<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428</id><updated>2024-08-28T11:27:50.709-04:00</updated><category term="What it&#39;s about"/><title type='text'>Pulp Horror Stories in 50 Words or Less</title><subtitle type='html'>Horror stories in 50 words or less by pulp horror writer Steven Farkas. &#xa;Check back regularly for new stories, they&#39;re being posted all the time!!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>77</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-7390933665272201801</id><published>2011-10-19T08:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T09:05:07.551-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dead and The Wicked</title><content type='html'>Little children, watch them with no respect as their parents put no boundaries on them.  They grow to wicked adulthood with no knowledge and no morals.  Watch the world burn as they destroy it with their ignorance while MOM and DAD stand in horror of the monsters they have created!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7390933665272201801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2011/10/dead-and-wicked.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7390933665272201801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7390933665272201801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2011/10/dead-and-wicked.html' title='The Dead and The Wicked'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-2904073770251867481</id><published>2011-02-02T13:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T13:20:24.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Grim Horror</title><content type='html'>Burning blood flows down the street.  Two little boys stand there crying as their mother dies in front of them.  Boo Hoo bitches!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2904073770251867481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2011/02/grim-horror.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2904073770251867481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2904073770251867481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2011/02/grim-horror.html' title='A Grim Horror'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-3162372323949607229</id><published>2010-09-20T10:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T10:06:21.974-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sun in the Sky</title><content type='html'>The Sun was large in the sky and getting larger every day.  We knew it would become a red giant someday, but never really worried about it. Now, we can&#39;t breathe as we watch the planet burn.  Soon the Earth will be enveloped by the Sun and us with it.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3162372323949607229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/09/sun-in-sky.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/3162372323949607229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/3162372323949607229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/09/sun-in-sky.html' title='The Sun in the Sky'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-2005557662869782810</id><published>2010-08-08T10:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T10:57:36.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombie Family</title><content type='html'>They woke up dead, and now different from the rest of the world.  They were a family of zombies, a dad, mom, and three children.  How would they keep their secret hidden from the &quot;normals&quot;?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2005557662869782810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/08/zombie-family.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2005557662869782810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2005557662869782810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/08/zombie-family.html' title='Zombie Family'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-3942070252041453055</id><published>2010-08-03T18:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T18:17:09.827-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blood So Good</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nA380XaqTWrxuCk3ECKYLBnLmSHvXeVPtgh-rw1yEIocpnS1-9WHrioTFwazN70VFMPBR2CUoxFQbRGei8SFmInodvGJ_YN6bBShJj9kUd_DRUSfWjARMjdCyoWT2Ke9CYW-zGfxvGoe/s1600/blood.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 94px; height: 125px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nA380XaqTWrxuCk3ECKYLBnLmSHvXeVPtgh-rw1yEIocpnS1-9WHrioTFwazN70VFMPBR2CUoxFQbRGei8SFmInodvGJ_YN6bBShJj9kUd_DRUSfWjARMjdCyoWT2Ke9CYW-zGfxvGoe/s200/blood.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501311158225584146&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It tastes too good to stop. Cutting her open and draining the blood for my dinner.  She&#39;s almost empty, I will need another.  Maybe a young child next time, they taste very sweet. No I&#39;m not a vampire, just a regular guy with different tastes then most.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3942070252041453055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/08/blood-so-good.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/3942070252041453055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/3942070252041453055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/08/blood-so-good.html' title='Blood So Good'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nA380XaqTWrxuCk3ECKYLBnLmSHvXeVPtgh-rw1yEIocpnS1-9WHrioTFwazN70VFMPBR2CUoxFQbRGei8SFmInodvGJ_YN6bBShJj9kUd_DRUSfWjARMjdCyoWT2Ke9CYW-zGfxvGoe/s72-c/blood.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-8198751928105714427</id><published>2010-07-12T15:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T15:37:39.999-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The ghost of Smithville Inn and Brothel</title><content type='html'>Standing on the green at Smithville, I can feel the ghost near.  She is naked and beckons me to be a new customer at the old Smithville Inn and brothel. I went with her, and all I can say is sex with the dead is fabulous.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8198751928105714427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/07/ghost-of-smithville-inn-and-brothel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/8198751928105714427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/8198751928105714427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/07/ghost-of-smithville-inn-and-brothel.html' title='The ghost of Smithville Inn and Brothel'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-1183300233041562934</id><published>2010-07-02T14:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:07:52.961-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombie Washington</title><content type='html'>When the war was going badly, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson decided to kill Washington.  But what they did was save the war as Washington returned as a zombie.  The Brits never had a chance.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1183300233041562934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/07/zombie-washington.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/1183300233041562934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/1183300233041562934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/07/zombie-washington.html' title='Zombie Washington'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-7265600287167252080</id><published>2010-06-27T14:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T14:53:15.438-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Werechick</title><content type='html'>&quot;Ouch!&quot; she said.  Something had poked her ass.  When she stood up there was a bloody syringe.  She feared what had been injected into her. Suddenly she couldn&#39;t breathe.  She felt her body change, soon she ripped her clothes off and ran naked through the woods and howeled at the moon.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7265600287167252080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/06/werechick.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7265600287167252080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7265600287167252080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/06/werechick.html' title='Werechick'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-7597050076893442020</id><published>2010-06-26T14:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T14:46:47.224-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombie in the Field</title><content type='html'>The scarecrow was moving.  Bill was sure of it.  He walked over to it carefully, hoping he was wrong.  As he stood under it, the scarecrow grabbed him and ate his brain!  The zombie on the stand was full and happy.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7597050076893442020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/06/zombie-in-field.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7597050076893442020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7597050076893442020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/06/zombie-in-field.html' title='Zombie in the Field'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-5606316268326166336</id><published>2010-06-25T15:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T15:11:21.889-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombie Wife</title><content type='html'>I woke to find her dead laying next to me in bed.  Then she sat up, gave me a strange look and tried to eat my brains. I was left with no choice.  I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and cut my wife&#39;s head off.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5606316268326166336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/06/zombie-wife.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/5606316268326166336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/5606316268326166336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/06/zombie-wife.html' title='Zombie Wife'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-2719780203500084673</id><published>2010-05-08T15:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T15:51:30.099-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Reaper</title><content type='html'>The vapors were strong.  She couldn’t tell what it was from.  She searched the house for the origin of the odor.  She found nothing.  That night the odor returned, at the foot of her bed a large dark specter stood.  With one touch, it killed her, then moved on.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2719780203500084673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/reaper.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2719780203500084673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2719780203500084673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/reaper.html' title='Reaper'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-5821602422013090993</id><published>2010-05-07T15:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T15:46:18.294-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You can Hide the Evidence, But you can&#39;t hide!</title><content type='html'>He burned the barn down to hide the evidence of what he had done.  The fire department said nothing about a dead body in the remains of the barn.  He thought he was clear.  That night someone came into his room.  It was her, the girl her had killed.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5821602422013090993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-can-hide-evidence-but-you-cant-hide.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/5821602422013090993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/5821602422013090993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-can-hide-evidence-but-you-cant-hide.html' title='You can Hide the Evidence, But you can&#39;t hide!'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-2590449265456798517</id><published>2010-05-06T10:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T10:17:39.431-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear House</title><content type='html'>The house rattled, doors slammed.  The family fought to save their life and home.  The longer they stayed, the angrier it became.  The family left, and the house became quiet once more.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2590449265456798517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/fear-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2590449265456798517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/2590449265456798517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/fear-house.html' title='Fear House'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-5200530734359670645</id><published>2010-05-05T10:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T10:04:43.227-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blood Marriage</title><content type='html'>I killed her, drained her blood, and stored it in the freezer.  Being anemic, I never know when I may need a transfusion.  Her body I fed to the animals and burned the bones.  Then I looked for a new wife, one who was AB negative.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5200530734359670645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/blood-marriage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/5200530734359670645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/5200530734359670645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/blood-marriage.html' title='Blood Marriage'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-599124315575315768</id><published>2010-05-04T10:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T10:00:57.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Death Comes</title><content type='html'>The rolling hills looked beautiful.  The mist moved across them slowly.  Behind the mist was death and disease.  Breathing led to death.  The world was getting rid of the ticks, getting rid of us, protecting itself from the threat of death brought on by the disease of humans.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/599124315575315768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/death-comes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/599124315575315768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/599124315575315768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/death-comes.html' title='Death Comes'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-4886916188291389420</id><published>2010-05-03T14:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T14:33:09.259-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Flames of a Family divided.</title><content type='html'>The flames surrounded the house.  The family inside couldn’t get out.  The demon laughed as he watched them burn alive.  Another family destroyed by the flames of division, which always leads to the arrival of the demon.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4886916188291389420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/flames-of-family-divided.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/4886916188291389420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/4886916188291389420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/flames-of-family-divided.html' title='Flames of a Family divided.'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-1238767367670362904</id><published>2010-05-02T14:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T14:15:12.058-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombie Children</title><content type='html'>The children turned first.  An army of zombie children ran amuck through the world eating their parents first and then spreading out to the extended family.  Soon the zombie children were all that was left.  Then they ate each other until no one was left at all.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1238767367670362904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/zombie-children.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/1238767367670362904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/1238767367670362904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/zombie-children.html' title='Zombie Children'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-6973205694819857913</id><published>2010-05-01T14:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T14:11:31.704-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Worm Food</title><content type='html'>“Ouch!” He shouted as the bee stung him.  He swelled up and suffocated.  As he reached the light and felt excited that he was going to heaven, the light went out and so did he.  Worm food, he was nothing more now, but worm food.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/6973205694819857913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/worm-food.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/6973205694819857913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/6973205694819857913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/05/worm-food.html' title='Worm Food'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-4094460102334057101</id><published>2010-04-30T11:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T11:38:51.931-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Burning for God</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBArVfFJx_OSaUTUYQBFy-RT0GIeXi8VhCryjU3w6UlpJpHBRg_vewcA9zGtA98evd_ChQI6ncuR_2UKYuCKqxw7V15OAPqGlDKkvtb-h7UImKjPzteoavTUavQVv5r7o-dMNMFzk18T-/s1600/burned.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 200px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBArVfFJx_OSaUTUYQBFy-RT0GIeXi8VhCryjU3w6UlpJpHBRg_vewcA9zGtA98evd_ChQI6ncuR_2UKYuCKqxw7V15OAPqGlDKkvtb-h7UImKjPzteoavTUavQVv5r7o-dMNMFzk18T-/s200/burned.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465955371621824018&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He set himself on fire because he believed God had asked him to do it.  His delusions were such that he believed he talked and walked with this God image.  In the end he simply burned to death, nothing more, nothing less.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4094460102334057101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/burning-for-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/4094460102334057101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/4094460102334057101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/burning-for-god.html' title='Burning for God'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBArVfFJx_OSaUTUYQBFy-RT0GIeXi8VhCryjU3w6UlpJpHBRg_vewcA9zGtA98evd_ChQI6ncuR_2UKYuCKqxw7V15OAPqGlDKkvtb-h7UImKjPzteoavTUavQVv5r7o-dMNMFzk18T-/s72-c/burned.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-9161766769509570013</id><published>2010-04-29T11:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T11:12:36.045-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead End Road</title><content type='html'>The street came to a dead end suddenly.  He got out of the car.  He had driven here before and knew it was not a dead end road.  In no time they were on him.  They were human but they looked like rabid animals, tearing at him until nothing remained.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/9161766769509570013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/dead-end-road.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/9161766769509570013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/9161766769509570013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/dead-end-road.html' title='Dead End Road'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-3347526737824780238</id><published>2010-04-28T16:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T16:20:35.489-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fat Governor</title><content type='html'>The Governor was fat beyond belief.  He was a nasty man who hated everyone.  He worked hard to throw the whole state out of work.  Hatred filled the citizens of the state, they wanted revenge.  One brisk morning the governor was dispatched from his job, he was found dead with a pie stuffed in his mouth.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3347526737824780238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/fat-governor-homage-to-gov-of-nj.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/3347526737824780238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/3347526737824780238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/fat-governor-homage-to-gov-of-nj.html' title='The Fat Governor'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-544641245935826758</id><published>2010-04-27T16:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T16:14:22.657-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sinner</title><content type='html'>They called him a sinner.  But he didn’t care, he would show them what a sinner was. .  The church was small and pale in color.  He waited just inside the door.  When the pastor entered, he killed him dead.  Then hung him on the cross behind the pulpit.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/544641245935826758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/sinner.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/544641245935826758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/544641245935826758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/sinner.html' title='The Sinner'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-7961860511735561636</id><published>2010-04-26T11:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T11:38:52.253-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Scouting in The Woods</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JCzmeZjnCJxm3-k2VIoHriNp61wdiVkXyiEkvA91aFqXEI2PnTSeyIiRAZkg5LAn2jxZN4naFF7aOuisGSU4W-LjxZt6Vg1uk0SvoTyTIY8gB_TwsxY0ke2igVYUNiX_8lKgrB-zZlwO/s1600/bigfoot.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 181px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JCzmeZjnCJxm3-k2VIoHriNp61wdiVkXyiEkvA91aFqXEI2PnTSeyIiRAZkg5LAn2jxZN4naFF7aOuisGSU4W-LjxZt6Vg1uk0SvoTyTIY8gB_TwsxY0ke2igVYUNiX_8lKgrB-zZlwO/s200/bigfoot.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464841988359163074&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woods were creepy.  The scouts pitched their tents.  Noises came from every direction.  Then movement in the bushes terrified the scouts who now cowered together.  Then it came at them, a large animal, or maybe a man, it looked like both.  The scouts ran for their lives.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7961860511735561636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/scouting-in-woods.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7961860511735561636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7961860511735561636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/scouting-in-woods.html' title='Scouting in The Woods'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JCzmeZjnCJxm3-k2VIoHriNp61wdiVkXyiEkvA91aFqXEI2PnTSeyIiRAZkg5LAn2jxZN4naFF7aOuisGSU4W-LjxZt6Vg1uk0SvoTyTIY8gB_TwsxY0ke2igVYUNiX_8lKgrB-zZlwO/s72-c/bigfoot.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-9036920262745552809</id><published>2010-04-25T11:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T11:26:35.819-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Presence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJFBerkmxJsP9Xq0BNXmCHbDRJAUcEsU59PbE29Q5TcyKfAex6_ehMiw508jExI77udgmt9P4MgeFTwhTvCg77VxPTkLgQ6S0UF58dY9GnAawU4WFaUuu1k9SREUy-IelxbT7vpCRFD13o/s1600/creep4.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 200px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJFBerkmxJsP9Xq0BNXmCHbDRJAUcEsU59PbE29Q5TcyKfAex6_ehMiw508jExI77udgmt9P4MgeFTwhTvCg77VxPTkLgQ6S0UF58dY9GnAawU4WFaUuu1k9SREUy-IelxbT7vpCRFD13o/s200/creep4.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot;id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464839005348583122&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The terror started with a strange sound at the door.  When she opened it, there was nothing in the hallway.  Suddenly the lights went off in the house.  She felt it touch her.  She screamed.  The doors slammed open.  The house made sure she left and never came back.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/9036920262745552809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/presence.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/9036920262745552809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/9036920262745552809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/presence.html' title='The Presence'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJFBerkmxJsP9Xq0BNXmCHbDRJAUcEsU59PbE29Q5TcyKfAex6_ehMiw508jExI77udgmt9P4MgeFTwhTvCg77VxPTkLgQ6S0UF58dY9GnAawU4WFaUuu1k9SREUy-IelxbT7vpCRFD13o/s72-c/creep4.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155805622733133428.post-7514352306521552029</id><published>2010-04-24T16:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T16:07:28.238-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombies in the Barn</title><content type='html'>The zombies moved fast.  I was surprised, every movie made them seem slow.  I ran for my life, literally.  When tried to hide in the barn, something happened, something I hadn’t even thought about.  The animals were zombies, I never stood a chance.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7514352306521552029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/zombies-in-barn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7514352306521552029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7155805622733133428/posts/default/7514352306521552029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pulphorrorstories.blogspot.com/2010/04/zombies-in-barn.html' title='Zombies in the Barn'/><author><name>Steven Farkas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06270450977792419128</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>