Ghost Stories

Amazon's asshole intelligence has terminated my publishing account. I am just waiting to see if I get my last order before deleting my entire account. I've double HEXED them for that. I'm already revamping my ghost stories for my first future publication, probably at Barnes & Noble, we'll see. I plan to include all four dream books into a massive omnibus as my second project. Of course, Fanging with Claude, DOC, and Hot Blood will be coming along. The art and doll books will be later. I doubt that the Pennsylvania picture books will ever be available again, but I might be able to work with my massive cemetery archive with prints or something. Stay positively wicked, my friends! ✨
   

Hot Blood

  
 Hot Blood is a true crime novella set in fourteenth century England. Available as an eBook, soon to be released in all formats, you can read it on Amazon now. 

Hot Blood 

From Hot Blood

Five

  The next morning nobody mentioned anything. Norton downed his breakfast, but still wasn’t talking. “Mother Agatha wants us to try out Brother Norton with the choir.” Abbot de Brinkeley attempted nonchalance. 

  Brother William looked up from his porridge, startled, he was our resident composer and choir master. “Brother Norton can’t sing.” There was a general snicker carried amongst the brethren. Brother William was Norton’s friend, but everybody knew that he couldn’t carry a tune if his life depended on it. He was one of the few brothers left out of choir practice. He couldn’t even hum. 

 The abbot cleared his throat. “Just try. Maybe start with a chant.” 

  William shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Nobody argued with the abbot. His word was law. Nobody questioned him as he was as fair and wise as Solomon himself. 

  The choir gathered in the loft. The morning light spilled in from the stained glass window and cast a green glow upon our faces. Tommy was allowed to sing with us as he was our only soprano, seated to the far left. He would probably become one of us in time. He sang quite well, although his voice would certainly change with age. I was a tenor and sat directly behind him. Norton looked uncomfortable and out of place. He usually swept the nave and scrubbed the mosaic floor while we practiced. Brother William composed original pieces, but we also sang Gregorian chants. I presumed that was on the agenda for this morning, but William passed out a new piece for us, a polyphony, and not in Latin, but English. This was all very strange and whispers began around before Brother William hushed us by tapping his baton on his podium and raising his hands. The basses, Brothers Benedict and Bruno, began, sounding like thunder in the woods. My heart quickened in time with them when Alphonsus, Sebastian, and I joined them with, “Lord of light, lead us through the darkness. Lead us through the woods…” That was when it got very weird. Tommy was supposed to come in just now with a sweet solo, like a whistling of a bird. Just like in the forest with the wild girl, the hair raised on the back of my neck. We all stopped, stunned. Brothers’ mouths were agape, some dropped their music. 

     Brother Norton came in with an amazing falsetto like none of us had ever heard. His voice chimed like a bell and rang around the chancel in a tinkling echo, eerie, and sublime. If I was a cat, I think my ears would have laid back. I closed my eyes, picturing his song running round my head in a pool of color. “Oh, Father! Light up thy way! Lead me through your forest this glorious day!” Then he just stood there with an idiot smile stretched across his face rivalling Tommy’s. 

Thanks for following! I'm excited that this horror just crept up on me. Based on true crime it will capture all of my lifelong obsessions: Faeries, Druids, The Green Man, plague, mystery, and more. I'm going to try to make Hitchcock happy. I'll let you know when I've finished, (sooner than later), and it is available in all formats on Amazon. TTYL... 🍁

My Books on Amazon

Hot Blood

   My wild reading list has inspired a new horror, Hot Blood, based on a true story. 

 One

May 1, 1361

  The morning was warm, and I wondered at the wild hare who bound across the lawn, kicking up pink blossoms. He seemed a couple of months late. No matter, nothing was as it used to be. He was likely just thrilled with living, as we all ought to be. The abbey bells chimed the hour, and I joined the brothers for breakfast. 

  The porridge was hot, fresh today, and there were plum preserves and fresh mint. After grace Abbot  de Brinkeley cleared his throat and tapped his spoon. Where was Brother Norton? It was unlike anybody to miss breakfast, was he ill? Our numbers had dwindled so much that a moment’s lateness instilled worry, ten minutes, panic. Abbot  Brinkeley too furrowed his lined brow, which had come to resemble a country map, staring at Norton’s empty place, before beginning. 

  “The heathen will no doubt be playing the fools today, so keep to the grounds. Stay out of the woods and clear of the meadow. Where is Brother Norton?” 

  “He wasn’t in his bed,” Brother Eustace said. Unlike many abbeys where the brothers slept in a line, since the Pestilence, we slept two to a room. I shared my room with Brother John de Grafton who was seated to my left and began to down his porridge. We all relished our food and drink a bit more these days, but Brother Grafton had become fat as a friar. The silver tabby, Judas, caught up a moth in his paws and looked to be praying. 

  “Who let that cat back in here?” Abbot Brinkeley wanted to know. Nobody answered, but we all knew it was Tommy, the little idiot, who loved the cats. 

  

Brit Box

   Free Brit Box TV this week. If you know me you know I love "free" 🙄 TV, England, crafty stuff, and mysteries. Well, let me tell you, Frankie and I started off with Make it at Market with a lady who weaves faeries and unicorns from willow and a carpenter. We were impressed. Then, we tried the British equivalent to cold cases. Hey, if you want to get away with pedophilia, (for the record the term does not automatically come up with The Google Monster because pedos rule the world), rape, and murder move to England. The episodes leave you feeling sick and very happy to have a gun. The last British crime series I watched had a nervous bobby killing a criminal with a filing cabinet. Spare me! This is why Limeys call me a mean NAZI. Tough 💩. Letting a dirty bugger get away with raping and murdering thirty little boys makes even me look good. ☮

Beyond FIXED

 Well, burn me at the stake, Popeye, said I wouldn't watch The Laff-A-Limpics for the same reason I stopped watching Project Runway, they're as FIXED as everything else. Turns out, no joke, I almost forgot what a criminal enterprise they are. Planet SCAM! 🤮

Beating Women for Sport

Cock and dog fights are more legit than this illin' 💩. I imagine Bill Cosby, like Nancy Kerrigan's mother, sitting in front of his TV laughing his old fat rapist ass off.

Oh, I thought the dirty frogs were apologising for the fact that a hideous dude was beating up ladies. NOT. No apologies for their heinous Satantic opening ceremony. That figures, boycott the dirty RIGGED Olympics. Leonidas would cry. Disgusting 💩. 

The Black Dahlia

The Black Dahlia For Sale