Saturday, November 11, 2017

DO THE UNDEAD FEAR THE DEAD




Those dead the undead fear do not rest. They are caught between two worlds—as they have not passed over successfully. They tend to be lost souls—those in search of the heavenly peace that eludes them.

They are often architects of their own damnation like Rose's incestuous father in The House on Blackstone Moor. And because of his madness and evil, he murdered his family--a family who took their hatred with them.

Yes there are vampires in the novel, but there also the spirits of the dead that are seething with murderous hatred. 

From The House on Blackstone Moor:


At first I thought it was a mist-filled dream, a dream and nothing more. My mother, sisters and my brother were standing and looking at me. They were smiling and calling my name.

“Mother? Mother is it you?!”

“We are coming Rose!”

I spread my arms to receive their embrace, but Louis stormed in. “Get away from her!”

What was wrong with him? I pointed at their golden light, their warm glowing love. “I see their love it is all about them, Louis.”

“It is a façade and nothing more. It is how they pretend to be.”

“You’re wrong Louis! Please they have come for me! They want me with them. How can you say no?”

“They are not your loved ones. They have been corrupted by their hatred, hatred like love never dies. They took that with them. Don’t you understand?”

“Please,” I cried. “No more platitudes I want my mother!”

If they were mist before, they seemed to change now, growing larger until they merged into one tremendous shape.

“They are changing!”


“Rose, come to us!”

So discordant were their voices, their heartfelt pleas. Yet I was greatly moved, I was desperate to obey for how could I possibly do otherwise?

“I am coming!” I cried.

As I hurried toward them the mist began to change into a cocoon from which a butterfly would emerge.

I waited, but then instead of a butterfly I saw them, as the dead things they were, floating just above the floor, sad bloodied things, gray with death, but stained red with the awful carnage of the fatal butchery. Their throats were gaping black crevices from which maggots danced. 

I covered my eyes, I could not look. They moved toward me then and I felt their presence, like icy mist they began to engulf me, freezing me and enveloping me in a stench filled fog..."
  
As Louis says, “I have some power against them, but not much, for the dead have much strength...!”

(End of excerpt)





Each book in the series is sold singly for $2.99




Or buy all 4 books in the omnibus for $4.99


eFestival of Words 2014: Best Villain, Eco/ Best Horror, The House on Blackstone Moor

"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

Top 10 Books – 2013
THE HOUSE ON BLACKSTONE MOOR 
Aoife Marie Sheridan - ALL THINGS FANTASY
Publisher, Ultimate Fantasy Books 

"92 Horror authors you need to read right now"
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books - EXAMINER

THE HOUSE ON BLACKSTONE MOOR 
I for one found this gloriously gothic, refreshingly brutal, honestly horrific and a great read. 
~Taliesin Meets the Vampires

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Re-Inventing Myself and My Writing!





Sorry for the wait but it'll be worth it. Life changes us sometimes and if that's so, profound loss certainly does!

I wrote 8 books in 5 years. But that was before I lost everything, dogs, house and worst of all, the best friend and husband I could ever have.

There will be books already written and published on offer, lots to read while you wait. Just expect the unexpected from me! Magic and fantasy, adventure and yarns a plenty, fiction to thrill and entertain. Characters to love and hold in your hearts forever. It's all coming.




Saturday, September 23, 2017

An Ode to Trolls

GOTHIC TROLL
Not an 'ode', more like an odious homage! 

It was ugly and it stank. It had green skin and scales. That’s what it really looked like unless it morphed into its disguise. It had a number of different ways it could look, each of them human- looking and pleasant. The stench also magically vanished when it altered its appearance.

It liked to leave product reviews. Any product, it didn’t matter. Books, films, washing machines, cures for hemorrhoid preparations, boils, fecal vomiting and the like.

It suffered from a number of such complaints and had done ever since childhood. Now it was a fully grown troll.

It hadn’t yet had sex with a female troll or any other kind of girl monster. It had summoned up enough courage to ask a human chick out on a date but it had its disguise on. Still, it was refused.

“Get lost, creep!”

Oh that hurt! Trolls have feelings, too you know!

Hurrying back to the sewer it called home, it felt inspired. It felt powerful, sexy—masterful. It knew it was imbued with the stink wisdom that trolls learn as children.

Oh! Sure! There is the Bastard Troll Book of Wisdom. And child trolls study it as do some adult ones.

Compensate for feelings of inadequacy! Go forth and give negative one or two-word reviews on products! Get into it!

Still, it came to pass that the Great Troll of the North began to spot opportunities where all the stinky, untalented trolls could make themselves known. Spout! Spout! And be heard!

And lo and behold they became as one. One voice, one desire, one troll!

Trolls are everywhere! They are because the world has need of their negativity, their stupidity and their rottenness and if you find one, befriend it. Just try and stand downwind from it.

Ask and the trolls shall answer!

For wherever there is ignorance, spite, malice, jealousy, vindictiveness, there you will find he, that is the embodiment of all negative crap.


To be continued! And if not, it won’t be!

Sunday, September 17, 2017

A Fun Post! Disney and Us!



Just thought of this post! I commented to a friend on Facebook about Goofy and thought of this.
Disney's cartoon characters are really based on human nature--our short comings and so forth!

Goofy is how we feel sometimes. Who hasn't felt like that in a social situation at some time in their life? A party perhaps where you feel out of place? Out on a date and perhaps feel outclassed?



Donald Duck is us wanting a raise and being afraid to ask for it. He's a frustrated version of the average person who got shoved out of line, got shoddy goods they won't take back or refund or maybe he's the guy who got dumped and is frustrated because, say, Daisy moved away and left no forwarding address!



Mickey is the teacher's favorite. Mickey is how our parents wanted us to be. In my childhood I felt I alternated between Donald and Goofy. Mickey was to be admired. Somehow he was more perfect than I thought I was.



If you have a dog, you know Pluto inside and out. Pluto is everybody's dog! He just is.



When I get a rejection with regard to a submission, I've been Donald Duck, when I come to terms with it, I'm Mickey Mouse and when I get a bad review I'm Goofy! 

So there you go! I think Disney was brilliant. He had genuine beings in those characters. Funny cartoon characters that people could identify with! Truly! 

VAMPIRE SALONS WERE QUITE THE RAGE!



Countess Erzsebet Bathory was a sexual sadist and mass murderer in 16th Century Hungary. She was vicious. She is said to have killed upwards of 200 serving girls. Unfortunately she believed, despite being well-educated, that blood was the elixir to youth. This novel of mine asks the question, what if she became immortal and lived on!
Excerpt:

Salons were quite the thing and vampire salons were even more popular! More recollections now of vampires behaving badly or behaving as vampires!

"Time passed easily for us. We had a home and friends. It was a comfortable feeling. We attended parties and soirees. Jacques invited us to his biggest event of the year, just before All Soul’s Day—a kind of vampiric Halloween for us. Things did get out of hand, which was not something completely unexpected. But, it was not as wild as it could have been.

We didn’t change partners. Although Jacques asked to watch us while we fed and copulated. I have to admit it was exciting, feeding in our sensual way. And when he came over and began to fondle me as I fed, I was pleased that you didn’t stop him. I did think, rightly as it proved, that you’d give him privileges. He was such a good friend to us both now and he’d advanced so much money we were able to enjoy a rich undead existence.

Of course, things always turn out differently than one thinks, for soon, we had him in our bed on a regular basis. The bad thing happened, though I wouldn’t have guessed, when he began to bring that young singer, Pauline, around. That’s when I feared I would fall back to my monstrous ways. You see, I felt jealous of her—of her beauty and her creamy skin. I was jealous even watching Jacques feed. And when you asked if you might join in and I agreed, I wanted to destroy you! I thought you’d guess, but you didn’t.

I did manage to keep myself under control until, one night, Pauline annoyed me. I had watched her brush her long hair and the look on both your and Jacques’ faces made me furious. As strong as you both are, neither of you could pull me off as I drained her. She was gone in moments, her skin white as human death and as cold as stone. And even in that state, there was a beauty to her, so perfect were her features.

You tore at my hair and beat me. This was the first time you raised your hand to me. You called me a beast and I laughed, although I agreed. Our fighting went on for what seemed like ages. All this while Jacques wailed for his human. He’d had real feelings for her, so he raised her right there. I was shocked; for some stupid reason, I didn’t think he would. After she was turned, she was different for now, she’d become a voracious vampire. “I am glad you did this for I have wished it for a long time,” she said. I ran from the room, down the halls. The fact that you didn’t rush after me bothered me. That was why I grabbed the first vampire I saw. That young boy called Marco..."


"5 out 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!!!!"


Friday, August 25, 2017

Book Update: Fantasy about cats!

Sasha at 8 weeks. 


My work in progress is really coming along. My publisher has been advised and is enthused. It's a departure from dark horror but of course those 8 books that are horror are out there and will remain on sale.

A little background first on the new work, the first in a series.

Sasha, my Maine Coon kitten came into my life shortly after my husband died. I was in quite a state. Both of our dogs had to be re-homed as I could no longer walk them. This kitten had a big job ahead of her. I was happy to just play with her and watch her. She offered a great deal more, though. I found such comfort and love from her and became so aware of a bond between us.

Now, Sasha at 18 months, is far from tiny! She is big and beautiful. She's mischievous, playful and clownish sometimes. Just what I need. Always at my side. A kind of furry leprechaun. Turn around and she's there and so is her love.

I have learned so much about cats, that I was hugely inspired to write about them. There was no way I could ignore the need to do this!

This fantasy I'm working on is about kittens and cats and other animals too but it's Sasha that is featured. She's the chief protagonist, a funny gutsy, clever girl--exactly what she's like!

The story is about other things too. Some of it's funny and some of it's poignant, like life, really!

I'll be giving periodic updates, I promise. Meanwhile, here's a short excerpt:


Sasha was a pensive and thoughtful cat, she pondered deeply about things, like her past. If she thought about it, and she did occasionally, she recalled a ship.

She was newborn when she was carried away from her dead mother and siblings. Where there had been comfort and food, there was now something awful and deadly and cold.

Kindness saved her. Even before her eyes opened, she knew this. When she was able to open her eyes, she saw her first human face. It belonged to the steward of a cargo ship, the man who had found the squealing, newborn kitten among her family. He had cried because he was an emotional man. 

SASHA NOW


Friday, August 11, 2017

RANT!!! Twitter Direct Messages Makes Me ANGRY Sometimes!


Hey! Haven't done one of these in a long time! I got wound up enough today, to do a good rant!
DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE!!! I hate, despise, detest and get crazy from direct messages on Twitter after just politely following someone BACK!

BACK, BACK, BACK. They followed me, I follow them back, especially if they're an author.

Today, I saw a children's book that looked cute, so I followed the author back and IMMEDIATELY got a direct message with links to buy, asking me, 'not to forget to leave a review.'

Now, the 'book' is actually not a full length book. How does someone assume I have the time or inclination to read AND review a children's 'book' ?

Let me just say this is not an isolated case. I've had hundreds of these messages with links as the very first message.

I don't believe in marketing books that way. You can make contacts through messages, but don't throw your product, whatever it is, at someone in a first message.

HAVE I SAID THAT I HAVE ON MY TWITTER PROFILE, 'NO DIRECT MESSAGES, PLEASE'

No? Well I do but it is ignored because they don't care. They are solely concerned with flogging their books, stories, products at you. It has all the refinement of a pushcart or market stall pitch.

GET YOUR FRESH BACON HERE, LADIES!

Back of the truck opens up and the bacon, hamburger or whatever the seller is hawking that day at an outdoor market, is revealed. It's fine in a market if that's where you want to buy your food, but the same principle applied to books and the like, I find pretty crass.

We're all different. This happens to be my opinion. Sharing links, liking a page, that's fine! Even though I prefer NOT to be messaged on twitter, I would happily share if I see a message. The thing is I get so many--I often don't notice or see them.

That's why I don't like direct messages on Twitter. It's purely for the reason that I don't often have time to read all of them!

That's my rant for today! Thanks!  

Friday, August 4, 2017

Goody Jones and the Platitudes! Free flash fiction


Here we go! The first of the Toxic Fairy Tales! 

IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU WIN OR LOSE, ONLY THAT YOU TRY!


England, 1610

Goody Jones was one card short of a deck. In an age that didn’t look fondly upon people who were different, poor old Goody stood out. And that was before she started with the platitudes.
If she was barely tolerated previously, when she began giving out little pieces of paper with writing on them, she was singled out for abuse.

At first the angry backlash consisted of just annoyed mutterings from fellow townsfolk but then it escalated.

Poor Goody never noticed. The sad thing was all she wanted was to help folk.

She got it into her head to try and help as many of her neighbors as she could. She saw many things wrong in her little village of Sicknee, just outside of Filey in North Yorkshire. And because, though, as off the wall as she was, she thought she could help people, she began writing out those ‘clever sayings’ she heard about. You know the ones, about horrific events making you stronger. As in what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger!

Yeah those! Annoying buggers of advice thought of by people who are put on this earth to drive most of the population mad.

Sadly, Goody had a head start. As she thought the people would benefit from what she saw as wisdom. 

When the butcher lost his wife and his business, she handed him one of her notes. It said: Good things come to those who wait.

The butcher fell into a rage and ran after her screaming. Venting. Venting didn’t help but he was arrested and fined for disturbing the peace. That got him angrier. Goody saw that and wrote out another one of her clever sayings. This was: forgive and forget.

She handed it to him herself right through the prison bars. Actually, he let it fall to the floor. But then curiosity, though not killing him or the cat, got the better of him and he read it. When the silliness of the advice sank in, he screamed. He was lashed for screaming while in custody.

When he threatened to kill Goody Jones by filleting her, she left another sayings for him. It said: God had a plan for him.

Butcher Mills died right on the spot, while the little scribbled paper, blew away.

It came to rest at the feet of a guard who picked it up. He liked the advice and went home to tell his wife who was sitting outside their burnt-out cottage. Their humble abode was no more. The guard thought the advice might help his wife but she attacked him, hissing like a cat.

Their children began screaming because they never saw their father’s face bleed like that.

Gradually, the inhabitants of the village became more hostile to the old woman and decided to murder the stupid old bitch.

A lynch mob was formed and poor old Goody Jones was dragged from her little hovel.
She pleaded for her life but was told her time was up and when it’s up it’s up.

They hanged the old girl with a sign meticulously painted by a sign maker for free. They put the sign around her dead neck.

It read:

YOU’RE IN A BETTER PLACE.


© carole gill 2017

Thursday, August 3, 2017

free Sci-Fi Fantasy Flash! A Future Nightmare World!




From the journal of Miss X:

The world has changed so much or so they say, personally from what I've read I think it hasn't really, it's just put into law that which was almost law.

A series of so-called humane laws were passed one of which was the prohibition of widows in society. No one liked them, no one wanted them around. They served no purpose. So, like the legislation that ensured couples would only be permitted to exist, this law was added.

It was a harsh society of course in this respect, because it was based on various social cleansings. The Committee ran everything. They said they loved everyone and they thought everyone was great but clearly, this wasn't so.

There were edicts that they passed that were supposed to be helpful like the Social Question Guidance Guidelines. These ensured a set fine of $4000 Orwellians charged to anyone that asked something different from the accepted 'people questions.'  In other words, a question that ensured a further response from the questionee was illegal. And a question that was deemed to be of a compassionate nature was greatly discouraged.

They said most inhabitants of Happy World were happy. Naturally this wasn't the case. There was rampant dissatisfaction and resentment. There was great mourning too, for people that were executed by the state for social sins like being widowed.

What did happen was a growing number of underground rebels, intent on developing a more humane society began to appear.  That secret organization grows daily. I know, I am in it. This entry comes from my journal which I keep locked away with my favorite banned books, most of which have been written by people who were the first to be purged. All those self-help, can-do books. The ones that counselled people and helped them.

Do I feel hopeful about the future? That's a stumper. Will have to see what Committee members come out with after the Revised Happy People, Happy Couple Legislation is passed early next year.

Meanwhile I'll go back to reading Thomas Paine and the Rights of Man. I feel it is a given that he meant women, too!

Bye for now!


Tuesday, August 1, 2017

BY THE WAY, DEPARTMENT.


An important announcement, which by the way, only applies to one person out of more than half a million (readers of the blog).

If you want to comment about a subscription to my blog (I don't have a list), please don't comment on a post offering a discount for a book. the place to comment is privately in a message or using the CONTACT FORM on my blog. It's just common sense and courtesy, really.

And also, on the email notification there is an option to unsuscribe  as well :)

Thank you.

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Expect the Unexpected!


I don't like just being online only to market my books. I like writing too much. And since it's taken me nearly two years to enjoy writing again, I'm going to write as well as market.

Inspiration has returned and with it, a sense of adventure. I want to entertain and please myself too! I've had stories, including flash, become novels. So who knows where it will all go and meanwhile it's fun!

I wrote a flash piece today about an evil fairy. Hope you like it.

I'll be blogging more and writing more. This, I will do as I work on my work in progress. The wip is a lot of fun and so is blogging and writing. Writing is a part of me. It's who I am, so I do it!

I'm experimenting and it's fun. But the main thing is to write. When I lost my husband, I didn't think I'd write again. I mean I had other concerns, but it's back and so am I.


LUCY, THE EVIL FAIRY




Lucy was Tinkerbell’s older sister. She had a mustache and her eyebrows grew together.

She had tried to kill Tinkerbell with poison over the years, but nothing worked. She wrote a book about fairies being immune to most poisons. No one wants to publish it. You'll see why in a second. 

It would be cathartic if it was published. Lucy has a lot of hostility in her. 

For example, before Tinkerbell flew off to have adventures, Lucy did try to superglue her wings together but Disney’s Fairy Police bitch slapped her.

Lucy started to drink. She wound up prostituting herself. Eventually she contracted a STD and now has become a missionary. No one thinks her idea of going to the Mid-East to broker a peace deal is workable. She is sincere though.

She’s basically insane but like most crazy people, she is interesting to talk to. The thing is, you wouldn’t want to visit her with the door closed and no guard in sight. I left out some pertinent info. Lucy is at a mental health facility in Florida. It’s funded by generous contributions from a certain studio known for its cartoons and family-oriented films and theme parks. The grants are to aid in the rehabilitation of insane and addicted former cartoon stars.

Few know of its existence. But it’s so full, many referrals, urgent though they are, are turned away.

Visiting hours are never a problem as no one ever visits. For one thing, there is the paparazzi lurking. They freelance for other studios in competition with the bigly one that maintains a low profile here, anyway.

When a bus ferrying the arrivals is spotted, the crazy former cartooners rush forward, they taunt and ridicule the newbies and take bets on ‘who will be the first to crack’ on their first night. Yeah, just like that story by you know who.

I bet you want to know who I am. I’m Pinocchio’s mummy, forget about Geppetto, already! It wasn’t an easy birth you know!

Well, bye for now. I’ll see if I can think of more to tell you about the other inmates here. Just remember, there’s no business like business or the business of writing.

carole gill 2017 copyright




Friday, July 28, 2017

New Group! For Readers and Writers of Dark Paranormal Romantic Fiction


First let me say that I think horror should be DARK, DEADLY AND DANGEROUS. If it isn't, why call it horror?

That brings me to the reasons for this post. I created a new group on Facebook. I did this because I felt the need to have such a group with a tight focus. I have two other groups on Facebook for horror fiction which have a wider focus.

As a woman who writes horror, I often feel difficulty in getting the word out with regard to offers and announcements. Sometimes women act like some demon out of Revelations has started consuming souls and it's time to call in the exorcist. Granted, my fiction isn't for everyone, I'll admit that--but I bat for the good guys. That means the forces of darkness don't win. Although I write contemporary horror which might be darkly humorous, my novels are dark. The vampires in them are demonic and you won't find and vegans.

My latest release is about a mass murderer with absolute powers. I didn't water anything down because it would have been morally wrong in my estimation.

I always say horror is a broad genre and there's room for light, dark--sexy and not. Readers, take your pick. If you know that you like dark stuff, in other words when reading a Gothic romance, do you want it to have more serious dark elements or not? If your answer is that you'd like your villains to be sexy and very dangerous, then you like the dark.

The new group is called DARK PARANORMAL ROMANCE, OFFERS & EXCERTS 

the other groups for horror are more generally based or focused. Those groups are:

HORROR WRITERS & READERS 24/7

99 CENTS HORROR & ALL THINGS SUPERNATURAL

Thanks!



Thursday, July 27, 2017

Reading!



I am so pleased I'm able to read again. I could read after my darling John died, but it was difficult to be focused, as in quite an ordeal, but then again, coping wasn't easy either. Well! When I started my new work in progress, that all changed. I write every day and am making headway.

It's not horror, it's fantasy and full of fun and humour. It's just what I want to do now. But as I'm very loyal to my publisher, Creativia--I promote my horror books but I also do it for readers that like my horror.

My Amazon Author Page is a great source to see what's out there in the way of horror. There are seven novels and a collection of short stories plus a number of anthologies I am published in.

But wait, I rambled! I'm reading things I never read before. Books like Watership Down, Alice in Wonderand, The Fox and the Hounds (not the Disney Cartoon)! Also dipping into the classics again. I'm seeing the stories now through the eyes of a reader with more experience of life than I had in my youth. I'm able to appreciate them more, too--from having lived and suffered. One book that I'll never forget is Zola's Therese Raquin, if you haven't read it, read it! It's visceral. It will surgically cut into your innards with its emotion and darkness. Zola knew people, that is, human nature better than most authors I've read.

I was involved in writing horror for so long that I often forgot about all the other genres, although I would occasionally dive into everything from romance to adventure. But now, after having suffered profound grief, I decided it was time to read whatever came into my head.

There's a great collection of Steinbeck's short novels which led to East of Eden and Grapes of Wrath. I'm glad I can adjust the kindle font. One of the fab reasons for having a kindle when you're getting on!

This past winter I read a lot of Roald Dahl. I read him before, but they just made more of an impression now. JK Rowling, I was reading when the books first came out, but it's time for a re-read.

Lately, I've been thinking of how the stories became so real to me, how the characters mean so much to me--it's almost like company whenever I want. It gave me the idea for another project actually!

Reading is vital, we know that as writers. I knew it, too but I didn't realize to what extent the stories and characters could invade my soul and bring purpose back into my life. And that is great.

Love this quote:

"NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS MOVIE."

Saturday, June 17, 2017

The Nightmare Begins in Book One!


The nightmare began long ago in Rose's childhood. The sin that started then eventually brought her to Blackstone House and the vampires...

"It all started shortly before I fell asleep. I heard the sound of carriages and people chattering and I went to the window to see. It was hard to see much as the carriages were probably near the front door.

I could have waited to see them as they rode down the drive to head back from whence they came, but truly I was far too tired to bother and went back to bed.

I fell asleep then and didn’t wake until I heard shouts and raucous laughter. 

I will admit to being nosey, for I returned to the window. A light shone upon the moors, bright enough for me to see figures emerge from the shadows. I saw the figure of a naked girl rush out giggling…with a man in pursuit. At first I thought they were going to kiss but then he moved toward her neck—and she cried out, not in pain but in pleasure. He then laid her down upon the ground, kneeling too but not in an intimate way—for he was bent over her neck.

Not more than a moment later a swarm of hooded figures appeared, but they were not walking! They flew like a flock of birds, gracefully, gliding up and down, before landing upon the girl. They covered her completely—moving back and forth upon her like a great black wave.

If that was fearful I wasn’t prepared for the next sight, that of a cloaked figure leading a goat onto the moors.

A circle formed around the goat and chanting began, chanting that grew wilder. And then all of a sudden, the goat turned into a man! I could not see his face, but I did see he was unclothed.

Mrs. Darton appeared then. She seemed to glance up toward the house. I knew she couldn’t see me; besides, she looked past my window toward Louis’ window.

They all began to move then in the direction of the altar stone the children had shown me.

It grew quiet after that but then I heard a blood curdling scream and I saw someone rush out, pursued by two others. It looked like a young girl, but she was caught and pulled back. I must have fainted then.

I don’t know how long I was unconscious but I woke to find myself in my bed. Dora was sitting in a chair. “Mr. Darton sent me Miss because you were screaming.”

“Screaming? Was I?”

“Yes Miss, having a nightmare I expect.”

Could I have dreamt it all? I didn’t think so. “But I saw something, Dora.”
“What did you see, Miss?”

Her voice wavered and I thought she was getting ready to lie but I went on. “I saw something strange on the moors.”

She began to fidget with her hands just then. “What exactly did you see?”

I told her. She shook her head. “They have some people over but they haven’t been out to the moors, at least I don’t think so.”

“There’s something out there Dora, I’m not stupid or insane. I’ve seen a lot of activity out there. Does it have something to do with Mr. Darton’s club or whatever it is?”

She yawned then and stood up. “I am tired now, Miss and as you seem well enough I shall take my leave of you.”

I was too annoyed to say anything. I just watched her slip out and close the door.

No one was going to make me feel unsure of myself anymore; I was going to be stronger than that. I was determined to find out for myself what had happened, for something had.

And so I stole out to the moors in the direction of the altar stone. I stood there for some moments wondering where they had all gone, but then I noticed what looked like a tunnel. I could hear laughter and talking--screams and other sounds too, coming from somewhere deep inside. I decided to see what was happening.

It was dark but there were candles about. I continued on toward the sound. People moved about somewhere close by, sending flickering shadows along the walls ahead of me.

Creeping along a little more I saw chambers—enclosed areas filled with cushions and people… people doing things to one another.

I didn’t realize what they were doing at first but then I did, and I nearly cried out. Handsomely dressed men and women lay prostrate on the makeshift beds, offering their necks, their arms, their bodies, so that their mates – black-clothed figures – could bite into their flesh and drink their blood!

I watched in horror while the victims moaned with ecstasy while the predators licked the flowing blood from their skin. They loved it so much, they called out for the most indecent things to be done to them.

Then the clothing was discarded and men and women in all sorts of combinations began to pleasure one another.

Meanwhile they continued to feast on one another, and those they feasted on were screaming their delight!

I turned to run, but someone grabbed me. I managed to break free, and started to run as fast as I could.

I did finally emerge back onto the moors, only to be grabbed again and pushed to the ground. A girl held me down, a girl I recognized, a girl whose chin was caked in blood.

She was Imogene, the nasty one from the club. She reached for me and bent over me. “I will show you pleasure, I will show you worlds you cannot imagine!”

“No! No!” I cried, somehow managing to break away from her. I ran again as fast as I could. She chased after me but suddenly stopped to sniff the air. She then fell upon the ground.

At first I didn’t realize what she was doing, I only understood when she looked up and smiled. “Virgin blood, sweet to the taste!”


I don’t remember screaming. All I know is I was soon surrounded by a sea of anxious faces..."

***

  “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

Top 10 Books - 2013
Aoife Marie Sheridan - ALL THINGS FANTASY
Publisher, Ultimate Fantasy Books

"92 Horror authors you need to read right now"
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books - EXAMINER

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

eFestival of Words 2014: Best Villain, Eco/ Best Horror, The House on Blackstone Moor

last 2 days 99 cents!




OMNIBUS COMPRISES ALL FOUR NOVELS
$4.99, 
$2.99 singly.


Saturday, June 3, 2017

A Real Monster and Mass Murderer!


BOOK ON SALE FOR 99 CENTS NOW THRU 8 JUNE!

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.

"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 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!!!!"

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."

Readers voted 'I, BATHROY, QUEEN OF BLOOD IN AT NUMBER 2!




99 cents thru 8 June

Monday, May 29, 2017

Free Read, 'MEMOIR'



Ever wonder about Dracula's love life? I did and was inspired to write this story which then inspired me to write The Fourth Bride (of Dracula). 

Memoir

The journal beckoned him. Like the irresistible temptation of a lover’s touch, it coaxed him, teased him, lighting his passion with the promise of untold delights. He wondered if he dare read it. Why he had ever begun opening drawers, he had no idea it was impolite to the say the least but he had been too curious to resist.

“I give up.”

He was already under its spell and because he was, he dared to touch it. What a singularly beautiful thing it was. “I’ll have you.” Smiling, he ran his hand along the rich blood-red leather cover. There was no name on it, just the word in gold leaf “Memoir”.

Now, making certain that his chamber door was secure, he at last sat down. He was not rushing; it was a moment to savor. He closed his eyes and let the excitement rush over him. He found he felt thrilled in a sexual way for he hoped he would discover something which had not been intended for anyone to read but the diarist.

There was exhilaration for him sitting there, holding an object that might hold titillating secrets. Voyeur! At last he began to read.

I come from another time and place. From East of here where magic is the norm and superstition the custom. My father was a successful merchant well-known in our Province, my mother was long dead by the time he arranged a marriage for me. All was in order and I was sent for.

I was terribly afraid of life but more afraid of love. Still I was hopeful. But when I saw who my own father had chosen for me, I wept. You see he was old enough to be my father and then some and he was coarse in his ways despite being nobility. Yet this was the man I was betrothed to!

I refused. “What?He is acquainted with the Emperor! He calls him friend!How dare you refuse?”

Needless to say, the wedding took place at the appointed time, held in our city’s greatest Cathedral, there amongst the flowers and crypts we were declared husband and wife. At last it was over and the kiss I did dread was given me. 

“Not too long now, my petal.” A threat and a promise all rolled into one. His coach bore us to his home—my new home, a veritable castle of gleaming sandstone set upon lush landscaped acres, a mansion richly furnished. The servants greeted me quietly, some with pity in their eyes. “Come, bride! For we shall sup before–!”

Oh yes, before! The meaning was not lost on me. He guided me into the great hall. “Our wedding feast.” I looked to see a table brimming with dish upon dish of roasts and stews, of delicacies and rich desserts, each more opulently displayed than the other. 

He urged me to eat and drink but mainly to drink. All the while he was leering at me and saying the rudest things; his breath hot, his words offensive in the extreme. The later it got, the more frightened I felt. At last it could be put off no longer. The great clocks chimed for the dreaded hour was at hand. I was to go with my new husband to our bed chamber. “Come my dear.” How tightly he held my arm, leading me up the stairs, not saying a word only smiling in his horrible way. Several maids hurried from the room. They had unpacked my trunks. “Goodnight!” His words rang with impatience. Now for the first time I thought how like a pig he looked, fat and sweating. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? He really was a beast. “Now, it is finally time my dear!”

He lunged at me, his thick fingers pulling at my clothes, tearing the delicate fabric from my frame till at last I stood naked before him, paralyzed like a bird in the gaze of a snake. I was not surprised to find he had no regard for my virginity nor did he have any respect for my person. 

He forced himself most cruelly upon me. I must have passed out for when I woke he was dressing as I pretended to sleep, but he knew I was awake. “I know you are up, just remember. What I have done is nothing compared to what I shall do, you are my wife. And as wives are chattel and nothing more, you are just another object that I own to be used for my pleasure and entertainment!” 

I shuddered at the slam of the door and just lay there, feeling sad and tainted and broken. I wept for myself and for the hopelessness of my present situation fearing I would have to die by my own hand as I could not bear to remain with this monster. And so I fled. I ran as far as I could and when my legs would carry me no more I collapsed on the ground. The sweet moistness of the forest called to me.

“A grave is not the worst thing; it can be your sanctuary, little one, a peaceful haven from all of your pain.” I smiled for the thought was comforting. “I shall sleep now for I cannot keep awake and if I slip beyond sleep I shall not mind.” 

But I did not sleep long for I was soon awakened by the thunder of horses and the shouts of soldiers. My husband had found me. “You she devil! Do you think I will permit you to disgrace me or my fine name?” I begged for mercy, but there was none and I was taken to be slaughtered, for slaughter it was. While his men held me, he did run me through with a sword. “Die you scheming bitch, you whore!” I obliged, passing from life into death in one agonizing pain-filled moment—but I did not sleep long in that dark, lonely place for I was soon awakened by a voice commanding me to open my eyes:

“Awake thee and walk once more upon the earth, for one so young shall not be left to rot!” It was then that I beheld his face, this handsome being. The face of one I would always love—the face I would adore forever-! And so–!

The young man gasped and stopped reading for he had heard a noise and turned. There standing behind him was the most exquisite creature he had ever seen. “You have been reading my journal,” she said.

But she didn’t say it in anger and he smiled, for she was smiling too. “I hope you don’t mind me coming here. I wanted to see you before my sisters, for they are truly like sisters.”

The young man smiled sheepishly but his smile soon faded when he beheld the beauty’s own smile growing ever wider. “Your teeth!”

She shook her head. “Do not fear handsome young man, as my teeth sink into your soft flesh for I will show you worlds you cannot imagine—dreams you dare not dream, pleasure beyond any pleasure you have ever known or thought of.”

He gave himself up to her and just as her teeth began to sink into his flesh, the door did open and Dracula’s two other brides came in, floating like mist. How they smiled and giggled—for they were eager to taste his blood. Then as they all converged upon Jonathan Harker they suddenly stopped when they felt their Master’s eyes upon them.

He, Dracula was standing in the doorway! “Forgive us, please. Do not be angry,” they begged. Harker watched as Dracula admonished them. Yet even as he did, Harker saw a fearful light in the Count’s eyes, a light that bespoke sensual love and sexual pleasure beyond comprehension. And Harker knew so much in that instant for he had glimpsed another world—the world of endless night where sin and corruption live but death does not. “Come,” Dracula said. “Come and share that which can be your fate.”

But Harker did hesitate whereupon the brides turned toward him, their eyes blazing and their mouths ready to taste that which flowed through his veins—that which they coveted. But it was alright, for Harker knew and accepted his fate and at last lay back to await their touch and their teeth and the sweet pain that would soon disappear.

from 'Memoir'

copyright 2011 MEMOIR

one of the stories in:




“CAROLE GILL’S TALENT IS A WONDER TO EXPERIENCE!”
Joshua Skye/DARK MEDIA

War surplus from the Eastern Front supplies a quaint little shop of horrors!
Orphaned child vampires
Haunted cemeteries where the dead dance,
What would Death say if he could speak?
A story of the war: evil comes to a village near you.
What if the world became Dead World?
Valhalla rejects are nasty, worst vampires ever!
Three tales of the Ripper
What are the blood-drenched secrets of The Crimson Club?
A crazed soldier and his famous father!
Zombies in therapy. Hey, why not?
Poetic justice meted out by grave angels and fate
Jonathan Harker has a night to remember!
PLUS STORIES THAT INSPIRED NOVELS AND A SERIES!

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Paris for Justine!



Write what you know they say! Well, I was inspired to write Justine: Into the Blood when I was in Paris!

and by the way, Justine is a seamstress at the palace in the beginning. 

Take The Versailles Palace in France...add to it:



The Paris Catacombs


Mix in Georgian London and brothels with rakes, but also with:

VAMPIRES!


Blend with that my love and study of history and you have Justine: Into the Blood! 

You all know how much I love history! By the way, even though my work in progress will surprise you, it's got history in it, too. But it is integral to the story. 

I believe all my work is, but perhaps the next one in the pipeline is even more so. 

As for Justine, though the story begins in Paris, it ends in England and finally on a ship bound for another place, as it is another time that this vampire is existing in. If they are immortal, their stories need to be expansive and Justine's is.

The best inspiration for a novel is whatever magic you feel and yes, it is a magical moment when suddenly you feel something special. You see it too, in your mind's eye. It's like a road with signs on it, where to go next--where to set your tale, even!

Your characters begin to step forward. They're waiting ahead for you. They might even introduce themselves to you.

"Yes, that's' right. This way."

The road becomes your setting. Countries and cities, their depiction in the past or present or future! You're the director! It's what you want. You decide.

I find history inspires me because it's a story that has already been written. I just have to wait for someone to tell me the tale! And you know what, they do!




A vampire prince and a beautiful Parisienne meet in the 18th century City of Light.
Born in pre-Revolutionary France and orphaned as a child, Justine Bodeau is taken in by a family friend who employs her as a seamstress. Eventually, she winds up to work in the court of Queen Marie Antoinette. A strong-willed survivor, defeat does not occur to her. When she fights off an attack by an aristocrat and kills him, she is given refuge but is soon betrayed and winds up on the streets of Paris, where she is attacked and killed by rogue vampires. But the Vampire Prince of Paris 

"Top of its genre!"

"Revenge, betrayal, passion, bloodshed, lust and love are just a few of the elements of this dark and spellbinding book."

"This vampire romance is rich in history, deep in blood sex and exotic locations and is very highly recommended."

"Vampires have their own allure and none more so than the female.
“An amazing historical vampire romance that must surely rank at the top of its genre.”

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Where I Was When I Wrote About Vampires and Demons!



I'm busy working on my new book. But I want to blog more. I think readers like to know about the writing process.

As I just put up a tweet about book 2 Unholy Testament - The Beginnings, in The Blackstone Vampires Series, I happened to think of where I was when I wrote one of the chapters. My darling husband made it possible because when we went away with the doggies in our caravan, I had my laptop and whatever else was needed!

I'll start here even though it's book two. I'll give you two for one today. Book 1 of course came first.
That was The House on Blackstone Moor. I remember starting that after an exhausting outing on Haworth Moor which we did after seeing the Bronte Parsonage. I've blogged about it.

https://carolegillauthor.blogspot.co.uk/p/know-what-it-is-ive-seen-it-many-times.html

Let me just say briefly about the inspiration: there is an old ruin there, some say it was the inspiration for Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. That gave me an idea, but the main inspiration was the moor itself. It's dramatic and bleak, even on a nice day.


I pictured a house and began to fill it with inhabitants. I imagined the land haunted and the storyline followed!

This post is about Book 2, Unholy Testament - The Beginnings and where I was. Well, we were in Scotland with very good friends. It was summer and the midges were out. They're nasty little things like mosquitoes. They're not always out or troublesome, we were just lucky! But it turned out great. We drove along the northern coast and thrilled at the wild beauty of the place.

I really had to use my imagination in order to write about a mad demon confessing his sins because it was so beautiful there. But I did!

Another world opens up when you need it to. It's the world of your fiction, the fiction you are working on. Your characters dwell there and you watch them. They live and breathe, too. And if you have to wait for them to 'come alive,' you will. They do, I promise you.

Sometimes it takes awhile and it can be annoying, but then it happens. Just keep up with it. They'll let you know how and when. Your characters like and respect you, even if you are wary of them and their motives!

Remember, imagination is everything in writing. Inspiration is the spark that sets the whole thing off. Standing by a loch in Scotland can inspire me to see something in my mind: a ship sailing on open seas, staffed by vampires, overseen by a demon. See? That's how it works!






Each novel is sold singly $2.99 and all 4 are $4.99 at Amazon


NEW POST COMING!!

Saturday, May 13, 2017

LAST DAY AT 99 CENTS! VAMPIRES, HAREMS AND FREAKSHOWS!



This is not your average vampire romance! It's got all the ingredients but it has more to make it what it is. It's got a sultan with an amazing secret as well as vampires in high-class London brothels.
There's history, sex and lust. Oh, and feeding too because these are vampires!

Come along with Justine, follow her into the blood and beyond! She's a heroine you'll care about, I promise you!

This is best selling at Amazon and today's the last day it is priced at 99 cents!
A vampire prince and a beautiful Parisienne meet in the 18th century City of Light.
Born in pre-Revolutionary France and orphaned as a child, Justine Bodeau is taken in by a family friend who employs her as a seamstress. Eventually, she winds up to work in the court of Queen Marie Antoinette. A strong-willed survivor, defeat does not occur to her. When she fights off an attack by an aristocrat and kills him, she is given refuge but is soon betrayed and winds up on the streets of Paris, where she is attacked and killed by rogue vampires. But for whatever reason, love will not let her die.

Justine goes from wishing to be destroyed to wanting to survive, when she feels passion for the one who brought her back, Gascoyne — the one they call the Vampire Prince of Paris.
Justine - Into The Blood is a powerful story of betrayal, passion and revenge in 18th century France and England.

#vampires #darkpnr #horror

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

JUSTINE: INTO THE BLOOD DARKEST PNR! 99 CENTS!



Justine, having been attacked by rogue vampires in Paris, was brought to her creator's coven. Gascoyne, The Vampire Prince of Paris would not let her die. She passed into the blood and became his lover. 

There is, however, one of his vampires who has already jealously attacked Justine. Now, Justine is determined to destroy her. She is aware of the change within her. Gone is any semblance of what she was in life. For now Justine exists for blood and pleasure. Hence the name of this, my new series, Blood and Passion. 

Here is an excerpt from my most romantic novel:

"This pleased me, this way to control another and a vampire at that! Something I had never felt before coursed through me. I thought of Gascoyne and smiled. He was handsome enough; it wouldn’t be unpleasant to have sex with him. As I lay there I imagined how I would feel as I recalled the shape of his lips and his eyes. They were large and black. His skin was the color of cream—all vampires are pale, but his was tinged with something else, just a hint of tawniness. It could have been from a recent feed, I wasn’t certain.

If I had power over him I’d first have to defeat that bitch of a vampire, Carmen. I recalled all too vividly the feel of her slap, the sting of it but at least she feared me now.

I was lying in my tomb when I heard something. Someone was moving about the crypt. I heard it plainly; footsteps and the rustling of fabric. I was on my feet in a moment. I didn’t see her at first. Then I saw movement in the shadows. She must have felt my eyes upon her because she turned quickly.

I grinned when Carmen gasped and fled into another chamber. There were many I knew, though I hadn’t seen the whole of our dwelling place, I knew it to be vast—full of tunnels and passageways. Gascoyne said it had been that way from ancient times.

We both could move fast, but I outran her and was upon her in a moment. I said nothing; I only sank my teeth into the back of her neck. She fell, paralyzed. I let her lie there staring wildly, her eyes pleading. She even begged. I said nothing. Not a word passed between us. In fact there was no sound; just the noise of me sucking her dry.

I fed viciously and voraciously. Her blood tasted of wine. I was able to tell what her last feed was like. I saw images of her living life—a life spent in poverty and want. I saw her death too yet I felt nothing. And when Gascoyne raised her I felt jealous.

When she was drained, I tore her head off. It wasn’t easy, but I managed. I flung it against the wall where it rolled a few times until at last it came to a stop. Her eyes were half open; just starting to glaze over.

I knew the others were up, I had heard them—even when I continued my savagery. Clearly Gascoyne was not among them or he would have stopped me or tried to.

“Justine!”

So he was there now. I turned and smiled madly at him. “What do you want?”

He looked horrorstruck. The coven looked frightened. He wasn’t. He was angry if anything and shook me. “How dare you!”

I only laughed. “Bitch!” he cried. He pushed me so hard I fell over backwards. Still I laughed loud and raucous cackles for I was extremely pleased with myself. “I’d do it again.”

That did it. He moved so quickly even I was surprised. His slap was fierce. “Is that the best you can do?” I asked.

He reached over to pull me up but only succeeded in tearing my gown from me. I saw his eyes sweep across my naked breasts. Then taking some of Carmen’s blood from my chin, I smeared it on both my breasts.

We eyed one another there in the company of the coven. There wasn’t a sound. I sat there waiting for him, smiling at him. He was upon me in a moment but there was nothing sexual about it. He was too angry.

The coven had moved closer so as not to miss anything. I was stretched out when he tore at my hair, bending my head backward, he sank his teeth into my neck. But then he stopped himself. Instead of biting he was kissing me and fondling me at the same time.

I stretched out waiting for more. He began to lick the blood off my breasts then-- Carmen’s blood. I laughed while he did.

In front of the coven, he took me every way that he could. When I thought he would stop, he whispered what he wished me to do to him. As I obeyed and took him into my mouth I was happy for this gave me ultimate power over him. I’d be able to get whatever I wished of him.

Now, because I was giving him pleasure, his coven moved away—so that I began to suck and feed at the same time; just little bites, not enough to hurt him, just enough to feed.

“I will love you forever,” he panted.

I made no answer; I only stared at him, certain that he would..."


"Top of its genre!"

"Revenge, betrayal, passion, bloodshed, lust and love are just a few of the elements of this dark and spellbinding book."

"Justine, realizes she as a vampire could actually love and in fact is in love with Gascoyne. I think that was the turning point in the story."

"This vampire romance is rich in history, deep in blood sex and exotic locations and is very highly recommended."

"Vampires have their own allure and none more so than the female."




99 cents on offer 
May 8 - 14