"His eyes had been torn out, or blown out is how they looked. Skin was peeled off his head, just leaving the skull and a few hairs. His chest was ripped open, and his insides was gone, exceptin' the bones in there. And them bees of his had nested in the hole in his chest, had done gone about making honey."
"He could see a hand on what appeared to be an impossibly long arm, reaching out to grab at the edge of the door."
"It sat on the window sill, crouched there like a bird of prey, a halo of bees circling around its head. The hive pulsed and glowed in its chest."
"Gimet's head sprouted a few springs of hair, like withering grass fighting its way through stone. A slight turn of its head allowed the moon to flow through the back of its cracked skull and out of its empty eyes. Then the head turned and the face was full of shadows again."
The empty eyes, the sharp, wet teeth, the long, cracked nails, blackened from grime, clacking against the wooden floor."
Joe R. Lansdale, Deadman's Road
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