The Scariest Book. From the Abyss

Do you know what happens if you stare into the Abyss for too long? You can't hide from the nightmares that dwell here under the blanket, these horrors can't be covered with a painting on the wall, disconnecting the cord from the socket won't help, and you won't be saved from these thoughts by a psychiatrist or a dose of haloperidol. They are waiting, they are creeping up to you — from the screen of an old theater, from the graffiti-covered wall of a garage, from the text of a forgotten fairy tale, from beneath layers of plaster and wallpaper, from countless holes connecting the world of the explainable with the depths of the unknown. Every possible and impossible form of that side of existence is raging, bubbling, boiling in a thirst to gain flesh. Your flesh. Do you hear the jaws snapping? Do you see the shadow crawling along the wall of the neighboring nine-story building? Do you feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up? It is myriads of eyes that are already looking at you. They are looking FROM THE ABYSS.