I have always heard that perfection does not exist, but if you look at the crystal skulls I have in my possession, you will know that perfection is indeed possible, but that it also comes at a price.

There is generally something horrible about a skull, all flesh removed and brains long since turned to dust. The crystal skulls hold no such signs of death or horror. Instead, they are perfectly carved pieces, each containing a massive diamond within.

For eons, men have tried to penetrate those skulls to get at the diamonds within. When the crystal is struck or cut, it makes a high-pitched sound that makes its way into the brain of the assailant. That sound remains, ringing like tinnitus and slowly driving the person mad.

Death soon follows as total madness descends. There is no way to live with that constant ringing in the ears, no way to escape the curse bestowed by the crystal skull.

I have six of them in possession, but I also know that seven were created. One of them is still out there, luring in unsuspecting prey with the gem contained within. If you ever see the final skull out in the wild, do not be tempted to release the treasure. Bring it to me so that the world can be safe from the power of the crystal skulls.

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Revived

He loved her more than life itself, so when death came to take her, revival became obsession. Science was his second love, his home a functioning laboratory filled with potions and devices beyond imagination.

Night and day he worked, trying different concoctions, feeding them through her dead body and awaiting a spark. On the thirteenth day, it came.

His beloved sat bolt upright, turning to face him, a rictus smile on her face. Tears fell from his eyes as she stood and walked toward him, bones popping so loud that he did not register the snap of his own neck.

The Well

Death comes to everyone, and when pressed, we all have a preferred, acceptable method of death. For most, it is passing while asleep. No one asks to be dumped down a well and fed to those already there.

William screamed on his way down, his ankles snapping as he touched the dry bottom. The pain was nothing compared to the feeling of his flesh being torn from his body by those looking to survive.

When the killing ground was eventually found and the well uncovered, the dead all had their skulls facing upward, as though waiting for light to return.

The Wizard

Barnabus was a magician, a practitioner of the dark arts willing to share his methods with anyone willing to pay the price. He turned young women into Hollywood starlets and paupers into princes.

His name became legend among those looking for something more, and while most had nothing to offer at the time of asking, Barnabus gave them a life that meant future payments were assured.

The problem, though, was that fame and fortune are often fleeting. Those who were unable to fulfill the full asking price were forced to pay in other ways. Barnabus loved these one the most.

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Monsters aren’t real.

Those were the words my mother would whisper as I buried my face in her chest, trying to hide from the creatures stalking their prey on the TV. I can’t really say where my love of old horror movies came from, but I would beg to stay up late every Friday night to watch whatever creature feature that aired on the precious few channels…

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New Horror Book Releases: August 11, 2026

If you guys are anything like me, you are probably already looking ahead to October and all the amazing titles that are going to be coming out closer to Halloween. Luckily, though, there are plenty of awesome new releases to keep us occupied until then, so let’s look at what is releasing today:

Devil Inside by Clay Mcleod Chapman

It seems that with the recent success of the movie, Heart Eyes, horror romance is quickly becoming a thing. This book sounds crazy enough to work, as you have a dude constantly tasting ash and seeing people’s faces melt after being involved in an accident. Maybe a little romance can change all that.

Dreamland by Olivie Blake

This one is described as a modern gothic horror set in LA during the “Summer of Exsanguination.” Women are being murdered and the Santa Ana winds are delivering a strange sort of vibe across the entire city. Seems to be some fantasy elements in here, too.

Godfestation by Jendia Gammon

If you are looking to kick start your reading goals for this year, this might be a good place to start. Clocking in at around 120 pages, Godfestation is a story about a woman seeing monsters after a tragic moment in her life. Are they real or hallucinations?

The Hill in the Dark Grove by Liam Higginson

Oh, this one sounds delicious, especially if you are a fan of folk horror like I am. A Welsh farmer finds an ancient stone head in a hidden part of the farm and becomes obsessed with unearthing it. Only good things can come of that, right?

The Last House on Earth/Death Walks South Boston by Christoph Paul

Two stories for the price of one is always a great deal, and that is exactly what we are getting here. A pair of creature features in a single package sounds exactly like the type of thing that is going to land in my shopping cart.

Nest of Tongues by Randy Ribay

This might not be your usual vampire tales, as this one tells of a pair of bloodsuckers in the Philippines, as well as the hunter tracking them and looking to take them down. Do they run and hide or stand and fight?

A Plagued Sea by Kim Bo-Young

At just 100 pages, we have another short one on offer here. An earthquake unleashes a plague that turn its victims into fishy monsters. This book has been translated from the original text.

Reliquary by Hannah Whitten

I do love a good horror debut, and this book seems to have all the right ingredients to make it so. A grieving fiance, a remote location, and hidden family secrets. We also have something stirring beneath the sea. I am sold on this story.

Saint Delilah by Isabelle Spotts

A restless spirit returns to avenge the man who killed her. Making matters worse is that Deliah can’t remember the details of her death, plus she is being set upon by other spirts in the undead world. Time is running out before she is devoured.

She Haunts Me Still by De Elizabeth

After a less than pleasant childhood, a young woman heads to theater school to begin a new life. The school, though, was once a sanitarium, and may be home to the spirit that killed her mother.

Stay Buried by Jennifer McMahon

We seem to have a theme going this week, as Stay Buried tells the story of a woman confronting the past to uncover the secrets behind her mother’s death. This book is listed as queer folk horror and the cover is absolutely stunning, IMHO.

Them by WH Chizmar

Another debut solo horror novel and one that sounds very tasty indeed. A top-secret government project designed to transport matter across space brings something back to hit an unsuspecting New England countryside.

Well, that was a bumper crop of releases for this week, so there should be at least one book that catches your eye.

HAPPY READING!!

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Marina

The look on Catriona’s face said it all, but Marina still felt the urge to ask, “What do you think?”

“This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen.” Catriona moved around the penthouse suite, reaching out to touch some of the ornamental pieces on display before pulling her hand back as though burned.

“You won’t break anything,” Marina laughed. “And even if you do, everything can be replaced.”

Catriona moved over to the large windows and looked out at the place she had called home for far too long, the place she would be leaving behind to embark on a new chapter. She turned and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to stop the room from spinning. “I’m a wee bit tipsy.”

“You deserve to be. You are celebrating a new job.”

“Aye. I’ve gone and taken a job I know nothing about from a woman I hardly know. My da would kill me if he knew. He always said I was reckless.”

Throwing her heels aside, Marina sat on the couch and stretched her legs out onto an ottoman, wiggling her toes as pins and needles set in. “I probably should tell you more about me, but I’m afraid I’ll scare you off.”

Staggering slightly, Catriona made her way to the couch and sat down heavily. “Go ahead and tell me; I can take it.”

Marina could feel the girl’s eyes boring a hole through her, seeing everything tucked away inside, finding the cabinet of dark secrets to which only a select few had access. How much to tell and how much to keep locked away? Pondering the question in her head for a moment, Marina settled on ripping off the Band-aid in a single pull. “I bathe in blood to stay young.”

Closing her eyes and scrunching her nose, Catriona looked as though she had just stepped in shit. “So, it’s not Oil of Olay, then?” she chuckled.

“I…”

“My being in such close proximity to that book of yours doesn’t surprise me,” Catriona interrupted. “This city shows me things, mostly bad.”

“Like me with my throat cut?”

“Aye, like that. But it has also shown me the threeness.”

Tucking her legs under her body, Marina scooted in closer to the girl, giving her a little nudge as she noticed the effects of the Guinness beginning to kick in. “Tell me about that,” she whispered.

“About what?”

‘The threeness.”

“Ach. It’s a Celtic thing that’s not so easy to explain.”

“Try me.”

“When I was a wee girl, and I started seeing things, the people in my town started calling me the Morrigan.” Catriona stared off into space, eyes blinking slowly. “The Morrigan was a goddess who could foretell the future, but she was also a warrior who helped deliver victory to those she chose to touch.” She closed her eyes and fell silent.

“Catriona…Catriona, wake up.”

“I’m awake, you old cow. Sorry, I didn’t…I’m trying to think how to explain it is all.”

She wanted to slap the girl out of her impending slumber, but Marina patiently watched as Catriona swayed, head lolling back before snapping to attention.

“I was just me, of course, but the Irish would talk about the Morrigan as being three sisters who would wash the bloodied battle clothes of those destined to die. I think we might be the sisters.”

“Who?”

“Me, you, and the lady in the journal. What did you say her name was again?”

“Elizabeth Bathory.”

“Yes. Me, you, and Elizabeth. The threeness.” Catriona turned to face Marina, eyes drooping. “I need to come with you to wash your bloodstained clothes because I believe you are fated to die. It’s my purpose.”

None of what Catriona had said made any sense. It all sounded like the ramblings of a drunkard, but Marina could feel the truth of it nibble away in the deepest recesses of her mind. The beep of her smartphone brought her back to earth. Picking it up, she read the message from James, sent a response, and then turned the phone off.

“Can I go to bed now?” Catriona mumbled.

“Of course you can.” Marina stood and helped the girl to her feet. She put her arm around Catriona and guided her to the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. Once she was settled, Marina climbed in beside her and propped herself up on her elbow, the shallow breathing of her guest calming her nerves. “Goodnight, my sweet Morrigan.”

“Lady Marina,” Catriona whispered.

“I’m here.”

“Will you read to me some more in the morning?”

“Of course. Now, sleep.”

***

Marina awoke to the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan. Rolling over, she grabbed her phone off the bedside table and turned it on, groaning when she saw that it was not yet 8 a.m. The thought of rolling over and going back to sleep was appealing, but seeing Catriona again was higher on the list of priorities. She was unsure whether the poor girl would remember anything from the night before, so another heart to heart might be necessary before Bethany and James arrived.

She opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a hairband, which she used to put her flowing locks in a ponytail. With one final stretch, she climbed out of bed and made her way through to the living area, where she found Catriona dancing to music playing quietly on her phone. “Good morning,” Marina called, causing the girl to jump.

Catriona spun around, somehow managing not to spill a drop of her coffee as she did so. “Good sweet Jesus, you scared me.” A look of panic spread across her face. “Did I wake you?”

“Not directly. I blame the coffee and bacon. Can you pour me a cup?”

“How do you take it?”

“Black, please.”

Marina sat in the breakfast nook just off the kitchen and watched Catriona work. She moved gracefully, finding what she needed with an economy of movement that made her look as though she had spent her entire life in that kitchen.

Placing the coffee on the table, Catriona said, “Breakfast is about to be served. Can I get you some bacon and eggs?”

Feeling her stomach flip, Marina shook her head. “It’s a little early for me just yet. I’m good with the coffee. Make your plate and then come sit with me.”

“Shall I grab the journal, too?” Catriona asked, nodding in the direction of the book. “You did promise to read to me some more this morning.”

“Wait, you remember that?”

Catriona threw her head back and laughed. “I do. You forget I’m a sturdy lass. I’d lose my Irish card if I couldn’t handle a few pints of Guinness. I was more tired than drunk. I don’t get a lot of free time.”

“Then, by all means, bring me the journal, and I shall read some more.”

They sat and talked as Catriona ate breakfast, wolfing down bacon and eggs as though it was the first meal she had eaten in years. “That’s some good bacon, Miss MacCarthy.”

“I told you last night to call me Marina.”

“You did, but that was a social setting. I am in your employ now. It’ll be Miss MacCarthy from here on out.” Catriona grabbed the dirty dishes and washed them up before wiping her hands dry on a dishtowel and retrieving the journal. Sitting back down at the booth, she slid the book across the table. “Where are Bethany and James?” she asked.

“They share a room just down the hall. We have time before they get here.”

“So, they’re a couple then? It’s none of my business; it’s just that I heard you mention to James about you having some relationship with Bethany.”

“What is it they say on Facebook? It’s complicated.”

Catriona nodded as she averted her eyes. “It’s just that, well, I’m not into that at all. Don’t get me wrong, I like sex, but…”

Marina smiled warmly. “Relax. That’s not part of your job description. What you did this morning with coffee and breakfast, that is what I need from you, as well as telling me the things that you see and dream.”

Visibly relaxing, Catriona said, “That I can do. What about the whole bathing thing? What’s my part in that?”

“James takes care of the finer details. I would like you to be there when I bathe, tell me what you see, what you feel.”

“I might not see or feel anything.”

“I think you will. My home has, how can I put this delicately, a bit of history. We have a long drive back to New Orleans today. I’ll tell you about my home, my family, and how the journal fits into all of it on the way.”

“I would like that.”

“Good, then it’s settled.” Marina flipped open the journal and began to read.

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The whole COVID situation seems like a long time in the past, but it’s also still close enough that we remember how uncomfortable it was to be stuck in the house with nowhere to go. Lives changed during that time, with some families falling apart in the process. While The Last House has a concept a little more frightening than a pandemic, the feeling of being trapped inside feels somehow familiar.

The movie quickly gets to the main storyline, which is that everyone becomes trapped in their homes in the midst of a massive rainstorm. The focus falls on one family, and at the start, it feels like a bit of a fun adventure to be trapped inside with no way out. Soon enough, though, reality hits home, with food running out and tensions rising. There is also a scene with the family dog that is going to make a lot of people unhappy, although it is dealt with as tastefully as possible.

Days become weeks become months, until we reach a point 5 years after the rain began to fall. During this time, we get brief glimpses of creatures outside the crumbling house, but we are never really sure where they come from. The references to salt water and the rain suggests that they came from below, but there are also a few little nods to the cosmos that suggests they may have come from above.

When one of those creatures finally finds its way inside the house, the family understands they are on borrowed time and need to fight their way out. The final third becomes something of a creature feature filled with Home Alone style booby traps and makeshift weapons used to battle the invaders and get the family out of the house, which has become something of a crumbling prison.

Overall, it’s a bit of an uneven little movie. The start is a slow burn story of survival that eventually turns up the horror aspect in a way that feels a little jarring when it comes around. All of that said, it was entertaining enough to keep me engaged, and I did like the monsters, which had definite Lovecraftian vibes, making me think that while these things loved the water, their origins were not necessarily from Earth. You might well have a different opinion, which is part of what makes this one so interesting.

4 stars out of 5

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When I first heard the rumbling sound, I assumed it was an approaching train getting ready to pull into the subway station. When the tunnel collapsed and buried us under the rubble, all sound drifted away, leaving nothing but an endless stream of quiet dark.

I came to in a hospital bed surrounded by nurses and doctors, all of whom looked like they were witnessing the second coming. It turns out they were, as I was soon informed that I had been dead for three minutes and thirteen seconds.

I found it hard to believe them, but the clock on the wall tells no lies. As the medical staff fussed over me, I watched the second hands tick by until they eventually landed on 3:13 AM. At that point, it was as though all the air was sucked out of the room.

I turned my head, focusing on the camera sitting on my bedside table. I could see one of the nurses through the digital display, and could also see the man beside her, knife raised. I wanted to scream a warning, but when I looked at her outside of the screen, there was no man.

As she leaned over to prop up my pillow, I described the man I had seen, bringing a frown to her face. She told me is sounded like her boyfriend, although not for much longer, as his anger issues were becoming problematic.

I’m not sure if this is some kind of brain trauma or something…other. I’ll be keeping an eye on the nurse because I think the other feels more likely. Don’t ask me why, but I am as sure of it as I am sure of my own name…Daniel Graves.

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Mike bolted downstairs, trying to reach the front door before Ellen could leave. He might have made it had he not missed the third step from the bottom, his momentum carrying him headfirst into the coat rack sitting beside the entrance to his, their, home.

“Drunk again, I see,” Ellen said, as she battled to get the wheels on her suitcase to move in the same direction all at once.

“I’m not…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Mike. Not anymore.”

Slumping against the wall, Mike pressed the heel of his hand to his temple, trying in vain to silence the drum solo going on inside his head. He also tried to ignore the shadow figure slinking downstairs out the corner of his eye. Mike closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly and steadily.

“You’re a mess, and you can’t even look me in the eye, can you?”

With one final exhale, Mike’s eyes fluttered open, his line of sight drawn to a pair of lace panties poking out of Ellen’s hastily packed suitcase. He thought back to the last time they had made love, which now seemed like an eternity ago, and he smiled. Mike loved his girlfriend, had ideas of proposing, and certainly didn’t want to lose her, but his life felt as though it were spinning out of control.

“Do you have anything to say before I go, Mike?”

Reluctantly pulling his gaze away from the lacy undergarments, Mike looked at his girlfriend and mumbled. “I don’t want you to go. I love you, babe.” He wanted to say more, but Ellen cut him off before he got the chance.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” she said, choking back a sob. “Things have been different since I moved in.” Ellen lowered her head, red hair spilling down in a crimson cascade to cover her face.

“It’s not you, I swear.” Mike coughed, trying to cover up the gasp as a pair of dark shadows moved up the wall and across the ceiling, moving ever closer.

“Let me guess, it’s the ghosts. Am I right?” Ellen spat.

Mike shook his head, the movement taking his already throbbing migraine up another notch. “It’s not just that. I need help, babe.”

With a sigh, Ellen crouched down to eye level with her boyfriend, her tough exterior softening. “Finally, something we agree on,” She reached out and touched Mike’s cheek. “I love you, too, but I am not prepared to spend another minute with you until you get this,” she waved around the room, “whatever this is sorted.”

“I will. I swear.” Mike said, tears spilling down his cheeks, the watery discharge turning the dark figures out the corner of his eye into shadowy reflections in a funhouse mirror.

Ellen stood and headed for the front door. “I’ll be at my parent’s house. Call me when, and only when, you’re ready to start behaving normally again.” Before Mike could respond, she turned on her heel and bolted out the front door.

The shadow people drifted off to the corner of Mike’s vision, where they swayed back and forth, mocking him with their presence. He closed his eyes and said aloud, “This ends now.”

Between the screaming kid and the flickering fluorescent lights that cast unwanted shadows across every part of the waiting room, Mike could feel his sanity begin to fray at the edges. He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked back and forth, his movements causing the cheap plastic chair to groan in protest. When he felt a hand land gently on his back, he almost screamed before the voice of his best friend, Todd, snapped him back to some semblance of normalcy.

“Dude, you’re scaring me,” Todd said, unable to hide the tremor in his voice.

“I…I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Look at me.”

Mike slowly opened his eyes and turned to face his friend, trying in vain to ignore the humanoid figure silhouetted against the door of the doctor’s office, as though looking to block escape. The figured moved menacingly as the overhead lights flickered once more.

“No offense, brother, but you look like shit.” Todd said.

“I feel like it. They are following me now, Todd.” Mike quickly glanced toward the office door, sweat trickling down his brow. “I thought it was the house.”

“Who’s following you?”

Mike reached out and grabbed a fistful of his friend’s shirt. “Can’t you see them? There’s one by the door.”

Gooseflesh prickled Todd’s skin as he calmly took Mike’s hand and removed it from his shirt. “There’s no one there. When did this all start, Mike? Was it after…”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mike let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about that.’

“Mister Rosen.”

Mike let out a yelp at hearing his name called but relaxed when he saw a nurse holding his chart and flashing a friendly smile. He raised his hand. “Here.”

“This way, please,” she said, pointing down a narrow hallway where the overhead lights flickered off and on in a wild strobe effect.

The last thing he wanted to do was go down that corridor, but he willed his legs to move. Mike shuffled toward the nurse, staring straight ahead and trying to keep his fear at bay.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Todd asked.

“I’m good,” Mike replied, not looking back at his friend.

The short walk to the examination room felt like an eternity to Mike. Shadows crept along the walls on either side of him, darting out of view every time he turned to get a better look. He mindlessly detailed the reason for his visit to the nurse, whose smile slowly disappeared with each revelation. “The doctor will be here in a moment,” she finally said, dripping his chart in a holder on the wall before beating a hasty retreat.

Trying to look anywhere but the flickering lights and the ever-present shadows, Mike zeroed in on a poster of the human anatomy pinned to the wall. He moved his gaze from the feet all the way up to the face, his eyes tracing the myriad veins cutting a path through the body like some winding red river on an alien planet. He allowed himself a smile, the first one in weeks, when he noticed the googly eyes stuck onto the poster, more than probably put there to ease the minds of children scared of a visit to the doctor.

Mike settled in for a long wait but was surprised when the doctor breezed after no more than a couple of minutes, grabbing the chart from the wall. “Good morning, Mike. Long time, no see. I hope all has been well,” the doctor said as he flipped through the notes jotted down by the nurse.

“I’ve been better, Dr. Clancy,” Mike responded glumly.

The doctor set the chart aside and nodded. “Hop up on the table, please, and let’s take a look. How long have you been experiencing the…uh,” Clancy quickly glanced at the notes, “light and shadows.”

“A few weeks now. I’ve had migraines, too.”

“Okay. Follow my finger with your eyes and try to keep your head as still as possible.” The doctor slowly moved his finger across Mike’s line of sight, moving it back and forth a couple of times. “Any stress in your life that may be causing you anxiety?”

Mike swallowed hard. “Uh, work is busy, and my girlfriend recently moved in.”

“Relationship going well?” Clancy asked as he shone a small light into Mike’s eyes.

“Yes,” Mike lied.

The doctor picked up the file and scribbled a few more notes. “Okay, I think what you are experiencing is myodesopsias, or eye floaters as they are more commonly known. I will need to send you to an eye specialist to confirm my diagnosis.”

“Are they dangerous, doctor.”

“Not usually, but this does seem like a rather extreme case. The good news is that I have an ophthalmologist friend who owes me a favor, so I think I can get you in quickly, for him to take a look.’ The doctor tucked the light into the pocket of his lab coat and smiled kindly. “You may require surgery, but it’s usually on an outpatient basis, so nothing to be alarmed about.”

Mike nodded, the slight movement sending spots dancing before his eyes and a jolt of pain across his forehead.

“Let’s get you set up with an appointment.”

Part 2 – Sound

True to his word, Clancy fast-tracked Mike’s appointment. A little more than a week after his initial visit to his GP, Mike found himself on an operating table with a nurse peering down at him.

“Okay, Mr. Rosen, we are almost ready for the procedure. We are going to give you a general anesthetic, just to help you remain calm. That will be followed by a numbing of both eyes so that Dr. Givens can perform the surgery. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Mike said.

“The nurse nodded and signaled for the anesthesiologist to go to work. Mike felt his body turn cold for a moment before a wave of warmth washed over him, embracing him like a comfy blanket. It was the most relaxed he had felt since seeing the first of the shadow figures.

See you soon.

Mike’s pulse quickened at the sound of the sibilant whisper. “Did you say something,” he slurred.

The nurse frowned. “Relax, Mr. Rosen. The doctor will start soon.”

Mike awoke to darkness and a rocking motion that brought on a wave of nausea. Swallowing hard, he fought back the rising bile, mentally willing himself to try and figure out why his world had turned black. It started to come back like drips falling from a leaky faucet. Eye floaters, the surgery, Todd picking him up at the doctor’s office. He groaned loudly, licking his cracked lips.

“You awake there, sleepyhead?”

“Where are we?” Mike reached up to rub at his eyes, which felt as though grains of sand had been dropped inside, only to encounter hard plastic.

“You’re almost home,” Todd replied. “You thirsty?”

“Parched.” Mike almost cried out with joy when he felt a plastic water bottle placed in his hand, the condensation running down the sides and dripping into his skin. He gulped back the contents in one go.

“Feeling better”

Mike nodded. “Thanks for that. How long do I need to wear these stupid shields? I can’t remember anything after the surgery.”

“Doc said you can take them off tomorrow. Things will still feel weird after that, but you should be right as rain in a couple of days.” Todd said.

Settling back into the seat, Mike let the sounds of the car and the road wash over him. He was surprised at the small details he picked up; commonplace sounds that somehow seemed louder than usual. Maybe it was true what they said about the other senses becoming stronger when one of them was removed.

It’s almost time.

The empty bottle flew out of his hand at the sound of the voice. Mike swatted at the side of his face as warm breath tickled the fine hairs inside his ear,

“What the fuck, man,” Todd yelled, slamming on the brakes. “You almost hit me with that fucking bottle.”

“I…I’m s-s-sorry,” Mike stammered. Gooseflesh prickled his skin as icy fingers of fear caressed the nape of his neck. Scared that his best friend might think him mad, Mike said, “It, uh, just occurred to me that I’m going to be home alone. Not sure how I’ll manage without being able to see.”

“No need to worry. I was saving the surprise for when you got home, but I don’t want to risk you spazzing and causing a vehicular fucking incident, “Todd chuckled. “Ellen is staying over.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I called and let her know what was going on with you. She seemed legit concerned, bro.”

So many surprises.

“It’s not real,” Mike sobbed.

“Totally real. She’s excited to see you. Shit you might even get lucky. Hey, didn’t you have a nurse fantasy? This could…”

Shutting out the sound of his friend’s voice, Mike embraced the darkness. Are you there? The only response was the sound of blood rushing through his veins, hammering through vessels and ventricles to fuel a heart that was hammering out of control. Speak to me, who are you?

“We’re home,” Todd said.

Mike snapped back to reality and suddenly felt bone tired. He tried to convince himself that the voices in his head were nothing more than the effects of the drugs that were still surely working their way through his body.

“Let’s get you inside. Your nurse awaits,” Todd said.

The ticks and knocks of the cooling engine echoed around inside Mike’s head as he reached for the door. Before he could get a grip on the handle, consciousness slipped away and he slumped down in his seat, out cold.

Wakey, wakey, we are here to play.

Mike tried to sit up, but a heavy weight on his chest held him in place. “Todd? Ellen? Are you guys there?”

Shhhhhh! Your friend is gone, but your whore is here.

“You’re not real,” Mike wailed.

“No? Remove your blinkers and see.”

The voice, which originally felt like little more than a passing thought, now seemed real, the words more fully formed. “I can’t. I mean, I’m not supposed to.”

“Allow me to assist.”

The plastic shields were pulled from his face, the dim light in Mike’s bedroom stinging and bringing tears to his eyes. He blinked furiously trying to clear his vision, a figure slowly appearing before him as the blurred vision receded.

The thing sat on his chest, naked and drooling, the saliva dripping onto grey flesh that looked like melted wax at the base of a candle. Its face was something out of a nightmare, all teeth and eyes too big for its head.

“What are you?”

“Don’t you know?” the creature mocked. “You made us.”

“Us?”

The thing threw back its head and laughed, a phlegmy, guttural release of pleasure. “Allow me to introduce your inner demons. I am Paranoia. Over there,” the thing said, nodding to the side of the bed, “is fear.”

Mike slowly turned his head and felt his bladder release at the sight of another creature peeking up at him over the side of the bed. Its eyes blazed red, molten tears sliding down its face and peeling each inch of flesh they touched.

“He grows stronger by the moment,” Paranoia said. “Not as strong as those two, though” The thing hopped off Mike’s chest and move to the side of the bed, taloned hands stroking fear’s head.

Two more beings stood at the far end of the room, their eyes on Ellen, who they had pinned to the wall. Their thin hands caressed her body, black liquid dripping from their swollen cocks as they whispered into her ears.

“They are Lust and Desire. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Make them stop? Mike begged.

“You want them to stop?”

“YES.”

“Then tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

Paranoia tilted his head to the side, eyes filled with fury. “What you should have told her as soon as it happened. What would have stopped all of this from happening.”

“If I do, will you leave?”

“We shall find a new host.”

Mike swallowed hard and stared at his girlfriend, who looked terrified. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“LOUDER,” Paranoia screamed,

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to happen. I…I met with your sister to ask if you would say yes about moving in. I, we drank too much, and one thing led to another.”

Tears fell from Ellen’s eyes, and she opened her mouth to speak. Before the words could escape, Lust jammed his fingers into her mouth, probing. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp.

“You said they would stop. I don’t want to see this anymore.”

Paranoia leaned in close, pointer finger tipped with long ails extended. “If thy right eye offends thee, pluck it out.”

Lust and Desire tore open Ellen’s blouse and pawed at her exposed breasts, forked tongues flicking at her nipples.

“Pluck it. Hell, pluck them both.”

Mike grabbed the creature’s hand and forced the jagged finger into his right eye, screaming in agony. He pulled it free, the sucking sound making him gag, and jabbed the digit into his left eye, sending a gout of milky fluid down his cheek.

“Good boy,” Paranoia said, as he leaned over to lick at the oozing eyeballs. “It’s been fun, but it’s time to go…For now.”

Ellen’s eyes fluttered open and she pushed herself up, wondering why her blouse was open. She blinked away the fogginess and tried to get her bearings, soon realizing that she was in Mike’s, their, bedroom. It was then that she saw him, upper body hanging off the bed, gaping holes where his eyes once were.

“Mike,” she shrieked. “Wake up”

He lay still, his last breath long since drawn.

“I need to call for help,” Ellen said aloud, looking for her purse and the phone within.

Remember what he did.

She whipped her head to the side, looking for the source of the voice, the quick movement shaking a memory loose. Mike fucked her sister. The police would find out and think she’d killed him.

“I can fix this,” she muttered.

YES!! Time to play.

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James

James slammed his phone down on the bedside table, pulled back the covers, and planted his feet on the floor. Smoothing back his hair, he made to stand, but the hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Where are you going, mister? I thought we were taking a break before round two.”

The urge to crawl back under the covers was strong, but his servitude pulled him. Turning to look at Bethany, he reached out and placed a hand on her face. He could feel himself stirring again as she placed her cheek against his palm before grabbing it and putting it on her breast. “You’re not making this easy,” he sighed.

“It’s our night off,” Bethany pouted.

James stood and picked his clothes off the floor and dressed quickly. “You should know that time off doesn’t really exist in our world.”

“What does she have you doing now?”

“I need to go pick up some stuff at that Irish pub we were at earlier. It seems Madame has taken a shine to that lass.”

Bethany sat up in bed, worry lines forming across her brow. “What did she say?”

“It looks like Catriona will be coming back to New Orleans with us tomorrow.”

“Permanently? What does that mean for me? You don’t think she would…”

James slipped on his jacket and climbed onto the bed. “Relax. The Irish girl is just another one of her playthings; plus, you know I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

Bethany smiled demurely. “Looks like I have a bodyguard, too. Make sure you come back to bed as soon as you finish. I’ll be waiting.”

Planting a kiss on her forehead, James got up and headed for the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The doors to the private penthouse elevator slid closed, the reflection from the polished steel making it look as though James stood in front of a funhouse mirror. He checked his watch, tapping the face nervously as the seconds ticked away. As soon as the doors slid open, James bounded out and strode purposefully across the lobby, blowing wordlessly past the smiling hostess at the entrance to the hotel lounge.

He arrived at the booth with less than a minute to spare, trying to look casual even though his heart was hammering. “Good evening, Madame, Miss,” James said, bowing ever so slightly as he spoke.

Marina raised a finger as she finished reading a passage from the journal, and the Irish girl swayed as though touched by a gentle breeze. James scanned the bar while he waited and thought about dropping a wad of bills in the pianist’s tip jar and requesting that he shut the fuck up.

Grinding his thumb against his temple, he tried to push down the anger that he could feel rising to the surface. A short fuse was an issue that has plagued him from his teenage years. James had mostly been able to keep it in check, but it all came undone one fateful night when he had walked in on his stepfather abusing his mother. A red mist had descended, years of bottled anger coming uncorked in a brutal beating. A pair of options were all he had left after that night: spend time in jail or sign up for the military. He chose the latter.

The army proved to be the perfect decision. Initially, James had struggled with being told what to do, but he soon found that discipline and a strict routine were what he needed to thrive and become a functioning adult. The anger never left, but it was now easier to keep in check. Plus, his boss seemed to take joy in the moments when he uncaged that fury in his role as protector.

He would have remained in the military for life had it not been for a chance meeting with his now boss. During a weekend on leave in New Orleans, he had taken a trip to the French Quarter, choosing to leave his friends behind to visit an upscale jazz club. The place was packed, and while the crowd focused on the band, he could not take his eyes off the redhead in the corner. When she caught him looking and flashed a smile, the rush of blood to his head had thrummed in his ears and blocked out the sound of the music.

James never believed in hypnosis until that moment, and when a fight broke out, and the drunken combatants had begun to stumble in her direction, he had felt his body move before his brain registered the potential for violence. He had taken the men down as though in a dream, swearing he could hear her voice in his head, urging him to hurt them. When it was all over, and the club had settled back into its normal groove, she had invited him to sit with her and act as her bodyguard for the night.

That one night had turned into a decade of service, his place in the military mysteriously ending when he received an honorable discharge that he had neither requested nor deserved. Even when James had learned of his new job description, he felt compelled to stay by her side and make sure to meet her every need, no matter the cruelty involved.

James now had more money than he could ever have dreamed of, as well as a nice home in New Orleans. Most of his time, though, was spent at the MacCarthy estate, acting as a bodyguard, caretaker, and provider of what the Madame referred to as treats.

Most days, James enjoyed his work, grim as it was, but there were times when he resented being on constant call. He had never expected to fall for Bethany, but he had, and he hated when their moments alone together were interrupted. He was well aware that he was sharing her with his boss, which was beginning to gnaw at his insides the more he thought about it.

“Earth to James,” Marina said, snapping her fingers.

Breaking out of his thoughts, James gave his head a little shake. “Sorry, Madame. I’m still trying to wake up.”

“I’m surprised Bethany allows you to sleep at all. She’s quite ferocious once she gets started,” Marina said with a smirk.

James ignored the barb and maintained a professional air, even as his stomach churned. “You have a task for me?”

Marina pouted like a child that had just been refused a treat. “Always so serious.” She slid a silver key and a folded check across the table. “The entrance to her place is at the back of the bar. In and out with as little drama as possible. Message me as soon as you are done.”

Scooping the items off the table, James said, “Anything else, Madame?”

“Not unless you and Bethany care to join me upon your return.”

James felt the heat rising in his face, a mixture of embarrassment and anger, the latter emotion coming as a surprise. “I won’t be long,” he said as he turned away from the booth, his boss’ laughter ringing in his ears.

***

His knuckles turned white, the bones threatening to break the skin as he gripped the steering wheel and looked for a place to park on Main Steet. After a few round trips, he eventually spied one, pulling in quickly, ignoring the blinker of the car coming from the opposite direction.

By the time James stepped out of his car, the other vehicle’s driver had pulled level, his window down. The man appeared as though he was about to let loose a torrent of abuse, but one look at James’ build and angry expression made him think better of it. He hit the gas and sped off down the street and out of sight.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, James headed in the direction of the stairs that led down to the riverfront area. It was going on midnight, but the streets were still bustling. He watched as a group headed towards him, led by a cloaked figure carrying an old lantern. As they brushed by, he heard the group leader talk about ghosts in an overly theatrical spooky voice, his audience looking on wide-eyed as he regaled them with tales of the supernatural.

James smiled as he watched them go, wondering what they would think of the story he had to tell. The same people who believed in disembodied spirits rattling chains and walking through walls would likely have a hard time swallowing the tale of a woman who looked half her age because she bathed in the blood from bodies that he happily provided.

After a few more minutes, he found the stairs and headed down, coming out in the alley that was home to the curiosity shop they had visited earlier. The store sat in darkness now, giving the items in the window a creepy authenticity that they lacked in the glare of daylight. As he passed, he tried to avoid the stare of a male doll dressed in Victorian wear, it’s small glass eyes twinkling despite the lack of light. The doll seemed to follow his progress as he passed, an illusion that sent a shiver down his spine.

James exhaled as he reached the end of the alley, where a man leaned against the wall, vomiting loudly. Stepping over a snaking river of bile, James turned the corner and found some relief in the lights that lined the street. He was annoyed at himself for feeling spooked, but he took a moment to regain his composure before moving on and stepping into the Irish pub.

The bar was filled to brimming, a band in the corner belting out an Irish tune that the crowd sang along with in an off-key cacophony. James put his head down and pushed his way through the throng, heading to the battered brown door marked “Employees Only” at the rear end of the bar. With a quick glance around, he pulled a key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock.

“Oy, what are you up to?” a gruff voice called out.

James turned in time to see the bar owner stride in his direction, a crowbar clenched in his chubby fist. “I’m here to collect Catriona’s stuff.”

“Oh. And who the fuck might you be?”

Glaring down at the man, who barely reached chest level, James took a step forward, knocking him off balance. It was the slightest contact, but enough to make the man step back, a look of fear on his face as he tripped over the outstretched legs of a patron. As he pinwheeled his arms for balance, James reached out and plucked the crowbar out of his grasp with his left hand before deftly tossing it into his right.

The man hit the ground hard, a grunt escaping as his tailbone contacted the hardwood floor. Going down on his haunches, James gripped the man by his tie and pulled him in close. “You, I assume, are George, correct?”

The bar owner tried to push himself away, but James turned his wrist and wrapped the tie around his hand, watching as George’s face flushed the shade of beetroot. James saw a man at a nearby table stand and begin to move towards him from the corner of his eye. Without taking his eyes off George, he pointed the crowbar at the advancing customer and said, “Sit back down and mind your fucking business.”

He hoisted George to his feet, released the tie, and gave the bar owner a couple of light taps on the cheek. “Here’s the deal, Georgie boy. Catriona is giving her notice as of right this second. I am going to collect her stuff and be out of your thinning fucking hair in a couple of minutes. You can allow that to happen, or you can allow shit to go horribly wrong. What’s your choice?”

The bar owner nervously adjusted his tie before wiping the seat of his threadbare pants. “Where are you taking her? I promised her dad I would look after her.”

“None of your business, but you can let her old man know that she has made a life for herself, far away from you. Can you do that?”

George nodded, drops of sweat falling from his forehead onto his shirt.

“Good man. Now, pour me a pint of lager and wait right here for me.”

James turned and opened the door without waiting for a response, flicking on a light switch that revealed a set of rickety wooden stairs. He bounded up them two at a time and opened another door at the top, revealing a spartan living space. Pulling the string on the overhead light, James shuddered as cockroaches fled along the floorboards and in behind a rusted stove.

The room looked more like a prison cell than a place to call home. An oak dresser, its handles missing, stood in the corner, the drawers all partially opened, pieces of clothing peeking out. A pair of suitcases sat beside the dresser, wedged between the furniture and the cracked plaster wall. James pulled them out, dropped them on the sagging mattress in the middle of the room, and flipped them open. He then pulled out the drawers and dumped the meager contents into the first suitcase, which he zipped closed.

An alarm clock and a few ornaments sat on top of the dresser. He grabbed those, wrapped them in a blanket that sat on the mattress, and laid them gently inside the other suitcase. Scanning the room, he noticed some more pieces of clothing draped across a clothes rack that sat beside a moldy shower stall. James snatched them up and folded them over his arm as he went around the room and pulled off photographs pinned to the wall, taking care not to damage them more than they already were.

With both suitcases filled, he headed back to the stairs, stopping to take one more look around the space. Satisfied that he had everything, James headed back down to the bar, where he dropped the suitcases and closed the door behind him, dropping the key back into his pants pocket.

George stood in the same spot where he had fallen just a few moments earlier. He gripped a pint of beer in his hand, his other hand sitting underneath the glass in an attempt to hold it steady.

Snatching the beer, James downed it in one and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “That’s not a bad pint, George. Thank you for your cooperation.” James reached inside his jacket and pulled out a check, which was folded in half. “You can take the price of the beer out of that,” he said, flipping the slip of paper at George. “I think you’ll find it’s more than enough.”

George flapped at the check, finally snatching it out of the air at the third attempt. His eyes went wide when he opened it and saw the amount.

“Like I said, more than enough.” James picked up the suitcases and brushed past the bar owner, pausing for a moment on the way past to say, “I was never here.”

Weaving through the crowd, arms held aloft to avoid hitting anyone with the suitcases, James made it back to the street and jogged around the corner and into the alley. The vomiting man now lay on the ground, steam rising from his crotch area, the smell of piss and vomit hanging heavy in the air. James puffed out his cheeks and held his breath as he made for the stairs back up to the main thoroughfare, turning his head away from the shop window as he blew past.

Minutes later, with the suitcases safely in the back of the SUV, James leaned against the vehicle and sent a text to his boss, letting her know he had Catriona’s stuff. The response was quick, “Good. We shall leave tomorrow at noon. I need you and Bethany in my suite at 9 a.m.”

James got behind the wheel of the car and sat for a moment, looking back down the street the way he had come. A creeping sense of unease shimmered through his body. He was ready to hit the road now and leave Savannah in the rearview. It was a place similar to New Orleans in many ways, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were taking something rotten back home. Whether that was the Irish girl or the journal remained to be seen, but he vowed to keep an eye on both as he pulled a U-turn and headed back to the hotel.

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This week, I went with ideas that have been rolling around in my head as potential longer stories. Think of these drabbles like blurbs for books that might never see the light of day

Supertanker

The salvage crew stopped what they were doing and listened. They had grown accustomed to the sound of the wind and the waves echoing through the abandoned ship, b…

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The fall, which is traditional spooky season, is going to be upon us before we know it, but we still have some cool summer releases to come before we get there. This week, there is another bumper crop of horror book releases to check out, so let’s get into it.

Meat Bees by Dane Erbach
Described as Jaws with wasps, the story takes place in a remote cabin in the Smoky Mountains. Part horror and part true crime, this one seems like a fun little dive into creature feature territory.

The Residency by CD Major
I am always a sucker for anything set in Scotland, so this one will almost certainly be landing in my shopping cart. A mother and her young daughter head to a remote Scottish island, where the woman looks to revive her artistic endeavors. Seems like a nice little slice of Gothic horror.

Small Town Slasher by Stephanie Rose
A young woman heads to a horror themed residence in a small town that became famous for a serial killer who took out 11 people 25 years prior. The discovery of a new body suggests that the Bitter Butcher might not be done with his slashing work.

The Unknown by Riley Sager
We have all heard about history repeating itself, but when the recurring theme is mysterious disappearances, maybe it’s the type of history that we should fear. Did the missing women simply leave, or is there something more nefarious going on?

It’s not the biggest week for new releases, but there are some fun ones in the mix. I’ll be back again next Tuesday with another round of new horror book releases.

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The first pill went down smooth, the second ground against his molars, bitter and gritty. He swallowed hard, wishing for water, knowing that none was available. The water, along with the power had been shut off a week prior. He thought of drinking from the toilet, but the thought of even looking at what currently sat in the bowl almost brought the two pills back up.

With a shudder, he peered inside the brown plastic container, seeing two more pills remaining. His refill was at the pharmacy, but with no money to pay for it, the final two pills would need to last. The idea of cutting them up and rationing them popped into his head, but the last time he had tried that, the little white pills had crumbled to dust, like a tooth disintegrating under the blow from a hammer.

He knew there would be a grace period, a few days when the medication would still be flowing through his system, keeping the imbalance perfectly level. Soon enough, though, the scales would tilt and he would get dragged down under the weight of his own particular madness.

The memories of past episodes were buried deep, locked away in a safe that remained impenetrable for as long as the medicine did its thing. He forced himself to open the vault and peer inside, to remind himself of what would happen in the next few days if he couldn’t find some money.

Flashes of red flitted through his mind, visions of hacking and tearing, of blood spray and copper smells like pennies placed under a high heat until the point of bubbling, like the way his thoughts were boiling and roiling now, like how he could taste the blood dripping off his top lip and onto his tongue to add flavor to the hunk of meat already in his mouth as his victim squirmed across the floor trying to escape the madman that was him.

He shuddered, swallowed the final two pills, and smiled as he thought about his next meal. His belly grumbled and he gave it a rub. A few more days and the hunger would be sated.

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This is not the life I would have chosen for myself, but when grief takes over, you try and find ways to find meaning in life.

Cancer took my wife a little over six months ago. She fought until the end, but it was always a losing battle. I sold off the house and everything we owned, deciding that life on the road was my way to stay active and not overthink the loss of my wife.

My Ella loved the Supernatural, so to honor her memory, I started a website called The Matt Collins Chronicles. People started contacting me to tell me about places to visit, some of which were their own homes.

Now, as I stand in front of a rather ordinary looking house on an ordinary street, I get a sense that my new life is about to begin. Time to start investigating the other side in hopes of finding the place where Ella now resides.

Matt’s stories will appear every 3-4 weeks. Some will be standalones, while other might run a few issues in length.

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Back in the day, I wrote and sold a good number of books, all while having a writing process that would make the so-called experts seethe. There were no multiple drafts or allowing my characters to take over and write the piece for me. What I had was a process that worked for me, as well as a publisher who never once questioned what I was up to. I made deadlines, delivered relatively clean drafts, and wrote in my own voice, for better or worse.

Now, I will say that I was fortunate to be in that position. I have heard authors talk about their nightmare situations with indie authors, none of which ever touched me. In fact, my publisher told me to write whatever I wanted, trends be damned, and they would put it out there without question. It worked like a charm until my mental health demons did me in.

Upon return, I found Substack to the perfect place to get back to regular writing. In the early days, I tried to find algorithm hacks and bad advice to grow my Stack. It wasn’t until I ditched it all and took the same approach to growth as I did to my writing that things started taking a turn for the better.

Each and every one of us has our own way of working, of delivering whatever it is we wish to share with the world. Some will strike lightning in a bottle and take off, while other will have a slow, steady climb. As long as you are doing what makes you happy, there is no wrong way of doing things. Forget about the path of others and focus on your own.

Case in point, the AI cover image used here will make people skip past, assuming I used AI to write this. I probably talk too much about my mental health struggles, but I also think it’s important to get out there. I also probably overdeliver and annoy people who see my name pop up in their email inbox…AGAIN!! I need to stay busy, need to stay on my own course, and while my imperfect path is not the same as yours and never will be, I encourage you all to stomp along your own course as slowly or as quickly as makes you happy.

STAY THE COURSE!!

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The quarterly meeting of the Brotherhood of the Swine was expected to be the same as always. The members, mostly wealthy men with nothing but money and free time, would dine on a lavish feast prepared by servants held in captivity. The prisoners were more than just servers of food; they were also sex slaves catering to every perverse taste (un)imaginable to man.

The night began as always, with each of the men taking an oath of allegiance to the Brotherhood. They would take turns standing below the portrait of their leader, their voices muffled by the latex pig masks each of the wore. The words were still clear enough to be heard; “To swine is divine, to indulge and dine, and take what is rightfully mine. Long live the Brotherhood.”

The men gathered around a circular table, gorging themselves on the most succulent dishes. They mashed the food through holes cut into their masks, greasy hands pawing at the servers as each new dish landed on the table.

When the first crash echoed through the banquet hall, the men believed it was nothing more than a clumsy server dropping a tray of dishes in the kitchen. That idea quickly vanished when masked men, dressed in black and brandishing semi-automatic weapons, forced their way into the room.

Each of the invaders wore patches across their chests reading, “ATF,” as they screamed for the billionaires to get down on the ground. The Brotherhood looked at one another and rose as one, reaching for weapons strapped to their hip. The movement came as a surprise to the government men, so much so that a couple went down when the first shots were fired. That was all it took for Hell to be unleashed.

The members of the ATF opened fire, a spray of bullets cutting through tuxedos and latex pig masks like a knife through butter. Blood fanned out in all directions, plastering the wall like a Pollock painting. By the time it was over, every member of the Brotherhood of the Swine lay in pools of blood on the lush carpet.

A heady mixture of gunpowder, blood, and high-priced cuisine filled the air, causing a few of the ATF men to retch. It should have been over, the servants should have been saved, but as soon as the first of the fallen Brotherhood began to snort like a pig and rise, it became clear that the power of the cult had been underestimated.

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Some say that you can’t stop progress, but for the residents of Sandhurst Pines, it ground to a halt beyond the back wall of their gated community. The manicured streets gave way to a thick forest of dead trees, and a path that led to the home of Mama Bellatrix. That path became well worn, as the residents followed it regularly in hopes of receiving adv…

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In the years following the end of my blood treatments, the fits I had previously endured lessened. My blood lust did not, and I came to revel in the displays of cruelty perpetrated by my father and his guards.

Sometimes, they would torture peasants for some perceived slight, but other times, their punishments were put on as a show of sorts. My father would bring together other nobles of the region and put on a sumptuous banquet. The men would gorge themselves with food and wine while the women congregated in another part of our estate. Rather than being sent to sit with the nobility wives, my father would make me sit with the men.

They disgusted me. By the end of the meal, a layer of spills and stains would cover their finery, and they would become emboldened. They would talk of affairs with their slaves, leering at me as they regaled the table with their tales of debauchery. By the time the entertainment began, some would stroke my hair or whisper horrid things in my ear, the fetid stench of their breath nauseating me.

The entertainment consisted of violent acts against men and women plucked from the surrounding area. The guests at my father’s events were encouraged to cut the villagers, creating wounds not designed to kill but rather to induce pain and torment. The screams of the tortured did nothing but drive the men to more heinous acts of violence. I saw beheadings, disembowelments, and flesh flayed from the body and fed to the dogs. These images should have haunted me as a child, but instead, I found myself enthralled by the suffering. I once asked my father why he didn’t torture the people held in our jail, but he laughed and said that his guests demanded innocent blood.

It was at one of these events that I was to meet my future husband. I was still a girl, no more than ten years old, but my father saw fit to arrange a wedding with Ferenc Nadasny, a nobleman of the region. It was a decision made out of political needs and one in which I had no say. Ferenc would remain my husband for many years, but I never felt anything but distaste for the man. Sex was nothing more than a function for adding to the Bathory line, so I allowed him to take me whenever he wished, which, thankfully, was not often. My marriage to Ferenc has little bearing on my story, so I will waste no more time talking of it.

When a gentleman named Ladislaus came to attend one of my father’s banquets, things changed for me. I’m sure that when I take my last breath, which will be soon, it will be his face I see before darkness takes me.

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It’s another bumper crop of horror book releases, with the final one on this list actually set to come out on the 30th of the month. There are a few that have already made it into my wish list, so I hope you guys will find some, too.

Can’t You See It’s Coming? - Anthology
Ten super talented black authors give their take on YA horror, running the gamut from psychological experiments to supernatural monsters. Sounds like there is a little something for everyone in this one.

It’s Under the Deck by Jacy Morris
Not much to go in with this one based on the blurb. It seems to be about a man who smells something awful beneath his house. He finds a body, removes it, and strange things start happening.

A Penance for Crows by Shannon Morgan
A modern gothic thriller set on a remote island in Ireland. The islanders are trapped in time and live under the strict rule of the church. That could be a problem for an outsider looking to escape the rough streets of Glasgow.

The Seance Garden by Juliet Blackwell
A cheesy ghost tour uncovers a real haunting, as well as a murder that needs to be solved by someone who is skeptical of the supernatural.

Caliope Street by Josh Hanson
A couple looking to turn a fixer-upper into their dream home takes a dark turn after they find the walls lined with pornographic images. Things turn sour quickly when the house comes to life.

Ripped Up the Middle in Two by Viggy Parr Hampton
I am actually in the middle of A Cold Night for Alligators by this author, which I am enjoying, so it’s cool to see another one arriving. This book is described as a postpartum nightmare, with a young mother struggling to raise her newborn.

The Wetworks Miracle by Caleb Sierra
This book actually releases on the 30th, but it is available as a preorder right now. Listed as a dark fantasy that dips its toe into eldritch horror in what looks to be some kind of eco nightmare.

Just a reminder that these are all affiliate links. If you do buy any of these new releases, I’ll receive a few cents.

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I have been watching and reading horror for about 50 years now, and I have found that certain themes are cyclical. Vampires and zombies will be hot for a minute, only to be replaced by something else before coming into style again. One theme that does seem to remain consistent, though, is the haunted house. It is a trope that has been done to death, yet we are still all a little obsessed with the idea of haunted houses, but why is that?

What Is It About Haunted Houses That is so Frightening?

You home is your ultimate safe space, the place where you can go to relax and lock the rest of the world outside. When that safe haven is taken away by a malevolent spirt, the safety you seek is unwillingly ripped from you. When we think about monster movies, they are often creatures confined to an area that, such as the forest, that you can escape, but when those same things are in your house, here do you run to?

Another theme that is consistent in haunted houses is the past that refuses to stay buried, often because there is something that needs to be revealed. A common trope has spirits telling the current resident that they need help, which can cause the new homeowner to face their own troubled past. It goes from jump scares to psychological trauma, which is arguably more horrific that some sheet draped specter.

Finally, I think haunted houses also tap into our fear of the unfamiliar. We all have routines that we fall into, once again because they feel safe and comfortable. A ghost in your home upsets that routine and plunges you into the unfamiliar. Every sound becomes something horrible in your mind, even if it is something you have heard inside the home a million times before. The addition of the supernatural strips away all comfort.

My Haunted House Experience

In the past, I have told you guys most of my ghostly experiences, but I don’t think I have shared this one. I took my wife on a local ghost tour that I had been on in the past and that I had really loved. Penny has a history of feeling things and being sensitive to all manner of spooky things, and it felt like her detector was working full blast on this tour. The final spot in the tour was simply known as The Spooky House, and just before we got there, Penny stopped and basically told me everything going on inside, almost verbatim to what the guide was about to tell the group. Interesting enough, when we got home from that trip was when weird shit started in our home. It was shortly after the spooky stuff stopped in our house that I looked up the place on the ghost tour, only to find that it had burned down. This is the actual house…

Haunted House Books and Movies

You have a lot of cool stuff to choose from if you are a fan of haunted houses, but please allow me to share a couple of my favorites. For the book, I would recommend Kill Creek by Scott Thomas, while on the movie side of things, I have to go with Poltergeist, which is one of my comfort movies.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this installment of my A-Z of horror. Next week, we will move on to the next part, which is…

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I think we have all, at some point in our lives, obsessed over someone we want to be with, knowing full well that it is little more than a pipe dream. I think it’s that particular detail that helps Obsession feel somehow relatable, despite how bonkers it gets as the movie progresses.

Bear is a character that does not live up to his name, as he is shy and timid, which is shown in his ability to tell his co-worker Nikki, that he has a huge crush on here. Incapable of asking for a date or sharing his feelings, Bear resorts to some woo-woo, purchasing a One Wish Willow from a crystal shop. From the moment he snaps the trinket and makes his wish, it all kicks off.

His wish that Nikki loves him more than anyone else in the world seems innocent enough, but when her behavior becomes increasingly strange, Bear realizes that he has made a terrible mistake. As Nikki’s love for him reaches new heights, his world begins to crumble.

What made this all the more relatable was the fact that the kind of love Bear was looking for was actually staring him right in the face in the form of another co-worker, who legitimately liked him and wanted to be with him.

It would have been very easy for Obsession to turn into a schlocky, overbearing piece of horror art, and while there are grotesque moments, there is also a truly creepy undercurrent rippling just below the surface from start to finish. One scene in particular where Nikki scuttles backward into shadow, only to perform a quick fake charge actually made me shudder.

What really helped take this movie over the top was the acting, particularly from both main characters. Both of them sold it without ever making it feel campy. This for me, makes Obsession another great entry into what is becoming a fantastic era in horror movies.

5 stars out of 5

Obsession 4K Steelbook

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