Showing results by author "David Boyer" in All Categories

As an “amateur” filmmaker, I can't rightfully boast of being another Spielberg or Eastwood, but I know a really crappy movie when I see one. For example: the ever-present “final girl” chase scene at the end of most low-budget horror films. In reality? That is not the way it happens at all. I should know, from experience...

So says a man named Davis, an aspiring writer who, after losing almost everything and everyone he has ever valued or loved, decides to write one last story before the Covid virus strain of 2023 claims his life as well - or the power and internet fails, whichever comes first.

August 8, 2001, Vincennes, Indiana: A small town is shocked and stunned as a young married couple, just sitting back watching TV and following their nightly routine, are suddenly and viciously murdered - by one of their own relation for no apparent reason; May 31, 2000, Bloomington, Indiana: A pretty young woman, popular, happy, and carefree and looking forward to the future suddenly vanishes into thin air, only to be found later dead, a possible victim of murder by jealous classmates.

It's like you are in a slow-motion car crash. It's as though time has stopped on a dime. Your eyes are wide open in fear, your body is as stiff as a dime-store mannequin, and your mouth is open in terrified awe, but no words come out. You can't believe this is really happening to you because you have never believed in the paranormal before. Until now. In Haunted Heartland, author David Boyer has assembled a vast and intriguing collection of real-life ghost stories that will make non-believers question the existence of ghosts, as well as thrill the true believers.

The neck is one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body. It can be slashed, twisted, snapped, or held in a vise until the owner either passes out or asphyxiates. Darren Deon Vann learned a lot about anatomy while surfing the internet. He wasn’t all that smart, but he wasn’t the dullest quill on the porcupine, either.

Like the previous volumes, I'm sure there will be something in here for everybody. Whether it be a pleasant memory from your childhood or a sad memory that taught you a valuable lesson, or something funny to brighten up your gloomy day; I am pretty confident you will find it here. And as always, I had a real blast sitting back and creating some memories for you.

Serial killer Martin Campbell has planted his seed within her now, one he hopes will grow stronger and be nurtured by her to it’s full maturity. She can feel it coursing through her veins like a runaway train, her adrenaline pumping now as well, as she descends the dirt path behind their condo and into the darkness of the ghostly tree line. He will follow close behind her - only to make sure she is an apt pupil - but not too close, doesn’t want to throw off her concentration. After tonight, though, she will be on her own.

He’s a cutter. He uses the knife and I’m the Thanksgiving turkey that needs to be carved. I have blood all down my arms and legs. He cut on my backside and if I get out of here I don’t know how I can explain those scars without having to tell how stupid I was to get in his car...says Tina, a victim of a serial killer who enjoys slowly torturing his victims. But what he doesn't know is, he has finally met his match.

When Aileen and her brother were little kids, they thought their grandparents were their real parents. Truth was, their father was a satanist and child molester who hung himself in prison. Their mother was a whore who abandoned them when they were barely out of diapers. But that was nothing compared to what awaited her out in the real world.

As of 2015, it is believed that there are at least 200 serial killers active in the United States at any given time - 33 of them were from Indiana. Nobody in their own home town would have wanted to imagine a fledgling serial killer lurking about, searching for his next victim. Or imagine one being their next door neighbor or the relative of a friend or even attending the local college. Yet, since the early 1970s, Vincennes, Indiana, Knox County, and Indiana in general has had it's share of cold blooded murder.

When Sampson came back from the war again, he wasn't sure how happy his remaining family would be to see him, but there was only one way to find out. Who knows? They might welcome him back with open arms. Then again, they might hide up in the trees and take potshots at him with their hunting rifles. He hadn't exactly left his old home on the best of terms. His own father—or what almost passed for a father—had called him a demon. As if he had any reason to act self-righteous. But no matter now; he was back home again, and he had important things to take care of.

True crime isn't only about serial killers and rapists and pedophiles and organized crime. It is also about the victims left behind to serve their own life sentences, often without anyone to help them make it through the awful ordeal. If you dare, enter the world of Small Town Murder.

Abby Williams and Libby German. Their voices have been silenced forever now, except for home videos or memories. Abby and Libby need a voice again, so now it is up to their families - and the rest if us who want justice for these girls - to create a new voice for them, to tell their story, and never stop our voices from speaking up until the man responsible is behind bars forever.

"Doc Holliday was a dentist whom necessity had made a gambler; a gentleman whom disease had made a frontier vagabond; a philosopher whom life had made a caustic wit; a long, lean fellow nearly dead with consumption and at the same time the most skillful gambler and the nerviest, speediest, deadliest man with a six-gun I ever knew." So says famous wild west Sheriff Wyatt Earp, of his long time friend and compadre, Doc Holliday. What he didn't know was, beneath Doc's rough exterior lay a heart of gold, a true romantic.

Over the last several years, I have had more than one debate with other people as to whether animals - either domestic pets or in the wild - really have a soul. One thing I'm sure about is this: Our pets do possess the ability to exhibit true and unconditional love for their owners - without really asking for anything in return except for food and water and, of course, unconditional love, as well.

Trisha was one of the forgotten ones, the walking wounded, the expendables. Just like a lot of other young girls who inadvertently get mixed up with the wrong crowd, hang around the wrong places, live teetering on the very edge of society, she was nothing more than a statistic on a sheet, another lonely number among many others. She'd been classified as just another one of the "nearly dead", meaning that her lifestyle was surely going to kill her anyway, even if someone else didn't kill her first.

Serial killers have problems just like much of our nation. How they handle and deal with their problems is the same difference between serial killers and the rest of the United States. Having basic knowledge of our country's serial killers can easily create a better understanding of serial killers and why they do what they do.

A meeting of the minds is held at Derrick's place, with Lester, Lincoln, Luther, and Jenny in attendance. Before the night is over, Derrick realizes with terrifying clarity that Kyra Talbot's killer has still been on the loose all along - and it is a member of the local community that nobody would have ever suspected.

Leo Baynes, a rich, charming entrepreneur, whose personal tastes tend to lean toward the “exotic”, was so intent on discovering the secret of his own wanderlust, he would travel to the very ends of the earth just to satisfy his own insatiable thirst for things most men would run from. That is, until he met Chio - the cat woman. Now, the very doorway was now opening to more than just a handful of humans who had ever known existed, much less tasted, pleasures that would redefine the parameters of sexual sensation - and other unknown terrors...

Unfortunately, even small towns - Vincennes included - eventually change, sometimes for the better, and other times, not so much. It's the natural order of things. Trees grow old and fall. Sidewalks split and crack and are replaced for public safety's sake. Old houses - and all the memories associated with them - are demolished and replaced with parking lots or duplexes. Even historical landmarks - Mother Nature, and Father Time having taken their toll - sadly, vanish - except for our own pictures and memories of them.