Oscar, Dorian and The Canterville Ghost

Back when I couldn't have been more than ten years old, I saved up my pocket money and bought a paperback called, Mystery and Imagination, containing the stories dramatised in the TV series of the same name. Naturally, I was far too young to be allowed to stay up late and watch that, so I eagerly devoured the wonderful short stories of the likes of Sheridan le Fanu, my soon-to-be-hero M.R. James, Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stoker, and many more. But a little gem stood out from the rest, as much as anything because it made me smile. I had my introduction to Oscar Wilde, and the short story was The Canterville Ghost.

The exploits of the hapless ghost of Sir Simon Canterville - as he attempts to frighten off an American invasion of the Otis family into his ancestral home - are a delight. And when poor old long dead Sir Simon is faced with modern detergents used to clean up his recurring bloodstains and Tammany Rising Sun Lubricator applied to his rusting chains, it's enough to make any spectre swear. But the ultimate insult occurs when, his best efforts having failed to raise even the slightest squeak of fear from the unwanted residents, they have the gall to taunt him with a 'ghostly' creation of their own:

YE OTIS GHOST

Ye Onlie True and Originale Spooke

Beware of Ye Imitationes

All others are Counterfeite.

Over the years, I have read and re-read that story countless times and it still raises smiles to this day.

I came across The Picture of Dorian Gray some years later. In fact I saw the film (the version made in 1945) before I read the story. In life, Oscar Wilde worshipped youth and beauty. He loved to surround himself with beautiful, young, vibrant people. Even more so the older he grew. This is evident in his liaison with the much young Lord Alfred ('Bosie') Douglas and in his friendships with the beauties of the day such as Jennie, Lady Randolph Churchill (American-born mother of Winston), and the Jersey Lily herself, Lillie Langtry. He is famously quoted as remarking, "Youth is wasted on the young."

In The Picture of Dorian Gray, a talented artist is commissioned to paint a portrait of the wealthy young man of the title. As years go by and Gray leads an increasingly debauched life, he remains young, while in the attic, his picture reflects the ravages of time and sin. The story went through various edits, and in the longer version we now know, Oscar wrote a challenging preface to his readers. He entreated them to judge 'art for art's sake' and stated, 'there is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.' With typical Wilde immodesty, he also remarked, 'Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.'

The Picture of Dorian Gray was released to a storm of protest and outrage from reviewers, bordering on the hysterical. He was even threatened with possible criminal investigation as a result of his writing - a sad portent of what was to come a few years later.

It remained Oscar's only full-length published novel.

My Latest Release!

Evil runs deep at Mordenhyrst Hall…

When Grace first sets eyes on the imposing Gothic Mordenhyrst Hall, she is struck with an overwhelming sense that something doesn’t want her there. Her fiancé’s sister heads a coterie of Bright Young Things whose frivolous lives hide a sinister intent. Simon, Grace’s fiancé, is not the man she fell in love with, and the local villagers eye her with suspicion that borders on malevolence.

Her friend, Coralie, possesses the ability to communicate with powerful spirits. She convinces Grace of her own paranormal gifts – gifts Grace will need to draw deeply on as the secrets of Mordenhyrst Hall begin to unravel.

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"Have You Always Written Horror?"

People ask me if I have always written horror – or dark fiction if you prefer. The simple answer is ‘no’. In fact, over the years, I have written stories for children (the still unpublished The Adventures of Henry the Toad and All His Friends springs to mind) and light romantic fiction (until I got so fed up with the wimpy heroine that I left her stuck in a lift/elevator from where she hasn’t emerged in thirty-six years. That’ll teach her!). I have written historical fiction and crime, poetry, a comedy-drama about Neolithic henge builders (ah yes, The Beaker Folk. I remember them well. An agent told me the play would be good for radio. I’m still waiting to hear back from the BBC. It’s been around thirty-five years. Do you think it’s too soon to chase them up?)

Years passed, life happened and, having no luck in enticing a publisher or agent to take me on, despite some really encouraging feedback, I stepped back to take a long hard look at what I was doing and what I most enjoyed writing and it came down to…

Horror.

I had always adored scary, ghostly stories, frequently set sometime back in history, in Gothic houses with creepy corridors where shadows moved and you were never ever truly alone…even though you were the only living thing for miles around.

Readers, I did it. I switched genres yet again and entered a competition with an American publisher of repute called Samhain. The prize was to be one of four authors whose novellas would be combined into an anthology of Gothic horror stories.

When I opened an email some weeks later from Samhain’s Horror editor in chief, Don D’Auria I expected the usual ‘thanks but no thanks’. I had to read it twice, then another twice to be sure I hadn’t misunderstood. Here’s the section that had me leaping around the room making rather odd ‘whooping’ noises:

‘Welcome to the Samhain family!

‘I've read through all the (many) submissions to the Samhain Gothic horror anthology, and I'm happy to say that Linden Manor was one of the very best. Congratulations! You beat out some pretty stiff competition. Linden Manor is a truly fine piece of work. And so I'm pleased to offer you a contract for the novella…’

Since then, I have never looked back. Linden Manor joined fabulously creepy stories, Blood Red Roses by Russell James, Castle by the Sea by J.G. Faherty and Bootleg Cove by Devin Govaere in an anthology (now, sadly out of print) called What Waits in the Shadows. Samhain became my publisher and, following their demise, the books I released with them were reprinted by Crossroad Publishing, including Linden Manor which is now available in ebook and audio versions here.

These days, I love writing Gothic, haunted house, historical horror stories and have also dabbled in a little folk horror. I am published by Flame Tree Press which means I am lucky enough to still be able to call the great Don D’Auria my editor.

As for my latest novel – Dark Observation is out in hardback, ebook and paperback.

“a dark, disturbing thrill ride” – Publishers’ Weekly

"An engaging, multigenerational tale of dark magic and occult" - Booklist

Here’s what you can expect to find:

Eligos is waiting…fulfil your destiny

1941. In the dark days of war-torn London, Violet works in Churchill's subterranean top secret Cabinet War Rooms, where key decisions that will dictate Britain’s conduct of the war are made. Above, the people of London go about their daily business as best they can, unaware of the life that teems beneath their feet.

Night after night the bombs rain down, yet Violet has far more to fear than air raids. A mysterious man, a room only she can see, memories she can no longer trust, and a best friend who denies their shared past... Something or someone - is targeting her.

Dark Observation is available here:

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and at good bookshops everywhere (on the shelf or to order)

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Crossroad Press

Nik Keevil and Flame Tree Press Studio

Dark Observation

 Eligos is waiting… fulfil your destiny

1941. Typist Vi Harrington works in the subterranean, top-secret Cabinet War Rooms, where Prime Minister Winston Churchill makes the key decisions that will dictate Britain’s conduct of the war. Above, the people of London go about their daily business, unaware of the life that teems beneath their feet.

Night after night the bombs rain down, yet, in that fateful spring, Vi has far more to fear than air raids.

She and her friend Tilly share a house with the strange and distant Sandrine Maupas di Santiago - a woman who doesn’t belong there; a woman who is hiding something. Where does she go at night – and what secrets lay behind that too-perfect exterior? But when they decide to dig a little deeper, Vi soon discovers some secrets are best left alone.

At home, and in her place of work, she cannot escape from the menace closing in on her. Increasingly isolated by events she cannot control, every day brings fresh fears. A mysterious man and a room that only she can see, memories she can no longer trust, and a best friend who denies their shared past... Something is targeting her.

Tragedy strikes and little by little the web is unraveled, but the truth is more extraordinary than Vi could ever have imagined...

Dark Observation is out on September 13th 2022 and can be pre-ordered here:

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Creepy, Gothic and Ghostly - And Only 99c/99p - This Week Only

 

Don't play the game...

In 1893, Evelyn and Claire leave their home in a Yorkshire town for life in a rural retreat on their beloved moors. But when a strange toy garden mysteriously appears, a chain of increasingly terrifying events is unleashed. 

Neighbour Matthew Dixon befriends Evelyn, but seems to have more than one secret to hide. Then the horror really begins. The Garden of Bewitchment is all too real and something is threatening the lives and sanity of the women. Evelyn no longer knows who - or what - to believe. And time is running out.

“The Garden of Bewitchment is everything you want in a modern ghost story.” – James Lefebure, Modern Horrors

“Cavendish draws from the best conventions of the genre in this eerie gothic novel about a woman’s sanity slowly unraveling within the hallways of a mysterious mansion...Fans of gothic tropes will appreciate the atmosphere and intensity of this horror tale.” – Publishers’ Weekly

"Classic Gothic terror" - Horrifiedmagazine.co.uk

“Cavendish is a master storyteller” – ihorror

“A brilliantly written, atmospheric and goosebumpy read. You’ll never look at a doll’s house in the same way again!” – The Bookwormery

“Well written, complex, satisfyingly nostalgic and darn right diabolical” – Brown Flopsy’s Book Burrow

“Seeped in Gothic imagery” – Horror After Dark

“Atmospheric and rich in detail, Cavendish masterfully draws the reader into the slow-burning horror that makes well-crafted Gothic literature so delightfully addictive.” – The Nerd Daily

“A unique and haunting tale” – A Reviewer Darkly

“When you sit down with a Catherine Cavendish story, you are guaranteed three things – a haunting atmosphere, a wild imagination, and fascinating characters.” – She Leads, He Reads

The Garden of Bewitchment is yours for just 99p/99c but hurry. Offer ends January 16th right here on Amazon

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The Haunted Halls of Rolling Hill Asylum

 

If you needed to enter an asylum (or mental health facility), surely it would be because you had a mental health problem of some kind, right? Wrong. In the past, all you had to be was poor. Desperately poor, or old, disabled, or suffering from alcoholism. People afflicted with dementia, or with physical infirmities could find themselves behind the walls of places such as Rolling Hills Asylum in Bethany, New York. If they were indeed mentally ill, they could look forward to the very latest treatments, which read like a catalogue of methods of torture that might have been favoured by the Spanish Inquisition. Over the years these included – but were not restricted to – lobotomies, and electric shock therapy (without anaesthesia).

Rolling Hills Asylum can date its history back to 1827 when it opened as the Gennessee County Poor House. A newspaper report from the time stated that it was open to: ‘“habitual drunkards, lunatics (one who by disease, grief, or accident lost the use of reason, or from old age, sickness, or weakness was so weak of mind as to be incapable of governing or managing their affairs), paupers (a person with no means of income), state paupers (one who is blind, lame, old, or disabled with no income source) or a vagrant.’

All inhabitants were referred to as ‘inmates’, implying that whatever their reason for being there, they were all the same and all, essentially, prisoners.

Rolling Hills has operated variously as poor house, orphanage, asylum, and tuberculosis hospital. Around 1700 bodies are believed to be buried in the grounds – all in unmarked graves. Its last function was as a nursing home, but it only lasted for ten years in that guise mostly because of official code violations. It was then closed permanently. Most of the dorms and old buildings were torn down at that point.

Now, it looks like Hollywood’s ideal of a haunted asylum and hospital. The four storey brick building needs little imagination to ‘see’ ghosts walking there. Its echoing walls and corridors wreak of stories of inhumane treatment, despair and pain. Set foot in this place and you know you are not alone. Walk – and the unquiet spirits walk with you

And there have been plenty of reported incidents. Shadows, footsteps, ghostly touching, disembodied voices. It’s a ghosthunter’s delight. Not that all the ghosts are hostile.

Night-time ghost events are run at the facility. One of the most frequently seen ghosts is believed to have been Roy Crouse, who died in 1942. He spent most of his life here, was around seven feet tall (it is believed as a result of gigantism) and his afterlife is spent wandering as a very tall shadow who follows visitors, weeping. He may have been captured on camera, as one female visitor on a tour said she heard footsteps coming up behind her. Flashlights revealed no one there but then she turned around and took a photo. Sure enough, if you look closely, there is a tall shadow.

On the first floor of the main building, is Hattie’s Room where an old woman has been recorded saying, “Hello”. Roy’s room is also in this vicinity and he seems to have a soft spot for ladies in distress. The current owner, Sharon Coyle, was terrified by a rat in the infirmary about two months after moving in. She ran from there, screaming, and the next day found the rat dead on the stairs with blood oozing from its mouth as if its neck had been broken. On the wall above it, the clear mark of a large, bloody handprint led her to believe Roy had done this for her. These days, Roy is a much-loved figure of Rolling Hills. What would have been his 130^th birthday was celebrated in true style in April 2020.

On the second floor of the East Wing, shadow people move silently about in shades varying from pale grey to pitch black. The shadows creep along the floor or walk as humans. They can be amorphous shapes or human-like. Sometimes they appear as an appendage – an arm or a single leg.

In the basement, the Pysch Ward and Solitary Confinement cells show evidence of shackles having been used to restrain those deemed to be unruly. The Morgue, as might be expected, is a particularly uncomfortable place to visit. An embalming table stands near two large walk-n refrigerators for the storage of corpses. Visitors have heard ghostly voices and seen things moved about by unseen forces. People have also been shoved and even knocked off their feet here.

Outside, the exact location of the cemetery is unknown. Nature has taken over and any gravestones have crumbled or become so heavily overgrown as to be indistinguishable. No site map exists or even a burial record.

For some, Rolling Hills will have been the only home they ever knew.

Sharon Coyle has developed a thriving business onsite – with ghost evenings, tours, shopping, dining and much more. Rolling Hills is frequently used for filming and has been featured on a number of television ghost hunting shows.

If you visit, don’t forget to say ‘Hi’, to Roy.

You’re next…

Carol and Nessa are strangers but not for much longer.

In a luxury apartment and in the walls of a modern hospital, the evil that was done continues to thrive. They are in the hands of an entity that knows no boundaries and crosses dimensions – bending and twisting time itself – and where danger waits in every shadow. The battle is on for their bodies and souls and the line between reality and nightmare is hard to define.
Through it all, the words of Lydia Warren Carmody haunt them. But who was she? And why have Carol and Nessa been chosen?

The answer lies deep in the darkness…

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Rolling Hills Asylum

Weird NJ

 Images: Pixabay

Flame Tree Studio

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Jeremy Bentham, a Deadly Picture, and the Ghost of Emma Louise...

 

As with so many hospitals in the UK – including my creation the Royal and Waverly in my latest novel, In Darkness, Shadows Breathe - University College Hospital (UCH), in Euston Road, London has been extensively rebuilt and modernized since it first opened in 1906. The present hospital dates from 2004 but stands right there, next to the cruciform building that has become the haunt of a number of spirits – each with their own agenda.

UCH’s most famous ghostly inhabitant is radical social reformer and philosopher, Jeremy Bentham. (1748-1832) He is best known for his espousal of the theory of utilitarianism – namely: “It is the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong.” He decreed that, on his death, his body should be dissected and then preserved as an ‘auto image’ – self-image – for posterity. His wishes were duly carried out and he is still there (at least, his skeleton is, dressed in his clothes and stuffed with straw). His head is now a lifelike wax replica. He is sitting in a chair, his stick – which he had christened Dapple – resting next to him, in a glass cabinet in the Student Centre.

But it isn't merely his skeleton that remains.

A few years ago, a mathematics teacher, Neil King, was working late one night when he heard the sound of a stick tapping along the floor, at first distant, then coming closer. He paused to see who or what was making the noise. What he saw froze him with fear. The figure of Jeremy Bentham advanced towards him. He came so close, Mr King was convinced the apparition would throw him to the ground. But it didn’t. Bentham’s ghost vanished, leaving the teacher reeling.    

Incidentally, Bentham’s real head still exists – but, after it was stolen as part of a student prank, only to be returned later – it was decided to put it out of harm’s way. Now, it only comes out for special occasions.

he ghost of a student provided a lesser known haunting. She is reputed to have been called Emma Louise and she also haunts the old building. It is said if you call her name three times she will appear. (Now, where have we heard that one before?)

The story goes that there used to be underground tunnels linking the old hospital building with other parts of the campus, including the accommodation quarters of Arthur Tattershall Hall. It is along those tunnels that Emma Louise would travel every day. One day however she never arrived at the hospital for her shift. She was later found dead. Murdered. The crime appears never to have been solved and her spirit wanders.

Years later after Emma Louise's tragic demise, a group of students who also resided at Tattershall – in the very room the poor girl had occupied - decided it would be fun to test out the theory of summoning the former roommate and, having duly assembled, called out her name three times. Shortly afterwards, they heard laughter. But no one in their party was responsible. Despite their best efforts, they failed to trace the source. All through the night, a girl’s voice called out at intervals, even after the students had moved into a friend’s room to escape it. They never discovered who that voice or laughter belonged to.

A couple of nights later, duly returned to their own room, they found the door open. Someone – either of this world or beyond – had painted the words, “HELP ME”, “DIE”. “MURDER” and “RIP” across the wall.

A painting of famous and much-lauded 19th century surgeon, who was also a professor of surgery at University College, London, Marcus Beck, started its own tradition of supernatural activity. It seemed that, if anyone fell asleep under this picture, they would quite likely become ill and possibly even die. As a result, shutters were fixed around it and so began a nightly ritual of closing them to hide the picture from view. It became the night sister’s first duty to secure them and the day sister’s first duty to open them. If this ritual was not carried out, someone would unexpectedly die. The painting in question was stolen in 2001. Its whereabouts are still unknown.

No hospital of this age would be complete without its own version of the ‘grey lady’. In UCH’s case, it is a nurse in a blueish-grey uniform who is seen only when the screens go up around the bed of a really sick person. It is generally believed that the ghost is of a nurse who unwittingly administered a fatal does of morphine and is spending eternity regretting it.

You’re next…

Carol and Nessa are strangers but not for much longer.

In a luxury apartment and in the walls of a modern hospital, the evil that was done continues to thrive. They are in the hands of an entity that knows no boundaries and crosses dimensions – bending and twisting time itself – and where danger waits in every shadow. The battle is on for their bodies and souls and the line between reality and nightmare is hard to define.

Through it all, the words of Lydia Warren Carmody haunt them. But who was she? And why have Carol and Nessa been chosen?

The answer lies deep in the darkness…

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Image credits:

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Dare You Enter The Garden of Bewitchment?

Terrifying things have been happening to Evelyn and Claire, mostly following Claire’s discovery of a strange and mystifying toy called The Garden of Bewitchment…

Extract 1:

Evelyn’s head swam as consciousness returned. She lay curled in a fetal position on damp grass – the only patch of grass in a sea of heather and gorse. She struggled to lean up on one elbow, squinting at the pale sun as it emerged from behind a dark cloud. The dampness had penetrated through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but she must get up. What had happened to her?

Memory swirled back. A strange house. Her sister tall as a giant. The man who had grabbed her. At least… But Evelyn could not remember any distinctive features. Just a shapeless form that grabbed Claire and tossed her aside.

Everything seemed perfectly normal now. The peaceful, bleak moorland. The curlew crying to its young. No sign of the house and garden or of the trees that seemed to have a will of their own. Could she have dreamed it? And where was Claire now? She prayed her sister had made it safely home, waiting for her, probably wondering what had happened to her.

Evelyn struggled to her feet. Her dress – stained with grass and mud. Her hair had come loose, and she had lost her hat. She must get back home. As she set off, she prayed she wouldn’t see any of the neighbors. How would the normally well turned-out Miss Wainwright explain her current state of dishevelment?

She hurried as fast as her tired feet would allow, reaching the cottage in a few minutes. When Evelyn had shut the door firmly behind her, she breathed deeply and called out to her sister. No reply.

Evelyn tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Something had tangled itself up there. She tugged at it, wincing as strands of hair came out at the roots. After a few more tugs, she examined her hand. Lying in her palm lay a small twig. Not heather or gorse. This was unmistakably pine. And there were no pine trees on the moor.

But there were in 'The Garden of Bewitchment'...

Extract 2:

Evelyn awoke to darkness. The migraine had lifted, leaving the familiar feeling of physical tenderness. She heard voices and sat up, straining to listen. Claire’s room. Talking to herself again. The words were indistinct, but she recognized the timbre.

Another voice. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her breathing came fast and shallow.  Claire was talking to a man. There could be no mistake this time.

What was he doing in Claire’s room in the middle of the night? Evelyn made to push the sheet off her, but her head started to throb again. She lay back, praying for the pain to subside.

She heard the scrape of her door as it opened.

“Good evening, Evelyn.”

The man’s voice. Distinct. Directly in her ear.

Evelyn screamed.

© Catherine Cavendish

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The White Lady of Stow Lake

 

My latest novel – In Darkness, Shadows Breathe – crosses dimensions. Two women who, by virtue of the different worlds they inhabit should never have met, become inextricably entwined. An evil force from beyond this world has driven them together. As each one’s story is told, the link between them grows stronger. Carol and Nessa are of this world, but many people have reported seeing apparitions who also appear to be crossing dimensions – from a world of spirit they cannot yet fully reach, into the world they used to live in.

 A particularly common phenomenon seems to be drowned girls and young women, who are apparently bound to the shores of the lake where they died. They all appear to be searching for something, or someone - in dire need of help from the living to help them join the world of spirit.

And not all of them are benign.

One such wraith seems to constitute a deadly reason why I, for one, would think twice before venturing on a walk around Stow Lake in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. Her appearances have been frequent and well documented.

Golden Gate Park is landscaped on similar lines to New York’s Central Park. It hosts a museum, Japanese Tea Gardens, the Conservatory of Flowers, Sprekels Park and, of course, Stow Lake. It also houses a number of ghosts – and even an allegedly moving statue. But more of that later. We’re concerned now with “a thin, tall figure in white.” So said Arthur Pigeon, as reported in the San Francisco Chronicle of January 6th 1908. Police had pulled him over for speeding and he told the newspaper that it had blocked his way as he drove out of the park, “…it seemed to shine. It had long, fair hair and was barefooted. I did not notice the face. I was too frightened and anxious to get away from the place.”

Of course, the temptation is to say the man was merely trying to avoid getting a speeding ticket. And if his had been the only report, then that could well have been the case. But it wasn’t. Over the hundred plus years since that Chronicle article, many other people have reported seeing precisely the same apparition.

So who is this mysterious ‘white lady’ of Stow Lake?

There are, as always, a number of theories. One of the more compelling is that in the late 1800s, a young woman was out walking her baby in its pram around the lake. She became tired and sat down on a bench. Presently another lady came to join her and the two struck up a conversation. So engrossed was the young mother that she failed to notice the pram rolling away. Suddenly she realized it had gone. There was no sign of either the pram or the baby. Panic stricken, she searched high and low, asking everyone, “Have you seen my baby?” No one had. For the rest of that day, and into the night, she searched.

Finally, she realized the baby and the pram must have fallen into the lake. She jumped in and was never seen alive again.

Witnesses who report seeing her speak of a woman in a dirty white dress, sometimes soaking wet and, contrary to Arthur Pigeon’s assertion that she had fair hair, the other reports consistently state she has long, dark hair. Sometimes she is also seen on Strawberry Hill – adjacent to the lake. Her face wears an anxious expression and she has been known to approach people walking around the lake at night. She asks, “Have you seen my baby?”

As for the statue I mentioned earlier, this is called ‘Pioneer Woman and Children’. It has a reputation for moving around – and even changing shape. These phenomena always occur at night and seem directly linked to the white lady. Sometimes the statue’s face changes. Other times, it has no legs or head. Motorists have reported electrical issues. Different cars driving near the statue or lake at the same time have stalled simultaneously.

Finally, if you are brave – or foolhardy – enough, try going down to Stow Lake at night and say, “White lady, white lady, I have your baby” three times. It is said she will then manifest herself before you and ask you, “Have you seen my baby?” If you say, “yes”, she will haunt you ever after. But, if you say, “no”, she’ll kill you.

Now there’s no documented evidence of the white lady committing murder. But are you prepared to put her to the test?

You’re next… 

Carol and Nessa are strangers but not for much longer.

In a luxury apartment and in the walls of a modern hospital, the evil that was done continues to thrive. They are in the hands of an entity that knows no boundaries and crosses dimensions – bending and twisting time itself – and where danger waits in every shadow. The battle is on for their bodies and souls and the line between reality and nightmare is hard to define.
Through it all, the words of Lydia Warren Carmody haunt them. But who was she? And why have Carol and Nessa been chosen?

The answer lies deep in the darkness…

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Flame Tree Press

Picture credits:

Nadiia Kalameiets - Shutterstock

Bru-nO - Pixabay

photos_kast - Pixabay

 

 

In Darkness, Shadows Breathe

Just out from Flame Tree Press!

"A compelling, immersive, and intense time-slip horror novel with sympathetic characters that readers actively root for. The tale reads like The Devil in Silver by Victor LaValle if it were written by Sarah Pinborough." -- Library Journal 

"Cavendish breathes new life into familiar horror tropes in this spine-tingling tale of past and present colliding" - Publishers' Weekly

“One of the most chilling stories of possession I have ever read.” – ihorror.com

"In Darkness, Shadows Breathe is an eerie, dark, gothic story…a page turner...that seriously gave me chills and nightmares.” – It’s All About The Books

“If you are looking for an extremely atmospheric read, then look no further.  In Darkness Shadows Breathe is one you definitely need to grab!” – Booker T’s Farm

"If you enjoy gothic horror with a supernatural element and strong female characters, this is a must read for you!" - Erica Robyn Reads

"In Darkness, Shadows Breathe is a good way to start 2021, because it’s a novel centering around recovery, something the world can relate to right now. Cavendish shines in the ways she’s connected to the story, making herself vulnerable to not only her readers, but to the ghosts that haunt her." -- Aiden Merchant

 “In Darkness, Shadows Breathe” is a treat for those who are in the mood for scary, supernatural horror." Rajiv’s Reviews

“Catherine Cavendish wears the crown as the reigning queen of gothic horror” – Reading Odyssey Stephen King and Beyond

“A fast-paced, supernatural horror story which I thoroughly enjoyed” – BookmarkThat.co.uk

“An atmospheric read, packed with tension and chilling moments.” – On the Shelf Reviews

“A story that creeps up and drags you in until you are almost as scared as the characters you are reading about. Magnificently dark, eerie and all-consuming” – Beyond the Books

“The setting is absolutely perfect…mixing Gothic chills with modern terrors in a way that works devilishly well.” – Brown Flopsy’s Book Burrow

“A great thriller…really had me guessing’ - donnasbookblog

“In Darkness, Shadows Breathe is an intriguing and at times delightfully creepy ghost story that I enjoyed very much.” – From Belgium with Book Love

“A fine tale of horror with two intriguing leads and a disturbing world both have to face.” – Runalong the Shelves

You're next...

Carol and Nessa are strangers, but not for much longer.

In a luxury apartment and in the walls of a modern hospital, the evil that was done continues to thrive. They are in the hands of an entity that knows n boundaries and crosses dimensions - bending and twisting time itself - and where danger waits in ever shadow. The battle us on for their bodies and souls, and the line between reality and nightmare is hard to define.

Through it all, the words of Lydia Warren Carmody haunt them. But who was she? And why have Carol and Nessa been chosen?

The answer lies deep in the darkness...

In Darkness, Shadows Breathe is available from:

Amazon

Flame Tree Press

Simon & Schuster

Barnes and Noble

at bookstores, and other online outlets

Join me on tour!

T shirt design by Ilan Sheady

The Many Ghosts of Waverly Hills

Image: Junko – pixabay

Who doesn't love a ghost story at Christmas?, and if it concerns strange goings-on in the shadowy halls of an old sanitorium, what could be better to start the fingers twitching and the toes curling?

Anyone who has ever spent any time in hospital knows they can be scary places. It’s hardly surprising since most of us end up there during times of trauma – from our first breath outside our mother’s womb through accidents, life-saving surgery, palliative care, and, ultimately, our final moments. Along the way, life hits us with all sorts of difficult challenges – and, inevitably, some of these will result in hospital visits, short, or long, term stays. 

In my new novel – In Darkness, Shadows Breathe – I have created a fairly modern hospital built on grounds once occupied by a much older structure where practices were carried out which we would abhor today. Admittedly, in my case, these practices were aided by demonic forces, but to read some accounts of similar establishments in history, the truth was sometimes often not all that far removed from my fiction.

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Take the Waverly Hills Sanitorium in Louisville, Kentucky. Originally opened in 1910, it as designed to provide safe accommodation and care for 40-50 tuberculosis patients. In those days, a diagnosis of TB (also known as consumption) signalled a death sentence. There were no anti-biotics and no effective treatment of any kind. Any help given was purely palliative, designed to fend off the inevitable demise. Little was actually known as to the cause of the disease although it was believed that rest, peace and tranquillity in rural surroundings, with plenty of fresh air proved beneficial (doesn’t it to everyone?) so sanitoriums such as Waverly Hills were built in isolated countryside, frequently on hills where the air would be fresher and cleaner. No one, at that time knew that tuberculosis was an airborne disease. 

In the area it served – Jefferson County - cases of tuberculosis grew until the disease seemed to be on the rampage. The original building soon proved inadequate and became overcrowded. It was clear a much larger facility was needed and, in 1926, the enlarged Gothic revival style building which still stands today opened for business. Capable of housing over 400 patients, Waverley Hill became its own village, complete with shops. Once you entered Waverly Hills, you became a resident for life. TB patients could not live in the community – although guests were allowed. They would make their way up the hill, visit, and then go back home, taking whatever germs they had collected with them.

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In its time Waverly Hills was considered one of the most modern and well-equipped facilities of its kind. It continued to operate as a tuberculosis hospital until 1944 when the development of a drug – streptomycin - which successfully treated the disease rendered the need for such institutions obsolete. Gradually, the building emptied until it closed in 1961. Thereafter, it became Woodhaven Medical Services – a geriatric facility - before closing its doors in 1981. 

The building fell into severe decay until it was eventually bought by Charlie and Tina Mattingly who formed the Waverly Hills Historical Society and have worked tirelessly since 2001 on a massive programme of restoration. They must also have realized that throughout their efforts, they w ere never entirely alone in that building and now visitors can come along to organised events where they may be lucky – or unfortunate – enough to witness some of the residents who refuse to leave Waverly Hills. Or maybe they can’t. There are plenty of sightings. Among the most memorable:

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The Louisville Ghosthunters Society paid a visit to the kitchen and were astonished to find it wrecked – broken crockery everywhere, tables and chairs upended. They turned to leave but were stopped in their tracks by the sounds of a door swinging shut and the smell of baking bread. But there was no one there to bake it.

True Ghost Tales recounts the story of a group who were visiting the sanitorium and made their way up to the roof only to be scared out of their wits by seeing moving shadows, They fled from the scene but the shadows pursued them. Doors slammed. Mysterious footprints appeared in puddles. They fled from the building in terror.

Then there’s the old woman who roams the corridors, her hands and feet bloodied from the chains she is shackled in. If anyone approaches her, she runs away screaming.

A frequent sighting is that of a little boy called Timmy who, it is said, died in Waverly Hills of TB. He seems unable to leave but does enjoy playing ball with visitors.

At the other end of the spectrum is the notorious Creeper whose appearance is the darkest of shadows slithering along corridor walls and imparting the deepest, blackest feeling of gloom on anyone who comes near it.

Waverly Hills is also home to the phenomena known as Doppelgängers (literally ‘double walkers’). Visitors and guides have reported seeing themselves – sometimes performing acts they would never perform. Sometimes they see an exact double of a relative doing something that would be total anathema to that person (such as a cat loving sister strangling a pet cat). The doubles are identical save for the blackholes where their eyes should be.

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Finally, beware of Room 502 – it has such a sad history. On September 10th 2006, Tim Halstead of Missouri Paranormal Research took a photograph of a ghost who looked much like a young woman called Mary Lee. It is believed she was either a nurse who committed suicide in that room, or the daughter of a doctor who contracted TB herself from prolonged exposure to the disease and who died as a result. Another connection with Room 502 is that of a nurse who worked there, found herself pregnant and unmarried and then threw herself off the roof. There is a lot of sadness in that room and it remains there. 

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a peaceful, healthy and Happy New Year

You’re next… 

Carol and Nessa are strangers but not for much longer.

In a luxury apartment and in the walls of a modern hospital, the evil that was done continues to thrive. They are in the hands of an entity that knows no boundaries and crosses dimensions – bending and twisting time itself – and where danger waits in every shadow. The battle is on for their bodies and souls and the line between reality and nightmare is hard to define.

Through it all, the words of Lydia Warren Carmody haunt them. But who was she? And why have Carol and Nessa been chosen?

The answer lies deep in the darkness…

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For more information on Waverly Hills Sanitorium: 

Louisville Ghosthunters Society investigation: http://www.louisvilleghs.com/LGHS_MASTER/SUB/Investigations/Waverly/Waverly_Hills_Sanatorium.html

The Graveyard Shift: https://www.ranker.com/list/scary-stories-from-waverly-hills-sanatorium/anna-lindwasser

Waverly Hills official website: https://www.therealwaverlyhills.com/