Mostrando resultados por autor "David Boyer" en Todas las categorías

So says a man named Davis, an aspiring writer who, after losing almost everything and everyone he has ever valued or loved, decides to write one last story before the Covid virus strain of 2023 claims his life as well - or the power and internet fails, whichever comes first.

August 8, 2001, Vincennes, Indiana: A small town is shocked and stunned as a young married couple, just sitting back watching TV and following their nightly routine, are suddenly and viciously murdered - by one of their own relation for no apparent reason; May 31, 2000, Bloomington, Indiana: A pretty young woman, popular, happy, and carefree and looking forward to the future suddenly vanishes into thin air, only to be found later dead, a possible victim of murder by jealous classmates.

As an “amateur” filmmaker, I can't rightfully boast of being another Spielberg or Eastwood, but I know a really crappy movie when I see one. For example: the ever-present “final girl” chase scene at the end of most low-budget horror films. In reality? That is not the way it happens at all. I should know, from experience...

He smells like blood and opium and whiskey, and underneath that something sickly sweet, like rotten fruit. That's what starvation—and death—smells like. He is so thin and frail now, almost gaunt in his appearance, almost skeletal. His current accommodations, a musty, cramped room above a motel-saloon, have also been converted into somewhat of a shrine to him: his 1877 model Colt Lightning hangs on one bedpost, and his trusty Bowie knife from the other. His hand-tailored black hat with the hand-curled brim hangs over the bed, on the wall, like some would hang a picture of Jesus.

Abby Williams and Libby German. Their voices have been silenced forever now, except for home videos or memories. Abby and Libby need a voice again, so now it is up to their families - and the rest if us who want justice for these girls - to create a new voice for them, to tell their story, and never stop our voices from speaking up until the man responsible is behind bars forever.

"Doc Holliday was a dentist whom necessity had made a gambler; a gentleman whom disease had made a frontier vagabond; a philosopher whom life had made a caustic wit; a long, lean fellow nearly dead with consumption and at the same time the most skillful gambler and the nerviest, speediest, deadliest man with a six-gun I ever knew." So says famous wild west Sheriff Wyatt Earp, of his long time friend and compadre, Doc Holliday. What he didn't know was, beneath Doc's rough exterior lay a heart of gold, a true romantic.

As of 2015, it is believed that there are at least 200 serial killers active in the United States at any given time - 33 of them were from Indiana. Nobody in their own home town would have wanted to imagine a fledgling serial killer lurking about, searching for his next victim. Or imagine one being their next door neighbor or the relative of a friend or even attending the local college. Yet, since the early 1970s, Vincennes, Indiana, Knox County, and Indiana in general has had it's share of cold blooded murder.

The neck is one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body. It can be slashed, twisted, snapped, or held in a vise until the owner either passes out or asphyxiates. Darren Deon Vann learned a lot about anatomy while surfing the internet. He wasn’t all that smart, but he wasn’t the dullest quill on the porcupine, either.

It's like you are in a slow-motion car crash. It's as though time has stopped on a dime. Your eyes are wide open in fear, your body is as stiff as a dime-store mannequin, and your mouth is open in terrified awe, but no words come out. You can't believe this is really happening to you because you have never believed in the paranormal before. Until now. In Haunted Heartland, author David Boyer has assembled a vast and intriguing collection of real-life ghost stories that will make non-believers question the existence of ghosts, as well as thrill the true believers.

Over the last several years, I have had more than one debate with other people as to whether animals - either domestic pets or in the wild - really have a soul. One thing I'm sure about is this: Our pets do possess the ability to exhibit true and unconditional love for their owners - without really asking for anything in return except for food and water and, of course, unconditional love, as well.

Whether it is sex, religion, politics, gay rights, BLM, COVID-19, or anything else you might find to be "uncomfortable" subjects to be discussing in social media, I pull no punches. If you are the type of person who enjoys and appreciates hearing the truth about important subject matters, then listen to this audiobook.

Leo had planned to spend this Halloween with his daughter, Julie. But then the hand of fate stepped in, turning his life into a real-life nightmare.

I am now the master of my domain. These woodlands are my Kingdom, and I rule them with a fair but iron hand. Just like my Brethren. The Brethren that were tired of playing dumb. Unlike myself, the undomesticated beasts of the wood, the task at hand would prove to be more difficult; they had to play wild and free, and play stupid. Easy prey for the man who walked the woodland paths with guns.

A crossover between the new wave vampire mythos and nasty aliens from another galaxy, this story features both of them, converging in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When Sampson came back from the war again, he wasn't sure how happy his remaining family would be to see him, but there was only one way to find out. Who knows? They might welcome him back with open arms. Then again, they might hide up in the trees and take potshots at him with their hunting rifles. He hadn't exactly left his old home on the best of terms. His own father—or what almost passed for a father—had called him a demon. As if he had any reason to act self-righteous. But no matter now; he was back home again, and he had important things to take care of.

The films, TV shows, and music of the '60s, '70s, and '80s are still as classic and timeless as they were long ago. The TV shows and movies were family-friendly, yet interesting and exciting, leaving the viewer breathless and anxiously awaiting the next episode or sequel. TV and film directors knew that science fiction could be mind-bending yet thought-provoking, and horror could actually be frightening but instill that sense of fear without the obligatory graphic violence, pervasive language, and sexual overtones to bring their vision to life.

Serial killer Martin Campbell has planted his seed within her now, one he hopes will grow stronger and be nurtured by her to it’s full maturity. She can feel it coursing through her veins like a runaway train, her adrenaline pumping now as well, as she descends the dirt path behind their condo and into the darkness of the ghostly tree line. He will follow close behind her - only to make sure she is an apt pupil - but not too close, doesn’t want to throw off her concentration. After tonight, though, she will be on her own.

He’s a cutter. He uses the knife and I’m the Thanksgiving turkey that needs to be carved. I have blood all down my arms and legs. He cut on my backside and if I get out of here I don’t know how I can explain those scars without having to tell how stupid I was to get in his car...says Tina, a victim of a serial killer who enjoys slowly torturing his victims. But what he doesn't know is, he has finally met his match.

Unfortunately, even small towns - Vincennes included - eventually change, sometimes for the better, and other times, not so much. It's the natural order of things. Trees grow old and fall. Sidewalks split and crack and are replaced for public safety's sake. Old houses - and all the memories associated with them - are demolished and replaced with parking lots or duplexes. Even historical landmarks - Mother Nature, and Father Time having taken their toll - sadly, vanish - except for our own pictures and memories of them.

A man walks the streets after a nuclear apocalypse, searching for his wife, only to find unholy terrors lurking within the crowds of the infectious derelicts that roam the streets at night.