"I saw my first (one) while I was taking a leak. I had left the tent and had gone down to the shore line to relieve myself, when I first caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye. Because of the bloom I first thought it was Susan Myers. She wore a thick, wooly Afro that surrounded her head like a lion's mane, and the shape of the thing struck me as her silhouette. But when I zipped up and turned, it wasn't an Afro. It was a flower blooming out of Jacobs. I recognized him by his clothes and the hunk of his face that hung off one of the petals like a worn-out hat on a peg...A sound like a moan came (from it), and I stumbled back. Jacob's body quivered briefly, as if he had been besieged by a sudden chill, and ripping through his flesh and clothes, from neck to foot, was a mass of thorny, wagging vines..."
from "Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man's Back" by Joe R. Lansdale
"At first I only detected a low steady grinding noise coming from the surrounding hills, and some thin trickles of loose stone and scree rustled down the slopes. I was slow to become alarmed - after all, seismic activity wasn't unheard of in this part of the country, especially since the war. I'd experienced it several times. It was when the sounds began to form a distinct pattern that I went on the alert. That's when I saw them - dark shapes silhouetted against the darker night. At least twenty jagged shapes ranging from man-sized to head-sized were lined up around the hill tops surrounding our campsite, and it quickly sank in just how perfect the trap was that we had stumbled into..."
from "Sage & Stone" by Rick Catanzaro
"He looked back front again - and the smile froze on his face as a head popped into view only a few meters away. A head out of a nightmare. Huge eyes, two tiny nostrils in moist, flabby flesh...no ears. Hairless. Four fleshy suckers slapped suddenly onto the roof edge, squishing tight. A squealing snort of rage erupted from (it). Another suckered hand whipped and around, shooting toward Ryan's face with the velocity of a striking snake...Ryan had once seen a man attacked by a sticky...The finger pads had slapped home, then retracted, taking the man's face with them, the flesh literally suctioned off the bone in bloody, doughy strips as though the sticky was tugging his hand out of red molasses. Eyeballs had popped. Faceless, the man had collapsed shrieking to the ground...Right now, all (Ryan) could think of, as he rolled desperately to the side, was the incredible sucking power of these oozing pads, lunging for his face..."
from "Deathlands: Pilgrimage to Hell" by Jack Adrian