Gianfranco Mancini > Recent Status Updates

• Willa ☆☆☆
• Torno a prenderti (The Gingerbread Girl) ☆☆☆☆☆
• Il sogno di Harvey (Harvey's Dream) ☆☆☆☆
• Area di sosta (Rest Stop) ☆☆☆
• Cyclette (Stationary Bike) ☆☆
• Le cose che hanno lasciato indietro (The Things They Left Behind) ☆☆
• Pomeriggio del diploma (Graduation Afternoon) ☆☆
• N. (Romanzo breve) ☆☆☆
• Il gatto del diavolo (The Cat from Hell) ☆☆☆☆☆

While traversing the cornfield, he came across a scarecrow. He was attracted to its tattered burlap mask. He took the scarecrow’s mask off and tossed the hood over his head to hide his identity. Only his amber irises glowed through the mask’s eye holes. Holding the pickaxe against his shoulder, he continued his trek through the cornfield.

She didn’t mind working the night shift with Collin or Randy or anyone else thanks to the surveillance cameras at the gas station. She was confident her coworkers wouldn’t hurt her while under surveillance. But dealing with strangers was different. Some people didn’t care about surveillance cameras. And some people liked to be watched when they prowled.

Seth placed a foot on the first step. A hollow clang echoed throughout the stairwell and farther down the hallway. He raised his foot and planted it on step number two, but Jenna put her arm across his chest. He turned to her, narrowing his eyes. She wagged her head. Behind them, in the distance, perhaps hallways away, something scurried, scratching its nails along the metal walls.

The beast’s persistence concerned Seth. How much longer until it realized it couldn’t break through? Intelligence was clearly not its finest attribute, though he knew what was—killing. BANG. BANG. They waited. The wait between hammer-fists lengthened. BANG. Then there was nothing. Seth and Jenna sped off down the hallway, toward new horrors.

• Willa ☆☆☆
• Torno a prenderti (The Gingerbread Girl) ☆☆☆☆☆
• Il sogno di Harvey (Harvey's Dream) ☆☆☆☆
• Area di sosta (Rest Stop) ☆☆☆
• Cyclette (Stationary Bike) ☆☆
• Le cose che hanno lasciato indietro (The Things They Left Behind) ☆☆
• Pomeriggio del diploma (Graduation Afternoon) ☆☆
• N. (Romanzo breve) ☆☆☆

His insect-like mandibles opened and closed, threatening to pinch her face off. His eyes were jaundiced and leaking, a yellow, glossy wetness dampening his cheeks. Bushy hair rested atop his head, black and white cottony tufts. He moved forward, and she noticed he wasn’t walking—the tentacles were his method of transportation now.

The wooden banner running across the top of the entry gate, engraved with CAMP CHRISTOPER and lacquered to shiny perfection, had some new décor, not put there by the people in charge. KILL KILL KILL painted in dark maroon stretched across the hand-finished marquee. Dried, runny-red letters Bennett assumed was blood. Actual blood or a syrupy mixture resembling blood.

Quando sono arrivato al punto da cui ero partito, tremavo ed ero madido di sudore oltre che di nebbia e rugiada. Perché toccare quelle rocce... non è stato bello. Faceva venire... delle idee. Ed evocava immagini. Brutte. Una era di fare a pezzi la mia ex moglie con una scure e ridere mentre lei urlava e alzava le mani insanguinate per parare i colpi.

Head for the woods, he told her. Maybe they could lose the monster in the thicket. There were plenty of places to hide there, beyond the trees. Darkness was their friend. But it had also become their enemy.

This surprised him. Most of the other murder sites they’d visited were usually clean, scrubbed meticulously, not a speck or clue about what had happened there. But not Camp Christopher. This place was tainted, a forensic investigator’s wet dream. Warren cursed himself for not visiting sooner. This place was fucking awesome.

• Willa ☆☆☆
• Torno a prenderti (The Gingerbread Girl) ☆☆☆☆☆
• Il sogno di Harvey (Harvey's Dream) ☆☆☆☆
• Area di sosta (Rest Stop) ☆☆☆
• Cyclette (Stationary Bike) ☆☆
• Le cose che hanno lasciato indietro (The Things They Left Behind) ☆☆
• Pomeriggio del diploma (Graduation Afternoon) ☆☆

As the horror hit his bones, Randy realized something—the five of them weren’t alone in the murk. There was something else. Something darker. Something evil. Something that polluted the lake, infecting the watery walls around him. Something that ripped eyes from the sockets of children. Suddenly, the surface didn’t seem like such a bad place.

Acquisti odierni.

“We’re sleeping here?” “Um . . . yes. We’ve gone camping and this is a campground. Where’d you think we’d sleep?” Jenna shrugged. “Motel Six?” Fiona giggled. Jenna surveyed the land. “Seems dangerous out here. Unprotected.” “Babes,” Fiona said, sighing, “nothing is out here but us and good ol’ Mother Nature.”

Frank kicked the thing in the abdomen. Black fluids leaked from the hole in its head, down the muddy bank and into the bubbling brook. He thought about pushing the corpse into the water, then decided against touching it. Whatever unholy disease it had, Frank Harmon wanted no part of it.

“She needs someone with experience, mope.” His lips twitched, either by impulse or design. Seth couldn’t tell which. “Plus . . . she’s vulnerable. Vulnerability is a stinky perfume and she’s given me a nose full.” “That sounds like something a rapist would say.” Dave didn’t argue. Instead, he threw his head back like a wolf under a full moon and roared with laughter. “Oh, Sethie. You were always the funny one.”

Ultimi acquisti💰💰💰💸💸💸

She set her lamp down on the floor and ran a hand over the table, lifting the lid of the box. Inside she found a knife with a jeweled handle and held it up. “I’ve seen this,” she said, “in my dreams.” Francis and Catalina had slowly walked into the chamber and were both looking at her. “He killed children with this,” she continued. “He did many things,” Francis replied. “Casual cannibalism.”

They’d cleanse the house afterward, she thought. A mad thought, but it was there, that they’d wash the floors and the linens and scrape off the blood, and toss her into a pit in the cemetery without a cross, like they had so many others.

Francis came by a little while later. He brought with him a tray with her dinner and his razor wrapped in a handkerchief. Noemí joked that it was a terrible wedding present, and he chuckled. They sat side by side on the floor as she ate, the tray on her lap, and he managed a few more quips, and she smiled.

She gazed at the wide-open fangs of the snake surrounding the mirror, and she turned her face and rested her chin on his shoulder. And like that they sat for a long time, she dark and he pale, making an odd contrast amidst all the snowy-white sheets, and around them, like a vignette, the darkness of the house blurring the borders.

Non sentì i passi entrare. Non vide il volto freddo che lo scrutava dall'alto.
Altrimenti si sarebbe spaventato. Poi quel volto e quei passi uscirono dalla chiesa.
Dal momento in cui quel volto aveva fatto capolino nel suo sonno, cominciò a sognare, poi ad avere incubi, poi a sudare, poi a gridare, e infine a piangere.
Non urlò. Ma l'oscurità si era insinuata nel suo sonno per tormentarlo.

La signora Spark aveva sempre voluto umiliare la signora Rowbottom, e farsi montare da suo marito sarebbe stato un bel colpo basso. Gli abitanti del villaggio sfruttavano la stagione dell'accoppiamento come scusa per delle piccole vendette. Era la stagione dell'iniziazione. Ai bambini veniva insegnata l'arte di esprimersi senza filtri. Imparavano come continuare a vivere in una civiltà che li ignorava.

“I wanted to apologize,” Noemí said. Florence pressed a hand against her right temple and closed her eyes. “You have. Go, go.” And like the wretched creature that Florence had mentioned, that does not know its place nor how to find it, Noemí sat on the stairs for a while, staring at the nymph on the newel post and contemplating the motes of dust dancing in a ray of light.

“There’re heavy places. Places where the air itself is heavy because an evil weighs it down. Sometimes it’s a death, could be it’s something else, but the bad air, it’ll get into your body and it’ll nestle there and weigh you down. That’s what’s wrong with the Doyles of High Place,” the woman said, concluding her tale.

“Better lock your door so you don’t end up wandering around the house again, Noemí.” He adjusted the level of the oil lamp once more. His eyes were blue without a hint of gold when he gave her a final glance and stepped away, marching back down the hallway. Noemí watched the green glow float away with him, the sudden flash of color disappearing and plunging the house into darkness.