It's nice that my grandmother calls to check on me, but if she wants to communicate from the other side I wish she wouldn't scream so much.

I was never more scared or more filled filled with dread, Than the night the police found, her dismembered head.

She asked why I was breathing so heavily. I wasn't.

I heard screams echo all around me. I'm deaf.

My girlfriend is scared of horror movies. They make her paranoid, which can be tricky when I'm watching her through her living room window.

I like to sing in the shower sometimes. When I got out of the last one, the fogged-up mirror read "YOU HAVE A LOVELY VOICE" — I live alone.

The pairs of emaciated eyes outnumber the single round in my gun. With pleading tears falling on her doll's hair, I point the barrel at my last surviving daughter.

I can't move, breathe, speak, or hear and it's so dark all the time. If I knew it would be this lonely, I would have been cremated instead.

There's a girl standing outside my window. The only problem is I live on the seventh floor.

After years of research and hard work, we'd finally done it. We'd made it contagious.