Saturday, October 29, 2016


This story spawned the novel Circus of Horrors . I got very attached to Al and Hank, the murderous midgets. This story appears in House of Horrors.  It's a Halloween tradition now to share their debut story!


There were two of them. None of the other kids knew who they were but then again, they couldn’t tell who anyone was really.

The costumes weren’t much for any of the kids. There was a depression on and people just couldn’t spend on things like that so the children wore whatever was at hand like potato sacks with the eyes cut out.

There were a lot of ghosts in other words.

Suddenly two more little ghosts just seemed to appear from nowhere. 
There were a heck of a lot of kids out then and some of the children were curious about the two they didn’t seem to recognize. 

Joanie Myles kept stopping the two little ghosts.

“Say, who are you? Do you go to school here? I just don’t know who you are.”

Joanie was only 10 so when one of the ghosts said for her to can it and mind her own business. She didn’t think much of it. In fact she only waved him off and said if he was going to be silly and not say who he was she didn’t care.

She never heard the other ghost suggest plugging the kid to keep her quiet. 

Eventually she disappeared into the crowd of children and left the two unidentified ghosts on their own. 

They were glad she was gone. That was the last god damned thing they needed—a nosey kid. 

Whereas the other children were targeting every house there was, these two were real particular. It seemed as if they were looking for something special.

The truth was they were.

“Over there, see?”

One of them pointed toward a fine old Victorian house with turrets and a big wraparound porch. 

“Let’s go and take a look.”

They hurried over to look inside. The lights were on all over the place and they could see two old ladies. One of them was reading and the other was running back and forth from the kitchen saying how the cookies were almost ready.

The other asked if the money was ready too.

“Money.” The little ghosts nodded toward one another.

A whole pack of children began to descend on the house then as the two little ghosties fled from sight. 

Sure enough the children were calling on these two ladies for their Halloween treats.

Though there were mainly ghosts, there were some witches and goblins too, and a few other things which kind of were stupid looking but the old ladies made a fuss over them anyway.

“Why don’t you look adorable?”

“Trick or treat!”

The second old lady appeared then and clapped her hands childishly. “I just love when you say that, children! Don’t you love that, Alice?”

“Yes I do,” her sister replied. “We shall indeed give you lovely children some cookies and pennies too but tell us, though I dread asking,” she laughed. “What would your trick be if we hadn’t a treat?”

The children began to confer then, whispering and shrugging. It was obvious they wouldn’t have done anything although one boy called out, “We’d throw flour all over your house!”

“Oh goodness, would you really? Why that’s awful. Isn’t that awful, Sister?”
Sister agreed it was awful. 

The two strange ghosts that were still hiding were cursing under their breath--their voices a bit deep-sounding for children. 

“Well here you are children. Some cookies I baked.”

The children thanked her. “Wow, we never get anything like that!” 

The other sister opened her purse. “Here are some pennies too, children!”

They left eventually and the door was closed.

The two ghosts came out of hiding. 



They rang the bell but they didn’t say, ' trick or treat.' Instead when the door opened, they just stood there looking around at all the rich furnishings. 

The kindly woman smiled at them and asked teasingly, “Aren’t you going to say anything? Cat got your tongue?”

The two little ghosts just sighed; they had already spotted the purse.

Since neither of them said anything and it was cold, the sisters ushered them inside. It was when they were inside that they said: "Trick or treat!" 

They were given cookies and one of the sisters asked, “What would your trick have been children?”

One of the ghosts produced a razor and cut her throat and her sister's expertly, avoiding most of the blood.

“Grab whatever you see. I’ll get the dough; we’ll clean up before we leave.” 
Al and Hank had been employed as midgets in circus sideshows for years. Halloween was always a special time for them. It made up for all the shit they took and all the pointing and cruelty. 

Each had grown up in various mental institutions. Al had a police record but he wasn’t wanted again, not yet.

Their car was where they left it.

‘Let’s drive the fuck outta this jerkwater town.’

“Yeah,” Al said. “And maybe we can get laid too and have a really special Halloween.”

Copyright © Carole Gill 2011

Just one of the stories in House of Horrors!

Packed with stories of vampires, zombies, murderous midgets, demon clowns, evil dolls, haunted cemeteries ,  a real shop of horrors, taxidermy gone haywire, serial killers and more!
Your worst fears and nightmares dished up for you with extra helpings of blood-curdling terror!


Friday, October 28, 2016


Okay, here you go! A complete story free to read for Halloween. It's from House of Horrors! It's about a nightmare date to meet the parents! 

Here be Monsters!

I knew I was in trouble when I saw the house. It looked like something straight out of a Hammer film! It was dismal and forbidding, and worst of all it was terribly isolated with ugly, dense woods full of twisted trees that surrounded the place. I thought of the menacing landscape in the House of Usher. Christopher laughed.

“Home sweet, home, eh Barbara?” I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out, only pathetic stuttering. “Let’s meet Mommy and Daddy shall we? I told them about you, and they can’t wait to meet you!”

An innocuous statement so why did it feel like a threat? He led me out of the car as if I were a sleep walker. A person really can be too horrified to react to their surroundings. Three sharp knocks and the door whined open.

Oh yeah, Hammer all the way. The mother had a face that could stop a clock and the father looked like an evil Gomez Addams. “Charming!” he said as he leered at me. He kissed my hand but just before he did, he smiled broadly and I thought I saw what looked like a double-pronged tongue, like snakes have. I shrank back in horror. The mother grinned. Why did her teeth look so terribly sharp?

“Come, do not be afraid.”

My knees buckled but Christopher held me up. He and the father half-dragged me inside. All I could do it seemed was watch my feet as they dragged along the blood, red carpet. “It’s bleak but we call it home.” Bleak wasn’t the word.

It was Dracula’s Castle and Ed Gein’s kitchen combined. What were all those artifacts I saw, strange-looking things that looked as though they were made out of body parts? “Chris does like his art.” His mother said pointing toward the curtain rods. “Those are human heads along there, see? They are small but so were the children...” I fainted then. When I woke I found myself in a bedroom.

It smelled of dust and rot, the sort of rot I could not identify. Before I could think of anything to do, I heard them in the hall. Suddenly the door opened and they all walked in. “It’s not like you think.” The mother beamed, licking her lips. “It’s alright Barbara, we won’t hurt you. You’ll come to like it here with us. We like you, you see.” Then turning toward Christopher, she added: “my son wants to marry you and well, if that’s what he wants, then I want it too.”

“No! No!” I screamed as I dashed toward the open door. Surprisingly, no one made a move to stop me. “You’re welcome to look around!” the father shouted after me. I just ran, hoping I would find a way out, but the hall seemed to go on forever. There were doors on either side of the corridor, and they were open. I was afraid to look inside. I did finally. That’s when I screamed the loudest.

There were girls—hanging on meat hooks. They had been gutted. There were pools of blood beneath them but no sign of entrails or organs. “No!” I shouted. I turned to flee but ran right into Christopher.

“Nothing is wasted. We eat them. Mother makes the best pies...” I screamed and didn’t stop. The father held up a syringe. “Just a sting and you’ll sleep. It’s really better that way.”

I was unconscious in the midst of a shriek! They spoke to me for days, each taking turns. I wouldn’t know until later that they were trained in brain washing. The father had trained them. You see he had worked for various intelligence agencies. “I’ve been employed all over the world. You name the country and I would venture to say I have advised them on terrorism and all sorts of problems they were having, most of which were internal.”

Mrs. White was beaming. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” she said.

Mr. White looked delighted. Then turning to me he said: “I can help to make you understand, come now. Let me really kiss you!”

I was right about his tongue; it was like that of a serpent. I sank into a kind of stupor I guess you could say, and then everything changed. Of course it was all due to our endless ‘little talks,’ the father and I. I soon found I enjoyed listening to the sound of his voice. By the end of the first week I was having my meals with them.

“Your pies are delicious, Mrs. White. I do enjoy what I am eating here.” Yes, that’s right I sounded like a robot. I was a robot. I realize that now I didn’t realize it then. I was even letting Mr. White into my room at night. He really had the most remarkable way of kissing...! Christopher didn’t seem to mind either. He said it was important for me to appreciate his father in every way. “Love and truth, Barbara. They go together.”

It wasn’t long before I was sharing their insane life style. Mr. White still worked as a campaign manager for some politician. I don’t remember which one. I only know he was out a great deal of the time. “He is so good at his job. You wouldn’t believe how much he helps various people get elected, people who wouldn’t normally have attained office!” Christopher interrupted her. “Mother, really. Now, you promised, no politics.” She had indeed promised but she was something of a political animal and always managed to bring the subject up again.
It’s been ten years since I’ve been with the Whites and it hasn’t been bad. Christopher never cheated on me. I’ve given him eight children, four boys and four girls. Each and every one of them is a White in every way—tongues and all. Yes, we did marry. A couple of highly placed politicians came to witness the ceremony. As a matter of fact, a very famous minister married us, too. No, I cannot tell you who they were, you’d recognize their names.

Sorry. I think the most important thing I can tell you is my trouble turned to happiness when I accepted my fate, for it called to mind that age old saying: here there be monsters—! I suppose you could say my own humble addition to that saying would be ‘and they might very likely become your family.’ By the way, in case you’re wondering, Chris is in every way like his father, just thought I’d add that.

© 2010 Carole Gill

Have a happy and safe Halloween!

Monday, October 24, 2016


In this horror collection you'll find stories of vampires, zombies, murderous midgets, demon clowns, evil dolls, haunted cemeteries, a real shop of horrors, taxidermy gone haywire, serial killers and more! Your worst fears and nightmares dished up for you with extra helpings of blood-curdling terror!

This anthology is packed with my horror short stories that have appeared in various anthologies over the years. The monsters really are diverse! One reviewer said:

“There are so many different monsters in this book that no matter what your biggest fear is, or your favorite one to read about, you are gonna find it without fail!”

I love writing horror--and you will find my fiction is wide-ranging, from monsters in lighthouses to a nightmare first date and meeting the parents, who are very unusual (shudder), to a flea bag hotel that definitely has an infestation problem, to a woman discovering she's married to a real monster!

New Orleans has always intrigued me. There is a story entitled House of Death. That takes place during the Mardi Gras. It's a creeper, alright! 

There are zombie support groups, tales of horrific revenge, haunted cemeteries and loads more. If you like horror, go for it!


“Carole Gill’s talent is a wonder to experience. She has the uncanny ability to craft horrors imbued in fairy tale finesse.”
Joshua Skye 

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Ghost Pumpkin Says: Get Scared for Halloween!!

Halloween is on its way. There will be parties galore and more! PLUS! For the real fans of the dark, of ghosts and monsters and such--there are scary tales to be read! Stories and books to be had. They're out there. I know because I write that stuff!

All of my books are scary!

Seven novels bursting with vampires, as well as a Circus of Horrors and a collection of nearly all my stories from published anthologies! It's all there!







Also these best selling anthologies! 

FRESH FEAR IS number 1 at Amazon and 2 Amazon UK



Vampires Romance to Rippers is FREE for the next 3 days!

Check out anthologies I'm published in:

Fresh Fear new edition!
Fragments of Fear tv and web coming soon
Killing it Softly, Digital Fiction Publishing Corp. coming soon
Sideshow, published by PsychoPomp
After Armeagedon short story collection by Brian L. Porter (guest story by Carole Gill)
Rogues Gallery, The Illustrated Police News, Firbolg
Enter at Your Own Risk: Dark Muses Spoken Silences Firbolg
Vampires: Romance to Rippers an Anthology of Tasty Tales
A S Publications: Enter at Your Own Risk: Old Masters New Voices, An Anthology of Gothic Literature,
Fresh Fear: Contemporary Horror
Triskaideka Books' Masters of Horror Anthology One,
Triskaideka Books' Masters of Horror Damned If You Don't,
Sonar 4 Publishing's Ladies and Gentlemen of Horror 2010,
SNM's Bonded By Blood3 Languish In Lament,
Sonar 4 Publishing's Whitechapel 13, Anthology,
Rymfire's Undead Tales,
Rymfire's Zombie Winter,
Rymfire's Zombie Writing
Angelic Knight Press' Satan's Toy Box: Demonic Dolls and
Whitechapel 13, An Anthology of the Victorian Era
Sci Fi Almanac 2009 and 2010 and
Science Fiction Freedom Magazine, issues 1-4,
Sci Fi Talk's Tales of Time and Space.


Friday, October 21, 2016

Pliny's Big Adventure!

A Fed-up Cat 

Pliny's owner thought he looked younger than he was, when in fact, he looked older. He was the kind of man that spoke as though he was inundated with friends when he wasn't. Christmas for him was a frozen turkey dinner and the television.

He did a lot of compensating behavior. Psychological compensation comes in handy when people feel worthless. They write copious letters to newspaper editors, they haunt message boards, write critiques and seek to get their opinions out far and wide on a great many subjects. It gives them something to do and they don't feel as lonely or sad. Perfectly understandable the cat thought. More about him in a moment.

The cat owner's relatives didn't even like their relative as they considered him odd and fractious which he was. Even the cat, a very tolerant and loving cat, it has to be said, was tired of his company. Sometimes Pliny thought of running away, of being let out and not coming back. He had already sized up the neighborhood in that regard and knew very well, he'd find a far more suitable home.

It wasn't that his human was mean, it was just that Pliny had begun to hate the very sight of him. Big oversized glasses, a smile which didn't seem to fit his face and a three room apartment that was too dark and claustrophobic. Small places crammed with too much furniture and one cat toy was not cat nirvana as far as Pliny was concerned.

At least the human went to work every day. Pliny loved that. He'd have the entire day to himself to tear out the last page of whatever book the human was reading.

Pliny could hardly wait for the man to get to the end of his book and then explode. "You've done it again! Now, I won't be able to put up my book review!"

Like anyone cares, Pliny thought. What a pompous, self important poor excuse for a human being! Even mice were better company, especially if one lets them live!

Pliny's name suited him because he was named after a Roman historian--well one of them anyway, either Pliny the Elder or Pliny the Younger.

It was shortly before Halloween when the big cat appeared. This cat was scary. Pliny had never been frightened before but he was now. He had been curled up on the sofa, he always pulled that stupid plastic off. What's His Face got a big kick out of it, too. "You are an amazing cat! However did you manage to pull that off?"

Pliny just stared him down and turned his bottom toward him--and sauntered off. Cats were far more clever than often given credit for being. All cats knew that and some people, too. The really nice cats had doggie friends that they never looked down upon or spoke about maliciously to other cats or gloated that they were at least as smart.

Pliny had a doggie friend, Oscar, a shaggy nervous dog whose owner had decided to keep chickens. Poor dog hated those damned chickens because they terrorized him. He could have easily killed them but he wasn't like that, so instead he just ran away and tried to manage. Eventually, he was taken in by a nice old woman that lived across the street from Pliny's apartment. Yes, that was how Pliny thought of the place.

To make a long story a bit shorter, as this is a flash account of Pliny and the scary cat, really--one day Oscar brought over his good friend, Hecuba. She was sleek and beautiful but her eyes were strange. They were startling amber and if peered into too long, they seemed to do something to the gazer!

It happened a few times with Pliny. He felt he had no will of his own.

It had to be around Halloween that Pliny's life changed. Pliny had no recollection of Oscar or Hecuba or his human--it was like a dream. Something dark and horrible. The screams were the worst. Awful shrieks they were and hissing too.

Pliny was frightened. And when he felt himself being forcibly nudged away and ordered to move, he was shocked. That was because he opened his eyes and saw the mutilated remains of his human. He was no longer recognizable as a human! All that remained were his big eye glasses and part of one white loafer. And the blood!

"Did I do that?!"

No matter how often he asked, he never received an answer. Oscar at least said he shouldn't worry about it. "It won't bring him back."

The three of them left then. It was Oscar's idea. "Hecuba," Oscar smiled, "Since you enjoyed that so much, how about I take you to my former owner. After you get through with her, there are those damned chickens..."

The end

© 2016 Carole Gill

Pliny will be back! 

Thursday, October 20, 2016


The violent and insane men who are circus clowns in this novel, have suffered severe abuse in their lives. That suffering not only damaged them, it was the catalyst that made them the horrors they became. 

"They each mumbled something and took their coffee. Happy commented on the sunny morning and Fred answered him, trying carefully not to look repelled by Happy’s skin or his mates’.

It wasn’t easy. Of the three, Happy was the most disfigured. His face displayed a road map of his horrendous childhood and young adulthood. It told the story of brutality and unimaginable violence.

Happy’s real name was Arthur Mundt—not that it mattered. The happy clown face he wore gave him his name. But was he happy? Nah. How could he be? He used to say the best he could do was try not to kill people.

Yes, his life had been too hard.

The clowns met in the Storeyville Orphanage in Georgia. The place was infamous for brutality. The cigarette burns had long since healed as they had on the others, but the scarring from razors and broken bottles was particularly bad. There was copious scar tissue which had turned deep purple. Jagged lines of it covered his face and ears, too. Poor fucker.

What Fred had pieced together about Happy was, he’d been living with hobos after running away from home. Cops raided the shit hole they were all holed up in and he got dumped at the orphanage as he was under twelve.

Noble and Danny had been turned over to the orphanage shortly after being born. No one told them where they came from. Their names were given to them by a doctor who liked to read. That was why they’d been called Noble Dickens and Danny Shakespeare, respectively.

“We all suffered hell,” Happy used to say. “If we weren’t used by the orderlies for sex, we were loaned out to their friends. They drank a lot and when they were pissed, they’d really start in.”

After a few orphans died, things got better, but not for Happy or his pals. They were good friends by then.

Danny was the most cordial, probably because he was the least scarred. “My face might not show it but all the times I been screwed up the ass—that’s what give me my hemorrhoids.”

Sad, all of them—Noble had it better. If it hadn’t been for the scarring on his jaw and throat, he’d have felt okay about not covering his face up with clown makeup.

“Anyone want eggs?”

The eggs were Fred’s surprise. He smiled when they reacted with enthusiasm. “Got them yesterday.”

They decided to wait for Baby Alice, but before she came out, the clowns had swallowed their coffee and applied their makeup. They liked her enough not to upset her."

“This is horrific in the best way! It is extreme ... and disturbing.

"Riveting. Imaginative. Chilling. Fantastical."

"Wonderful horror with a side order of ribs."

"Outstanding story line and strong characters. I felt like I was right there and a part of the sideshow.
"An awesome little creepfest!"
"Never going to the circus again!"

"True horror!"

“Scary from beginning to end! Sit back and read your way into a horror filled tale! Enjoy!”

Saturday, October 15, 2016

My Favorite Character and the Villain You Love to Hate! His Debut and Free to Read!

Eco won best villain at Efestival of words 2014 and the book he appeared in, The House on Blackstone Moor won best horror. He is the chief protagonist of three books in The Blackstone Vampires series. The fourth book features his good friend, Dracula. He is my favorite character I have ever written about. This story that follows is his debut story! I hope you enjoy it!

The Legacy

A Florentine sky at dusk, streaked with orange fire and me, walking along the Ponte Vecchio feeling lonely and dejected. The city looked magnificent in the half light of fading day and approaching night, like a living thing ready for sleep, but perhaps not quite yet. The taverns were full—voices were raised in song and chatter and laughter too. I listened and sighed. It is difficult to be apart when
all around me I see life lived.

My existence and I are something else, something apart and yet connected. I have told you enough of my existence so far for you to know that absolute immortality does bring with it sad and often hopeless isolation. When you are fallen angel spawn and condemned to live forever, forever troubles more than it thrills I fear. This was how I felt in the spring of 1502 when I, merely out for an evening stroll, happened to see the most fascinating creature— rushing along as though her life depended upon it.

She carried herself with such grace and I found myself following, watching her great billowing gown glide smoothly over the cobblestones as if to bless them. Where would such a grand person rush to? I asked myself. I surmised she was probably late for an appointment. Ever more curious I continued my pursuit. Now I do wish to put your mind at ease. I had no wish to harm her in any way, nor did I intend to overpower her in order to drink her blood. Not that I haven’t fallen upon beautiful creatures before to partake of their offerings on occasion.

Blood was to me like a fine wine, sipped but not gulped—savored but never savagely slurped as the vampires drink it. Yes I know I look down upon them, but that is the way I am. Back to my story—so there I was wanting to see where she was going and to whom she rushed to see and–what the circumstances could possibly be and so forth. Though I hadn’t yet seen her full face, I could see enough to know she was beautiful with her intricately coiffured hair encased in the most delicate of jewelled nets–a beautiful but unnecessary adornment for this Queen of the Night.

At last she reached her destination, she stopped and looked up at the most non-descript house imaginable on an ordinary street quite far from the best part of the city. Surely, I thought this cannot be her destination, but it was, for she hurried inside. Now, as you get to know me better, you will learn of my many talents. I am able to fly—and this I now did, hugging the building and flying as close to it as possible, hoping I would not be seen.

I had already observed the building was darkened but for the very top windows, windows belonging to workshops. I wondered: why does this lady seek such a place? Whatever the answer, I crept up quickly and looked inside. The shop was quite large—it must have encompassed a few smaller ones for it was one very spacious room. There were all manner of paintings and paint pots and brushes scattered about in hopeless disarray. In the middle stood a bearded man I recognized at once. He was the one and only, Leonardo DaVinci, master painter and sculptor. This was going to be interesting I thought for I had heard gossip that he had been commissioned to do a painting for some silk merchant.

I heard a knock as DaVinci hurried to the door. “You are late, Signora Del Giocondo. But there was no need to rush. You look flushed. Would you like a drink?”

“Just some wine, Signor DaVinci if you don’t mind.”

Up until this time I had not seen her face and was not prepared for the heavenly sight. She was a vision of demure loveliness—a masterpiece among masterpieces. He was very gracious to her, but she looked increasingly upset. “It is alright, we can do this another time.” I had a feeling they would be leaving soon as she was in no mood to sit.

When DaVinci began to put his brushes down I knew I was right. With the evening the cooler air arrived which did not bother me. My vampires and I can take the cold its heat we cannot stand which is often misconstrued for us not liking the sun. Truthfully, we can tolerate the sun if we consume a steady diet of wolfsbane.

Yes, I know what you are thinking; it is rather remarkable and yet it is effective if brewed in tea, but it is difficult to get; that’s why you see so many vampires stocking up the way they do. Their provincial cousins who reside in rural areas of Eastern Europe either can’t get the leaves or don’t care. In any event they do in fact perish at the very thought of sunshine. They are odd creatures and I have as little to do with them as possible as they call bat dung splattered caves their home. More about them later!

I waited until they left the workshop, whereupon I crept down to the street. They emerged from the building and I heard him offer to buy her a drink. She laughed and her laughter was like music.

 “Yes signor, I think I should like that.” I was pleased to hear her laugh, for I hoped her mood had changed. Truthfully I was rather hoping they might walk to a better part of town but they didn’t. Instead they went into a dreary looking and I thought poor tavern. They took their seats and I mine, which was not terribly far away. Their conversation was pretty boring, but then I heard them make reference to the painting having been commissioned by her husband, Francesco to commemorate the recent birth of their son. It wasn’t long before the conversation changed to something rather different. It seemed the good lady had taken a lover!

“But how did he find out?” I heard DaVinci ask. She began to cry.

“I don’t know. He did that’s all.”

DaVinci was doing his best to comfort her but she could not be comforted. “He has left me and taken the children; even little Andrea. He said, “Go to your lover, Lisa I am finished with you!”

More conversation followed: apparently her parents and sisters had also condemned her affair and had told her the same thing. “Sacre bleu!! I muttered under my breath. “Have they no compassion?” The poor woman was desperate. “You see sir, my life is over I fear.”

“No! No it is not! I won’t hear of such a thing!” He said as he smiled and dried her eyes with his own handkerchief, “You will be fine, I know it!” “But Antonio wishes me to go with him right away.” This appeared to confuse poor DaVinci. “I see,” he said looking lost. “Oh my friend, you are thinking of the painting! I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” DaVinci kissed her hand. “My lady, you must live your life as you wish and in happiness. Perhaps in time your husband...” “Oh no, my friend, he will never forgive the slight to his name.” “But your children?” “Perhaps he might let me see them. I shall pray for that.”

She stood then as if to go. DaVinci stood up as well. “No signor. You finish your wine; I best go home to pack. The servants will let me in.” I left Signor DaVinci nodding sadly to himself and looking quite close to tears I thought. So she has a lover, an Antonio somebody–foolish woman. Yes, do not be surprised, I can be a moralist. After all, it involved the loss of her children and I am not entirely without feeling. I decided to follow her. She hadn’t gone more than a few paces when suddenly I saw a man emerge from the shadows.

There was something about him I recognized. Not only that, but I felt greatly alarmed. I don’t often get that way and when I do the results can be rather dramatic. “Antonio!” They clung passionately to one another–he whispering and she nodding.

“My love, we must leave now.” He said other things and she answered but I was no longer listening for I knew who he was. The realization hit me hard. Eco! My sworn enemy and a fallen angel’s spawn like myself. Remember I told you of the vampires I detest who dwell in stinking caves? Well their master is this wretched enemy of mine, Eco, the bane of my existence an, immortal pox who will forever haunt the world.

Why the hatred, Monsieur Louis, I hear you ask? He is a monster—a destroyer. He is the thing that comes to some people in their wildest nightmares—he is without one redeeming feature. He is a vile corruption that only seeks evil. He and his vampires are singularly responsible for the worst of the vampire legends, I might add. It is he and his clan alone that have given us our reputation. They have caused terrible purges where thousands of the vampire breed were destroyed.

And do you know it never bothered him? And now, this beauty! How had she let him touch her? I shuddered to think of him bedding this elegant lady as I knew he must have. Suddenly I realized I had been so swept up in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed him looking in my direction!

“You there! I should like to speak with you Louis, but I want to show my good lady to her home.”

“Very well, I shall be delighted to wait!”

I can’t tell you how upset I was standing there on that narrow street, increasingly I felt more outraged, more likely to explode, for truly it wasn’t just anger that inflamed me—I was worried that Eco might harm the woman.

At last he returned and I tried to contain myself. “I am honored you waited.” Now I took a very good look at him. The pustule was dressed in fine clothes. He looked like a successful merchant. It was outrageous! “Eco, tell me, have you told your lady of your origins or will you keep that as a surprise?” “I think it can wait. So where do we battle now, Louis...Here or would you like a more dramatic place?”

Why we do this, I have no idea. I think each of us is hopeful that the other might in some way be magically weakened if not destroyed. Foolish I know, but we wish it anyway. “Do you not miss your filthy bat caves? Why do you have to come to this beautiful country?” I stopped speaking, for suddenly an army of vampires began circling overhead—swarming as if ready to attack. I motioned with my head.

“Will the battle be here, a street in Florence? How like you to be so common. Surely we can go somewhere else.” “The choice is yours!” I began to think. “How about the ancient forest outside Florence? We shall have privacy and...” “And you can summon your own vampires.” I shook my head. “Eco I can fight without their help and I can put you through your paces and rip some of your favorite blood suckers apart in the bargain.
We met near the Arno River, in a clearing and true to my word I did not bring any help with me whatsoever.

Eco, of course had with him a regiment of vampires, all manner of stench-filled beasts. They reeked so badly, I could smell them as soon as they began to appear. “Where did you get these?” “They are from Romania and The East. Such loyal children are you not my loves?” They began to bay in the most revolting way which must have been their way to voice affection. I could just imagine what excesses they all got up to.

“I am ready!” Eco cried. “When do we start, Louis?” “How about now?” He raised both his arms. “Children! Show your love; kill for me, your father!” His voice was a demonic howl that his vampires answered in kind. They soon began to fall from the sky like great black birds of death; shrieking and screaming as they landed. Soon I was surrounded by hundreds of them.

“Come!” I shouted! I shall destroy you all!” During all this, Eco was flying just to my right. Hovering like an old crow. “There are a lot of them, Louis. Are you certain it won’t be too much for you?”

“Don’t be silly,” I shouted. “You know I cannot be destroyed and you cannot be either—so why is it you have us battle—are you so willing to sacrifice your own children as you call them?”

Eco looked horrified, for suddenly his vampires began to hiss at him, having heard my accusations. “Ah, you see I have angered them, I am so sorry, will you forgive me?” Eco wasn’t going to be deterred. “Marco! Marco!” I knew what he was doing. I knew it as soon as the creature came forward. This was his pet, his favorite—an unusually tall vampire— with massive shoulders and oversized facial features. “Where did you get this one?” I asked. “Was it a gladiator that you raised up?”

Eco laughed, but the creature didn’t. It roared angrily and leapt toward me. With one thrust of my arm I hit it squarely on the neck. It fell with a thud. Calmly, as if I hadn’t a care in the world, I bent down and twisted its head off. A great black fountain of blood spewed forth—torrents of it. I was not surprised to see Eco’s “children” spring forth—mouths open—arms outstretched in orgasmic ecstasy as they began lapping it up.

“My, he had a lot of blood, over a thousand years’ worth no doubt!” Eco began to scream at his vampires; “Stop it you monsters!” Before he could utter another word I couldn’t help but say, “But Eco they are no longer your children but monsters now?”

He waved me off as he began to push them away from their bounty. One or two fought back, those he killed himself, wrenching their heads off, but with no finesse whatsoever; there was quite a lot of carnage. The others were beaten back into submission. When they were cowering and completely docile, Eco gave them permission to eat. Yes, you see, that’s another thing about Eco and his lot. His vampires eat their own kind, I find that obnoxious, don’t you?

 “I’ll be leaving now, Eco. As usual it’s been interesting.” He turned his back on me. Now we have over time tempered our encounters somewhat. They used to be worse. I mean truly there was a time when we tried to do the impossible. But after a while we realized we were equally matched and nothing would alter that. I did say one last thing to him that night. I said, “Eco, if you don’t leave that woman alone I shall destroy all your diseased children, is that understood?” He said it low but I heard it. “Yes.” “Yes what, Eco?” “Yes Darton I understand, damn you!” Now that last part was rather ironic-don’t you think?
He left after that. I was so delighted that I decided to seek out Signora Del Giocondo. I told DaVinci I was a friend of her family’s and I wished to see her on urgent business. For such a genius I found him to be extremely trusting. “Oh yes,” he said. You will find her in Paris. She has taken lodgings in Rue de Beaubourg.

By the way, are you sure you are not a suitor?” he asked, smiling. Hmm, I thought he isn’t easily deceived after all. “Well,” I said, “she is a delight to the eye, no?” He smiled. “I know what you mean though I share different pleasures than you my friend.” He pointed at the unfinished painting. “She was such a good model; I shall have trouble finishing it. I wonder if I should bother.”

“Oh, please sir. Do bother, for it would be a shame if you didn’t. She has a rare beauty and the world deserves to see it.” “Yes,” DaVinci said. “I think I must portray her in a different light, as an enigmatic example of feminine beauty. She who might be all things to all men—and yet a puzzle just the same. I myself am still unsure of exactly what I saw within her face, because of that I want people to see the riddle and wonder what the answer can be. This friend shall be the painting’s legacy, but a shame her husband didn’t pay me!”

Legacy indeed, yes the world would have DaVinci’s timeless masterpiece, the Mona Lisa. I left his workshop that night somewhat disturbed for it suddenly struck me as I wondered what might have been the lady’s fate had Eco reverted to form and remade her into one of his vampire children."

© 2010 Carole Gill

This is one of the stories in House of Horrors. There are five Louis Darton stories in the collection.

“Carole Gill’s talent is a wonder to experience. She has the uncanny ability to craft horrors imbued in fairy tale finesse.”
“House of Horrors is a fine addition to my Kindle, and I’m sure I’ll be going to read this again and again…”

“A veritable blood feast for vampire fans everywhere!”

“If you are a fan of horror, you won't want to miss this one!! High marks to Ms. Gill.”

“There are so many different monsters in this book that no matter what your biggest fear is, or your favorite one to read about, you are gonna find it without fail!”

Friday, October 14, 2016

Jane Eyre With Vampires? Not Really!!!

I used to joke about that. That the first book in the series which was supposed to have been a one-off, was 'Jane Eyre with vampires.' I had a different publisher in those far off days of 2010. 
"How about writing another book, a sequel!" 

I thought, sure why not! Then because I have always loved challenges, I went and did something that could have proven to be impossible! If Rose Baines, long-suffering heroine of The House on Blackstone Moor had been my chief protagonist, I decided on making the monstrous villain, Eco the chief protagonist in the sequel!

OMG! What have I done I thought! How will I write this?! He's such a monster! Well, I just decided to go through with it. I would go to the roots of his existence and try and see life as he did. Now, he is a demon--he's handsome and can be charming but he's a monster! I had no problem with that. By the way, he won Best Villain at the eFestival of Books for his frightening role in The House on Backstone Moor and the novel scooped Best Horror in 2013.

Everything to me is motivation. Why was he a monster? I knew I had to give him reasons if I wanted to get a book to follow, a book told from his point of view. Well for one thing, he was jealous of Rose's true love, Louis Darton who turns out to be Eco's cousin!

The book goes onto explain how Eco fell in love with Rose and the conflict is he detests, and is jealous of, his cousin! The book grew so much, it became a third book. And it grew still into a fourth when his friend, Dracula is introduced. Eco has deliberately, in that book, orchestrated his friend's appearance and will be responsible for a great deal!

Now this series is not written for any other reason than to tell the continuing story of these characters. It's not written to just bang out more books about vampires. It has its characters and is told against the backdrop of history Well, vampires are immortal they exist for hundreds of years, and in this series demonic characters like Eco exist for thousands.

Eco was not always a monster. Had he been, his character would have been flat. He loved a vampire priestess in Ancient Egypt, saw Christ preaching and felt unclean, felt every bit of the demon he was. As a reader said to me, 'Eco's problem is he's an intelligent demon.'

This depicts Eco's first appearance and it concerns his witnessing The Crucifixion.

You will read in that story, his bitter realization of knowing he's on the losing side which is what he says. Being so intelligent, he is driven mad. Poor Eco.

If you want to know what each book is about this is a post I did which has become hugely popular:

The Blackstone Vampires are not 'lovable housemates' which another reader noted. They are tortured beings who love and lust and feed. Each is different from the other. Each is his own being.

All four books can be found in The Blackstone Vampires Omnibus. As I understand it, my publisher is only periodically going to promote the first book in the series, The House on Blackstone Moor, meaning that is the only book that won't be permanently priced at $2.99, HOWEVER!!!
The Omnibus is priced at $4.99 which is quite a bargain, I think as it comprises all four books. :)

“Stoker’s horror was there, along with the romance!”
2014 - Amazon Bestseller in Dark Fantasy - THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES OMNIBUS
2015 - Amazon Bestseller in Vampire Horror - THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES OMNIBUS

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

99 cents on offer Oct 7-13. There Were No Helplines for Child Abuse Victims in Victorian Times!

On offer for 99 cents. This is the first novel in The Blackstone Vampires Series. It contains both human and supernatural evil. Rose Baines' father abuses his own daughter. It is alluded to, but it drives him to kill himself and his family. I'm not telling you anything you would not read in the first paragraph or two. 
This is the first novel I wrote. I'm proud of it because of all the acclamation it received: 

'eBook Festival of Words 2014 Best Horror: The House on Blackstone Moor and Best Villain: Eco'

'Top 10 Books - 2013 - The House on Blackstone Moor/Aoife Marie Sheridan - ALL THINGS FANTASY/Publisher, Ultimate Fantasy Books'

'The figure of the Gothic child was there. Stoker's horror was there. Along with the romance! At the heart of her writing one stumbles upon a genuine search for that darkness we lost with the loss of Stoker."'
DR. MARGARITA GEORGIEVA ~ Gothic Readings in The Dark

'I for one found this gloriously gothic, refreshingly brutal, honestly horrific and a great read.'
~Taliesin Meets the Vampires

'92 Horror authors you need to read right now, Carole Gill - The Blackstone Vampires Series.'~Charlotte Books Examiner.

So what's it about? Darkest horror & romance combined in this tale of incest, murder, madness and obsession. Both human and supernatural evil are examined in this epic vampire tale. Yet, despite the darkness, there is the hope of love but it comes at a terrible price.

The story takes place in 19th Century England. Young Rose Baines knows what it is to live with madness and his abuse.

Victorian England knows nothing of support groups for abused children. In fact when Rose comes home and discovers her entire family has been murdered by her father, who is himself a suicide, she is in shock. No, that word and what it meant were not known at that time. Madness was, Rose is considered mad. She is incarcerated in two different madhouses. In the first she comes under the care of Dr. Bannion who seems to good to be true. Is he? And if so, why? Why, indeed?

The novel's themes are: vampirism, madness, obsession and devil worship. Both supernatural and human evil are examined. 

Go and knock at the door to The House on Blackstone Moor. I  am certain they will let you in.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016


Scary clowns are fun to write about, but I write character-driven horror. The characters in this novel and all my novels are motivated by their own experiences. They might have an agenda, a mission, as the character, 'good old carny,' Joe has. And boy what an agenda that is!

The clowns are murderous because of their childhood abuse they suffered. Each performer in Fred Dodger's sideshow has suffered and that suffering has made them what they are. Joe comes along and seems to know their secrets, all of their secrets. He even knows why Old Pa, Fred's dad, keeps a certain box close to him.

Creativia has put this book on promotion for a short time. If you like really dark, gut-wrenching horror but that has a point, this is for you!

“This is horrific in the best way! It is extreme ... and disturbing!"

"Riveting. Imaginative. Chilling. Fantastical."

"Wonderful horror with a side order of ribs."

"Outstanding story line and strong characters. I felt like I was right there and a part of the sideshow.

"An awesome little creepfest!"

"Never going to the circus again!"

"True horror!"

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Blogging's A Lot Like Writing! IT'S ONE WORD AT A TIME!

I would say, and I am sure, most writers would agree, that the most daunting thing a writer faces, is the BLANK page.

There you are, all fired up with an idea. Perhaps you're going to work on an outline first. Whatever your style, outline or not--you have, when you begin, A BLANK PAGE. It's white as snow. It's staring at you, teasing you.

You might even feel it's laughing at you. "Oh, so what's wrong, Hot Shot, go blank all of a sudden? Well, it's your move. Go on! WRITE SOMETHING!

Seven novels so far and an anthology of published short stories--later it's the same. It never gets easy.

But it's interesting and rewarding. Creating a work from nothing is very rewarding. Going from start to finish is fraught with hazards, but we get there, somehow, some way!

 I'm working on two projects. Well one has precedence over the other. It's something I agreed to do last year, but I'm sure, if you follow this blog, you know this past year has been the biggest horror of my life.

Now that the year has gone and there are no more 'firsts' , I am going to get cracking! You'll be hearing a lot more about that! Meanwhile, if you're a reader, happy reading and if you're a writer, happy, productive creative writing! Let's all go for it!  Who knows what we'll discover and how we can grow along the way!