Influential Observation with Catherine Cavendish

Tags

An Elford Childhood, Catherine Cavendish, Dark Observation, Doris Buttery, Elford, Flame Tree Press, Horror, New book, writing

My Greatest Influence BY Catherine Cavendish

Since I’ve been fortunate enough to be a published writer, I have met many others and once of the first things I discovered is that I wasn’t alone in having been the nerdy schoolgirl who used to inwardly cheer when our English teacher would set us an essay to write for homework. I especially hugged my inner creative embryo when we were given no clear parameters as to what that essay would centre on. Sometimes it would be a line from a poem which could be interpreted in a myriad of ways. On other occasions it would be an emotion we had to express – be it joy, sorrow or whatever. All around me, my fellow students would groan while I wanted to do that Mary Tyler Moore thing with my (ridiculously old fashioned) school hat.

For decades I believed I was the only one who ever felt like that. What a relief to discover I wasn’t.

I should have realised it really though because while there have been and still are a host of people I count as influences on me and on my writing, there is one who stands head and shoulders above the rest.

Her name was Doris May Buttery. She was born on 23^rd October 1920 and passed away on 13^th March 2018 – and Doris was my Mum. She loved to write.

When I was a little girl and, okay, I’ll say it first, that was a long time ago, one of my enduring memories is of Mum sitting at the dining room table, her pencil sharpened, lost in her own world as she busily transcribed memories of her childhood, growing up in a small Staffordshire village between the two world wars, onto sheets of lined foolscap paper. 

While Mum wrote, I would play with my dolls or my cat, Penny. I would make up stories, read, let my imagination run free…

And day after day, once her chores were done, Mum would write. She had a small win on the Football Pools and used to it to pay for a creative writing course where she learned the art of short story writing. I still have at least some of those stories. They were fiction but always, somewhere, there lurked a grain of truth. Invariably set in the 1920s or 1930s there would be a character in there that I would later come to identify in her memoirs. Sometimes she would write about a scandal that I would later discover had actually taken place – although the names and some identifying details had all been changed.

I can’t remember exactly when she stopped writing. But for years, maybe a decade or more, the pencils and foolscap were put aside only for her to return one day and pick up where she left off. This became a pattern. Days and weeks of daily writing followed by months and years of none. From her childhood she moved onto recollections of the war years 1939-1945 when she served in the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS) – the British women’s army of the time. Sadly, she didn’t get too far with these but the account of being a naive eighteen-year-old office girl joining up (against her father’s wishes) immediately casts the reader back to those far off years. Mum could certainly create atmosphere and a sense of time and place in her writing.

Meanwhile, I had caught the writing bug. Watching her may have been the catalyst, or perhaps it was simply because she enjoyed it. Some of those school essays of mine grew into short stories; one eventually morphed into a novel. Mum encouraged me while my father considered my desire – at around eight or nine years old – to purchase a portable typewriter as a complete waste of time and money. I bought my typewriter, selling a number of toys in order to do so. The rest, as they say, is history.

After Mum passed away, I found the folder I knew existed and opened it. There were Mum’s childhood memories. These eventually became a published book An Elford Childhood .

Mum never ventured down the path of supernatural, ghostly or scary stories. Nor did she attempt a crime story – although in her later years especially, crime fiction was by far her preferred genre. She did, however, tell me that she had always enjoyed a good spooky book when she was younger so maybe that’s where I get it from. I also enjoy crime – real or fictional and Agatha Christie was a shared passion of ours.

Mum left me a legacy of a love of reading and writing, history and cats. Wherever she is now, I hope she is enjoying a good book, with a cat purring on her lap, a notebook and pencil by her side and a nice cup of tea.

As for my latest? Well, I hope Mum would approve. There is an awful lot of her in one of my main characters – Vi  – and then of course there’s her hero,Winston Churchill, those secret underground war rooms and…

Eligos is waiting…fulfil your destiny

1941. In the dark days of war-torn London, Violet works in Churchill’s subterranean top secret Cabinet War Rooms, where key decisions that will dictate Britain’s conduct of the war are made. Above, the people of London go about their daily business as best they can, unaware of the life that teems beneath their feet.

Night after night the bombs rain down, yet Violet has far more to fear than air raids. A mysterious man, a room only she can see, memories she can no longer trust, and a best friend who denies their shared past… Something or someone – is targeting her.

Dark Observation is available here:

Flame Tree Press

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Waterstones

Bookshop.org (where you can support your favourite local bookshop)

and at good bookshops everywhere (on the shelf or to order)

About The Author

Following a varied career in sales, advertising and career guidance, Catherine Cavendish is now the full-time author of a number of paranormal, ghostly and Gothic horror novels and novellas.

Her novels include: Dark Observation, In Darkness, Shadows Breathe, The Garden of Bewitchment. The Haunting of Henderson Close, The Devil’s Serenade, The Pendle Curse an Saving Grace Devine.

Her novellas include: The Darkest Veil, Linden Manor, Cold Revenge, Miss Abigail’s Room, The Demons of Cambian Street, Dark Avenging Angel, The Devil Inside Her, and The Second Wife

Her short stories appeared in a number of anthologies including Tomes of Terror, One of Us and Haunted Are These Houses.

She lives by the sea in Southport, England with her long-suffering husband, and a black cat called Serafina who has never forgotten that her species used to be worshipped in ancient Egypt. She sees no reason why that practice should not continue.

You can connect with Cat here:

Catherine Cavendish

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

Goodreads

Images:

Shutterstock

Nik Keevil and Flame Tree Studio

Author’s own

Catherine Cavendish and the Eloise Complex.

Tags

Asylums, Catherine Cavendish, Flame Tree Press, ghosts, Haunted Asylums, Horror, Michigan, New horror book, the Eloise Complex

‘The Unquiet Spirits of the Eloise Complex‘

BY CATHERINE CAVENDISH.

(Please insert pic 1)

Image: Detroit Free Press

What can be scarier than an old abandoned asylum?

Not much in my book. And if you’re looking for a place with a freakish amount of scares, then the Eloise Complex would be right up your street. A few years ago, if you had the cash, you might even have wanted to make a purchase. That’s if you had a million or so dollars lying around in your attic. Of course, that money would have bought you a place that was once big enough have its own zip code.

The complex certainly has a history. It all started in 1839 when Wayne County, Michigan established a farm and poorhouse which expanded until it eventually covered 902 acres and encompassed some 70 buildings.

In 1913, there were three divisions – The Eloise Hospital (the mental hospital), Eloise Sanitorium (TB hospital), and the Eloise Infirmary (the Poorhouse). In 1945, it was renamed the Wayne County General Hospital and Infirmary at Eloise Michigan.

Back when it was at its height, during the Great Depression, around 10,000 patients and 2000 workers lived there in a self-contained city that included a bakery, slaughterhouse, fire department, post office, amusement hall, cannery, tobacco field, cemetery and police department. It was in these days that it earned its own zip code.

Image – Edward Pevos MLive

Eloise was at the forefront of pioneering psychiatric treatment. Now, today, we might laud this as a Good Thing. At the time we are talking, back in the first half of the 20^th century, we are talking straitjackets and electroshock therapy, lobotomies that rendered the patient into a permanent vegetative state.

In Eloise’s case, there was also massive overcrowding. 10,000 patients there may well have been – maybe even more. But the facility was only built -even at its largest – to house 8.300. Patients slept on floors, were left unattended and neglected. Some inmates spent their entire adult lives there and, when they died, their burials were usually anonymous. The more disruptive patients could find themselves physically restrained – bound by hands and feet and, at one time, it has been reported, they could be chained to the roof of the asylum barn, above the pigs who dwelt beneath.

(Please insert pic 4)

Image – Bill Bresler https://eu.hometownlife.com/

By 1974 it had two divisions: the Wayne County General Hospital and the Wayne County Psychiatric Hospital (there being no further need for a TB hospital following the development of the life-saving streptomycin drug). The psychiatric division closed in 1982.

By 2019, just 5 of the buildings remained (firehouse, bakery, power plant, commissary and ‘D’ building) along with the cemetery. The complex was redeveloped into a strip mall, golf course and condominiums. ‘D’ building is now called the Kay Beard building and the old commissary is now a homeless shelter. The firehouse (which became the psychiatric facility laundry) and the power plant are still standing but the bakery was severely damaged by arson in 2016. The entire complex was sold in 2019 for the princely sum of $1, as it was at that time costing $375,000 per year simply to maintain it. Its purpose is to provide affordable housing for senior citizens in a minimum of 106 units.

But what of the ghosts?

In December 2019, members of the group Detroit Paranormal Expeditions visited the long closed-off basement of a building on the complex. It had been flooded for decades but had recently been drained.

They reported the eerie stillness, the total, unnatural quiet and the strong sense of someone else being down there with them. They heard the sound of dripping water (perhaps not so surprising) and shuffling footsteps (more disquieting). Their videos captured orange and white lights, and an orb.

The group have paid a number of visits to the Eloise complex – with terrifying results. They describe being chased out of the place by ghostly phenomena, describing it as so haunted as to have almost daily supernatural occurrences – shadows, unexplained noises, objects moving of their own accord, disembodied voices, unexplained footsteps.

 Other visitors to the complex have described a so-called ‘flying ghost’.

With so much spirit activity, we can only wish the new residents well in their brand-new homes. Given the philanthropic nature of the current enterprise, maybe that will go some way towards placating those who, as yet, cannot leave.

A few years ago, a horror film – Eloise – was shot on location in the ruined buildings, making for a highly atmospheric setting.

You’re next…

Carol and Nessa are strangers but not for much longer.

In a luxury apartment and in the walls of a modern hospital, the evil that was done continues to thrive. They are in the hands of an entity that knows no boundaries and crosses dimensions – bending and twisting time itself – and where danger waits in every shadow. The battle is on for their bodies and souls and the line between reality and nightmare is hard to define.
Through it all, the words of Lydia Warren Carmody haunt them. But who was she? And why have Carol and Nessa been chosen?

The answer lies deep in the darkness…

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Flame Tree Press

About The Author

Following a varied career in sales, advertising and career guidance, Catherine Cavendish is now the full-time author of a number of paranormal, ghostly and Gothic horror novels, novellas and short stories. In addition to In Darkness, Shadows Breathe, Cat’s novels include The Garden of Bewitchment. The Haunting of Henderson Close, the Nemesis of the Gods trilogy – Wrath of the Ancients, Waking the Ancients and Damned by the Ancients, plus The Devil’s Serenade, The Pendle Curse and Saving Grace Devine.

Her novellas include: The Malan Witch, The Darkest Veil, Linden Manor, Cold Revenge, Miss Abigail’s Room, The Demons of Cambian Street, Dark Avenging Angel, The Devil Inside Her, and The Second Wife

Her short stories have appeared in a number of anthologies including Midnight in the Pentagram, Midnight in the Graveyard and Haunted Are These Houses.

She lives by the sea in Southport, England with her long-suffering husband, and a black cat called Serafina who has never forgotten that her species used to be worshipped in ancient Egypt. She sees no reason why that practice should not continue.

You can connect with Cat here:

Catherine Cavendish

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

MeWe

Relevant links for this article:

Detroit Free Press: https://eu.freep.com/story/news/local/michigan/wayne/2018/06/21/eloise-asylum-hospital-michigan/720896002/

https://eu.freep.com/story/news/local/michigan/wayne/2019/03/19/ghost-eloise-psychiatric-hospital-westland-haunted-basement/3204379002/

The Guardian: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/nov/11/eloise-hospital-haunted-michigan-mental-asylum

Detroit Paranormal Expeditions:

Dawn Ziegler:

Hometown Life

https://eu.hometownlife.com/story/news/local/westland/2019/10/16/scary-encounters-coming-eloise-asylum/4000027002/

Catherine Cavendish, imaginary friends and serenading the devil

Tags

Catherine Cavendish, Horror, Imaginary friends, New book, Samhain Publishing, The Devil's Serenade

 

Imaginary Friends by Catherine Cavendish

When you were growing up, did you have an imaginary friend? Did they seem real to you? Maybe sort-of-real. You could talk to them, imagine their responses, play with them – but you probably kept the ‘relationship’ within certain boundaries, however young you were. In my case, I invented an entire family of siblings – three sisters (two older, one a few years younger) and an older brother who looked out for us girls. Being an only child, I found them comforting, and fun, but I never imagined them to be real. They, in turn, kept themselves firmly lodged in my own mind and never attempted to cross any boundary into the real world.

In my new novel, The Devil’s Serenade, my central character also had an imaginary family when she was a child. Scarily for her, they now start to appear in her real adult world.

Of course, my story is fiction, but there have been a number of accounts of small children making ‘friends’ with most unsuitable imaginary friends – who then cross the line.

 

One such story concerns a woman called Layla who lived with her four year old son, Ryan and her partner in a suburb of Stoke-on-Trent in England called Trentham. Although an only child, Ryan was a good mixer, socialising well with other children and enjoying a normal childhood. He had no history of talking to himself so his mother was surprised to hear him doing just that – quit loudly – as she passed his room one January evening.

On entering his room, she found her son sitting cross-legged on the floor. She asked him who he was talking to and he replied that he had a new friend, “Fred.” They had been talking. Ryan described his new friend as, “silly.”

Layla decided there was no harm in this new imaginary friend and left him to it. For the next few weeks, Ryan could often be heard chatting and laughing and his parents thought nothing more of it, putting it down to his lively imagination.

Then, one unforgettable night, Layla and her husband were woken by an earsplitting scream. It was Ryan.

They dashed into his room and found him curled up in the corner, white-faced, his hands over his face. Layla tried to comfort him, asking him what was wrong.

Ryan sobbed. He said Fred had got angry with him and shouted at him when Ryan said it was too late to play. Then Fred had screamed at him and scared him.

It took some minutes to calm the terrified little boy down.

The next day, Layla was cleaning out Ryan’s room while he was out with his father. She had a sudden urge to warn the imaginary friend and told him to keep away from her son. “If you ever scare my child again I shall have you removed. I will take Ryan to the doctor’s if I have to.”

She felt rather silly issuing such a warning to nobody, but a strange sense of satisfaction spread over her.

Ryan came home and went immediately to his room. Shortly after, he emerged and asked his mother why he had to go to the doctor’s. “Fred says you are taking me.”

Layla stared at her son, uncomprehendingly. How could Ryan have known about her tirade in his room? She had been alone in the house at the time and told no one else about it.

Ryan continued, each word chilling Layla’s blood. “He says you told him off today when you were alone. He says he’s sorry for shouting at me and he won’t do it again.”

Layla didn’t take Ryan to the doctor and, although Ryan continued to play with ‘Fred’ for some months, nothing further happened to make her concerned. Then, Ryan stopped playing with his imaginary friend altogether.

Forever afterwards, Layla was never able to explain how Ryan could have known about her warning to Fred. Ryan could throw no light on the matter either. It remained an unsolved, intriguing mystery.

 

 

Now, to give you a taste of The Devil’s Serenade, here’s the blurb:

Maddie had forgotten that cursed summer. Now she’s about to remember…

“Madeleine Chambers of Hargest House” has a certain grandeur to it. But as Maddie enters the Gothic mansion she inherited from her aunt, she wonders if its walls remember what she’s blocked out of the summer she turned sixteen.

She’s barely settled in before a series of bizarre events drive her to question her sanity. Aunt Charlotte’s favorite song shouldn’t echo down the halls. The roots of a faraway willow shouldn’t reach into the cellar. And there definitely shouldn’t be a child skipping from room to room.

As the barriers in her mind begin to crumble, Maddie recalls the long-ago summer she looked into the face of evil. Now, she faces something worse. The mansion’s long-dead builder, who has unfinished business—and a demon that hungers for her very soul.

Here’s an extract:

A large flashlight rested on the bottom stair and I switched it on, shining it into the dark corners. There wasn’t a lot to see. A few broken bits of furniture, old fashioned kitchen chairs, some of which looked vaguely familiar, jam jars, crates that may once have held bottles of beer.

The beam caught the clump of gnarled and twisted roots that intertwined with each other, like Medusa’s snakes. I edged closer to it, my heart thumping more than it should. It was only a tree, for heaven’s sake! The nearest one was probably the willow. Surely, that was too far away? I knew little about trees, but I was pretty certain their roots couldn’t extend that far.

I examined the growth from every angle in that silent cellar. The roots were definitely spreading along the floor and, judging by the thickness and appearance of them, had been there for many years. Gray, like thick woody tendrils, they reached around six feet along and possibly four feet across at their widest point. I bent down. Close up, the smell that arose from them was cloyingly sweet. Sickeningly so. I put one hand over my nose, rested the flashlight on the steps and reached out with the fingers of my free hand to touch the nearest root. It wriggled against my palm.

I cried out, staggered backward and fell against the stairs. The flashlight clattered to the floor and went out. Only the overhead bulb provided any light, and it didn’t reach this darkest corner. Something rustled. I struggled to my feet, grabbed the torch and ran up the stairs. I slammed the door shut and locked it, leaned against it and tried to slow down my breathing. A marathon runner couldn’t have panted more.

I tapped the flashlight and it flickered into life, seemingly none the worse for its accident. I switched it off and set it on the floor by the cellar door. Whoever came to fix those roots was going to need it.

 

You can find The Devil’s Serenade here:

 

Samhain Publishing

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

And other online retailers

About the author:

Following a varied career in sales, advertising and career guidance, Cat is now the full-time author of a number of paranormal, ghostly and Gothic horror novels, novellas and short stories. She was the 2013 joint winner of the Samhain Gothic Horror Anthology Competition, with Linden Manor, which features in the anthology What Waits in the Shadows.  Other titles include: The Pendle Curse, Saving Grace Devine, Dark Avenging Angel, The Second Wife, Miss Abigail’s Room, The Demons of Cambian Street, The Devil Inside Her, Cold Revenge and In My Lady’s Chamber.

 

You can connect with Cat here:

 

Catherine Cavendish

 

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Tsu

 

How Horror-ible is the Cat?

Tags

Catherine Cavendish, Dracula, Edgar Allan Poe, Halloween, Horror, Horror fiction, Horror writing, Linden Manor, Night of the Demon, Samnhain Publishing, Saving Grace Devine, Stephen King, The fog, The Monkey's Paw, What Waits in the Shadows

 

 

Hey…hey..hey fellahs, what did we say about Hamstah Dicken’s manuscript? Are we going to bring out a picture of it?

EXACTLY.

 

 

Yes today as the Spooktacular continues

I’m thrilled to welcome  a real, live horror writer. AND, not just any old one but

——cos I do. And I also get to welcome a lady who has been on a roll this year, the super talented Catherine Cavendish who writes it the finest horror tradition.

What she drew in the Spooktacular was the seven questions. And since she writes horror, what else would they be about BUT horror.

1 Why do you write horror?

When I was a child, we read The Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jacobs at school.

I could have only been about nine

I loved the way it scared me – deliciously. Then, when I was around twelve or thirteen, I started reading Dennis Wheatley – The Devil Rides Out, To The Devil A Daughter,

The Satanist and The Ka of Gifford Hillary were early favourites. I’d read in bed at night and be too scared to switch the light off! As the years went by, M.R. James,

Edgar Allan Poe, Daphne Du Maurier, Anne Rice, Stephen King and James Herbert were added to my authors of choice. Horror became one of my two favourite genres (along with historical fiction). So, when it came to my own writing, it is probably only natural I should want to attempt to reproduce on paper what I most enjoyed reading myself.

2 Ignoring the hamstahs, how would you describe your blend of horror?

My horror tends to be of the ‘creep up behind and scare you’ variety. While there can be violent scenes in my books, you won’t find many mutilated body parts or excessive gore. I think that’s because I tend towards the more traditional Gothic horror style. You will often find a creepy, haunted house or bleak, ancient landscape in my stories, but rarely (never so far) someone going on the rampage with a chainsaw!

3 Where do your ideas come from?

Anywhere or everywhere. A chance remark led to the title, and then plot of Cold Revenge; a spooky walk-in cupboard in our flat inspired The Demons of Cambian Street. A nightmare provided the basic storyline for Saving Grace Devin, and the inspiration for Linden Manor came from the competition brief supplied by Samhain Horror Publishing’s Executive Editor, Don D’Auria. When he announced that he was looking for entries for the Gothic Horror competition last year, he wrote, “Come with me into a world of isolated mansions, ruined castles, guttering candles, dark shadows, and of course…creeping horror…” I immediately thought of a house.

A dark, forbidding, Gothic pile of a house, set at the end of a broad avenue of lime (linden) trees. Then, an image of a mature student, researching ancient local nursery rhymes for her dissertation came into my mind, swiftly flowed by the opening lines of an odd little ditty, “Run and hide, Far and wide, Run and hide from the Scottish Bride…” A story was born.

If you look at the other winning novellas in the What Waits In The Shadows anthology– Blood Red Roses by Russell James, Castle By The Sea by JG Faherty and Bootleg Cove by Devin Govaere, you can see we all stuck to the brief!

4 Fav horror film?

Now, this is a tough one. I usually prefer the old films – frequently in black and white – so atmospheric. One I never tire of is Night of the Demon, adapted from a short story by M.R. James,

but I also loved the John Carpenter classic, The Fog and…it’s a pretty long list actually!

5 Fav horror story?

 

This is even harder! Pretty much anything by the authors I listed earlier, but I also love Susan Hill’s The Woman In Black among many, many others.

 

6 Fav interpretation of Dracula onscreen?

For me, Christopher Lee brought the right combination of gravitas and kitsch to the role.

7 Halloween plans?

Well, I’ve just had my broomstick serviced (it flew through its M.O.T.), my pointy black hat is back from the dry cleaners, and I’ve told all the spiders to build tidy cobwebs (you should see what happened when I gave them a cup of coffee!). So, let’s party! Bring your own cauldrons of course…

 

Four original novellas of Gothic horror! Enter if you dare four worlds of chilling Gothic horror. Feel the oppressive heat on a plantation in the Old South, where the spirits of the dead do not rest easy. Smell the salt air in a dilapidated coastal restaurant on the Chesapeake Bay, a restaurant with a very deadly past. Explore a British manor house, but remember, what you find may have been looking for you. Hear the pounding surf beyond the stone walls of a looming castle that shouldn’t even exist. But regardless of the setting, no matter what you may think you hear or see, the truly terrifying thing is…

 

…What Waits In The Shadows

 

Buy Links:

Samhain Publishing

Amazon

B&N

 

You can connect with Cat here:

Catherine Cavendish

Facebook

Twitter

 

Pinterest

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It’s Black Friday..with Catherine Cavendish

Tags

Catherine Cavendish, Georgia, ghosts, haunting, Horror, Poole Mill's Bridge, Samhain Publishing, Saving Grace Devine, the undead

 

 

 

 

Okay…okay… Firstly there is no It’s girl Friday today.

Incy Black, author of the fast and furious and fabulous Hard To Hold

has launched a wonderful  new feature

The Redoubtable Shehanne Moore

Sorry…that’s not what it’s called. It’s called

Fire Starters
Writers/Books that ignite that ‘something’ in me…

http://incyblack.weebly.com/blog-into-the-black/july-04th-2014

So, yeah I am blowing my own trumpet cos it’s damned good of Ince to do this and help me out when I’ve been kinda snowed under. I’m also going to be having a kind of week of Girl Friday on the themes, settings, characters  of my own books, kicking off  with a Scottish themed week on Monday for His Judas Bride,

 

 

That’s what you think….  What kind of hero, what kind of heroine, how action leads to reaction and drives the plot forward,  etc, etc, etc, so for today we are giving It’s Girl Friday a miss and  welcoming the lovely Catherine Cavendish….get off her neck…

Catherine has been here before but she is one talented lady and what’s more  has a new book out. Saving Grace Devine.

Let me tell you all you fans of horror, it’s a cracker. Right up the street of those who like that little bit of past mystery with their horror. Ooh, got the chills already.

So here she is. Par excellence. With a  very special creepy blog post.

I know……..

The Blue Girl of Poole Mill’s Bridge

By Catherine Cavendish

‘In my new novel, Saving Grace Devine, a young girl is drowned, but her spirit returns to haunt the lakeside where she met her untimely end. She seeks help from the living, to help her cross over to the afterlife.
From my research, it would appear that my fictional Grace is not alone. Many people have reported seeing ghosts of drowned girls who are all apparently earthbound. Searching for something, or someone. In need of help from the living to help them join the world of spirit.
So it is with this account – that of the mysterious and frightening Blue Girl of Poole Mill’s Bridge.

Situated in Forsyth County, Georgia, Poole Mill’s Bridge is set in a delightful location and is one of the few remaining lattice work covered bridges. There are a number of stories relating to hauntings there but that of the Blue Girl is probably the most persistent.

Back in the 1930s, on a burning hot day, a young family – mother, father and nine year old daughter -decided to take a picnic there. Enticed by the cool water, the little girl ran down to the creek to paddle. She ignored the calls of her mother to be careful and, what none of them realized was that recent heavy rain had made the creek much deeper than it looked. The child kicked off her shoes and socks and jumped into the water. Her screams sent her parents running down to the water but the strong current was already sweeping her away, into imminent danger.

 

In those days, a water wheel operated a grist mill there and the little girl was swept straight towards it. Her father dived in and, although he was a strong swimmer, he could not save her. He grabbed at the big blue bow on the back of her dress just seconds too late, as she was swept under the mighty wheel. Even the efforts of the mill workers weren’t enough to save her. They retrieved her lifeless body – her face as blue as the bow on her dress. The devastated couple left with her and never returned to the county. No one knew their names.

News of the tragedy spread quickly and soon strange stories began to emerge. People reported seeing a young girl dressed in her Sunday best in a pretty dress with a large blue bow. They would see her at the bridge, totally dry – except for dripping wet hair. Then she would vanish.

Years went by and a Vietnam veteran named Chuck Morse, down on his luck, happened to be sitting in a bar, when he got into conversation with a World War II veteran who showed him a large gold nugget he said his grandson had found up at Poole’s Bridge. Chuck could barely believe his eyes. By the size of it, the nugget must be worth thousands of dollars. When his companion told him there was allegedly much more where that came from, Chuck didn’t need any greater motivation. He wasn’t even deterred when the older man told him that the new park built on that site meant daylight digging was impossible without getting caught and that, at nighttime, people tended to leave it well alone. “Why?” Chuck asked.

The man told him of a friend of his – BJ Corliss – who had been up near Poole Mill’s Bridge and had seen a young girl, dressed in her Sunday best dress, not a wrinkle on it, but with wet hair. As he approached her, she vanished. Then she sprang up again not ten feet away from him. He saw the bluish tinge to her skin and ran for his life. Chuck had heard stories of the Blue Girl since his childhood. He wasn’t about to believe in such fairy stories. He laughed, paid the tab and left. The older man was insistent – BJ had told him no amount of gold would ever tempt him to dig there after dark.

Chuck started for home. An old man’s wild stories. Impossibly large gold nuggets. Couldn’t be real, could it? But if there was just one slim chance it was, his whole life could transform overnight. All he had to do was go up to Poole Mill’s Bridge and dig there. After dark. Then he’d find out one way or another.

Back home, he thrust pickaxe, shovel and any other tools he might need into the back of his old truck and drove off up to Poole Mill. First he had to find the remains of the now long-demolished grist mill – and the old millstone. He stepped over heavy stones, tripped and slipped into the cold water, bashing his leg against a rock. In pain and anger, he threw the heavy stone out onto the bank. Then he retrieved the flashlight he had dropped when he fell, and shone it into the water. Something glittered. But it wasn’t a gold nugget. He picked up a small, heart-shaped gold locket that must have lain buried under the stone that had injured him. As he examined it, his flashlight suddenly went out.

 

But behind him a strange glow he thought at first was moonlight, grew stronger. Then he heard a sound that chilled his blood. Tiny footsteps splashing in the water. He whirled around and saw the girl, glowing blue, dressed in her Sunday dress with her wet hair. He cried out in terror. “Please God, help me!”

The girl stared at him, her eyes sad and filled with longing. He realized he was rubbing the locket.

It’s hers. She wants it back, he thought. His fear almost paralysed him but, with a great effort, he held it out to her. She came closer and took it from him. Then she smiled. And vanished.

Despite his injured leg, Chuck raced up the hill and back to his truck. He never returned to dig for the gold. Plenty of others have – but no one has reported seeing the Blue Girl since. It seems that her locket was her only remaining link with her family. It must have come adrift during her terrible accident. Now she has been reunited with it, her reason for haunting is over.

But still those who have heard Chuck’s story won’t venture up there after dark.

Here’s a flavour of Saving Grace Devine:

Can the living help the dead…and at what cost?
When Alex Fletcher finds a painting of a drowned girl, she’s unnerved. When the girl in the painting opens her eyes, she is terrified. And when the girl appears to her as an apparition and begs her for help, Alex can’t refuse.
But as she digs further into Grace’s past, she is embroiled in supernatural forces she cannot control, and a timeslip back to 1912 brings her face to face with the man who killed Grace and the demonic spirit of his long-dead mother. With such nightmarish forces stacked against her, Alex’s options are few. Somehow she must save Grace, but to do so, she must pay an unimaginable price.
You can find Saving Grace Devine in all usual ebook formats here:

Samhain Publishing
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
Amazon.ca
Amazon.com.au
B&N
Kobo

and in paperback here:

Samhain Publishing
About the author
Catherine Cavendish is joint winner of the Samhain Gothic Horror Anthology competition 2013. Her winning novella – Linden Manor – is now available in all digital formats and the print anthology will be published in October. She is the author of a number of paranormal horror and Gothic horror novellas and short stories. . Her novel, Saving Grace Devine, has just been published by Samhain Publishing.
She lives with a longsuffering husband in North Wales. Her home is in a building dating back to the mid-18th century which is haunted by a friendly ghost, who announces her presence by footsteps, switching lights on and strange phenomena involving the washing machine and the TV.

When not slaving over a hot computer, Cat enjoys wandering around Neolithic stone circles and visiting old haunted houses.

You can connect with Cat here:
http://www.catherinecavendish.com
https://www.facebook.com/CatherineCavendishWriter?ref=hl
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4961171.Catherine_Cavendish
http://twitter.com/#!/cat_cavendish

 

What lies in wait tomorrow at Linden Manor with Catherine Cavendish

Tags

Catyherine Cavendish, Horror, Horror Novella, Lady Mary Howard, Linden Manor, Richard Grenville

 

 

All right, all right, so I did release you and we all know about the little book deal you guys struck with Catherine but you are a day early. Catherine’s fabulous new book isn’t out until tomorrow. But I can’t wait to have her over either. I’m so excited for her because this isn’t just any old story….it’s an anthology win story with Samhain Publishing.

YAY!!!! And it being a horror story,  the fangs are good fellahs, so we’ll let it go.

Okay….but I am also  seeing words here like SCOTISH BRIDE….YES! I mean we know there are some wonderful horror stories about them. And not just that. I’m just back from a fabby weekend in  Glencoe…voila the Lochan yesterday….

Where the lot of us actually discussed Sir Richard Grenville. I mean yes. Wow! Did we not have better things to do? BUT I do see he is menshied right here in Cat’s special blog. SO naturally I am desperate to share it with you. So TAKE IT AWAY CAT and………….. Let me tell you this is one talented lady and her horror stories will have you on the very edge of your seat.

 

 

 

 

 

By CATHERINE CAVENDISH   “My ladye hath a sable coach, And horses two and four; My ladye hath a black blood-hound That runneth on before. My ladye’s coach hath nodding plumes, The driver hath no head; My ladye is an ashen white, As one that long is dead.” My novella – Linden Manor – features the ghost of Lady Celia Fitzmichael, about whom a scary nursery rhyme was written, which haunted my main character, Lesley Carpenter. In it, Lady Celia is never mentioned by name. Instead, she is referred to as ‘The Scottish bride.’ And woe betide you if you laid eyes on her ‘blackened face’. This made me research other notable hauntings by tormented brides (and women generally) and, inevitably, my path led to Devon, home of so many wonderful hauntings and folklore. Here, I found a tale which has all the hallmarks of a Daphne du Maurier dark story (OK, I know she wrote in neighbouring Cornwall, but you get my drift.) The tale of Lady Mary Howard is a dark and tragic one. Every night, her ghostly carriage and massive black dog, regularly travel sixteen miles from Okehampton Castle to Fitzford House and back again. Each time, the purpose of their journey appears to be to transport a single blade of grass. So who was Lady Mary? And why does she perform this repetitive ritual?She was born Mary Fitz in 1596, only legitimate child of Sir John Fitz, a man whose inherited wealth made him too rich, too young (at age 21). He spent his money, sinking into depravity and degeneracy to Dorian Gray proportions. His wickedness eventually alienated him from the whole of Tavistock – the town near his home of Fitzford House. Then, two men were killed on the steps of his house. They included his best friend. John Fitz slid into insanity and committed suicide at the age of 30, leaving nine year old Mary alone. She was sold by King James I to the Earl of Northumberland. He married her off to his brother, Sir Allan Percy, to ensure her fortune passed to their family when Mary was just twelve years old. Her new husband was 31.The enforced marriage was shortlived as Percy caught a chill while on a hunting trip and died in 1611. Soon after, Mary eloped with her true love, Thomas Darcy. Tragically though, he died just a few months later. Mary had yet to celebrate her sixteenth birthday, so she was technically still the Earl’s ward. He married her off to husband number three – Sir Charles Howard, fourth son of the Earl of Suffolk. They had two children who both appear to have died in infancy. Then he too succumbed and died – of unknown causes – leaving Mary a widow for the third time at the age of just 26.By now, tongues were wagging. That’s a lot of husbands to lose in rapid succession. Had the father lived on in his daughter? After all, didn’t Sir John Fitz become mixed up in murder at one time? By now, perhaps as a result of her experiences at the hands of unscrupulous men, Mary had learned a little about keeping her hands firmly on her own purse-strings. She was now a wealthy and desirable widow and married husband number four – Sir Richard Grenville – who no doubt thought he was onto a good thing. He soon found out his new wife wasn’t to be taken advantage of. He didn’t like it and vented his wrath cruelly on her. Mary refused to relent, and kept her money safe. In the end, Sir Richard’s cruelty became too much for Mary and she sued for divorce, between 1631-32. From then on, a series of extraordinary events saw Sir Richard imprisoned for debt, his subsequent disappearance for seven years and terrible injustice heaped on Mary when he returned and a court ordered that he could seize Fitzford House and her possessions. When Mary eventually turned up there (she had been living in London), she found the mansion wrecked. Her marriage to Grenville was the only one to produce children – a son, Richard, who died young, and two daughters, Elizabeth and Mary – neither of whom Mary had anything to do with as they served as a constant reminder of their father. She did keep one child with her though. Her son, George, born around 1634 and whose father is unknown (possibly Theophilus, Earl of Suffolk). As she grew older and remained, with her son, at the restored Fitzford House, Lady Mary became noted around Tavistock for her strong will and imperious temper. When her son died unexpectedly in 1671, she never recovered and died soon after. Then the legendary hauntings began. It is said that, at dead of night, the gates of Fitzford House creak open and a massive black hound, with flaming red eyes bounds forward. Behind it rattles a coach made of bones, driven by a headless coachman. Its single passenger is a ghostly lady. Sixteen miles up the road, the coach stops at Okehampton Castle where the dog picks a single blade of grass. Back at Fitzford House, the dog lays this carefully down on a stone. Legend has it that when all the grass has been thus transported from Okehampton castle, Lady Mary will finally be at rest. We just don’t know why! Now, here’s a flavour of Linden Manor: Have you ever been so scared your soul left your body?  All her life, Lesley Carpenter has been haunted by a gruesome nursery rhyme—“The Scottish Bride”—sung to her by her great grandmother. To find out more about its origins, Lesley visits the mysterious Isobel Warrender, the current hereditary owner of Linden Manor, a grand house with centuries of murky history surrounding it.  But her visit transforms into a nightmare when Lesley sees the ghost of the Scottish bride herself, a sight that, according to the rhyme, means certain death. The secrets of the house slowly reveal themselves to Lesley, terrible secrets of murder, evil and a curse that soaks the very earth on which Linden Manor now stands. But Linden Manor has saved its most chilling secret for last.   Linden Manor is available from: Amazon.com Amazon.co.uk  Amazon.ca  Amazon.com.au  Kobo B&N About the author Catherine Cavendish lives with a longsuffering husband and mildly eccentric tortoiseshell cat in North Wales. Her home is in a building dating back to the mid 18th century which is haunted by a friendly ghost, who announces her presence by footsteps, switching lights on and strange phenomena involving the washing machine and the TV. When not slaving over a hot computer, Cat enjoys wandering around Neolithic stone circles and visiting old haunted houses. www.catherinecavendish.com https://www.facebook.com/CatherineCavendishWriter?ref=hl http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4961171.Catherine_Cavendish http://twitter.com/#!/cat_cavendish

T’was the Nightmare before Christmas

Tags

Advent calendar, Catherine Cavendish, Christmas, Christmas Horror stories, Demon, Horror, Horror flash fiction, Julia Kavan, Massacre Magazine, Steve Emmett

It was now 10  o’clock on Christmas Eve and she had done no shopping…….Duh de duh du DAAAAAAAH. I guess that would be a nightmare.

So, today in the advent calendar of sorts, I am going  to show you something  really Christmassy, stick with the fact C is for Christmas and M is for  The just launched brainchild of horror authors Steve Emmett and Julia Kavan. That is horror as in the genre ok? Steve and Jules are nice people. What is more they and the lovely Catherine Cavendish have a surprise for you today— specially written 50 word stories, on the theme–

THE DEMON AT CHRISTMAS.

Where does it lurk? What does it do?  Is it happy, sad, or just plain demonic? These were the questions I asked the willing threesome. We all like a creepy Christmas after all. I mean these little children up there on the Christmas card, could just as easily have found a box of human limbs….  And maybe a creature wasn’t stirring all through house, the poem says nothing about demons…   So hush now, draw up your chair….we start with Catherine Cavendish.

Cat is the author of several horror books, including

Amazon.com Amazon.co.uk Omnilit Barnes and Noble Kobo

and

Amazon.com Amazon.ca  Amazon.co.uk Omnilit 

in addition to recently signing with Samhain Cat has plainly found inspiration in something we all associate with Christmas…

Angel

I see everything from the top of this tree.

The family – one less this year – toasts the absent son. Cocktails of merriment and sorrow. Next year will bring another empty chair.

 December 31^st.  Darkness falls.

So mote it be…

They call me the Christmas angel.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

copyright Catherine Cavendish.

Are you all still here…? And you thought these red things hanging on your tree were baubles? Is the angel still there? I don’t mean have you removed it… I mean is it walking about?

Providing you are still here and the angel has flown, we move to our second offering. This time from Mr Steve Emmett,

author of a very devilish tale, to name but a few of Steve’s many talents.

Amazon.com Amazon.ca  Sony eBookstore WH Smith

Steve has even appeared on a video with us! Lucky Steve! Steve’s story could just as easily be titled, Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the sack again… It seems empty. Oh and look, it’s nice and red.

                          THE DEMON AT CHRISTMAS

The arse end of the sack. What a place to spend Christmas. All those jolly souls I could be gathering. But no. Stuck here –  hungry, alone under these boxes.  But wait, what approaches?

Oh, I smell an innocent! I see tiny fingers.

One innocent soul will last a year.

copyright Steve Emmett.

All right so that was definitely,  Honey have you seen the kids?’ Or maybe even… Honey have you eaten them?

Last, but  by no means least, we have Julia Kavan on her first visit here, which we hope will not be her last….

Like Steve and Cat, Julia is a UK horror writer who loves exploring the darker side of human nature. (WordPress can you please upload Julia’s book cover or you will be exploring mine–thank you.  

a beautifully told short tale about a woman seduced by a dream lover who slips into …….More would be telling.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dreaming-Not-Sleeping-ebook/dp/B004LGTKJQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1308470579&sr=1-1

So what did Julia make of the 50 word horror challenge, I horribly set her? Hmmmm well.. Read on Macduff… her demon takes on quite a  different shape.

                        THE DEMON AT CHRISTMAS 

“Tis the season to be jolly…” Jim grinned and swung the axe. Her fault… damn song…every Christmas… thirty years… over and over…Holly’s screams drowned the words out. Blood dripped like falling berries. He was only doing what he’d been told… over and over… “Deck the halls… with boughs of holly…”

Copyright Julia Kavan.

One thing’s forsure, it gives new meaning t the song. Seriously I want to thank three very talented horror writers for coming up not with this fabulous advent treat today for you all but something very different. Not only can they be found here…

http://steve-emmett.com/    http://juliakavan.com/  www.catherinecavendish.com ……………

launched a few days ago AND as well as being available on kindle on

Amazon.com   

Amazon.co.uk Amazon.ca  Amazon.au  as well as flying up the charts because it’s bold and different, and you can read an itnerview with Steve and Julia here, www.catherinecavendish.com/…/massacre–magazine–launches–

they are open to submissions  http://massacrepublishing.com/submissions/

YES!

Write horror? Push the boundaries? What are you waiting for?

Now…..where’s that angel?

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