Monday, December 17, 2012


Check out my good friend Carole Gill's latest book. Unholy Testament - The Beginnings. You will love it. Guaranteed! Buy and read!


November 4, 2012
Included in this book are the first two chapters and book cover of  Book 3, Unholy Testament - Full Circle.
The day Eco first laid eyes on Rose Baines was the day she discovered (The House on Blackstone Moor) her family's savage butchery at the hands of her mad, incestuous father.

"I saw you leave the house that day, Rose, that terrible day you discovered your family butchered. I saw you..."

Eco realizing he has fallen in love with her pens a confession documenting all of his sins committed in the course of his immortal existence. The one request is that Rose reads his confession.

Rose, having become his captive, is forced to read this unholy testament of his.

From Ancient Egyptian vampire cults to Roman vampire brothels to The Dark Ages, The Crusades, The Black Death of 1348 to his meeting with child murderer and Satanist, Gilles de Rais, concluding with his wicked affair with the Blood Countess herself, Erzebat Bathory.

Eco is, if nothing else, frankly and brutally honest. The pages are filled with debauchery and vice and murder--yet, there is also love or what Eco swears is love.

The story is continued in Unholy Testament - Full Circle, to be released in early 2013.
 Great reviews:

5.0 out of 5 stars Darker than the first - chilling and impactful November 21, 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
Is it possible to feel sympathy for a devious, evil creature like Eco? He is doomed from the start and acts from pure self-interest but somehow, Carole Gill gives this incredibly flawed character a deeper dimension. There were times I truly felt sorry for him, while hating him the next moment, but one thing this story didn't leave me is indifferent. Written in a journal-style narrative - it is, after all, Eco's testament that the book is about - the language flows and moves at a rhythmic pace, keeping the reader's interest.

The author dives deep into the suspense of the story right from the start. We know something terrible is about to happen, and when it does, we're left wondering how it will all unfold. Eco is a very interesting character and his story is heartbreaking, shocking, and frightening at the same time. It is worth telling and Carole's foray into history is written in beautiful prose that sticks in the brain. I love Ms. Gill's "old world" writing style, the lyrical voice that seems to bleed so effortlessly into the pages. That voice is kept alive and well in this sequel to The House on Blackstone Moor. Indeed, it is made more compelling. I have to give this story five stars and nothing less. I can't wait for book number 3 to come out so I can see what happens to Rose, Louis, and the adorable Simon and Ada.
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5.0 out of 5 stars Dark, deep, and devious November 15, 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
I am a huge fan of Carole Gill. Unholy Testament is mysterious,multifaceted and devious. Eco will not disappoint you and will surprise you with glimpses of feelings unexpected in a demon/vampire. Join Carole on her excursion of the Blackstone Vampire series. You will not be disillusioned. If you like horror at it's darkest you will like Unholy Testament. Carole brings elements to her stories that no one else can. Read it today! Get your copy today, expect the unexpected.

More About the Author


I've always written but life, as it often does, got in the way and I turned back to writing some years ago.

In 2000 I was selected by North West Playwrights of England for further development but found I preferred writing fiction (novels and short stories).

I write stories of the paranormal, horror, and love. I'm the creator of Louis Darton, a strong vampire with a dark, tortured past. Come journey with me as I help Louis find love and fight his ultimate nemesis, the evil, demonic Eco.

Louis is featured in my dark gothic romance novel, The House on Blackstone Moor which has just been released in its newly edited verison and is on sale here.

The House on Blackstone Moor is literary style horror at its darkest. The themes are madness, obsession and devil worship.
It is recommended for readers 18 years of age and over.

There are three more novels in The Blackstone Vampires Series.
Unholy Testament - The Beginnings is on sale here in November.
The next two books in the series follow that.

Dreams of a Vampire is the short story prequel to the novel. It includes the first fourteen chapters of The House on Blackstone Moor and is free at Amazon.

At the moment I am writing a novel for Aiden James' Dying of the Dark Vampire Series.

Know what I want to do? I want to take gothic romance where it's never been! I believe that even in the darkest of moments, a rose can bloom, and its beauty can make us hope again. I want to take you on a wild, dark journey of fear, despair, and pain, on to ultimate redemption and love. These tales will shock you. Between these pages, your heart will not be safe.

Thursday, December 13, 2012


This is Hunter Shea's contribution to this week's Pen Of The Damned tales of titillating horror. Read it and love the majestic styling of Hunter's words. Click on the link and read other superb tales from my other Damned kin. Tell them Blaze sent you!

Mercy – The Final Chapter

(continuation of ‘Mercy’ chapter 3
The striking of our grandfather clock woke me from a deep, bottomless sleep. The sky outside the lone window was still a dark gray, lightened ever-so-slightly by the threat of the dawn. I stretched my arms above my head and rolled my eyes, attempting to shake off my slumber.
My heart thudded in my chest.
I was alone, and on the opposite side of the parlor from my sister.
All of the candles were out.
How did I get here? The pile of books we had been reading lay a good seven feet from where I sat.
Jessamine was in the far corner, asleep and on her back.
I felt a tug at my ankle and stifled a yelp. I instinctively recoiled. In the dark, I couldn’t see what had gained purchase of the bottom half of my nightgown.
There followed the sounds of hurried clacking, as if a pair of rocks had skipped across the wood floor.
The ghoul!
Despite my inability to see it, I knew it had to be in the room with us. It must have waited until Jessamine fell asleep, then separated us so it could do its dirty deed.
“Jessamine,” I hissed, wanting to wake her, yet terrified of alerting the ghoul, lest I become its latest morsel.
There was no answer.
Willing my legs to stand, I inched my way upwards, using the bookcase shelves to hoist myself up inch by inch.
I heard a tearing sound, followed by something far worse.
The smacking sounds of mastication, broken by eager, glutinous breaths, filled the parlor.
“Jesssamine!” I shouted.
Still no reply.
I needed light. It was impossible to face the ghoul in the dark. My spirit wavered between bravery and death by panic. I fumbled around the desk until I found the matches.
I struck one against the desk. It sputtered for a moment, then fizzled out.
The sounds in the corner stopped.
I could feel the ghoul’s penetrating gaze cut through the dark.
I grabbed another match, and with unsure hands, tried again.
The match stick broke in half, falling to the floor.
Clack, clack, clack, clack.
Those odd footsteps again.
Now a gurgling sound, a bubbling death rattle of a cry.
“Please, dear God, help,” I whimpered as I reached to pick out another match.
My cry was answered, as my thumbnail flicked across the match head, a brilliant flame roared to life.
And in that same instant, I wished I’d never brought light into the parlor.
My doll, my porcelain companion, stood on two small legs, leering at me. Its face had turned a mottled green, and bloody teeth sprouted from a mouth that was never designed to open. Weeping warts covered it from head to toe.
Worst of all, a strip of flesh, Jessamine’s flesh, hung loosely from its mouth.
I yelled in horror upon seeing my sister’s exposed throat. She lay, still as death, as her blood pumped onto the floor.
The demonic ghoul had truly left my poor, dear sister.
But it hadn’t gone to hell.
It had made a vile home within Lucy.
The ghoul clenched and unclenched its gnarled hands and slurped up the shredded flap of Jessamine’s throat.
I don’t know what overcame me then. I had been living for half a year under the specter of Satan and his damned minion. Fear, as much as Lucy, had been my constant companion.
There was no longer room for fear. This abomination had destroyed my family, and I knew at that moment that I would never again be the same. My heart turned cold while my temper flared like the center of a great bonfire.
Snarling like a mad person, I grabbed the candle and leapt for the ghoul. Cackling, it tried to sidestep from me, but I snared one of its slimy legs.
Warts burst open like blossoming flowers and a vile, hot fluid leaked onto my hand, burning my skin.
Still, I held on.
It shrieked. It hissed. It chomped its jaws and just missed snagging its teeth into the back of my hand.
With a flick of my wrist, I managed to get it to flop on its back.
Lucy’s blue eyes had been replaced by obsidian pools of hate. I moved my hand that held the candle onto its throat. Once I had a firm grip, I transferred the candle to my other hand.
“This time, go back to hell where you belong!” I shouted.
I brought the flames tips to its eye and heard a satisfying sizzle as the onyx orb melted. I moved the candle to its other eye and didn’t stop until both eyes were gone.
Suddenly, the ghoul’s protests and flailing stopped. Its tiny body twitched once, and was still.
Reluctantly, I let it go so I could rub the burned skin on my hand. The ghoul was dead.
Keeping a close eye on it, I walked on unsteady legs to my sister. Her face looked so peaceful, as if she had died in the midst of the most wonderful dream.
The tears came in a torrent, and I held her head in my lap, ever watchful for signs of the ghoul’s return.
I stayed there in the corner with Jessamine’s cooling body for two days.
When father returned, I was too weak to run into his arms.
His face was aghast.
“What…what…what?” he stammered.
“It was the demon in Jessamine. It became a ghoul. When it left Jessamine, it hid inside Lucy. You can see it, right there!” I screamed, pointing at its lifeless body.
But when Father picked it up, he held only my Lucy, her little head fractured but still the Lucy I’d always known. Her eyes were tiny points of ash, but Jessamine’s blood had somehow been cleansed from her porcelain face.
Despite my anguish and exhaustion and vexation, I began to laugh.
I laughed while my father pulled me away, and in his carriage, all the way into town. I laughed when he brought me to hospital, and even when they carried me to a room that smelled funny and was so bright, it felt like I had been thrown into the center of the sun.
And I still laugh now, ten years later.
They think I did it.
Esther passed on from infection.
Jessamine perished from her wound at the ghoul’s hand.
Mother never regained her sanity. In fact, she’s in a room not very far from my own. I pass her in the yard sometimes. She spits curses at me and blames me for the evil that befell our family.
Only I know it was the ghoul; the demon that slipped into our Old Manse and within my departed sister, the dearest person in my life. And when it tired of a human host, it found Lucy.
I tell everyone but no one will believe me.
Evil is real.
The ghoul was real.
And Lucy is still somewhere, outside these four walls. If you see a doll with burned eyes, run. Run and pray your soul hasn’t been tainted.
And pray.
~ Hunter Shea

Wednesday, December 5, 2012


Here we have another great offering of dark reading on The Pen Of The Damned by the Damned talented mistress of mayhem, Nina D'Arcangela. Read her tale An Offer, and see what I'm talking about. Also, peruse the pages of The Damned Ones and try to see what lies in their minds. As if you can!


An Offer

Bending down in front of this fawn who has wandered far astray into a place she knows nothing of, I tip her head back, cupping her chin in my delicate hand as I gaze into the enormous glistening pools that serve as her eyes.
“An odd turn of phrase, wouldn’t you agree? I give you my heart.  How does one go about giving their heart away? If you were to give me your heart, you would become useless to me. A mass of tissue, cartilage, sinew, and bone pulsing with – nothing. And nothing is exactly what you would be worth. Do you wish to be worth no more than slop for the beasts to have their fill upon? Offering me your heart is a ridiculous thought. Besides, what makes you think I would allow you to give what I could so easily take if I chose it?”
A tinge of fear seeps into her eyes, her creamy throat swallows a hard lump, I release her but do not rise.
“Perhaps what you mean to say is that you offer me your unconditional devotion. Yes? Ah, now this I understand. This has a place in my world, this I can make fair use of. You proffer yourself before me and offer fidelity by choice. There is great value to be extracted from such a deed, unlike the sickeningly tender gesture of giving away your heart. A fool’s notion that. But you are a foolish creature, are you not?”
Her eyes shimmer, and I pace several steps away to allow the searing warmth of the sunlight to penetrate the chill I constantly feel radiating from within. This one, she affects me… After a moment of silent contemplation, I turn back to her. Our gazes locked once more, she still on her knees, me standing above her – as it would always rightfully be.
“Should I choose to make you my pet? Allow you to exist only on a whim? To please me when I see fit, perform for my enjoyment? Or perhaps even allow you the coveted honor of prostrating yourself at my feet for all to see; recognition of what an obedient thing you have become. Or should I simply accept your heart here and now, ending what will surely be an eternity of anguish for you?”
Circling her kneeling form, I allow my hand to trail through her mane of flaxen hair. It glistens so enticingly in the brightness of the day. The feel, that of swirling one’s hand through warm buttermilk; the scent, Anise. Delicious. Too delicious. Fisting a clump of this glorious silk in my hand, I yank her head backwards, redirecting her gaze to mine once more. A small squeal uttered, her hands fly up in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain I am causing her. My stare unwavering, she slowly lowers her arms to her lap once more.
“Do not expect to receive the abundance afforded my loyal servants, I have broken them! They have not groveled their way into my good graces. They have earned their allowance, their right to breathe for as long as I deem it useful. Unlike you my soft lovely dove, they have withstood a trial of pain and torment that you could not begin to fathom; and they have lived – if life is what you wish to call it. But you, you have earned nothing more than my attention with your soft curves and deep somber eyes. When I no longer find amusement in your attentions, then perhaps you will give me your heart as initially intended.”
Fear radiates from those bottomless orbs as they now watch me with trepidation, fear, and, of all things – judgment. Snarling, I release her head more roughly than intended and move to stand before her once more, bellowing at her audacity in a harsh ugly tone.
“This frightens you? My apologies! I don’t see why it should. You served the opening volley; you began this bid for my affection with your profferance of dedication to ‘my wants, my needs, and dare I say it – my most sacred desires’. Yes, I am mocking you and your attempt at securing my affection! Ah, I see you understand the spark of anger flashing behind my eyes, the couched venom spiting through my words, yet still you do not understand your own part in inciting me. This haughtiness of yours will need to be stripped bare if you are to be of any use at all. You are an ignorant animal, you know nothing of what I want, need or desire – yet you bear enough conceit to believe you stand any hope of satisfying me with your pathetic attempt at comprehension. Do you not see it? Do you still not understand who or what I am? No, I believe you do not!”
In a near frenzied pitch, I force myself to stop. She cowers before me, trembling, terrified by what now stands before her. Glancing down, I realize that my hands have begun to morph into clawed appendages; I can feel the second row of razor teeth beginning to protrude from my rending gums. The realization that this gentle creature before me is a far greater danger to my world than I initially thought decides her fate for me. Eyes brimming with tears, mine not hers, I crouch before this lovely timid thing, allowing my deformed talon to graze the soft flesh of her flushed cheek, and speak in a hushed tone.
“More’s the pity. I would have enjoyed the game, no matter how briefly it may have lasted.”
One more sweep through her luxurious hair, but my changing flesh is no longer capable of feeling its soothing texture.  I gently cradle the back of her head and pull her soft form against mine. Blinding rage engulfs me, the cold from within takes over. With a slow deliberate stroke, I open her from pelvis to throat with the pointed tail I have kept hidden all this while; being sure to take enough time to truly feel the pain this is causing her. A single tear tips from my shuttered eye and with it, the last pretense of my humanity is shed. Leathery clawed wings tear free of their flesh covered prison and enshroud us.
After what lives in me is sated, and I have consumed my fill, I rise, releasing her corpse to the beautiful grassy field where I have defiled her. The warmth of the sun no longer as tantalizing as it was earlier. Glancing back at her remains one last time, I allow those that serve me to clean the foul mess I have made.
One dares to catch my eye as if to pass its own judgment upon me. Weakness amongst my kind is unheard of, and not tolerated.
With a feeling akin to what I understand to be shame, I spit at the thing before me, “Provided I do not choose to slit your throat for the disloyal thought I see passing through your eyes, I’ll allow you to keep your life and you will keep your tongue as to what you have seen here this day!”
He has the nerve to grin at me. She was but a frail morsel; the darkness beating in the soul of this servile beast shall sate me fully. I believe I shall begin by allowing him to give me his heart.
~ Nina D’Arcangela

Saturday, December 1, 2012


There's a new kid on the block spinning some wild tales. His name is Jeffrey Hollar and Keldane The Cursed is a great new read. Buy it, read it, get lost in the story, and drool over the cover art. Did I leave anything out? I sure hope not!


Book description:

Did you ever wish you had the ability to use magic and cast spells to do anything you wanted to? Well, so does Keldane. Unfortunately, just being the son of the most powerful magic user the world has ever known doesn’t come with any guarantees. It’s not without very good cause he’s known to his classmates as Keldane the Cursed.


Jeffrey Hollar was born in Lima Ohio. Developing a love for reading in his early life, Jeff read anything and everything he could get his hands on. Graduating from Lima Sr. High in 1980, he joined the army where he found a career in communications. Jeffrey remained in the army for 14 years, traveling the world to places like Germany, Turkey and England.

Jeffrey moved around the United States as well, living in Arizona, Iowa and Missouri before moving back to Lima where he met his wife. Jeffrey works in the security field during the day and writes by night. He also has a love for cooking and practices his culinary skills on his family.

Buy this book!