Ron Chaney's hillside home near Palm Springs doesn't look much like a haunted house, but he always looks forward to getting it ready for Halloween. Chaney is, after all, a descendent of monsters.

To live, to die, to rise again

Like a corpse with a Christ Compex: born again with immortal blood, setting loose upon the world a killer, a thief of life

Keeping the coffin builders busy

Am I beyond redemption? Beyond forgiveness?

Yes, I am, for I love what I do. Drinking from the Scarlet river, holding the power of life and death

I want more, always more.

An occational twinge of guilt, quickly lost in the heat of the kill.

Repress the urge to jump to the hightest point and shout with all my might

At the base of the Bihor mountains in Rumania,
The village of Solta is the place,
Where the Vampire's stirring in the night takes place,
As he impoverishes the town,
In his quest for sanguine ecstacy!

There are no such things or are there?
This morning I awoke in an utmost stupor!
Two puncture holes above my jugular,
He will strike again tonight!
When the moon is full and bright,
Leaving me almost dead and in agony!

By day the children search for garlic buds,
To be placed in the windows,

Very quietly, with difficulty restraining her own emotion so as not to excite him further, Ethel had related to Ernest the story of her remarkable interview with Reginald Clarke. In the long silence that ensued, the wings of his soul brushed against hers for the first time, and Love by a thousand tender chains of common suffering welded their beings into one.