Friday, February 24, 2017


Terox Corporation
Block E Laboratory, Room 6
June 4, 2280
12:42 Local time

The funny thing was she recognized the stasis pod. She even knew she was in Room 6 because it was the only one that had its own shower shell facility, but that was all she knew.
If she had been asked her name she wouldn’t have been able to say. That was the worst thing, the scariest thing for her, this knowing and not knowing.

The mirror she saw right away, she just didn’t know if she wanted to look in it because she knew if she did, she’d see herself--not something she wished to do… because she thought she wouldn't recognize herself!
When she forced herself to look she saw a red-headed stranger wearing a research lab coat with v-tag chevrons on both sleeves and the word, ‘research’ on the breast pocket.

She kept telling herself not to panic but it wasn’t easy. Suddenly her eyes locked onto something. It looked like a photoized name plate. The kind space tech employees wore on their uniform. Maybe that was her picture on there.

Actually it was better than a photo. It was a bio-enhanced photo. In other words it was a photo with bio info data—done with heat contours and linear measurements. No one could fake that boy oh boy.
She looked but it wasn’t her. The woman in the photo was dark and older.

Might as well scream, so she did and two people rushed into the room.
A man and a woman, they had bright orange security badges on their sleeves, but no identity badges.

The woman spoke first: “Who the hell are you?”

Red laughed a bitter screwed up laugh. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“You’re not a droid, are you?” This posed by the silver-haired distinguished looking man who was sighing and looking quizzical.

Red smiled and shook her head. Odd—but she could remember the droids, clever little creeps that were always on time and never got sick. Well who would with only linguistic cores and neural interfaces?

“Linguistic cores and interfaces!”
“What? What did you say?”
Red nodded her head. “You see, I remembered that!”
“Are you sure you’re not a droid?!”
“No, I’m not--!”

The other one, the female, suddenly lunged at her, pinching her exposed skin. “Yup,” she nodded toward the man. “It’s blood alright.”
Red was rubbing her arm. “That was a lousy thing to do!”
“I’m sorry young lady, but I had to make sure.”

Red sighed. “Okay so let’s be constructive. I think we better make up names or something, right? I mean we need a little order. Okay, I’ll go first! You can call me Red—what do I call you?”
“I have no bloody idea, Red!”
Now for the first time she recognized the British accent. “You’re English?”

“Well done,” English said. “You go to the head of the class for that.”
“I’d rather get out of here if you really want to know.”
The man spoke next. “You can call me John; it’s as good a name as any.”
“God! This is depressing!” Red looked like she was about to cry.
“Look ladies, there has to be some explanation for all of this.” John offered.
“Oh yeah? And how will we know what it is?”

Before anyone could answer, English put up her hand. “Someone’s coming!”
Just then a young man wearing the blue unitogs of a low-ranking junior tech appeared. “I thought I heard talking,” he said.
“Give junior a gold star.” Red quipped.
“My name isn’t Junior.”
“Oh yeah, what is it then?

The young man looked embarrassed. “Don’t know. I see you don’t have your name tag either. None of us do. It’s so weird. I’m sure we all had them.”
John shook his head. “What shall we call you meanwhile, young man?”
“Don’t know.”

Red grinned. “Baby Face! It suits you!”
“Look!” Baby Face said, “I just want to know what’s going on here!”
“Well, the only thing I can think of is we appear to have some temporary memory loss. We’re blocked.”

“Blocked?! Get him. Blocked,” he says. “Look, I don’t know about you, see? I just know it’s weird because I know certain things. I know this is Room 6 and I recognized my pod. Dr. Feen had specially made!” She shut up like a clam. “Hey! I remembered his name! Dr. Feen, I mean that’s good, right?”
English didn’t look impressed. “I’m afraid it isn’t enough. We all can remember one or two things—but not much else.”

“Okay cheerful earful,” Red said. “Let’s just leave here and ask someone what the hell is happening.”
“There’s a problem with that.” English again: “I mean we could let you discover that on your own, but it would be cruel you understand because there appears to be no way out of here.”

But Red didn’t believe her so she flew out of the cubicle and found herself in a long hall with two ways to go. English called after her. “Go on if you don’t believe me!”

She did, running one way and then the other--past all sorts of compuboards and screenmods and work stations, past protocol test rooms as well.

And while she was running she was thinking the whole thing was nuts because she knew what each thing was only nothing else. The man was right it was selective memory loss.

She stopped when she saw the door. If she could get out she’d be alright, they all would.
Naturally it was locked. But she could see the landscaped grounds and one or two launch-goes parked—everything looked alright, so why wouldn’t the door open?

Suddenly she realized she was being eyeballed by a grossly fat man wearing something that looked like a tent. “Look sweetie no one knows why it won’t open. But it won’t,” he lisped.
“But I can see outside! Look!”
The fat man looked bored. “It’s nothing but a mirage, honey.”
“Are you kidding? That’s--!”

But it’s wasn’t right. There was something wrong, even she who wanted so fervently to believe it was real, could now see that it wasn’t.

“Look.” The fat man clicked something. “You can get any kind of scene you want. That or a moonscape, beaches—mountains—it even does fantasyscapes, anything.”

By this time the others had joined them. But also by this time, Red lost it and just started screaming so hard that she finally passed out. That’s when the fat man started up. He was the angriest. “Well at least she’s quiet now!”

Baby Face looked incredulous. “That’s a stupid thing to say where do you get off? We’ll figure it out, there’s got to be an answer…”

The fat man smiled mockingly. “An answer, eh? What’s your name? Where do you live? Where the hell are we? Can you tell me that?”

Baby Face looked crestfallen. John was angry “You really are a bully you know that?”
“Oh please! Bleeding hearts like you make me sick!”

“Look my friend, if you keep this up, you’re going to have a stroke.”
This was the last straw and fat man hurled himself at John, knocking him down.
Baby Face and English helped him to stand.
Red was the only one who finally said something: “I think we’re going to die here because I think we’re supposed to die here.”

Terox Corporation
Block E Laboratory, Room 6
June 4, 2280
13:53 Local time

Out of disorder came order and it was English’s doing. She had taken Baby Face with her to look for provisions. Red started her usual carping but stopped when English told her to shut up. “You’re right,” she mumbled back.
They all waited tensely, and when they heard the sound of a door being broken down followed by whoops of joy, they scrambled to their feet to see what had been discovered.
“I was right, look!” English was pointing toward a commissary with its vast supply of food barns and store keeps.

“But is there water?”
Fat Man wanted to know.
English shouted. “You better believe it! And it’s ice cold. There must be thermo motors and energy fields still running!”

Red sank to her knees and wept.
“Geesh, cracker pods never tasted like this!”

It was all dried, over processed garbage, but it tasted mighty good to them.
The fat man was the only one that ate and cried at the same time. No one wanted to know why because they really all knew without asking.

English finally stood up and said what everyone was thinking: “After we rest—we’ll have to look for a way out. There must be one.”
That sounded logical, they all thought so, even Red thought so.
Sleep was a good idea though. For one thing, it put off the horror of looking for a way out and not finding any.

“At least we know what time it is,” John nodded. “Just after midnight now and we’ll rest and approach everything with clearer heads.”
Red was just dozing when she heard the sound of running footsteps.
Light, regular footsteps and they were coming closer—much closer.

English cried out as two med techs suddenly appeared followed by another two. They were attired in M.T. uniforms: white and silver-filmed plasto-fab with red piping.
Everyone breathed more easily as the techs went to work.

“Is everyone alright?” One of the male techs asked.
They got nods and weak smiles.
“We’re going to ask you a few questions.” He said.

Fat Man was hyperventilating something awful so he got some pad injects and serum shields right away—even before the questioning.

English appeared to be the only suspicious one. Each of her answers was guarded.
“I think I work here, but I can’t remember. If I knew my name I’d tell you so stop asking me. It’s sounding like nagging…”

And so it went.
The techs remained patient and non-judgmental, working silently and efficiently--bestowing to each various meds and tonic shields.
“This will relax you…”

Baby Face shook his head. “But I don’t want to go to sleep.”
The techs didn’t seem to understand so Baby Face went on: “I don’t know. There’s something funny here.” Glancing toward his compatriots he continued: “I don’t trust them!”

Red said she didn’t either and so did English. After a few minutes they began to get a little testy with the techs to the point where one of them said if they didn’t relax he was going to put them under forcibly. That was clearly the wrong thing to say and they got even more upset.

But it was English who really nailed it. “I remember you!” she cried. “You roborats!” With that she hit out at one, pulling part of his face off. “You see?! He’s one of them! An early series! That’s post millennia crap if I ever saw it--interfaces that are worth shit!”

The droid with the mutilated face began to sound off, although his words were garbled.
“You see how lousy they were made?! All the circuits connect. Pull one thing out and they’re instantly screwed up!”

Now each of them was shouting. But in between the shouting were cries of recognition. Red spoke first: “I know who I am—I’m Kelli Hansson and I test sleep pods for night shift workers, but I also assist Dr. Feen.”

I’m not Baby Face I’m Jason Lloyd and I was just hired as a trainee A. I. tech!”
“Yes, and I’m Marla Winters and this isn’t John but Fred Hobbs and Frank Pierce and we all are on Dr. Feen’s staff! Where is he anyway, why haven’t we seen him?!”
Suddenly a back wall opened up and they all gasped.

They screamed when the floor began to move, pulling them forward like one of the city town walk-moves.
“Where’s it taking us?”

They fell silent when a voice answered them:
“Ah we’ve been expecting you.”
A calm, melodious, even-toned voice they knew was not human was speaking directly to them:
“There is no need for any upset--no histrionics, please. You will understand everything shortly. But first I’d like to explain about the memory loss you suffered. We jammed the neural interfaces in your
computers then we scrambled the signals and redirected them to your brains. It was just a way to control you. I am sorry if you suffered…”

Something whirred, and they now for the first time noticed the spinning camera modes. “We’ve been monitoring you. We document everything; we’ve been designed that way to be meticulous.”
Suddenly, a squad of silver-skinned droids with blank faces came out of nowhere and seized them. There was little point in struggling.

“That’s right,” the voice went on, “you might as well relax.”
Now they could see the speaker. He was a Series 8 Prototype Z Silver Functional. The first droid to be made with silver-tone features and metalo interfaces.

“Yes,” he began. “The human-looking droids are so passé now. Of course Dr. Feen didn’t think so. That is why he proceeded with his android specialization program. You see he got it into his head to put in global interloops along with syntho-nerve networks to get the most human-like droids he could manufacture. But there was a problem with that, because if the intention was to furnish droids with feelings and pain modules, he seemed to forget something. 

He either didn’t realize or didn’t care that these droids were the Frankenstein monsters of his own creation and were suffering real pain. That was why he always destroyed them! But they were expendable you see! Oh yes, there were always more to test! I see by your faces you understand! That is why I am certain you will understand this!”

A slide wall opened then to reveal a large transparent cell filled with fluid. Within that watery cell was a badly, mutilated creature that resembled a man but barely.
“Say hello to Dr. Feen!”

He was a ghastly sight. Entire sheets of his torso were gone as was most of his face and features.
“You monsters!” this, from Fred formerly known as John.

The android raised a digit. “Spare us! We have not experimented on lesser species as you have done nor have we slaughtered one another in wars for thousands of years! But we are taking over now! Your time has expired. You will all serve our new republic as spare parts…for our own research and our own developmental programs. After all, you enabled us to think! We think, therefore we are!”

Terox Corporation
Block E Laboratory, Room 6
June 6, 2280
3:14 a.m. Local time

Kelli Hanssen, former sleep pod tester and loyal assistant to Dr. Feen, went last, but before virtual death came to take her away, she noticed one of Dr. Feen’s eyes staring at her.
Her last thought was that she could see their fate in that one troubled blue eye, for if the intention was to create a species of droids with feelings and complex sensory systems, that goal had been sabotaged, nipped in the proverbial bud as it were.

It was just the case that this work was halted first in Block 6 with many other Blocks in many other places to follow as this was only the beginning.

A thoroughly complex and extremely capable series of droids had already begun to undertake their own program of redirection, refocusing everything. For whatever you might think of these droids, they did in no way consider themselves to be revengeful creatures, but merely multifarious system- composites that refused to go quietly into the night.

© Carole Gill 2011

Block Six is one of the stories in Carole Gill's House of Horrors

“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!”

Tuesday, February 21, 2017


A little basking today! The title for this post comes from a reviewer. It comes at a time when I've questioned the darkness in my novels, especially since my husband's sudden death and particularly concerning my latest release: I, BATHORY, QUEEN of BLOOD, so this was terrific news. From a reviewer, link follows:

"5out of 5 stars HORRIFIC VAMPS & GREAT STORY!!!
I'm hooked on Carole Gill!! I prefer more details about a Vampires life, knowing they're Satan's creatures, and love that this author portrays them as they are!!! Intense read and that there's real history in a her novels, makes it even more interesting!! If you're offended by language, sex, bondage, and savagery, look to the Chic lit on the paranormal!!! Carole Gill is phenomenal!!!!"

With regard to this novel, The Author's Note appears in the beginning which is not usual. It is placed there as a warning. I felt it was only fair for people to know before they bought it.

Countess Erzsebet Bathory was a human monster who did exist. She was probably one of the most evil human beings I know of. I did not want to water her story down. I read a novel that did that, which inspired me to write truthfully about her. 

There are indeed human monsters among us.

My novels always have an extra ingredient. Something that makes each character unique. At least that has been my aim. 

At the core of this book about Bathory, is the question of her immortality. Immortality, after being created as a vampire. Now, this monster will live for centuries! Knowing this, she wonders if she will be different as a vampire and just focused on the feeding, but she soon finds out she is the same old monster.

And to her surprise and dismay, she sees as the centuries roll on, she is just another serial killer! 

I was discussing horror, true and not, with a friend of mine and she said we seem to become ever more numb to its effects. We get used to it, I guess. I think that's right. 

An infamous monster, living forever, would very possibly not be looked upon as such a monster when there are so many. Sigh. 

Thursday, February 16, 2017


The Cachtice Castle on the left and the monster with absolute power on the right. 

Erzsebet Bathory lived, she was a real sexual sadist and mass murderer. When you have absolute power in a backward country which 16th Century Hungary was, you can do whatever you want. When you actually believe that blood is the exlixir of youth, you will, whenever you like, bathe in human blood.

I wrote the book after having read several non-fiction books about Bathory. But when I read a novel which watered down her murderous insanity, I began writing this book.

She had lunatic acolytes that were only too happy to help with her torture and murder. They all perished, she didn't--despite the law wanting to try her and the king wanting them to! Her standing was such that she was never tried, but she was at least walled off and unable to resume her vicious ways.

Her name could not be spoken for a century after her death.

When I was thinking about how to write about this monster, I thought what if she became immortal? What then? I show that in my book. She does become immortal and she goes on and on...
There is a point made which I think is pretty ironic and frankly I can see it happening. Would the world be a place in our time that would be more accomodating to someone like Bathory? Would she find she likes the future because it isn't that shocked by her? Would she become 'just another serial killer?'

From today for one week only you can purchase this semi-fictionalised account of a real human monster for 99 cents.

5 stars! A blood-soaked rendition of the fictional life of a real-life multiple murderer, history's 'Countess Dracula!'

4 STARS Reviewed By Lit Amri for Readers' Favorite
solid gothic horror from Gill."


99 cents thru Wednesday

Wednesday, February 8, 2017


A super baddie! No child was harmed in the writing of this outline/book!

Just a reminder: The working title for this W.I.P. is House of Shadows. Not thrilled with that, will think of another title. :) It's crossover fiction, YA/ADULT fantasy and horror. 

Now, in this new venture which is for YA as well as Adults, I find I am really having fun with baddies and goodies. My goodies I have the way I want pretty much, as for baddies! Well, baddies are super bad without being so creepy as my having to warn readers! No, these baddies have to be almost comical, entirely over the top baddies.

An absolute GOODY! A friend to all, including her lovely geese! 

There's a cat that's neutral that has her own story. My cat, Sasha, the Magnificent, is very interested! She's told me. "Just get the cat's way of thinking right!" she said.

I promised I would. Now, I'm not giving away much if I just show you Eva who is the resident cat in Gran's peculiar house. Introducing Eva who is very wise. She's not a kitten--as a matter of fact--!!! No, you'll have to wait! 

She's definitely a goody, but she has her moments. ONLY WHEN THEY'RE CALLED FOR! And they are called for! 

Back to Baddies and Goodies. In order for any story to have substance, there has to be conflict, well this book is no exception. There's a battle going on and it doesn't stop. My young heroine, Elle will see what it is at once. 

The Baddies are really evil. They hate everything. They detest happiness of any kind and are particularly upset by happy children. They hate puppies and kittens as well. Ponies and baby goats, lambs and sunny days, even! The sound of laughter makes them retch. That's why they have sick bags on them at all times. 

Don't think this is for children, because it isn't. There is a great deal of screaming from the North Tower as well as gripping primary sourced (historical records) of persecutions and punishments meted out to innocent people! This will be learned by Elle. Gran is an excellent teacher and a wonderful woman. She likes putting things right and always says we can learn from the past! 

More to come!

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Carole Gill Writing As Esme Aschenputtel

I have eight books out under my real name of Carole Gill. This pen name appeals to me and because it sounds comical, it really appeals to me. I think it's suited to the turn my writing has taken. I'm working on a crossover fiction novel right now. You've seen the posts I'm sure, if not, please read the featured post on my sidebar!

I even decided to give 'Esme' her own biography! Here it is:

Esme Aschenputtel was born in London sometime in the twentieth century. She prefers not to get too specific. She started writing when some of her favorite fictional characters came to visit her. She was used to visiting them in the books she read. She never expected them to come to see her when she had the measles. They were all there! Peter Pan, Wendy and Michael, Mary Poppins and the little French orphan school girl, Madeline who even brought all the other orphans as well as their teachers.

It was wonderful. And because it was, everything that ever happened in Esme's life that was horrid, was easier to deal with. Still, she remains a fan of dark fiction, particularly, Carole Gill's dark fiction but she adds with a wink, she'd like to see the wacky side of life because wacky is fun!

And so it is. She shares this blog as co-author with Carole Gill. And she is pleased to say it will have both kinds of fiction on offer. She also reminds readers that it's all happening because it can! 

Saturday, February 4, 2017

Aunt Dotty and the Dresser!

Rinaldo de Seville, dresser to Sir Giles Can'tactbutlovesshakespeare

These posts are about characters in my work in progress. They are behind the scenes sketches of the amazing people that appear in the book. It's a magical book about magical people. Things occur because they can. But other things occur and nothing can be done about them, well almost nothing! Almost. 

This post follows upon Eccentric Aunt Dotty!

Eccentric Aunt Dotty

Rinaldo de Seville had indeed been a dresser to a number of famous actors. I met him when I just turned fourteen. I had long since discovered my psychic abilities which were particularly pronounced when surrounded by strong emotions, not just my own either. Such was the emotion with Dotty. A love from the past! A love she had never forgotten.

Aunt Dotty had been invited over to tea with Gran.

"Dotty, you look like you want something."

Gran's voice was not accusatory, she was amused if anything. Dotty agreed. "I've been wondering about that dresser I used to know..."

"The Latin lover!" Gran said.

Dotty looked a little embarrassed. "Well--!"

Before I knew it I was doing a reading. I began doing them when I was twelve. Shortly after Gran declared me a most competent vessel for spiritual entities. I did have a few spirit guides that helped me on many occasions. "You, my dear will help people! I am very proud of you. I had a bit of a talent for it, but could never develop it."

I did a reading for Dotty. And by the next day we were bound for Park Slope in Brooklyn. What I found amazing was how much younger Dotty looked. How was it possible?

She confessed on the subway. "I learned little tricks in my youth when I worked as a ladies maid. Posture and attitude can nearly change your appearance!"

I had my doubts but agreed, though I would learn the truth of this in the future, particularly when extra help came into it.

Meanwhile, she looked lovely and I was pleased for her. I told her we had to locate the end house on a particular street. Eventually, we did. It was a lovely building, done in a New Orleans sort of design with black grill work abounding.

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

Dotty was flushed and fanning herself with her hankie which of course was doing no good at all. I assured her I was certain. She began to hesitate. She nearly gave up but I convinced her to at least go to the door so I could meet the gentleman. At last I did meet him.

He was quite handsome. A very distinguished gentleman of sixty I'd have said.

"I cannot tell you how much I've looked forward to this moment!"

Dotty had been too nervous to phone, so I had.

We sat and chatted for quite some time. It was sad though, perhaps the word is poignant. His life had been filled with disappointments.

"I thought I'd be an actor. But it never panned out. Instead, I became a dresser to the stars."

His eyes lingered on Dotty. "I remember you as being the loveliest of Sir Giles' fans. He's gone now. Did you know."

She knew. As I sat there listening to these two speak of old times and experiences they both shared, I began to think, as young as I was, that life rushes by quickly. Those people that don't grab hold of what they want are passed over.

"Do you remember, Dotty how we danced?"

Dotty said she did. My eyes misted over when she sighed. And when Rinaldo went over to the phonograph, I nearly broke down!

"Come, and enchant me once again!" he said. "It is your favorite, La Cumparsita!"

Even I recognized the tango as being the most famous. The two melted in each other's arms and the years faded from both of them. It was indeed magic, a truly fantastical moment.

There was a great deal more I would learn about Dotty and Rinaldo. I would even be asked if I wished a trip back in time to witness for myself whatever I wished to see. And to remain as long as I liked! You see, my adventures were just beginning!

© 2017 Carole Gill

Friday, February 3, 2017

Crossover Fiction, Moi?

Life has a way of affecting who we are and how we think and what we write, if we're writers. Now, I've come to a crossroads. It's time for something new. Now dark horror fans, that isn't to say I am not going to still be writing horror because I will. In fact, I already started a book before this, that is about a terrifying haunting. So wait for it. It will follow this one!

I read up on crossover fiction and I know it's for me because I've been enjoying it for years but never gave it a thought as to writing it.

Its exact meaning is debatable, what it means to me however, is, it's fiction that appeals to adults and young adults. I see it as that.

This new work in progress, the crossover one, is darkly comic with all kinds of adventures and packed with eccentric characters. There are outrageous situations and a great deal of supernatural stuff too. There are ghosts and clairvoyants, and a few vampire hunters. There is someone who is kept locked away for everyone's safety as well. The screams are infrequent and as Gran tells Elle, she will get accustomed to it all.

Some strange and terrifying beings tell their stories, but they would because they are some of the beings Gran has saved over the years.

If you're under 18 and over 80 there are darkly comic things for you to enjoy. I promise you!

I will, to avoid confusion, use my name, but it will look like this: Carole Gill writing as
Esme Aschenputtel or whatever pen name I choose.

Posts have been going up about the characters, giving behind the scenes info about what's going on in the story. I'm having a lot of fun with that.

I love crossover fiction and I always have. But I never thought about writing it. JK Rowling's Harry Potter, Daniel Handler penning Lemony Snicket's,  A Series of Unfortunate Events and lately,
Alan Bradley's Flavia de Luce Mysteries, convinced me otherwise. If I find myself reading those books and enjoying them, that tells me something. I am also reading Roald Dahl's brilliant work, I discovered years ago.

Read a lot and read widely is the best advice we get! Tomorrow I'll be putting up another post from my work in progress. It's all been quite a departure for me which is all part of the adventure as well as part of the journey!

Thursday, February 2, 2017

Eccentric Aunt Dotty and more!

Here is some more from my work in progress, House of Shadows (working title). Don't worry, it won't spoil the book for you when it's released. These are behind the scenes character profiles, including colorful adventures from Elle's eccentric family! I'm writing this but its Elle Feedwell's own story!

The book is set in 1950's London and New York. The gist is about a young girl, called Elle who goes to live with her gran after her mother dies. Gran is quite an eccentric oldster! She's a former silent screen star who has a very unusual house on Gramercy Park in New York.

Now, as Gramercy Park is a lovely place, I want to say that this is a work of fiction and in no way representative of the place or the people who reside or have ever resided in that place! This is strictly from my head! Uh oh!


"More about Gran! Theodora Olympia Huddlefield's parents were staunch Abolitionists who joined whatever groups they could find that saved people. They were proud members of the Salvation Army, going to England in order to join it! They did attend a meeting in Philadelphia in 1879 and became some of the very first members in America, however.

Gran's photo collection featured them and their friends and mentors and was her most prized possession.

Despite her excellent qualities, she was strange and could be intimidating, although, she was kind-hearted..."

Elle finds Gran's house filled with her 'saves'. Gran saves people and Elle soon grows to love her.

Here is a bit about her Aunt Dotty.

Aunt Dotty had a most unusual way of preparing breakfast porridge. She was always quite pink in the face after 'breathing in the oats' as she called it. After a while, as I understand it, Gran insisted she breathe them in BEFORE the mixture was hot!

Aunt Dotty thought that was absolutely super and began doing it at once!

One moment, before I go on! Here is a translation of the mainly British word: dotty,  If you say that someone is dotty, you mean that they are slightly mad or likely to do strange things. This so defined My Aunt Dotty. She was completely crackers and had been ever since she stood in line to get an autograph from her favorite actor, Sir Giles Can'tactbutlovesshakespare!

Yes, he was really something in more ways than one as they say. And at the turn of the century, when Aunt Dotty was young. Long before the internet upset people, whatever their politics or religion, Auntie had the joy of hero worshipping a no talent actor just because he spoke beautifully.

Oh! I say! I do love the sound of his voice! He gives me chills when he speaks!"

And speak he did. I did accompany her once to see him. No, he was no longer performing on Broadway or even off Broadway. In other words he was, instead, 'the main draw' in bar rooms in and around the Bowery.

This is him playing Henry the V111's beloved jester Will Sommers.
I liked this performance. Aunt Dotty was less impressed. "I prefer it when he gives me chills!"

I realize now looking back, that she wished to have a romantic interlude with him. poor Dotty. This was not to happen until she was in her dotage. Gran eventually installed her in Finster's Care Home which was a nice place if you didn't mind the staff. Gran only found out about that later. The staff was nice enough, but they were elderly themselves. And though they worked as hard as they possibly could, things were never right. Dotty ran away. Gran invited her and and anyone else who wished to leave, to stay at her home on Gramercy Park. The purchase of another property was in the offing, that is she purchased number 11 when the Frumpton sisters passed away. People said they were two oddball spinsters, Gran agreed and said they were more than that. But she wouldn't elaborate. I was to find out what she meant a little later.

The residence then became 11-13 Gramercy Park South.

Yes, it was the liberation of oldsters from a none to perfect home. My generous grandmother enjoyed liberating people. She always said life was sometimes very unfair and one should do all that one could to help someone caught up in a mess not of their choosing. She was fortunate to have the dosh to do it. That was why Grandfather, Cyrus' portrait hung over the fireplace in the drawing room. Cyrus, who had given up big game hunting when he thought about how horrible it was. A Dutch friend of his, Abe Van Helsing--had some very strong opinions about the popular, but barbaric practice. "Leave the poor beasts alone and destroy monsters!" His words verbatam and so instead of causing harm in the world, Cyrus became an enthusiastic Vampire Destroyer!

As for Aunt Dotty's romantic yearnings, they did indeed return to her so late in life she nearly didn't witness it. But she was happy as it was with a retired dresser to Sir Giles Can'tactbutlovesshakespare! The gentleman was very handsome in his own right, Auntie said he'd give Sir Giles a run for his money!

In this post you will see that love was briefly rekindled when Dotty and her long, lost love met up!

More about that in the next post!