Nevermore

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Then suddenly, the ghost-like figure started to turn toward him. "Looookkk, Paawwall," Susan's voice cried, "Looouuk aatt meeee! Loookk whhaaauttt muuurrdderr hassss dounne touu meeee!" From within a fog of uncomprehending astonishment, Paul watched the body pivot with aching slowness to face him. When she was finally turned, he saw the torn bloodstained blouse. He watched the figure pull her gnarled, crippled hand away from the features it covered. And in spite of all his intentions, in spite of making every effort not to react, Paul found himself gasping in shock, the half-filled glass of liquor falling from his hand to the floor. What he saw was not just unrecognizable as Susan; it was hardly recognizable as a face at all. One cheek and eye were missing completely, a lacerated gaping opening lined with ragged loose hanging pieces of severed bloody flesh surrounding it, a cheekbone protruding out of the opening at a bizarre angle. The mouth had also been almost destroyed, the lips sliced completely in half diagonally across the middle, all the center teeth except for one lower incisor now gone. Long open cuts were everywhere across the remaining flesh of the face and down into what remained of the neck, dried hunks of caked blood hanging from the edges of the lacerations, the worst being a huge gaping cavity where the center of the neck should have been. The loose skin that surrounded the opening flapped back and forth as the figure breathed. But the worst part of what he saw was the shape of the head. The entire forehead where Susan must have smashed against the windshield was crushed inward from the eyebrows to above the hairline, the indented area now sunken, the top of the head forced upward, distorting the shape of the skull's front to that of a pinhead. At the center of the indentation was an opening in the bone where worm-like twists of gray brain matter protruded, intermixed with matted, blood-soaked patches of hair that had been plastered against the front of the broken skull.

AUTHOR: Lenore De Vere
GENRE: Horror
PUBLISHED: Jul 11, 2008

WHY CAN'T HE STOP THE PARROT FROM SCREECHING "NEVERMORE!" OVER AND OVER AND OVER,...HOUR AFTER HOUR? WHY, IT WAS ENOUGH TO DRIVE A PERSON INSANE. IS HIS LOVER REALLY DEAD AND, LIKE A CHARACTER FROM POE, HAS HE SLOWLY SLIPPED INTO THE MENTAL LABYRINTH OF THE INSANE? OR HAS HE ACTUALLY FOUND A WAY TO BRING HIS LOVE BACK THE DEAD?

He would do anything for her love... Even if it meant he had to commit murder... Even if it meant he had to bring her back from the dead.... An illicit affair certainly didn't have to lead to death. Yet, here he was, a grave robber, driving back to town with a dead body in the seat behind him. And he knew exactly when it had all started. It began the night he had allowed himself to reveal to another man's wife a hint of the passion he felt for her. And that was the night a party guest had first put the idea in his head of creating a room for contacting the dead.