The Murder Prophet

Sanctum mysteries. Good evening, friends of the Creting Dog. This is your host to welcome you in the una-sanctum. Into a gay little world of homicidal maniacs, vampires, goats, where worlds in assorted forms of sudden death.

Friends, if you ever walk through a cemetery at midnight and see a girl who'd hair it on fire and who's carrying her head under her arm, You know what to tell it, aren't you? What do you say?

Keep a cool head on your shoulder, Chir. And run like crazy. Ha ha ha ha ha! Fellow cool? You know what's going to happen now, don't you? Ha ha. That's right. You're going to scream your little heads off.

And love it. Ready? And let's hear our star acting a small head in the role of Claudia. Tell us the story in her own way. Exactly midnight. I saw him for the first time. My headlights could come up with a healthy, along a lonely stretch of road near my home.

I wouldn't have stopped, but the storm was so fierce, I felt sorry for him. I drew up to the side of the road. Thank you. Going far? No, not far. Where to? I'll let you know.

Tombstone. Oh, there's a cemetery where I picked you up. Yes. Burchlawn. He said nothing for a few minutes. In the reflection of the dashboard light, I saw his face for the first time. Sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, mouth set in a queer grin.

A skull barely covered with a thin layer of milk white flesh. I realized he was staring at me. I've seen you before. I don't think we've met. I know you. Are you sure? Yes. I'd never forget someone so beautiful.