h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I propose a Horror and Weird Thread. It's meant for Horror POEMS, Horror songs, Horror Stories and Horror Fact, including Horror or Weird Happenings (especially if they happen to you), or indeed Horror films and Horror or Weird/Creepy music videos.

Please give links (e.g.YouTube) where appropriate and helpful.

It can be serious or not serious. To start with, here are the words to 'Dinner With Drac', a non-serious horror rock song/ poem. These were briefly fashionable in the late 50's. Please add your own - found or ORIGINAL contributions.

DINNER WITH DRAC



A dinner was served for three
At Dracula's house by the sea
The hors d'oeurves were fine
But I choked on my wine
When I learned that the main course was me

The waitress a vampire named Perkins
Was so very fond of small gherkins
While serving tea
She ate 43
Which pickled her internal workings

Igor the scalpels go on the left with the pitchforks
Igor, Igor...

What a swimmer is Dracula's daughter
But her pool looks more red than it oughter
The blood stains the boats
But its easy to float
Because blood is much thicker than water

(Instrumental Break)

Dracula old friend how are things in Transylvania

For dessert there was batwing confetti
And the veins of a mummy named Betty
I first frowned upon it
But with ketchup on it
It tasted very much like spaghetti

Goodnight whatever you are!

Er...oh horrors! I forgot the link

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIq_tRKfO4I

Here I am, totally unprepared. This is truly horrifying for me.

Tim Burton's Vincent

Vincent Malloy is seven years old
He’s always polite and does what he’s told
For a boy his age, he’s considerate and nice
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price

He doesn’t mind living with his sister, dog and cats
Though he’d rather share a home with spiders and bats
There he could reflect on the horrors he’s invented
And wander dark hallways, alone and tormented

Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum

He likes to experiment on his dog Abercrombie
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie
So he and his horrible zombie dog
Could go searching for victims in the London fog

His thoughts, though, aren’t only of ghoulish crimes
He likes to paint and read to pass some of the times
While other kids read books like Go, Jane, Go!
Vincent’s favourite author is Edgar Allen Poe

One night, while reading a gruesome tale
He read a passage that made him turn pale

Such horrible news he could not survive
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive!
He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead
Unaware that her grave was his mother’s flower bed

His mother sent Vincent off to his room
He knew he’d been banished to the tower of doom
Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life
Alone with the portrait of his beautiful wife

While alone and insane encased in his tomb
Vincent’s mother burst suddenly into the room
She said: “If you want to, you can go out and play
It’s sunny outside, and a beautiful day”

Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn’t speak
The years of isolation had made him quite weak
So he took out some paper and scrawled with a pen:
“I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again”
His mother said: “You’re not possessed, and you’re not almost dead
These games that you play are all in your head
You’re not Vincent Price, you’re Vincent Malloy
You’re not tormented or insane, you’re just a young boy
You’re seven years old and you are my son
I want you to get outside and have some real fun.”


Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall
And while Vincent backed slowly against the wall
The room started to swell, to shiver and creak
His horrid insanity had reached its peak

He saw Abercrombie, his zombie slave
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave
She spoke from her coffin and made ghoulish demands
While, through cracking walls, reached skeleton hands

Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams
Swept his mad laughter to terrified screams!
To escape the madness, he reached for the door
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor

His voice was soft and very slow
As he quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe:

“and my soul from out that shadow
that lies floating on the floor
shall be lifted?
Nevermore…”

http://www.timburtoncollective.com/vincent.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n0zkFo3IkcY

He opened the red grimoire and read, "To travel in time, first assemble ye coven in ye old mill..."

A brown fugue settled over him as he read, until he came to the conclusion, "...mount ye trestle over seething cauldron, ring ye bell, open ye book, light ye candle."

He turned pale, his jaw dropped and he exclaimed, "My God, that will actually work in the right conditions!"

"Where is Lacie?" Lory asked as Elsie and Tilly came to the table.

"She's busy with the dog," said Elsie, sitting at her place.

"He won't do his tricks," added Tilly. "I don't think
he's really a dog anyway.

"What do you mean?" Lory asked.

"Such huge teeth that bite, and monstrous claws that scratch," Tilly replied. "Much too big for a dog. I think he's one of those creatures that Dodo talks about."

"Speaking of Dodo, he's expected to arrive with Reverend Duckworth
this afternoon for an afternoon of rowing on the river," Lory said,
ringing for the maid to bring the soup course. "I hope Lacie will manage to eat properly before they arrive."

There came a high-pitched wail from Lacie's room, which caused
everyone to run in that direction. What they found was truly horrible: The dog was swallowing Lacie. Only her head was visible in his mouth. Lacie's mother and sisters grasped Lacie's shoulders and tugged hard. Little by little, the dog gave up on his intentions.

When Lacie was finally safe, Lory glanced at the dog, who still stood there with his mouth open. Deep in his throat, she could see a white furry face and a pocket watch....

~~Mom, Dad, we Have to Talk~~

They lived together in a large brick house on the edge of a vast swamp. A thick coat of ivy climbed the sides of the house and prevented even the nosiest neighbors from discovering much about what went on inside. Still, it was commonly believed that the husband was human even if his actions were monstrous at times. The wife, if that's what she was? The election department listed her as a member of the Rhinocerus Party. When she swam at the community pool, the other swimmers thought they saw fins. Still others swore that she flew past their windows and spied on them at night.

At the edge of the swamp was a tall observation tower. The watchman saw the husband enter the swamp once a year, carrying an object wrapped in a khaki dishtowel. When he returned, he no longer had the object, whatever it was.

One night, the unspeakable happened. Few of us like to think about it, let alone decsribe it. Still, there is no other way to put these horrors to rest. At the stroke of midnight, I happened to look out my bedroom window. There, crawling toward the brick house, were at least a dozen misshapen black creatures, covered in slime. The largest was the size of a pony, though considerably less comely to look at.

They neither knocked nor rang the front doorbell, but rather used a half-rotted log to bash their way through the door. Throwing on my robe, I hurried downstairs so as to observe from a safe distance. I could hear the man demand to know who the creatures were.

"We are your children, that you abandoned in the swamp," they intoned in a chorus.

"I cannot take care of you now," the man insisted. "For that matter, I couldn't take care of you then either."

"Please, children, go back into the swamp and live your lives as if we had never been your parents," said another voice, probably that of the wife.

"You will come with us, then," said one of the creatures.

I watched the creatures drag the couple back through the door, wailing all the way. They all disappeared into the swamp. We never saw any of them again.