M.J. Pack

You’re not one of those girls that slaps on a store-bought costume. You’re better than that. You’re worth more than Sexy Firefighter, Sexy Cowgirl, Sexy Donald Trump. But it can still be hard to come up with a good, solid Halloween costume. As the self-proclaimed Halloween Queen, I’m here to help.

All I have to say about this one is RAT WITH A HUMAN FACE.

That’s what was following me, right? The handprints? The voice? Worse, what was attached to those handprints?

I’m back, Elsa, and I’m ready to talk to you.

Here they are, just for you: the spookiest, most blood-curdling short stories I’ve ever read. Turn down the lights, grab one of these tales, and prepare to be scared.

It’s his stupid games but now they’re worse because he’s angry and now he has more power.

Forget an apple a day, a horror movie a day is what’s REALLY good for you.

That’s how we ended up with our Westie boarded at a kennel, two overnight bags, and a keycard to room 240 at the Hotel Alexandria.

There are so many dressings on the table. Only psychopaths have that many salad dressings.

Pumpkin-flavored beer is in the fridge, fall officially starts tomorrow, and tonight is the premiere for “American Horror Story” creator Ryan Murphy’s brand new horror comedy series.

I liked horror movies, but after that night, I loved them. All thanks to Wes Craven.

It was supposed to take people to the train tracks by the river. That’s one of the only things I know for sure.

Inspired by a nightmare director David Robert Mitchell had — wherein he was being chased by a slow but unstoppable force — “It Follows” captures the terror of inescapable doom. Obviously, whatever IT is, the monster is spooky in more ways than one. But is that all? Is the monster — the IT — the scariest part of the movie?

I fondly remember spending my summers on the deck by our pool, reading about Derry and Christine and the Overlook Hotel. A lot of the material went over my head — rereading The Shining at age 27 VS age 9 was quite an experience — but the King of Horror had firmly planted the seed for me to wildly enjoy both reading and scary stuff.

June, 1977. Tent number 6. That’s where I was. Until I heard the noise outside.

“Does it look like you dreamt it?”

I glanced down the hill. The factories, the bleached grass, the little fenced-off section. The field.

“Yeah,” I said, then waved her away. “Go, hurry up, you don’t want to miss anything good.”

Gretchen stayed overnight for New Year’s Eve 1998. Clay and Mom had some stupid office party to go to so we were left home alone with popcorn and some movies from Blockbuster. He had the nerve to say he “trusted” us because we were such “big girls” now.

“What did you remember, Amanda?” she asked quietly. “You saw something. Whatever it was, it was so bad it made you sick. It’s about that, isn’t it?”