The house on Cider Hill grew from the shadows like a tumorous
lump on the landscape. Its menace
greeted new comers to the sleepy suburb; the once prominent family household
sat on a hill overlooking the interstate exit leading into the town; for many
it was the first thing they saw coming into town and the last thing they saw
leaving. For many winding down the
interstate road the house itself piqued the curiosity and stirred images of the
ghostly inhabitants in the mind’s eye.
Weary travelers might imagine some yellow eyed ghoul peering from behind
the slats of one of its boarded up windows; a chill running down their spine. It was the house the children always pumped
their bike pedals a little faster as they rode by, fear triggered by a silent
animal alarm within. The elders of the town, who could still see
farmland where municipal buildings now stood, would offer strange stories of a
lone widow that used to live there, but even their fanciest yarns and wildest
recollections would not do the true story any justice. The being that denned inside the house on
Cider Hill, the one the dead called “Madame Web” in whispers spoken into the
midnight wind, was a night creature without comparison, the only kind on this continent
and certainly this century.
I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE! Stirring under the dark earth of Camp Blackfoot in upstate NY, Cropsy sits in his crypt watching hours upon pain staking hours of wretched B-rated filth and reading tomes of unholy pulp comics, swearing revenge on all those who've wronged him. His brain melts, slowly absolving his sanity. It spills forth on the inter-webs, contaminating the digital frontier like a burrowing parasite. Fans of flicks and funnybooks that defy common sense and moral decency welcome. Bring your own beer.... and body-bags!