Gianfranco Mancini > Recent Status Updates

«Ma che motivo aveva questo buon uomo di mettere fine alla sua vita?», domandò il signor Triggs.
«Da quando si cercano spiegazioni per ciò che accade a Ingersham?», ribatté il signor Doove.

‘Where am I?’ says Sophie as Carol takes her hand and helps her to step out of the bath onto a mat. ‘I already told you, silly,’ says Carol with mock sternness. ‘Withered Hill. You’re in Withered Hill. Where you belong.’

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On the front page is a picture of children enjoying themselves at a summer fun day, beneath which a headline sits uncomfortably about a paedophile being jailed. Not news from Withered Hill, of course; from the bigger villages and towns further along the valley. There is never any news from Withered Hill in the papers.

As I were going up Withered Hill With night-time coming soon I met a man under the trees Whiter than the moon He smiled at me and stroked my hair I were frit for my life He showed his teeth and smiled and said, ‘Owd Hob wants a wife’ Pennine Lancashire playground rhyme, circa nineteenth century

He hoped she found the box. There’d been many nights when he’d overheard the couple, mostly the man, talking about it, their voices filtering hollowly through the floorboards into the basement. From what Lewis had been able to make out, the box had some tremendous power to grant wishes. Maybe it was sort of like Aladdin’s lamp with a genie inside, except it was a puzzle you had to solve instead of just rubbing on it.

“Jeremy, what are you talking about?” Candy screams. She knows but does not want to know. But already the Cenobites are pulling Jeremy and Candy toward them with invisible strings. The female Cenobite opens her arms toward Candy like a dancer awaiting her partner. Candy’s screams become ear piercing and bone chilling; you are certain those screams will reverberate within you until your dying day.

She assists her leader in his work; they are a perfect team. They even finish each other’s threats to those who dare call upon them, and take turns flaying those unfortunates who thought they knew what they were doing when they opened the Box. The silence from above no longer greets her words, but screams for mercy. They pray to Sister Cilice now. They are her supplicants, not the other way around.

He hardly needed to remind himself that during the thirty-first millennium the possessed rebel warmaster Horus had laid waste to Luna and invaded Earth, breaking through to the very inner palace. The putsch was defeated, oh yes, but at what dire cost. Thereafter the wounded Emperor could only survive from grim millennium to grim millennium immobile in his prosthetic golden throne.

A voice beside his ear purred, “How far do you want to go?” Elliott tried not to flinch. “All the way,” he said. The throaty chuckle of the unseen speaker seemed to echo around him. “Are you quite certain of that?” Sweat dribbled into Elliott’s eye, stinging, making him blink. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Well, then,” said the voice, and a light came on.

The company of others did nothing but confuse him, annoy him, disgust and discomfort him. As far as he was concerned, there were only two things that made human existence worthwhile, only two experiences that elevated life above the numbing mire of the everyday: Sex and pain. Pain and sex. The exquisite agony. The unendurable rapture.

Hell has its dominions. Nor Man’s Desire or Demon’s Design, may extend its bounds. Apart from the prescribed portals and summonings in the hearts of humankind. Philip Lemarchand.

Loyal subjects of the Imperium always feared hulks. Imperial merchantmen traversing the warp would flee at the sighting of one. Space Marines were honour-bound to board a hulk, to cleanse any threat it posed, and to recover any valuable or enigmatic pieces of ancient technology from millennia earlier which might be encysted in the wreck like pearls held in a lethal clam.

Mechanisms - Christopher Golden & Mike Mignola (Illustrations by Mike Mignola) ☆☆☆

Every Wrong Turn - Tim Lebbon ☆☆☆☆

The Collector - Kelley Armstrong ☆☆☆☆☆

Bulimia Richard - Christian Matheson ☆☆

Orfeo the Damned - Nancy Holder ☆☆☆☆☆

She jerked and backed away. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.” “You summoned us,” said the man. He raised a hand and pointed to the box gripped in her hand. Blood was running down her forearm and dripping off her elbow. “We came. Now you belong to us.”