Showing posts with label dark fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dark fiction. Show all posts

Tuesday, 8 October 2019

The Darkest Veil - Out Now!

When death's darkest veil draws over you, then shall shadows weep


4 Yarborough Drive looked like any other late 19th century English townhouse. Alice Lorrimer feels safe and welcomed there, but soon discovers all is not as it appears to be. One of her housemates flees the house in terror. Another disappears and never returns. Then there are the sounds of a woman wailing, strange shadows and mists, and the appearance of the long-dead Josiah Underwood who founded a coven there many years earlier. The house is infested with his evil, and Alice and her friends are about to discover who the Thirteen really are.

We are the Thirteen and we are one

Excerpt

“I think we should probably get started, if we’re going to do this.” For the first time, Diana sounded unconvinced. Whether she transmitted that uncertainty to me, or whether I already felt it, I didn’t know, but the time had come. Seeing the table set out that way, a niggling doubt began to snake its way up from the pit of my stomach. Lena’s warning flashed through my mind. With sheer force of will, I suppressed it. Stuff and nonsense. That’s all.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, Vicky, have you got a notebook and pen with you?”

She waved both at me.

“Great. As we agreed, you write everything down, but you don’t need to touch the glass and you shouldn’t ask any questions of anything that may make contact with us. The rest of us should each place a finger lightly on the glass.”

Suzie coughed. “Should we turn the main light out or something? I could put the table lamp on so we can see the cards.”

“Good idea,” I said and Suzie obliged.

In the gloom, the atmosphere grew heavy in the room, not helped by a fug of tobacco smoke that hung in the air.

I took another deep breath and my heart beat a little faster.

 

Fer Gregory/Shutterstock.com

We each rested the forefinger of one hand on the glass.

I cleared my throat. “Spirit, are you there?”

Another nervous giggle from Suzie.

“Ssshh.” This from Diana. Next to me, Vicky waited, notebook open, pen poised.

I tried again, as Lena had advised. “Spirit, this is a safe place. Are you there?”

The glass trembled. I caught my breath as the floorboards creaked beneath our feet.

“Oh my God!” Suzie snatched her finger away. “Did you feel that?”

“Yes.” My voice wobbled. “Please put your finger back, Suzie. We need our combined energies.”

Suzie did so, without another word. No one else spoke. I guessed everyone was as taken aback as me. This hadn’t happened yesterday evening.

“Spirit, is that you?” I asked.

The glass trembled again. Diana gasped. The tumbler seemed to be struggling to free itself. It began to shift. It slowly moved around the circle as if trying to familiarize itself with new surroundings. I watched in fascination as it snaked its way around the table.


The glass stopped abruptly, against one of the white cards. “Yes,” I read. Vicky wrote it down.
Suzie, Vicky and Diana were silent. As leader, I had to ask the questions. I had my next one ready, but with such a dry mouth, I could barely get the words out.

“Spirit, thank you for joining us. Please, will you spell out your name?”

The glass shot over to the white card on the other side of the circle—the one that read ‘No’.

“But why won’t it tell us its name?” Suzie asked.

The glass trembled violently, then darted around the board, stopping at letters and moving on so fast I could hardly keep up.

I called the letters to Vicky. She wrote them down. We were all breathing heavily as the glass moved faster and faster, gaining momentum all the time. Finally, with one massive tug, the tumbler flew off the table and smashed against the wall.

Suzie leaped up and snapped the light switch on. We blinked in the brightness and stared at the broken glass on the floor.

“What the hell happened?” Suzie asked. “Who moved that bloody glass?”

I shook my head and looked around at the shocked, white faces of my housemates.

Diana recovered first. “I don’t believe any of us did. Alice, what did Lena say we should do when something goes wrong?”

I struggled to collect my thoughts. “She said…we can do one of two things. We can either stop. Well, I suppose we have anyway. But we could start again if we choose to. Or we could call it a night.”

“I prefer that option,” Diana said, rubbing her hands together. “Does anyone else feel cold all of a sudden?”

I nodded and hugged myself. The room had grown chilly in the last few minutes and my breath misted when I spoke. “Shall we see what Vicky’s got?”

Vicky had been forming words from the letters I had shouted out and stared at her notebook.

I prompted her. “Vicky?”

She looked up at me. “Oh, you’re all going to love this,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Does any of it make sense?”

“It makes sense all right.”

“Then tell us!” Suzie’s impatience bordered on anger.

Vicky glared at her. “Fine. It says ‘We are the thirteen. We are one. He is coming for you. He will take you with him.’”

 The Darkest Veil is published by Crossroad Press and is available from:

Wednesday, 6 May 2015

Dark Avenging Angel


Don’t hurt Jane. You may live to regret it.

Bullied by her abusive father, Jane always felt different. Then the lonely child found a friend in a mysterious dark lady who offers her protection—a lady she calls her “angel”. But that protection carries a terrible price, one to be paid with the souls of those Jane chooses to suffer a hideous and eternal fate.


When Jane refuses to name another victim, the angel reveals her most terrifying side. Payment must be made in full—one way or the other.



~~~~~~~~

I am delighted to announce that my latest novella - Dark Avenging Angel - will be published by Samhain on August 4th. As its title suggests, this one focuses on the theme of vengeance. 

The chance to 'get even' with people who hurt us badly is something many of us must have wished for at some stage in our lives. 

All I can say is - be careful what you wish for...

Dark Avenging Angel is available for pre-order now:


and, from July 5th: Samhain Publishing

Friday, 30 May 2014

Inside a Writer's Mind - The Dark World of Anthony Crowley


My guest today is horror fiction and poetry writer Anthony Crowley who is sharing his thoughts on crossing the boundaries between two distinct and very different writing disciplines:


I believe fiction and poetry each possess their own certain strengths. When I write dark poetic verses, I like to be as visual as possible, and focus mainly on the certain subject or theme. When I wrote, The Fallen Angel (which was featured in Sanitarium Magazine Issue 14 and now included in Tombstones), I focused mainly on the character and its involvement, whereas if I had created a fiction story, I would have focused on not just the character but also the surrounding theme. That is what differs between the poetry and fiction literature I write.



One of the philosophies I have when I create my ideas is to imagine a single word that will take form as the seed. The flow of the words shall then create the branches. Finally the end result is my 'tree of creation'. 

Between March and April this year, I published two collections. The first was a compilation of the poetic verses I'd written from late 2013, along with some new dark verses penned during early 2014. I decided to name this anthology, Tombstones, because of how something sacred and strong is never forgotten - its memory held intact. I wanted the anthology to be like a visual journey, featuring the various elements to coincide with Horror. I also believe that psychological subjects within Horror can be, at times, the most terrifying, due to their realism and how we can readily identify with them. 

When I wrote Broken upon Evil, I wanted to play the role of the subject and feel the fear and emotional darkness within, before the character is condemned to die. Another example where I used the psychological aspect can be found in Echoes of a Sad Clown and Wheels of Damnation. The result is two completely different dark poetic themes, but with similar elements. Another idea I had was to write something about medieval torture devices, still in the same category as Horror, but also with historical reference. As a result, Bed of Rust was inspired by the Iron Maiden torture instrument. 


'Shivering cold
       condemned to die
   infernal mantle
    last wish to cry'

The Crying Judas was another historical themed verse. Here I was inspired by the infamous 'Judas Chair' - also known as the 'Judas Cradle' and quite popular within the castles of medieval England. The terrified victim would be seated upon this triangular apparatus and the pyramid shaped point would be inserted into either their anus or genital region, inflicting merciless pain and suffering.

'Gallantly posed
terrorized lair
      monarchy sadness
  frightfully stare' 

The words above were supposedly actual events which occurred involving the 'Judas Chair' and the French monarchy.  
Tombstones also includes more dark and deeper verses, each with its own strength and characteristic role.

Soon after I published Tombstones, I focused on another anthology; this time a collection consisting of short fiction stories and poetic verses. I titled it The Black Diaries, and featured a raven on the cover artwork as my tribute to the classic works of Edgar Allan Poe and Vincent Price. In this collection, The Conjuring Road is a short story themed around elements of voodoo and the supernatural. The main character is a small boy named Michael Sparks, who is unaware of his father's whereabouts. As the story unfolds, he discovers more about his identity and the secret identity of his peers. The story was initially named The Oakwood Nightmare, but I realized that I needed a title which summed up the story idea. The dark verse of Ghost & the Raven and Resurrection are inspired by  classic Horror cinematic roles. In the concluding story, Sleeping Village, I wanted to include psychological moments of fear - and twists. The main character, Edward Fitzroy Fuller, wakes from a sub-conscious nightmare to face something even more deviously unknown; he makes discoveries that lead him to realize that his life has always been a nightmare. 

I recently wrote a short story called, The Gathering. The initial inspiration for this came from The House on Haunted Hill. I included a few twists in the tale, with a disturbing plot and traditional Horror style. This story is now featured in the recent Haunted Digital Magazine Issue X. 




I have been fortunate enough to be featured in a number of outstanding Horror magazines - one of which is the top rated Massacre Magazine. In their first issue, they published my poem, The Ripper. The magazine itself is a superb compilation of some of the best literature in modern Horror, and I am very appreciative that not only did they publish this poem, but also a second work of mine - Constructing Death, partially inspired by Peter Cushing and Frankenstein.

  
 During the same period of writing those works, I wrote The Blackened Witch and Forgotten Asylum for Issues 15 and 16 of Sanitarium Magazine, which are also popular dark, psychological verses. 

 I find inspiration all around me, providing me with a constant flow of ideas. As long as there is fresh air, there is always a fresh idea. I imagine my mind as a huge house with many doors, and behind these doors is a new chapter or idea being born. 

I am currently in the process of releasing my novella, The Mirrored Room. It will be an interesting story in which the reader can conclude the outcome for themselves. In addition, I am writing a new short story - Symphony of Blood (my introduction to a new killer). 




You can connect with Anthony here: