brutally murdering in every way imaginable.
After he falsely confessed to one murder during his trial for a separate one, police and media from all over the country beat a path to his…
Samantha’s crying cranked in David’s aching head like a Dante-esque buzzsaw from one of the inner Circles of Hell. It was Friday night, April 13, 1973.
He. Could. Not. Take. It.
His week was hard enough.
Oh, WHY did I drink so much tonight? he thought as he tried to get much-needed rest in the next room while waiting on the children’s parents Clive and Elsie to arrive home from Elsie’s shift as a popular local bartender at the Punchbowl Tavern.
They should be only about 20 minutes, David reassured himself, pillow over his head to try to keep out…
This started as a letter to my cousin who is graduating high school this year and wants to be a writer.
2. Avoid technical jargon whenever possible.
3. Hook your audience from the first word, sentence, and paragraph.
4. Keep paragraphs short, especially if you are publishing your piece on the web.
5. Avoid adverbs whenever possible as they tend to muddle up sentences.
…he had to run like hell. The bad men can’t get him. He has to make it back to Suzanne. What the hell is happening? Branches, leaves, foliage pummeled his face and body. Yet kept a tight grip on a wad of cash. He didn’t know the denomination… but Suzanne knew his habit.
He had to run like hell. RUN LIKE HELL!!
He stumbled… the breath being sucked out of his lungs by a superhuman strength pointed into a banshee’s scream rivaling the howls of the most powerful nor’easter. Primal, VISCERAL, with every cell and neuron: Suzanne. Suzanne… SUUUUUZANNE! SUZANNE!
It angered him beyond belief.
His married boyfriend did absolutely nothing to further THEIR relationship. Why couldn’t he come out? Why couldn’t he commit?
Just thinking of it made his head throb with the palpable intensity of his heart. He heard the beating in his ears and head.
THUMP thump. Thump. thump Thump — a flash of searing pain shot through the space behind his eyes.
He kept the anger conscious as he looked at the teenager bound in front of him in the dilapidated barn.
The circular saws passing through his head were intolerable. …