What is this HORRORWALKER myth?
What is the story about this darkly frightening creature that looks like death?
Why does it appear before a person, force him or her to take that horror tomb into hands...
And then forces the victim to read a horror missive that has, or will, come true?
Only the people who have ever been approached by the HORRORWALKER have answers.
And mot of them are not talking about their actual encounter.
But... oh, about the missive they are given by the HORRORWALKER?
Victims are compelled to tell there HORRORWALKER TOME story!
Be it verbally, or by the written word... the horror is transferred to us, the common person.
Take, for example... Angel Madison's Vampire Introduction To:
ANGEL MADISON'S HORRORWALKER INTRODUCTION TO:
The Horrorwalker was so tall that its head appeared to touch the ceiling of my living-room. It was so much taller and larger than me that I literally almost fell backward as I looked up into what could have been a face... if I could have seen into the blackness where the cowl framed the area where its face should have been.
I want to think I willingly took the Horrorwalker's book into my small hands. I want to believe that I willingly flipped through the pages, that actually turned on their own, to the story that I was wiling going to read. I want to believe the Horrorwalker liked me because I offered no resistance.
And then I was reading my Horrorwalker horror tale... my delicious Horrorwalker horror tale that made me more of a believer in the supernatural than I had ever been -- even standing in the face of this creature of that which man can only dream of... until it is standing right there in your apartment!
My Horrorwalker horror story is titled: 98.6 Degrees!
And I now know that the optimum pleasure point for a vampire, that metaphysical place where a vampire's pleasure is gained to optimum effect as it feeds from its next victim, is drinking its blood meal at the always desired temperature of... 98.6 Degrees.
When I was finished reading my 46 pages of beautiful vampire horror, I handed the book back to the Horrorwalker. I strained to look into the black void inside that cowl as it silently reached for the book. If I had had control over my own body, I would have reached up to touch it... but I was not in control of myself. And besides, lord knows what would have happened to me if... if... I could have touched the Horrorwalker.
It took a step back away from me. And like... that... it was gone. It was there and then it was not.
And suddenly, I had control of my facilities. I touched myself to make sure I was all there and then I walked straight to my writing desk, extracted a fresh college ruled notebook, grabbed my best writing pen and then settled into my recliner -- to put my Horrorwalker story on paper.
These tales come true. Yesterday, today, tomorrow and further into the future... Horrorwalker horror tales come true. And here I am, blessed -- or cursed -- with this information.
What will I do with this Horrorwalker horror knowledge? And can I prevent the death of those people in my tale from the near future? And what can little ol' me do to stop a hundred year old creature of the undead?
Well, let me finish writing my missive first. Then I'll decide on what I could possibly do about a vampire who likes its blood at: 98.6 DEGREES!
How warm is my blood?