Excerpt from The Occupants of Heathstone House
CAROLE GILL'S HOUSE OF HORRORS
"Then at last I saw a turret rising above the bleak woods. “We are nearly there!” I cried. We were for we were already in sight of the house and so near to the sad occupants within.
Heathstone House was now coming fully into sight--Heathstone with the last two of its accursed line, the brother and sister Jeremiah and Christine, former playmates of mine. Well perhaps that is not the right term, for I was not really a child but only childlike.
None of us can help what we are, and I could not, though I wished I could. Still it was enough for me to play with them and visit them undetected. They called me their secret playmate and I was, comforting them as much as I could for no one else did. It was the children’s desire to die which brought me to that lonely nursery all those years ago.
“Please take us,” they begged.
“But you are children,” I answered. “Children should not wish to die!”
“I fear we too are dying, for we live with madness.” The nightmarishly beautiful prose is but one reason to venture into the unnerving catacombs of House of Horrors, an anthology of short genre excursions by the indomitable Carole Gill.
From a storm-shrouded lighthouse to the foggy realms of haunted forests and even a jaunt through Whitechapel, Carole Gill lulls you into her Gothic web, masterfully weaving for you a series of nightmarish tales to unease your dreary nights. She is the contemporary incarnation of the storyteller at the fire, and we gather in the light of the flickering flame wide-eyed and eager to listen.
Horror shorts in the footsteps of Edgar Allan Poe