The Good, The Bad, and The Scary – Day 31

THE SCARY
Short Stories

 

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“Bongcheon-Dong Ghost”
Horang

 

One schoolgirl learns the meaning of stranger danger in an unforgettable way. There is a woman walking around a neighborhood in Seoul alone, but why is she wandering around at night? And why is she walking in such a strange manner?

“Bongcheon-Dong Ghost” is a webcomic from South Korea that is the perfect way to add a creepy air to your day. Enjoy the “Bongcheon-Dong Ghost” in it’s entirely by clicking here. Scroll slowly and leave your sound on for maximum chills.

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The Good, The Bad, and The Scary – Day 30

THE BAD

Short Stories

 

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Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Alvin Schwartz

 

This one is pulled straight from my childhood. The variety of stories, the dark creepy pictures, and the ominous threat that the story you are reading may be based on actual events, all join together for a good read. Below are just two of the many memorable things pulled from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.

 

1. The Pictures

Creepy and wonderful, Stephen Gammell’s pictures were nothing less than nightmare fuel for children.

 

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A newer version of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark features illustrations from Brett Helquist, which are wonderful in their own way. I know my own preference, but which version of illustrations would you choose?

 

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              GAMMELL                         or                      HELQUIST

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The Good, The Bad, and The Scary – Day 29

THE GOOD

Short Stories

 

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“The Dead”

Michael Swanwick

 

Donald has a chance at getting a job at a start-up company. Sounds normal enough, except for the fact that the start-up deals in zombies (or at they put it “postanthropic biological resources”). The deeper Donald travels into the world of zombie workers the more repulsed he becomes by what a reliance on zombie labor could mean not only for the work force, but for humanity as well.

 

With as current and topical as “The Dead” comes across, it’s hard to believe the story is nearly 20 years old. What’s really frightening in “The Dead” isn’t zombies, but business.  It’s tough to imagine zombies as sympathetic, but the shift from menace to commodity and the cold calculating nature of the businessmen forces readers to feel for the undead creatures. By adding the sense of consumerism into the world of zombies a lot of humanity comes across, but it’s the bits and pieces of humanity that everybody tries to sweep under the rug.

 

The whole story can be read at the following link. “The Dead”

 

We passed by a stop-and-go where zombies stood out on the sidewalk drinking forties in paper bags. Through upper-story windows I could see the sad rainbow trace of virtuals playing to empty eyes. There were zombies in the park, zombies smoking blunts, zombies driving taxis, zombies sitting on stoops and hanging out on street corners, all of them waiting for the years to pass and the flesh to fall from their bones.

The Good, The Bad, and The Scary – Day 28

THE SCARY

Poetry

 

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“The Raven”

Edgar Allen Poe

 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary”. Those lines are instantly recognizable even 150 years later. The dark tone, ominous talking raven, and the slowly maddening narrator all add to the creepy tone of Poe’s poem. But, perhaps the scariest thing about “The Raven” is how the dark thoughts of loneliness, loss, and depression remain relatable and similar from generation to generation.

 

 

 

ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“‘T is some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door;

    Only this and nothing more.”

 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore,

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore:

    Nameless here for evermore.

 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“‘T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door:

    This it is and nothing more.”

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