Then she did see it there - just a face, peering through the curtains, hanging in midair like a mask. A head-scarf concealed the hair and the glassy eyes stared inhumanly, but it wasn’t a mask, it couldn’t be. The skin had been powdered dead-white and two hectic spots of rouge centered on the cheekbones. It wasn’t a mask. It was the face of a crazy old woman. Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher’s knife. It was the knife that, a moment later, cut off her scream. And her head.

Despite my ghoulish reputation, I really have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk.

Sure God created man before woman, but then again you always make a rough draft before creating the final masterpiece.

Horror is the removal of masks.

So much for modern science and its wonderful discoveries that just about everything can kill you. Life is only a bedtime story before a long, long sleep.

The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on.

Mothers sometimes are overly possessive, but not all children allow themselves to be possessed.