Warren Rome

Warren Rome

Author of the Macabre

Check out my latest blog with a couple of video's uploaded from my first Lucy-Anne experiment

Find the blog at:



Issues on my blog

Due to my blog not allowing me to upload images or video files, I have moved my blog elsewhere.  From now on, I will maintain this but only with links to my new blog.  (https://medium.com/@Authorofthemacabre)

Thanks all and Stay Scared!





Hello guys and gals,


Just a very brief update as I realise I have not produced a single blog in 2016!  This year has started so busily that I have simply not had a chance.  Never one for writing something for the sake of it, I resisted entering a blog that was half-hearted or worse - boring!


In January we returned to #30eastdrive and we had another exciting and interesting investigation.  I will not go into details on this particular blog as I will be penning a full report in due course.  However some rather exciting news on the horizon relating to this is that I have begun work on a documentary about my investigations, books and love of horror (well, at the time of writing, these are the planned subjects).  It has been something I have wanted to do sometime and typically, I have decided to produce a movie when I am ludicrously busy with other projects and work.  

I have included a link to my youtube channel: 


On here under the title (#30eastdrive) you will find a teaser trailer of what is to come; enjoy.


This year was always going to prove to be a busy one.  I will be flying to Glasgow later this month for a couple of days with work.  Next month I have a trip with my partner to her home in Switzerland over Easter.  Watch this space for some photo's of the stunning scenery.  Later in the year I will be visiting the USA and plan to visit Seattle, New York and California.  I am so excited about these trips and will report back on my adventures - right here!


I will re-commence the writing on the second part of my trilogy 'The Hell's Overspill Trilogy' which of course follows on from my October release 'The Field'.  Sales have been decent so far, so much so that I have slashed the prices on both of my books in both the UK and USA.  I have provided a link below for the UK releases but if you are based in the USA then simply go to www.amazon.com and search for me under W A Rome.  You will find both novels here for bargain prices on ebook / kindle.  The prices won't remain this way for long so get on it whilst you can.  Whilst I am on the subject, if anyone is interested, I do still have five spare copies of 'The Field' which are signed and come with complimentary artwork.  They are available for £14.99 + P&P and if you are interested just drop me a message via the 'contact me' page on my website (www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com)  I am hoping that the second part of the trilogy will be out in the summer.  It is titled 'Scab' and I have currently written a third of the first draft.  This book follows on from #thefield and although will be a smaller book, it should complement the first book pretty well.


Finally, I am arranging a ghost hunt with the #mosthaunted team and hope to sort this over the next couple of months.  Again, I will keep you all posted on here.

Anyway, I must be off...


Until the next time - Stay Scared!



Amazon UK Link:












30 East Drive - October 2015

30 East Drive, Pontefract


I would consider myself a fan of horror.  Some prefer slasher, some giallo, others lean towards supernatural terror or torture-porn.  I am a fan of horror – no matter the sub-genre.  Whilst some are ‘turned off’ by a slow building tense affair, I revel in it as much as a white-knuckle, thrill-a-minute roller-coaster ride of an experience.  With this in mind it is fair to say that I have enjoyed, I use the term ‘enjoyed’ to enable me to dispose of potentially using the term ‘taken something from’.  The reason for this is obvious as I have no intention of taking anything away with me when investigating supernatural or supposed supernatural locations.  Back to the point, I have enjoyed all of my investigations to date.  Some have been the aforementioned white-knuckle ride (NewshamOrphange) to a more, tense, crescendo-building affair (Drakelow Tunnels).  If you are not aware of my previous investigations be sure to seek them out on my previous blogs (www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com).  The intense build-up to my visit on 21st October 2015 at 30 East Drive, Pontefract, brought not only trepidation, but genuine fear within the team, particularly after viewing with disbelief, the airing of Episodes one and two, season fifteen of ‘Most Haunted’.  Strange and coincidence it may have been that our visit on that Wednesday was sandwiched between those two episodes.  If the reputation of 30 East Drive had not garnered such a wide-spread terrifying fervour beforehand, it certainly had after those episodes aired (the fire was further stoked by the live event aired on Halloween night, again with the Most Haunted team).  With a film (When the Lights Went Out) and numerous documentaries already to its name, my team were only too aware of the potential for allowing the reputation to pollute our investigation.  This was something we discussed and attempted at all times to keep in mind.  Like I mentioned earlier however, I am partial to a slow-tense affair and our investigation at 30 East Drive was certainly that – but did it deliver?  I will let you decide upon concluding this report.


All smiles as we anticipate our investigation


As I arrived with Niki earlier than the rest of the team we enjoyed a short conversation with Carol, a spiritual medium and neighbour to 30 East Drive.  Carol, having been a resident for many years has encountered many experiences with the house.  Living next door of course, one would expect that one could cross-paths with the invading spirits that according to legend, reside at the abode.  It was indeed intriguing to discover however, that Carol’s house too is not without its fair share of activity.  I have attached a video of our first viewing of the house.  Upon entering it would be untruthful to suggest we did so without apprehension.  However, we needed to retrieve the huge amount of equipment and baggage we had brought along for the investigation – not forgetting our chippy-tea!  It was at this point we realised the strange gathering of folk outside of the house.  Remembering Carol’s earlier warning “to expect people knocking at the door and requesting a visit and look around the house”.  With this is mind it was still strange to observe people in cars and standing around watching our every move.


Passing ships...


Initially after setting up our many camera’s and computers we scouted the house to get a feel for the place.  It was hard, knowing the history and numerous accounts of terrifying experiences, not to feel slightly unnerved.  We persevered and this strange feeling thankfully soon dissipated.  The group agreed and beginning the first seance of the evening in the living room.  Using our trusty table and a glass we began a glass rotation experiment.  There was little to report at the beginning but after a few minutes of no activity the glass began to move, responding to our questioning.  We added the words ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at the north and south sides of the table to aid the cause and before long we were engaging with a spirit who was calling itself “Emily”.  This was not only strange but upon further investigating post the event we discovered that one of the victims of the infamous Black Monk of Pontefract was a child named Emily.  Emily had met her grisly demise by being thrown down the well, buried under the house.  Stranger still, the owner of the property and director of the movie “When the lights went out”confirmed that nobody else had interacted with this spirit previously.  This was encouraging and of course, quite an outstanding result.  After over thirty minutes engaging we closed the seance down and took a well-earned break.


Brian exploring the hallway...


The now 'infamous' knife, made famous by 'Most Haunted'

As seen on 'Most Haunted'


The next experiment we began with a K2 EMF meter.  Measuring electrical magnetic impulses in the air, we were surprised with the lack of results initially.  However I returned to this particular piece of equipment the following morning and received some excellent results in both the ‘coal-hole’ and in the living room too.   Responding when questioning if I was accompanied by a spirit, the lights flashed to red and responded to my questions.  This was a much better result and rather surprising considering it was taking place in the safety of the daylight.


The team gathering for a vigil in the back-bedroom

Louise, pensive as she makes her way up the stairs.


I spent the evening constantly snapping photographs and after taking a few rounds I was shocked to see the picture of the shadow person emerging into view into the living room.  This strange occurrence as only further clouded by the fact that I had taken numerous photographs within seconds of that one and  from the same position at the same location and this figure did not appear on any other photo.

The 'Shadow-man' emerging into view

Zoom in shot of the 'Shadow-man'


After watching ‘Most Haunted’ and using the name they had indicated they thought to be of one of the spirits in the house, we placed the letters on the floor in the hope that some unseen hands may manoeuvre them into a different position.  Unfortunately, nothing occurred with this experiment.  With my locked-off camera in the far room, it was strange that over the first few hours of setting it up, I had encountered so many difficulties.  It would switch itself off on numerous occasions, go into hibernation mode, or reset itself without anyone disturbing it from my team.  To add further confusion, after the initial few hours of this, it remained switched on for a further twelve hours without a problem.  This particular camera was locked on two polystyrene balls and a bible.  We had set this up to hopefully capture some movement and we no-doubt would have done so but for the sudden loss of light (someone or something switched the light off).  I asked every member of my team and it was confirmed without doubt that the light switch had not been turned off by the hand of one of our team.  Looking back on the recording, the light is turned off and twenty minutes later I noted this and switched it on.  It was only then that we realised that the spirit in the room had seized the opportunity to move the balls a few inches without being noted on camera.


Setting up the locked-off camera

Word games can be fun!

Experimenting with currency

Camera set-up completed


As the evening progressed into beyond the midnight hour, and after a well-earned cup of tea, we began an experiment using my recently acquired S-PB7 AKA a ‘Ghost or Spirit box’.  This interesting contraption creates white noise in which the user may supposedly contact the dead.  The spirits (according to belief) are able to use the radio signals to communicate directly through the box to enable us to decipher messages from beyond the grave.  This exciting piece of equipment was used initially in the smallest bedroom and was soon moved to the living room, main bedroom and finally, coal-house.  Although nothing was evident at the time, when sifting quickly through the footage, I encountered an unearthly scream that interjected into a conversation between my team members and was initiated when a female member of the team laughed out loud, the scream instantly became apparent on the DVR (digital voice recorder).  To this day I cannot explain who or what made the horrible noise but I can personally vouch that it was not created by a member of the team on that night.


The doll to the right inexplicably keeled over in the night.

Orbs and 'shapes' in the living room.  Could that be the figure of a spirit?


Orb action.

More orb action with additional zoomed image of mirror to show what appears to be an orb in motion.

K2 Experiment 


The spirit box was used again the following morning and unfortunately owing to time constraints, I am yet to sift through the footage.  I am aware that a number of people have been patiently waiting for this report and in order to achieve this, I have had to release this blog without fully checking through every piece of footage.  I will do in due course but due to my new book release (The Field ‘Chapter One of “The Hell’s Overspill Trilogy”  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Field-Chapter-Hells-Overspill-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B017FC8DOK/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1449229331&sr=8-2&keywords=w+a+rome) and the amount of time and effort taking to promote this I have had to temporarily leave the footage for the time being.


Orbs in the main bedroom.


Using my laser grid pen we set up on the stairs.  This was left for over two hours and we took photographs and camcorder footage throughout.  I have attached three shots which are quite incredible. Could it be that ‘Emily’ was attempting to make an appearance?  I think it wise to suggest you decide for yourselves...


Laser grid on the stairs.

Is 'Emily' emerging into view?

Meet 'Emily'


Emily in nightdress?


We decided to take a few hours rest after 4 am. It was inexplicably strange and impossible to explain, but as my team one by one began to fall asleep leaving just Brian, my brother and I awake, a strange eerie atmosphere enveloped us.  The feeling of being watched and the sudden drop in temperature was quite exquisite.  Not one of us dared to look into the blackness that was the dining area. I simply cannot explain it.  Potentially it was the knowledge that we were indeed all falling asleep.  Maybe it was tiredness setting in after along night of investigations.  One thing is for sure, I can say that personally, it was one of the creepiest experiences I have encountered in all of the investigations I have participated in.


Master bedroom.  The necklace moved inexplicably throughout the evening.

Orb on the stairs.

The downstairs toilet; very inviting?

The roving jewellery

The notorious coal-hole.   Note my SPB-7 Spirit box on the shelf.


The following morning we began investigating once more.  The K2 meter proved extremely effective.  It appeared that ‘Emma’ or ‘Emily’ again wished to communicate.  This occurred mainly in the living room.  However the K2 became extremely active when I completed a lone vigil in the coal-hole.  There are many points which I believe require further investigation and that is why my team and I will be returning to 30 East Drive on the 20th January 2016.


Those Stairs!

The bathroom


Strange items, little memories or items that remain from past investigations?

Please don't leave me!

The bed where a visitor was reputedly strangled in the night.

Niki and I using the SPB-7


Apologies it has taken so long but I have encountered so many issues with my blog and have been unable to upload images.   I am still trying to upload video's and audio footage so watch this space...

Have a lovely weekend one and all and remember... Stay Scared!





The Field "Chapter Three"

So here is as promised, the third and final chapter before the release of the full book 'The Field'.  I really hope you enjoy it as the build up to Hallows Eve continues.   I will try and upload the full report with video's and photo's over the coming days so keep checking back on my blog if you are interested in what occurred on October 21st /22nd in 30 East Drive, Pontefract.  It was an unforgettable investigation...


For now though, my third chapter of 'The Field'.  Enjoy...

Stay Scared,









Like a pneumatic drill to the dome, the scream echoed around the large room.  Chloe looked at the Doctor in an attempt to decipher the cause of the unnerving disruption.  Vaheys was calm, he beckoned her beyond the doorway and it locked automatically behind them as they entered.

“I was thinking that I could introduce you to your patient right away, as I am sure you have had enough of my induction for the time being.  I can let you meet him and collect you, in, shall we say twenty minutes?  Yes, I think that would be splendid!  A little introduction to get you started and then I can introduce you to the nurses on duty and of course, show you around your, shall we say, permitted zones? He-he  ”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically.  She was nervous beyond belief but extremely excited to be allowed the opportunity to interact with her patient, James.

“Most of our patients are housed in rooms with glass walls.  I will endeavour to show you some examples; they are in these places to enable us, of course, to keep watch over them at all times as they are likely to injure themselves given any opportunity.  James on the other hand, is harmless.  He is happy to be away from the other patients and in his own quarters.  Enter my dear, say hello to your patient...”

The door had been unlocked and the doctor in some macabre and twisted ceremonial sidestep, took Chloe by the arm gleefully, and like a sportsman proudly sporting his winning trophy to his adoring fans, Vaheys stretched out his arms in delight:

“James, this is Miss Attwald.  She will be asking you some questions and getting to know you over the course of the next few weeks.  Miss Attwald is a guest here; I would appreciate it if you would treat her with the respect you would treat your nurses, psychologist and any member of staff.  Miss Attwald, I will return in twenty minutes to conclude your tour of the hospital.”

Vaheys closed the door as he left, leaving Chloe standing, motionless and observing the frail individual facing the corner of his brightly painted prison-like cell.  The patient did not move an inch; his failure to acknowledge her presence had been expected, so Chloe attempted at conversation by introducing herself in the softest voice she could muster.  The room was small and cold.  The bed had a single plastic sheet covering the mattress and at the foot of his cradle was a single white sheet; his one item of “luxury” afforded due to the conclusion that he posed no danger to himself or others.  The sparse room contained no personal items and the bleached sterile walls reflected back at Chloe with a blank disposition.


Her patient remained still and a few minutes had passed before Chloe realised that she had not spoken to James since her initial greeting.  He was dressed in a long white, draping poncho that hung off his shoulders revealing the top of his slender back.  He was certainly malnourished and his bones protruded so hideously that Chloe imagined, if she were to turn him around, to her horror the skeletal face grinning at her would confirm his passing away some years previous.  The doctors and nurses would have continued on in their ways, never having noticed they were a patient down and left him to rot in his pitiful gown, staring forever more at the blank wall situated only a few centimetres from his gaze.


Although seated, it was easy to decipher he was not a tall man.  His unkempt, greasy hair that nested on his head was thinning and emphasising his poor health.  Chloe opened her notebook and took in a lungful of air before attempting a second round of introductions:

“I guess you are not in the mood for talking today James?  That’s perfectly fine.  I mean, I have days like that all of the time.  I hope you don’t mind if I visit you again tomorrow?  Maybe we could try again and get to know each other a little better?  I am here to help you in whatever way I can.  I am going to read your file tonight to gain a little insight into what they say is troubling you, but I think it would be much more special, and maybe even helpful to you, if you could tell me how you are feeling.  Maybe you could let me know how they are treating you in here.  Anything that you might like in your room or something?”

The statuesque figure of her patient still perched on his bed, facing the wall and silent, was not the sight she had envisaged.  Still, this was her virgin voyage on a “real” case and it would take a lot more than ten minutes of being ignored to dampen her enthusiasm.  Chloe considered that if she had been given the file of her patient just the night before, she might be able to invoke a minor element of response.  The confidence in her abilities was not misjudged.  She had after all, been handpicked for the case; James’ psychiatrist had failed after two years of tests and experiments and had practically given up on all hope of reaching the distant patient of room 213.

“Maybe a picture perhaps to break up the white decor?  Or even some flowers to brighten up the place the right way, hey James?”

Chloe realised that she was blabbering, but the poor guy had to endure enough silence, so it seemed only natural that any pleasant small talk would be a respite to the wintry solace of the confines of his cell.  It must be understood that Chloe was not only a rational person entrenched in the world of science, but that she would have been the first person, as indeed she was, to question her own eyes when she witnessed, or at least, what she momentarily believed she encountered, before she could continue in her blether in order to escape the quiet.  Under the loose garment that hung around his bony shoulders, what can only be described as the word “Naamah” appeared for mere seconds before dissolving back into the pale skin; for those few seconds however, it appeared like a tumour, bubbling up red, scarred tissue; before returning to the depths of his despairing carcass.


Her belief and dedication to science were unwavering and as Vaheys entered the room and broke the silence with a retching wheeze, Chloe remained quiet on the issue and reasoned that the atmosphere and barren surroundings had already begun to play tricks.  This was something she noted to herself in order not to fall foul of mind games and tricks of the imagination.  This was the last thing her patient would need.  It would be unfair to say that Chloe had already begun to question her qualification for the role in the case, but that fleeting moment had made her uneasy and she noted that strange word or symbol in her book for review when she returned home.

“And how are you two getting on? He-he, I see you have noticed he is not one for talking my dear?  He-he.  Not to worry, I am sure you will break down the barriers.  Come, come, anyway, that is enough for today.  I will show you around your permitted areas of the hospital, but we must move with haste my dear, as it is nearing time for dinner and I am beyond hungry!”

Chloe shuddered slightly as she felt the sweating arm of the doctor around her slender shoulder.  She observed her patient one last time as she left the room, no movement, no sign of life, and no further messages were forthcoming.  He remained, staring at the wall like a hypnotised horror of a concentration camp, emaciated and harrowing in appearance.  Chloe would question Vaheys on James’ diet when she had the opportunity, but she would have to suffer the sickening touch of the doctor as he paraded around the hospital and gleefully pointed out the patients and their prison cells.  


As Vaheys walked Chloe down another bleached corridor, he pointed out the occupational therapy building, this she would be allowed in when she pleased.  The side of the hospital housing the male patients remained a mystery where she would have no access, other than of course, to her patient.  Chloe was introduced to the two nurses that were the usual characters on the evening shift.  They were enjoying steaming mugs of coffee in the canteen and greeted Vaheys and Chloe with a grunt as they passed.  Chloe did not even make eye contact, her thoughts entirely consumed with her patient and his self-induced silent quarantine.

“Do you think I could possibly take James’ files home with me this evening to go through?  It would give me a much needed head start for when I visit him tomorrow.”

Vaheys nodded and smiled.  He was only half listening as he grabbed a plate from the large pile of crockery that shimmered under the lights.  He ordered the rotund lady that peered over the dining bar amidst the steam and mist, to fill his plate with the pasta bake that would be presented later to the remaining abstemious patients for their evening meal.

“I will quickly show you the church on site and we will pass the laundry complex and occupational therapy building.  Behind there is the isolation hospital, which of course, you will not have access to.  Still, knowledge is power he-he.”


The journey home was filled with excitement.  Chloe had ordered a taxi and was relieved when she saw it making its way along the long winding road she had taken with Steve a few hours earlier.  Doctor Vaheys had left her waiting, eager for his meal and seemingly already growing bored with her company.  The novelty of showing the first newcomer to the hospital in over three years was only momentary, so it seemed.  Her relief however, was not for want of escaping the intimidating atmosphere of the hospital.  If Chloe had her way, she would have spent the evening quite happily attempting to break through to James Douglas.  Her request to take his personal files had been noted and Vaheys smiled sagely when he ordered Noah Crompton, the evening shift nurse that looked after the medium security block (housing six patients including James), to go to the storage house and collect his files.  These files it turned out were in-fact boxes.  There were fifteen of these old dusty boxes and they contained everything from paper files, videoed sessions and numerous psychiatrist reports, to medication documentation and personal artefacts.  She could spend the whole night awake going through the trough of materials and still not have studied more than three of the boxes.


Monica was not present when the army of paperwork entered the small house on Ducee Avenue.  Slightly relieved, Chloe made eight separate trips up the stairs armed with a box, until the floor space in her small dark bedroom was crowded with the creased life story of a disturbed young man.  After swiftly leaving her room for refreshment (consisting of a hot mug of green tea and a biscuit), Chloe entered her room.  The light flickered slightly, but Chloe had already tore the lid from box one and plunged her hand into the array of yellowing paperwork and files.  The cracked, leather bound file begged to be opened and she did not torment it, opening it quickly and settling into the comfort of her thick warm duvet.  Sipping the hot tea, she observed the journal.  It was the writing of her patient, a diary of events before he had been forced to spend his days under the leering eyes of Doctor Vaheys:

Monday October 2nd 2000

I woke up early today.  Couldn’t sleep, the birds seemed noisier than usual, like something was provoking them into insane wicked warbling that would make the deaf restless.  I would normally take Morrison for a walk, but it’s raining hard out there.  Still no news on the job front.  A man could get depressed sitting around all day with nothing to do.  For some reason though, I feel upbeat, maybe something good is waiting around the corner, God, how I hope I can find work soon.


Wednesday October 4th 2000           

Morrison enjoyed a good run today.  Even though he’s a greyhound, he eats like a horse.  Walked across the fields and enjoyed the autumn colours of the trees with Hollie.  We didn’t talk about our lack of money or the depressing state of our kitchen.  Empty cupboards, but for the constant presence of those little bastard bugs.  They get everywhere, even found some in the sugar bowl and a cheap bag of rice; just where the hell are they coming from?


A noise signalling the arrival of Monica startled Chloe, causing her to drop the diary to the floor.  A muffled “hello, it’s me” crept under the bedroom door.  Chloe did not respond, the voice may well have been distorted, but she recognised her housemate’s tone all too well.  Monica was intoxicated and Chloe was in no mood to indulge her and another of her excited tales of drunken foreplay.  She remained cocooned in her duvet and lifted the book from the floor.  She turned the pages to where she was unexpectedly disturbed.  Her eyes, in their eagerness to absorb as much information as possible, focused on the neatly written prose of James Douglas, only a week on from the last entry she had perused:


Thursday 12th October 2000

What I am about to write may seem exaggerated, or worse, fabricated.  As I have stated before, my diary is for the eyes of the people I trust most dearly, maybe even for when I am not around anymore.  My scripture is absolute, it is of course, from my perspective and although my yearnings to be an author grow ever stronger, my diary is not to be confused with such dreams and desires but as a tool of complete truth, and my personal feelings, as and when I decide to note them.  I write my account today with more fear in my heart than I have ever had the misfortune to interpret.  My hands shake as I think back to those moments.  It was not just I that witnessed the events that unfolded, and had it not been that the experience had indeed been shared, then would I have doubted my very own senses?  Would I have cried out in anguish at the realisation that the eyes submerged so charily in my beyond, rational head, were no longer my own, but that of a swindler or even a drunken man?   Tonight when walking over the field, to our horror, we noticed dozens of strange, eerie lights appearing in the sky; strange grey silhouettes in all four positions of the compass.  They were working in tandem:  The colours of the rainbow winking at one another as they caressed the night sky without a sound.  This lightshow lasted for twenty minutes or more and Hollie and I gazed in awe at what we were witnessing.  They continued gaily and without concern of being seen.  It was noted that despite the unusual sight of the bravado of an alien machine parading the firmament, Hollie and I uttered not a word, thus was our amazement at the phenomena.  Morrison himself was not ignorant of the bizarre happenings.  He stood transfixed, as if frozen in time, one foot cocked cheekily in the air, stunned into submission.  My mind reverts back to only a few days previous, when the lads in the pub had mocked the local lush, Rory Thomas.  How they rollicked him for his vivacious tales of the unknown; yet had they not occurred within these very grounds?  I smile now, knowing that had the guys seen what my partner and I had, they would surely have mocked no more and laid a round of drinks on for Rory.


Chloe took a last sip of her tea.  It was lukewarm, but her mouth was dry from the evaluation of events through the eyes of her patient.  His words were not that of a crazed man, they were well written and descriptive, almost believable.  He may well have seen strange lights in the sky, there are many accounts daily of such occurrences.  The couple’s desire for something out of the ordinary to occur could easily mistake the illuminations of a Government craft, unknown to the public or anything other than a discerning eye for that of something as wonderful as an alien craft.  He had already described their meagre mundane existence; their lack of nourishment could equally explain away the account.


Not straying from the excitement of the author, Chloe decided to continue reading to satisfy her intrigue and return to the sections missed, caused by the diaries fall from her bed minutes earlier.  She turned the heavily fingered page and began to read the next instalment when the phone began to ring.  Monica would be oblivious to any outside noise having not returned with a partner for the evening so would be in heavy slumber now.  Chloe carefully placed the book on her bed and withdrew from her room.  The phone was crying out from the darkness.  Slightly spooked by the gloom and violent winds outside, Chloe hurried to the invader of the silence.  Her mood fell further as the voice on the line confirmed it to be that of Doctor Vaheys:

“I think it would be a good idea for you to return to the hospital right away.  Mr Douglas’ night terrors are happening again.  Have you managed to read that far into my notes yet?  No matter, come here right away.  He has gotten rather violent and has had to be restrained.  I will arrange for a cab to pick you up in twenty minutes.  I have your address in your personal file...”

For a few seconds the nervous excitement of the prospect of the night visit to the aid of her distressed patient dissipated.  The prospect of a random visit to the sleazy doctor and his lusty gaze was enough to dampen enthusiasm somewhat.  Chloe regained her composure however, and confirmed she would be ready for when the car arrived.


The wind created further unease as the car headed down the winding road to the institute.  The few lights shone dimly and were only visible as she approached.  Chloe thanked the driver and handed him a generous tip before leaving the vehicle awkwardly, haphazardly zigzagging across the stones and shale in a desperate attempt to avoid the hard rainfall.  The matron was waiting at the door and locked it hurriedly after Chloe entered.

“Do you know your way Miss?  I have to see to another patient, so it would be good if you could make your own way...”

Nodding, Chloe left the reception area and headed for the long corridor with the security door.  Her security number was running through her head in a desperate effort to remain unforgotten.  It need not have worried; Chloe’s memory was not quite photographic but it was a force to be reckoned with, particularly when facing an exam or quickly fired questions at a lecture. “CH17” and she entered through into the darkened room before the screams of James Douglas resounded and flooded the area.  She made her way to the brightly lit corridor and walked with haste to meet the creator of the din.

“Welcome!  Welcome my dear!  Your patients behaviour has worsened I’m afraid.  It seems you have a challenge on with him.  You will certainly have to earn your Doctorate my dear!”

James’ cell door was ajar; Chloe ignored Doctor Vaheys’ mocking remarks and he left for his office with grimy intent, licking his lips maniacally as he disappeared into the darkness.  A male nurse was seated in the corner of room 213; his eyes stared wildly at the patient until they encountered Chloe entering the room meekly.  James was strapped to his bed.  Four leather ringlets around his wrists and ankles holding steadfast, as his torso jerked violently from its crib.  His eyes were wide open and the pupils were replaced by the bulging white pool balls that appeared to be spinning around in his wretched head.  His skin, tight as tree bark, was taught and twisting along his throat and onto his shoulders, as he lurched forwards again and again in a futile attempt to escape his divan detention.  Froth bubbled and popped with every convulsion before it was replaced by yet another deathly howl or scream:

“Fucckkkkkk!  Get it off of me!  Can you see the bitch?  Arrghhh!  Help me somebody please!  Not human...  She’s burning me...  She’s burning...”

It was at that moment that he began to bleed, quite unexpectedly and like a leaking pen.  A blob appeared and seeped into his gown until a black dot surrounded by an orb of claret grew with velocity from his groin area.  The nurse rushed to his aid but was thrown back across the room by an unseen force, catapulting him violently like a feather in a tornado.  He ricocheted off the far wall and landed on the floor unconscious.  Chloe witnessed the nurse flying through air and observing the broken strap of James’ right wrist, considered for a moment how he had mustered such strength with the use of just one arm. 


As James began to pound himself hard across the face and chest with his freed hand, Chloe grabbed and attempted to hold on to him tightly whilst crying out for assistance.  The nurse, dazed but recovering, arrived at the bed and injected the patient with a heavy sedative.

“That will do it.  He should be out until tomorrow evening with this.”

After being a party to the events for only minutes, Chloe realised she was involved in something that was beyond her comprehension.  The lack of interest and support for this patient troubled her immensely.  Why did it seem they had given up all hope on this poor man?  His nightmares were troubling, but with counselling, people all around the world had made full progress with similar afflictions.  There was little point in staying around now that James was comatose.  She thanked the nurse and left the room.  James Douglas needed help and the information and key to his troubles lay in those dusty boxes at home.  The hour was late but she was determined to discover any information that the Doctor could be withholding.  She entered the darkness and into the direction of his office with anger brewing, and unless Vaheys was willing to co-operate fully, confrontation was inevitable.  


Timid to the point of submission on occasions, Chloe could equally be assertive to the extreme of aggression when it was needed.  The last time her manner had entered uncompromising abandon had resulted in a local drunk receiving a tongue-lashing after his inexcusable, yet understandable accusation, that Monica was “nothing more than a two-bit whore”.  This had been let loose at her frivolous friend, having spent much of the evening bending over the pool table in fortuitous foreplay with her latest squeeze.  Her knight in shining armour had reacted in a fit of laughter and Monica, having drank plenty, was about to lash out with flailing arms at her aggressor, only for Chloe to step in and scold him, whilst successfully blocking Monica’s attack.


She knocked on the office door once and did not wait for a response.  Entering the darkened room caused her eyes to lose focus for a few seconds.  The crackle of the open fire on the far side of the room was the only light that flickered from time to time.  It gave away the secrets of the dark; secrets that Chloe’s eyes could well have done without viewing.  If the horror of the evening was the realisation of her client’s dire needs, then the shock of the evening was the image of the doctor, half-naked and pleasuring himself over his antique desk.  The room returned to darkness once again as the fire laid low; an ember sparked and flew from the hearth in utter panic before resting in the fortitude of obscurity.


Vaheys pulled up his trousers and muttered incoherently, but it was most certainly an insult directed at the intrusion.  Chloe regained her composure and attempted to take control, speaking with as much authority as she could muster:

“Doctor Vaheys, I apologise for walking in on you like this.  However, I feel I must discuss the further developments of my case with James Douglas.  After what I have just witnessed, I must say, it appears that whatever course you have set this patient on, it is safe to say, it is not working!  Furthermore, the low numbers of staff working in such poor conditions, and with such obviously dangerous patients, is nothing short of a disgrace!”

The Doctor chuckled.  This antagonised the distressed student further, but she bit her tongue, holding back further abuse admirably.

“I see feelings are running high tonight.  He-he, I never saw such passion in you.  My, my, I will have to keep my eye on you my dear.  Now, seeing as we are both in shock, might I suggest we share a glass of Brandy to calm the nerves, and we can discuss your case in greater detail?  I may even be able to give a more concise insight into your client, save you reading through all those files that await you at home?”

Chloe agreed to the Brandy; not normally a drinker, she was eager for the information and he was correct in his statement, she was still in shock.  She seated herself in the visitors chair across from the desk she had caught the Doctor masturbating over.  Shuddering slightly, the sound of the Brandy being poured from the crystal decanter in the darkness, made her sit still and focus.

“Here you go my dear.  Are you sure you want to sit there?  It is after all, not office hours.  Would you not like to sit near the fire and warm yourself?”

Shaking her head, Chloe sipped the Brandy.  It was smooth and expensive.  She had never sampled this kind before.  Ignoring the Doctors’ suggestive steering towards the fireside, Chloe began her questioning:

“James Douglas needs closer attention than what he is receiving currently.  The strength he demonstrated was inhuman.  A male nurse, taller, heavier, and healthier I might add, to be thrown across the room in such a manner as I witnessed, with the use of only one arm...  I just would not have believed it!  The bleeding that appeared so suddenly from his groin area, there was no obvious cause of the bleeding, yet there it was, in full gory colour!  There is more to this patient than I was made aware of when I was first introduced to this case.”

Vaheys was impressed with the passion and power that Chloe exhibited on behalf of her case.  He considered for a moment if her motive was really for the welfare of her client, or if it was of more direct consequence to her final grade and resulting career:

“You speak powerfully my dear.  I wonder, if it is not an incorrect profession you are seeking and if a role more as a narrative speaker may be one of your true calling.  I see from your expression that my habitual desire to cling to some form of humour; a resilient response only my dear.  A most natural, human reaction to the pestilence, wicked tongues, vicious attacks on the body and soul – darn right evil that clings to the walls and dwells in the undergrowth.  Like a plague of locusts that devours all within its path, it will only stop when there is nothing left to feed upon.  Take these words and remember them my dear, because if you ignore every other syllable I have pressed upon you over the last twenty-four hours, those words, I implore you to take heed, as I fear they will be your ultimate conclusion and as such, with a desire to succeed that you possess, they may be your sanctuary.”


Chloe put the glass down.  The Brandy remained, but she was aware she was in the room with a Doctor she did not trust and was beginning to question his role within the hospital after making his worryingly “Hollywood” statement.  It appeared that the hospital employees were suffering the same state of mind as the patients.  Her look of disdain did not go unnoticed by Doctor Vaheys and he frowned and slammed his empty glass to the desk in fury:

“Do not mock me child!  I have been in charge of this hospital since before you were born, and let me tell you, this patient of yours is suffering from a disease unlike any other!  He is suffering from an illness that science will never be able to find a cure for, or some ill-informed inoculation to remedy the effects!  Let me tell you, that I am serious as was his psychologist who left him to us when he could take no more.  Is that not why your wonderful tutor, Mr Schlobert suggested you for the case?  Yes, yes!  I spoke with him as there was nobody else to turn to, and because of our nanny like state ways, I could not cast him out of this hospital for the devil he truly is, as the law would not permit me to do so!”


Chloe observed the frantic doctor and not for the first time tonight, she saw unqualified fear.  It would have been imprudent to remind the doctor that although she held the title of “Paranormal Psychologist” her beliefs were in science and not other worldly inhabitations.  Doctor Schlobert shared her beliefs but would have offered her services if only as a crutch to his old friend.  Before she could consider these thoughts any further, the doctor continued:

“Read the diaries; the truth is all in there.  I did not believe it myself at first, but what you saw tonight and you were right, it is inhuman.  Believe me; we have had him in here with every test and experiment available. Only the church can help him now!  Do you think my superiors would have that, though?  Men of science admit that they cannot help – that they do not understand?  Read the diaries, you will see.  He believed you know.  It is all in there; he encountered aliens, there are spirits that haunt him, they visit him at night.  We have hours of video footage of the man being raped by an unseen force.  If they were released to the public we would have outpourings of panic-stricken people.  The churches would not be able to cope!  I could not even seek help from other professional sources; the authorities would never have allowed it.  He is here to stay, we cannot help him yet I cannot seek outside help...  That is where you come in, Schlobert does not believe me.  He thinks I’m an old lecherous drunk, but he felt sympathy for me and as you came with an excellent reputation; he felt sure that you could be just what our patient needs.”


The doctor left his seat and entered the darkness again.  He offered Chloe a top up which was declined.  The revelations of the evening were hard to stomach and adding Brandy to her disposition could have taken her over the edge.

“I will do whatever I can.  I will leave for home in a minute and study his files.  Are the tapes of the err... Abuse, are they in the boxes too?”

The doctor returned carrying the decanter of Brandy with him.  He nodded but did not look in her direction.  His face was troubled with the experiences of the past with James Douglas.  They permeated and twisted within like a cancer, spreading and enveloping his body like a black mass.

“He is regularly abused by his succubus.  Oh, but to say it out loud to a stranger, does it mean that I am lost to my profession?  Am I to be forever punished because I was but a mere bystander to the unseen forces that pursue and persecute us mortal souls?”

Her knowledge on the paranormal and the terms and anecdotal references portrayed in literature and movies, was beyond respectable.  Chloe had studied the subject and never once arrived at a conclusion beyond any reasonable doubt that there existed another plain, unworldly creatures or spirits amongst us.  Familiar with the term “succubus” she questioned the doctor to confirm her understanding of the phrase:

“I assume when you use the term succubus, that you are alluding to the old mythical, sorry, I mean the belief in the story of the old hag: The woman of the night who enters the bedroom of unsuspecting men and rapes them whilst they sleep?  This is of course, opposite of the incubus which is the male spirit attacking females...”

Vaheys confirmed with a nod.

“Is there any way, Doctor Vaheys that I might be able to get a hold of the psychologist that you informed me, left the case?  It would be good to interview him and see if there is anything that he did not include in his numerous notes.”

Vaheys shook his head:

“He retired.  He left the profession for something else...”

The doctor, troubled and trembling, looked down at the old desk.  He sipped his brandy and continued:

“He left and moved to the other side of Texas.  He joined a Monastery after he was visited.  I wish to speak of this no further for fear that to simply say its name might cause it to follow me in some way...”

Chloe was stunned at the doctors’ abandonment of science.  Yet to question him, she felt sure would have been suggestive of mockery and lacking in compassion:

“Surely Doctor, if it would help the patient or at-least, if it is valuable information that I should be made aware of, it would not hurt to tell me?”

Vaheys shook his head once again.  A rogue tear made haste down his cheek before dropping to the ground. 

“If I tell you, you must realise that you are in it with us.  You may never go free of it, it’ll always be there, watching you, mocking and chastising with full vigour whenever it pleases.”

Chloe nodded.  She battled to control her expression of disbelief until the Doctor uttered the word “Naamah”.  A strange sensation appeared to rouse up and engulf her body, causing it to shiver as if out in the harshest of winter with nothing but the lightest of clothing to protect the body from the austere conditions.  The name was not unfamiliar to her; she had witnessed for merely seconds those same letters appear on the skin of her patient.  She decided against probing the doctor any further and left him in his office sobbing quietly, with his hands shrouding his head in self-pity.

The Field "Chapter Two"

As promised, the second chapter of 'The Field'.  The third chapter can be found exclusively on this blog this time next week (23rd October) so be sure to check in for that if you have the time.  This weekend I will be blogging about my next paranormal investigation over the 21st/22nd October where I will be spending time with what has been described as "The most violent poltergeist in Europe".  More on this later in the weekend however...


For now, I hope you enjoy the second chapter of my new book.  Feel free to post comments (positive and negative) in the comments box.  Have a great weekend everyone and remember, stay scared!










Although the hospital was seemingly well populated, the initial smell of must and damp gave an indication of neglect.  The introduction of a nervous smile paid little credence to the snappy spinster inhabiting the reception desk.  It was a long solid oak panel, varnished with unremitting endeavour by the local carpenters hand in the thirties. It seemed to stretch, reaching until it could go no further before ending in an exhausted extremity, angling awkwardly against an unforgiving blue wall.  The area behind consisted of only a few feet of concrete floor and Chloe reasoned that there were no seating amenities due to the lack of available space.  The wall behind the desk was bombarded with musky yellowing paperwork that spilled from an overworked wooden rack.

“We have no time to audit the paperwork.  As you can see it has lain here for many years.  What is the purpose of your visit Miss...?”

Chloe returned from her thoughts and observed the elderly withered woman behind the desk.  One might imagine her to be frail and would maybe go as far as to suggest a sense of weakness.  This would not only be completely inaccurate, but it should be encouraged that any such thoughts be cast out now and put aside; as to infer such ideas and implications would certainly indicate the weakness to be from the fool with such a poor judge of character!  She looked well beyond her retirement years and her bony torso was crowned with a kidney bean shaped head.  Thick, dark rimmed glasses huddled over a long bony nose that perched crookedly over her unyielding pale lips that lacked life.  Her hair was a dirty, greasy grey, and was pulled so tight it was forever engaged in battle with the shrivelled skin that adorned her forehead: the leathery garlanded pelt of a bitter rasping wench.

“I do apologise.  My name is Chloe Attwald and I have an appointment with Doctor Schlobert.  It seems they have a patient for me and as such, I am most eager to be introduced to my first case and hopefully fulfil my studies ma’am.”

With a disparaging hiss, the woman swung open a huge heavy bound book that was in view on the desk.  The pages were tatty and unkempt and when Chloe examined the identities of the previous visitors, was alarmed to see that other than Schlobert, there had been no guests for over a year.

“How extraordinary!  The patients...  They receive little in the way of family visitations?”

Answering in an exasperated tone, the woman replied:

“Most of them in here have been abandoned by their so called loved ones.  They are beyond hope and it didn’t take a college education for me to see that!  You are so green, you arrive here all courteous and polite in your smooth Texan brogue, but they will see right through you.  I doubt you will even last a week in here.  Most of them are criminally insane and the rest are just plain evil!  I am the matron of this hospital so you pay attention to what I say; before the week is out you will abandon all hope, and wish you had never burdened yourself with such poison.  That is what this place thrives on...  Poison and despair.  Mark my words.”

Before Chloe could muster a coherent form of response, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.  Turning around hastily to avoid further conversation with the stony matron, the relief was palpable to see the welcoming smile of Doctor Schlobert.  He was an affable fellow with more humour in his eyes than this despairing dive had witnessed in years.  He had a healthy complexion and rosy cheeks that housed two chunky dimples that forever winked with every opportunity of a smile.  He had a full head of curly hair that was a light coloured brown and lips that commonly caressed the tip of expensive cigars, his true love and one vice in his life.

“Welcome my dear; it is so lovely to see you.  It seems you are about to fulfil the final part of your studies.  What a case to do so my dear, what a case!  Unfortunately however, I must leave you in the very capable hands of Doctor Vaheys.  It seems I have to attend an appointment back at the college.  I am sorry my dear, I would very much have liked to have been a spectator on your virgin voyage to your inevitable doctorate.  I have great confidence in you my dear.  Ah, here we are...  Doctor Hans Rutge Vaheys.  An exceptional man, who will guide you through the case notes and as agreed, be your mentor on site, or so it was...”

A short, rotund figure emerged into view.  The sinister stare that looked through the thick garments sported by Chloe, made her visibly shudder.  The old hospital was cold throughout so there was no excuse necessary when Schlobert slightly raised his thick bushy eyebrows at his slender pupil’s reaction.  The glint from the bright hospital lights camouflaged the seedy gaze of Doctor Vaheys.  They reflected from the small glasses that gave him the appearance of being Nazi-like, in the vein of Heinrich Himmler, Chloe contemplated.  His skin was greasy and full of acne, and Chloe had to look away as she observed a web of thick saliva appear between his pouting pudgy lips.

“Welcome to EC Hospital for the criminally insane my dear.  May I say what a pleasure it is to have such a young enthusiastic female with us?  As I am sure you both will appreciate, we do not get many visitors here and certainly not of the youthful variety... Ha!  If you would like to say your goodbyes I will await you in my office, just down the hall, you cannot miss it.”

His fat hand pointed with a stubby digit, revealing yet more cracked, flaking skin.  The sharp yellow fingernail that protruded from the disgusting doctor’s hand gestured to a dark corridor that Chloe had failed to notice until this point.  Vaheys shuffled off, and Chloe observed him head into the darkness until all that was visible was a headless white coat, floating away, ghost-like, sinister and awaiting her company beyond the dark.  After bidding her tutor farewell, Chloe gave a heavy sigh and slowly made her way down the corridor.  She counted twenty steps before she reached a door, which although she could not view the inscription on the panel, guessed it confirmed it to be the office of the creepy Doctor Vaheys.  Chloe knocked twice on the door before entering the room.

“Welcome...  Come sit down over here and we can discuss the itinerary and get you sorted out.  My, my, it is so nice to have such a fine looking woman here in my hospital.  I think we will get on very well.”

The room was dimly lit accentuated by the scarlet wallpaper and poor lighting, the most prominent being the desk lamp, which created further tension to her situation.  Chloe was nervous to begin with, this was not only a day of which she had been waiting for such a long time, but with her poor social skills and timid interchanges with most folk; the assignment to work with such an odious creature that was leering at her from behind his desk, made the atmosphere intolerable.  Her nerves made it hard for her to breathe and she could feel the beads of sweat making haste in some desperate attempt to escape, along the contours of her spine.

“Thank you Doctor Vaheys for allowing me the wonderful opportunity to work alongside you in this magnificent building.  I hope to do both you and Doctor Schlobert proud, sir.”

Chloe seated herself awkwardly into the chair opposite Vaheys, and understandably pulled at her long skirt to abort any possibility of it riding up her legs.  She was wearing thick brown stockings that were certainly not attractive in the slightest, but her dress and actions seemed to arouse the gloating individual further.

“You seem nervous my dear.  Is there anything wrong?”

The thick saliva had returned and appeared to curdle on his cracked tongue.  He looked at her chest and grinned with perverse pleasure before opening a paper file that lay on his desk.  Chloe shook her head slightly to indicate she was in good humour and attempted to ignore his gaze as best she could.

“This, my dear, will be your report, or as I like to call it, our personal file.  I will write notes daily and then once complete, this will be passed on to Doctor Schlobert for review.  Any questions so far?  No?  OK, good, I will continue.  I think it would be best if I show you around the hospital and the areas where you have permission to visit.  Anywhere else you understand, is forbidden.  You get one chance here and if you are found to be visiting areas you shouldn’t, you will be asked to leave immediately; your report will indicate a fail and so, you will be out my dear.  I am sure we have nothing to worry about though there, do we?  This is a high security hospital and although we do not have many patients these days, seventy-five percent of the patients that are here are criminally insane.  The rules are for a reason; your safety.”

Chloe nodded in agreement and as that same yellow fingernail pushed a pen towards her, she plucked it from the desk and signed the declaration.  The shudder as he touched her hand was not missed by Vaheys:

“Oh you are so nervous!  So nervous and so young.  He-he, I like you Chloe my dear.  I will always be around to guide you, you see if I meet someone I like, I will always go out of my way to help them, I mean like with friends.  Are you that way too?  Oh!  Forgive me; what an impertinent question!  Of course you are; I know, I can tell.  I will allow you as much time with the patient as you desire, the curriculum states that you are advised to spend only one hour only at a time, but like I say, I like you and as my favour to you, feel free to spend as much time and gain whatever knowledge you can.”

Surprised by the willingness of the doctor to help, Chloe smiled and thanked him gratefully.

“Now before I begin to show you around the accessible areas, he-he...  I bet you are impatient to learn of the patient you have been assigned to.  Fear not, Chloe my dear.  His name is James, James Anthony Douglas.  A thirty five year old male, he was born in Manchester, England, yet he has spent most of his life living here in Edison County, emigrating at the age of ten.  Any questions so far Chloe, my dear?”

Having scrawled the details on her notepad which was ever-present in her pocket, she looked up and shook her head.  Her writing was always neat and well formed, if a trifle fancy, even when scribbled with haste.

“Wait, I do have a question actually.  How long has Mr Douglas been living here?”

Vaheys smiled, the drool almost spilled from his lips, but like syrup straddling a pancake, it clung for dear life, petrified of what lay in wait.  Sensing the cold slaver on his chin, the Doctor sucked it up with a sense of gratification that caused Chloe to shudder.

“He has been one of our patients for nearing three years now.  Of those three years, he has yet to utter a single word to a member of staff.  He communicates occasionally with the aid of a pen and paper, but never under the watchful eyes of a doctor or nurse.  He has spent most of his time staring at the wall and the rest of the time writing in journals or as I have stated, occasional notes to the staff.  Most of the notes, by the way, are indecipherable, and his journals are of course, the ramblings of someone quite insane and as such, pure fiction.  I would strongly advise you to read them if you wish, but do not pay close attention to them; you will find nothing of relevance in those pages, believe me, I have looked.”

The room fell silent but for the scribbling of Chloe’s pencil.  Vaheys’ eyes narrowed in an attempt to read the notes, but his attempts were futile.

“Can you tell me about the medication Mr Douglas has been receiving?”

The Doctor frowned, realising that his facial expression appeared slightly odd to the interviewer, he regained his composure and smiled:

“Ah, well, we have of course tried a number of methods and several forms of medication, in differing volumes.”

Chloe nodded and probed further.

“Well, currently he is on the usual medication for a typical patient experiencing and suffering the symptoms he has.  That would be meds, sedatives and if I am not mistaken, Ritalin.  Would you care for some tea, or maybe, something a little stronger?  I always enjoy a brandy at this time of the day and it will do wonders for your nerves.”

Chloe did not have to look at the Doctor to know that the smug smirk had returned.  Her attempts to deflect her tension had failed miserably and the bastard was enjoying the feeling of power and control in his seedy office.

“I am fine, thank you.  I am not really one for drinking, Doctor Vaheys.  I would prefer it if you would kindly show me around the hospital and the areas I am permitted to visit; then I would like to introduce myself to my very first patient, if that would be OK?”

Pouring himself a large Cognac, Vaheys smiled.  Chloe watched as he turned to face her once more.  His hand placed the glass on the table and he opened his long coat just a few inches, enough to reveal a slight bulge in his trousers.

“As I said my dear, you are welcome to spend as much time with the patient as you wish; my special favour to you because I like you.  Of course there may be a time when I have to ask a special favour of you and I do hope you will show an equal liberality.”


The slurping of the brandy made Chloe feel slightly nauseous, but she forced a smile and placed her notebook into her bag.  Sensing the slender female was about to stand up to leave, Vaheys strode behind her chair and Chloe felt a sudden heavy burden upon her shoulders, it drifted with speed and was soon brushing against her breasts.  She took the opportunity to stand, which forced the Doctor to disembark and return to his Brandy glass.

“OK my dear; well I feel we have an understanding.  So let’s make haste and I will show you around your new place of work.  I am sure it will not take you long to make yourself acquainted with the building and our small team of workers.  We have three nurses in the afternoons on weekdays, and two on an evening.  At weekend we have two nurses in the day and two of course, in the evening.  The matron lives here as do I; there is a security guard at the main gates who you will have noticed, I am sure, on your way in.  We have a resident gardener who under no circumstances is permitted inside the hospital.  Other than that, you will learn my dear, as you go along.”


The doctor opened the door to his office and Chloe stepped past him uneasily.  Vaheys sniffed the air audibly in an attempt to smell her hair as she motioned through the doorway.

“Such a small number of staff for such a large hospital it seems, Doctor Vaheys?  How does the staff cope with all the patients?  In-fact, how many patients does the hospital currently have?”

The doctor appeared ill at ease with the question, which puzzled Chloe.  He indicated the number to be around “thirty” with a grunt, but offered no confirmation when Chloe claimed she had not heard his response clearly.  Deciding she could investigate further with another member of staff, Chloe ceased her questioning. 


As they left the office and walked through the poorly lit passage and back into the daylight of the reception area, Vaheys continued his dialogue.  It was clear that he enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

“I said earlier that most of the population of our institute were criminally insane; most, but not all.  Schlobert and I discussed the issues around this and naturally, it was decided that one of the patients who maybe did not suffer with such criminal afflictions and pose such a direct danger to yourself, would be more suitable for your first case.  However, I must stress that although James Douglas has not been incarcerated for reasons of criminality, he is naturally in the hospital for his own safety and for that of the public.  You see, not only does he write notes in order to communicate; he ignores all forms of life.  Actually that is not entirely true, what with the night terrors, but this will be your case, for you to discover and research, with the aid of the files we hold.”

At this point Vaheys stopped and mopped his brow.  He was remarkably unfit and just the small exertion of walking a few hundred yards and now, beyond the reception and entering a long narrow corridor, had caused him to break out into a heavy sweat.  His face was all blotchy and red, which brought a momentary smile to Chloe but she masked it well and remained silent.

“It seems I am not getting any younger my dear.  He-he.  You will pardon me if we wait for a moment to enable me to catch my breath.”

He opened his shirt slightly by unclasping a few buttons and eyed the meek student beside him.  Returning the bedraggled handkerchief to his pocket, he smiled and opened his arms like a priest would embrace his flock:

“This is the pathway to the heart of the hospital.  Beyond this point are the wards and the most important room of all... The canteen and staff restaurant.  We are too late today to take advantage of the superb lunches provided by our in house cook, Jodie Pzernyethinski.  Jodie is short for another long Polish name; I forget what, so we just refer to her as Jodie.  It has taken me quite some time to remember her surname, I can tell you that!  To get beyond the door at the end of the corridor you will need this fob.”

Vaheys handed Chloe a small plastic fob key.  A large plastic red tag was attached in an unsubtle attempt to avoid the possibility of it ever being lost. 

“We all have one of these and with it, on the red tag is your own personal code.  You will need this to get beyond any further points; the fob key after this door will not open any other door.  For that you use your own code and that, if you have access rights to the intended entrance, will allow you through and unlock the door.  Are we clear so far?”

He did not wait for a response and began to walk, or rather, meander towards the doorway.  It was a long cold, sterile passageway and Chloe considered that the hospital was unlikely to become any more homely beyond this point.  Shuddering slightly at the prospect of the conditions in which the patients existed; Vaheys began yet again to induct her into the life of Edison County Institute for the Insane.

“Your code, as you will see, is CH17.  Four digits for ease of memory; remember the code and remove all evidence of it from the tag when you have done so.  Many of the patients in here are sedated, some more so than others, but as I am sure you will appreciate, the walls have eyes and can decipher but the smallest detail.  We have no wish to scour the grounds on the hunt for an escapee, particularly in such horrid conditions as we are encountering currently.”


Although the cracked painted walls cut a depressing sight, they did still envelop the corridor in a small yet substantial brightness as opposed to the previous pathway to Vaheys’ office.  This however, was where the aesthetic quality ended.  There were no pictures adorning the walls, no windows to delight in the vast grounds surrounding the institute; only eight cold barren streaks of light that hung mercilessly from the ceiling accompanied the walkway. As they reached the commanding, solid timber door, Vaheys nodded to the fob in her small palm.  It was awash with tiny droplets of sweat residue and was reflective of her nervous state.  Holding it gingerly to the electronic pad on the door, a small red light flashed and changed to green and the sound of the huge door unlocking made her gasp in expectation of what lay beyond.


The Sound of My Voice



TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGPVd-M3eB8

This is a strange little film from Brit Marling.  It explores the world of cults and focuses on a couple who are trying to infiltrate and report their findings on a small cult who are led by their 'leader' named Maggie.  Maggie is blonde, beautiful and apparently from the future -2054 to be specific.  There are some moments of tense foreboding threat namely as the viewer watches on expecting the inevitable realisiation of the group and their imposters.


I felt the pacing of the movie was fine but like many, I felt the ending appeared unclear and if anything, slightly rushed.  Additionally, as this was part of my Halloween film run, I was rather disappointed to admit that not only is not a horror movie, for the most part, it is not really a thriller either.


All in all, I would not go out of my way to watch this movie; it's OK but there are far better movies on cults out there.

A generous 6/10 ******

Stay Scared






The Field "Chapter One"

Well, here it is...  The first chapter of my new book, the first part of a trilogy I have lovingly titled 'The Hell's Overspill Trilogy'.  I will be uploading the second chapter in five days time but keep checking back as I have more movie reviews including my Halloween movie run.  This Halloween promises to be as busy and ghastly as ever...  Wonderful!  I would have it no other way.  I will be blogging all the way up to Halloween daily, and look out for my special blog that will keep you up to date on the exciting paranormal event my team and I will be investigating just before Halloween night.  With my book to be released on Halloween it really promises to be a good one!  Anyway, enough of my waffle, welcome to 'The Field'...

Stay Scared









  â€œIt’s for you”

The battered old phone had been crying out for attention until Monica had emerged, cursing and panting from her bedroom.  It was not that she disliked Chloe; it was the inconvenience of having to live with her.  Handing the greasy receiver to her housemate, Monica shook her head with disdain.  Chloe was older than Monica by three months, the girls had met at University – well, to be more precise, they had met in the old hall of the university.  The old hall was the advertising hubbub of the entire complex.  Its walls were adorned with colourful flyers enticing all into drunken debauchery in the run-down nightclubs and cuttings of advertisements, seeking new talent to join local bands, places to visit, and rooms to rent. 


Monica enjoyed the social aspects of university life and quickly fell behind in her studies.  The anticipation of the latest party with yet another ‘date’ consumed her immeasurably.  The problem was that she was jealous of Chloe who had excelled in her work.  Studying paranormal psychology was Chloe’s forte and she would lock herself in her tiny room for hours, immersed in her books, whilst Monica engaged on all fours as her latest conquest pumped his way to ecstasy.

“I don’t believe it!  Are you sure?  I mean it seems...all...a bit – sudden?  No, no, I’d love to – I’ll be there.”

Chloe placed the receiver back onto the phone and contemplated the last time either of them had actually used it, never mind received a call.  She smiled, delighted at the outcome of the unexpected message.  It could be easily identified that she was the antithesis of Monica, not only in looks but in attitude, personality and self-respect.  She was small, only reaching over five foot when on the tips of her toes.  She was thin featured with spectacles that perched on her crooked nose.  Her hair was long, dark and well presented but her appearance was always that of a penniless student which was further documented by the dull, poorly co-ordinated clothing she would wear.  Today it was her pea-green knitted jumper and baggy beige corduroys, finished with the shabby looking Doc. Martens.  Making her way to the room across the hall, she pushed open the door to find, to her horror, Monica pleasuring her latest squeeze, Steve:

“Oh...shit!  I’m sorry!  I didn’t realise you had company.  I...I’ll come back later.  Anyone for green tea?”

Closing the door quickly, Chloe rushed down the stairs to the sanctuary of the kitchen.  The house they had rented for over four years was not large, but it offered more than ample space for the two girls.  Chloe had spent practically all of her time in the haven of her hazy bedroom.  Her room was full of books and polluted with the aroma of Indian candles; there was paperwork pinned along her walls save for the two pictures that hung crookedly, one of her family before the horrific accident had extinguished them in an instant, and the other was of the philosopher, Aristotle.  The house itself was shabby and nondescript, but the rent was reasonable which, considering Monica had not coughed up her rent payments for nearing four months was more than a relief.

“You ever heard of knocking Chloe?  Jesus!  I know it’s not like you ever bring guys home, but a girl needs some privacy y’know?  What was all the fuss about anyway?”

Chloe did not answer and instead sipped tea from the China cup she regularly used.  The kitchen was long, narrow and dark.  It was cluttered with pots, pans, cookery books and various implements which if the truth was told, were of ornamental value only.  They came with the house and were of no use to the bookworm or the good time girl.  The grey walls painted long ago were in desperate need of attention, as was the old stove that Chloe was leaning over to taste the tinned tomato soup which she was preparing for lunch:

“I need to get ready and have dinner and...  Oh my God!  It’s really happening.  I just don’t know why now, and why I’m so damn nervous?”

Observing her friend flapping and panicking was what Monica would perceive as “something and nothing”, and could be construed as one of her least enjoyable hobbies, as it was a regular occurrence and becoming increasingly irritating.  Monica was quite agitated already, having been interrupted in the middle of unbridled passion with Steve, and quickly lost her temper with Chloe:

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, you freak!  What are you getting all like, flustered and everything about?  You finally got a date or something?  No way!  You haven’t?”

Pouring the soup into a bowl, Chloe chose to ignore the rapid fire of questions.  Normally she may have been slightly troubled or even hurt by her friend’s shock and disbelief at the possibility that she, Chloe Attwald, could have a man in her life.  She would never claim to be popular with the opposite sex, but hell, if it meant the sluttish existence that her friend enjoyed, she would rather stick to her books.  The extrication which Chloe demonstrated at her friend’s insistence on informing her of the cause of her troubled demeanour did not alleviate the temper of Monica:

“What is wrong with you?  This time you really have lost it!  Wait a minute; has this something to do with that phone call I took for you earlier?  It has, hasn’t it?”

To say that Monica was dim, slow, or mentally challenged would be cruel and unfair, however the copious amount of marijuana, booze and pills she often indulged in, along with her lazy lifestyle, contradicted the bright future and above average grades she had achieved in school, which had allowed her the opportunity to attend the university and better herself if she had ever actually bothered to put any effort in.  Finally sensing the angry disposition of her housemate, Chloe responded:

“Well, you know I have been saying for over a year how I have been awaiting a test case as the final part of my studies?  Well, that call earlier was from Doctor Shlobert, my tutor and mentor who has been waiting to assign me to a case that would be suitable for my studies.  It seems that the person whom I am to meet and attempt to establish contact with, you know...  Hopefully build up a trust and working relationship with, has been identified.  I have been summoned to the Edison County Mental Institute this afternoon where I will meet the Doctor to be briefed on the case and hopefully meet my first patient!  Isn’t it exciting?”

Monica stared wide-eyed whilst the information filtered through.  After a few seconds she had forgotten most of the details anyway so shook her head in an attempt to mock her friend’s excitement:

“Shit!  If that’s what gets you going Chloe!  Good luck with that then!  I mean, you are going to that big ol’ creepy institute where all the wacko’s live?  Shit!  There is not enough money in Texas to get me setting one foot in that place!”


Leaving Chloe to her soup, Monica returned to her room.  It was a fair analysis made by Monica. The institute for the insane that stood, tall and foreboding on the edge of Edison County, twenty miles south of Fergville, Alabama, had occupied most of the landscape for nearing eighty years now.  Local children would enter the grounds to the annoyance of the security guard, Morris Cole, who mocked them as they scurried away after foolishly goading one another to venture beyond the leafy grounds and into those dark shadows that inhabited the perimeter around the building.  Even on the hottest summer day the entire complex would appear shrouded in shadows.  Morris enjoyed the tranquillity of the job.   There were rarely visitors for the patients; over eighty percent of its occupants were criminally insane and spent their days heavily sedated.  Cole could spend his days reading and watching television in his wooden cabin only a few yards from the only entrance to the place.


Placing the bowl of soup into the sink, Chloe sighed.  “Get a grip of yourself girl, this is what you have been waiting for.”  Her studies had taught her much but they were little use when attempting to build one’s confidence on their first encounter with the unknown.  She turned on the tap to swill away the remnants of soup.  She had managed only a few meagre mouthfuls before casting it aside. Her stomach was knotting with nerves and even a bowl of soup at this moment was too much to consume.  Merging with her lunch, the water became a thick orange gloop that struggled to escape through the plughole.  Chloe began to plunge her spoon into it mercilessly in an attempt to aid its cause.  The wind outside had begun to build and there had been weather warnings all week throughout the State of Texas encouraging its citizens to “stay indoors if possible” as there had been a number of uprooted trees and debris, resulting in plenty of casualties.  The window rattled quite violently causing Chloe to react in shock:  “Shit!”  Viewing the small garden at the rear of the property, she exhaled loudly at the cause of the disturbance.  The thought of driving in such weather made her nervous but, being the necessity it was, she attempted to discount her fears and turned off the tap, having finally rid her soup bowl of its sticky contents.  The sensation of a firm hand on her shoulder made Chloe scream in terror; her nerves were shredded at this point, as she span around to discover the source of the invading hand:

“Shit!   Shit!  It’s you!  Oh shit!  I’m sorry.  I guess I’m just a little jumpy with the weather n’all...”

It was Steve and he was smiling sagely at the small, muddled creature attempting in vain to swathe her nervous disposition.  The two had never been formally introduced and so Steve, being the confident jock, attempted to engage in a “man shake”.  A man shake was a similar to a handshake but instead, encompassed the entire thumbs crossing of both individuals and was the usual welcoming greeting amongst his friends and peers.  Chloe was not privy to such actions and went for the usual handshake greeting; in doing so, plunged her spiky thumbnail into his thick fleshy hand.

“Arrghh.  Shit!  You are nervous.  Ok, let’s not try that again shall we?  It’s bleeding too, I hope you aint got nothin’.  I’m Steve, a friend err, well I, erm, I’m doing Monica right now.  Shit, well I guess you knew that already.”

Chloe nodded, half embarrassed by her awkward introductory interaction yet again with another human being, and also in discomfort at Steve’s poor attempts at explaining his relationship with Monica.   Furthermore, if Monica caught the two talking in the kitchen, she knew that once Steve departed she would be in for a scolding or even worse, the silent treatment.  Interrupting the strange girl’s contemplations, Steve continued:

“Look, I’m sorry I startled you.  I guess everyone is a little jumpy, what with the weather.  I just came down to say that I think it’s really cool what you are doing.  I mean I used to go up there as a kid and that place is one pants polluter if you catch my drift!  Ha-ha...”

Ignoring the boyish humour, Chloe managed to find her voice to respond. It seemed Monica had listened to her for once.

“Well it is a spooky place I guess.  I gotta get my things together; I’m due up there in an hour or so.”

Chloe observed the chiselled face of Steve.  He was no longer smiling, but conveyed a look of concern a father would maybe give his daughter on hearing the news of a first date with an unknown boy that obviously excited her.  Steve was certainly handsome with the warm glow in his cheeks and smiling blue eyes that indicated a sense of childlike mischievousness.

“Well you see that is why I came down here.  I’m off to Fergville meeting somebody in a couple of hours, so would be happy to give you a ride in the truck?  I mean I go right past that old place on my way.”

Chloe smiled and shrugged.  What the hell was going on?  Monica’s conquests almost never even looked at her, never mind chatted and offered lifts with a friendly smile.  Chloe considered for a moment just what Steve must have seen in her housemate, when Monica entered the kitchen.  She was wearing a tight shirt and little else.  Her skimpy thong had disappeared between her full, tanned buttocks, and as she seductively walked through the kitchen she enticingly winked at Steve before scowling at Chloe.  Steve cleared his throat nervously before informing Monica of his intention to leave imminently.  If that was not bad enough, the news that he was to give Chloe a ride to her pending engagement, sent Monica into her usual temper:

“What the hell? You mean to tell me you are dumping me...   For her?”

Steve responded with a spluttering desperation, having no idea that they were “together” in the first place. He pointed out that Monica could therefore not consider herself to be dumped.  Chloe knew better than to try and reason with the furious female stomping around the kitchen area, and left the scene to collect her things and make any final preparation for the meeting that drew ever closer.  The nerves were beginning to bite now and she noticed her hands tremble as she pushed open her bedroom door.  The two were still arguing in the kitchen below and Chloe shook her head as she closed the door behind her.

Her Indian candle burned brightly and filled the small room with sweet sickly incense.  Chloe was well acquainted with such strong aroma’s and blew out the candle before plucking a slender brochure from the overly worked shelves that housed thousands of pages of literature.  The far wall in her room was taken up by eight of these buckling shelves that appeared to smile as they warped and succumbed to numerous volumes of paranormal experiments, journals and encyclopaedias.


The brochure she had retrieved from the shelf was that of the institution she was about to visit.  Her excellent memory had recorded all of the pages word for word, but Chloe being Chloe just wanted to take a final glance.  She would never leave anything to chance if she could possibly help it, and she had yearned for this opportunity for months.  The brochure itself was fairly mundane.  It was more of an accompaniment to the pack the employees would generally receive along with their terms of employment.  It did however give a brief history of the complex; Chloe had of course already researched much more in depth analysis of the place via the internet, but the brochure was a helpful indication of the size of the place and the facilities it boasted.  The grounds measured over one hundred and fifty acres and in the heart of the huge woodlands and spare land that was home to all varieties of creatures, stood one of the most imposing buildings in Texas.  It was not a grand sight to behold architecturally; having little colour, other than grey, certainly made it aesthetically challenging, but the cold, stone, intimidating walls served their purpose well.  Nobody ever wanted to venture inside the place and if unfortunate enough to find oneself an inhabitant of the demoralizing dwelling, then a route of escape in desperation would most certainly ensue.


Within twenty minutes Chloe had seated herself beside Steve in the truck and was already repeating herself, in a despairing attempt to silence Steve’s continual apologies:

“It’s ok, really it is; it’s not like I don’t know what she’s like.  Anyway it is really good of you to give me the ride, I mean, it probably should be me apologising to you as  you are gonna be in a heck of a lot of trouble when you catch up with Mon next!”

Steve smiled and hit the accelerator, leaving a plume of smoke to rise above the second floor window.  Monica looked out and shaking her head dropped onto her bed with a petulant swing of her legs.  Steve glanced at the twig like creature next to him.  The small glasses perched on the pronounced nose; her lips were so thin he thought they might puncture and pop at the merest suggestion of a pout.  There was no doubt about it, his librarian passenger was nothing like Monica; she was nothing like any of the girls he had been with.  He considered if she had dated anyone ever, not that he was interested of course, but strangely, something made him want to comfort her and it troubled him slightly.  In an effort to disband his thoughts that by now, were really beginning to unsettle him somewhat; he attempted conversation with the passenger that was still and almost lifeless; gazing through the window as the car sped through the quiet back streets of Edison County:

“We should be there in around half an hour or so if we keep away from the main street.  I often take this route when I need to head to Fergville.  I guess you must be pretty psyched, huh?”

Chloe smiled at the driver’s clumsy attempt to interact with her.  Steve was sweet, if a little challenged when it came to conversing in subjects other than football, girls and partying.  At least he was trying however, which was more than can be said for all of the other jock’s that had attempted to chat or even worse, flirt.  Most of the time they did it to mock her; they found her as unattractive as she found them.  It had always been that way and Chloe enjoyed her own company even at the expense of the glory of conversation, leading instead to the usual awkward attempts at interaction with the opposite sex:

“Well, I guess so.  I have been waiting for nearly two years for this opportunity to arrive.  The study of paranormal psychology can only be completed to a level of graduation with honours after a practical examination.  For this to occur the three, six-hour examinations must be completed and passed with a grade above a B-.  Most students end their education at that point and can enjoy success and progress, eventually to a Doctor if they have the will and enthusiasm for the challenge.  The limited few, who, like I, wish to continue, then have to wait until a suitable candidate is available for...”

Steve, who had been listening intently whilst navigating the road, interrupted his passenger inquisitively:

“Interrogation?  No, wait...  I know this!  Like, err... Experimentally like – you mean?”

Shaking her head, Chloe could not help but smile.  Her front teeth were slightly crooked and having failed to notice this further imperfection of Chloe’s appearance, Steve gave a look of awkward discomfort.  Chloe need not have studied for all of these years to interpret the look of disgust on the face of her escort to the hospital:

“What?  What is it?  Is there something in my hair?”

Steve shook his head, unable to understand his initial slight attraction to the alien female sat in the truck alongside him.  What the hell had come over him and why had he invited her to take the journey with him?

“No... I mean err... Sorry dude, I just was shocked.  I mean shocked by the amount of work you have had to put in so far and well...  Sorry, you were saying?”

Before re-entering into conversation with the beleaguered driver, Chloe’s attention was alerted to the presence of two large, heavy-set gates and the foreboding sign that read “Edison County Institute for the Insane”.  Within ten minutes she would be in the entrance and the beginning of her final exam would have begun.  Realising she had failed to respond to Steve, and not wanting to appear rude after his kind gesture of driving her to her appointment in such poor weather conditions, Chloe regained her composure, burying her nerves for the time being before responding with a smile.  Steve kept his eyes firmly on the road as he sensed the return of the uneven teeth:

“The word I would use is...  Assessment.  The candidate they have chosen for me has lived here for almost three years now.  If there is some way I can help him then that surely will enable me to receive the grade I want, but more importantly, it will mean that I have really helped somebody turn their life around, and that has to be the most rewarding prospect you could ever wish for.”


The vehicle screeched to a halt.  With the light already fading, the harsh weather conditions unrelenting, the poor old Sun was engaging in a hard fought battle with an inexorable sky.  Steve motioned to the road ahead; an ancient oak tree had succumbed to the pressure of the gales and lay unceremoniously, like a downed soldier, damp and in its own watery grave.

“These trees have stood here for generations.  You sure you want me to drop you off here...  In these conditions?”

Chloe responded by nodding slowly, her gaze unmoved from the tree and the treacherous road ahead.  As the truck ventured forwards, Steve endeavoured to engage Chloe in conversation once more but failed miserably.  The grounds were familiar to him also, as he explained:

“You ever come up here to muck around when you was a kid?”

Chloe, having spent her life in adulthood so far, as she had as a child, shook her head.  She had always immersed herself in literature; her greatest friends in youth, if the truth was told, consisted of fabricated characters:  Oliver Twist, Robinson Crusoe and Sherlock Holmes were all considered companions of her tender years.  Oblivious to his passenger’s differing lifestyle – at least, for the moment, as he was intent on regaling his tale, Steve continued:

“Shit, I must have spent days – possibly weeks if you added up the hours spent hanging out around this place.   The whole area was as creepy then as it is now.  You know, we used to dare each other to just make it up those stairs to the entrance!  Not one of us ever did either!  Ha-ha.  Kids stuff I guess, but there is just sommat about this old place that gives me, well – gave us all the willies!  I remember being told this story, and it’s true apparently, about some kid who, well, he was braver than any of us anyhow. Well he actually made it into the building.  Yeah, was sometime in the fifties, you know when this place last had like a major refurbishment and shit?  Well, what that kid saw scared him so damn much...  He ended up a patient in there – you know?  When it re-opened for patients.  You never hear about that?”

Chloe had spent an inordinate amount of time reading the supposed accounts of ghosts, spirits, possessions and demons over the last few years.  Her studies were not the only reason for her disbelieving of such wild rhetoric.  She had never believed in such matters and this was an excellent foundation, according to her tutors, for the potential of an illustrious career in psychology.

“Steve, I don’t mean to be impolite but I kind of, well, I don’t believe in that stuff and I have read numerous books and attended more seminars than I can remember on such matters.  That story like all the rest is most likely, an urban legend.  Every town and every county has them.  They are created to keep children like you and your friends at the time, to keep them away from places like this.  It’s just an old building, used to house patients, many of which in the fifties, I might add, probably should never have been detained in the first place.”


As the gravel crumpled under the stocky tyres of Steve’s truck, having eventually arrived at the end of the pathway, Steve grabbed lightly at the small, slender arm of Chloe:

“Look, obviously we both believe in different shit n’all but there is something about this place.  I can feel it!”

Smiling and again shaking her head, Chloe removed her arm from the friendly grasp of her driver:

“Go on then, scare me half to death if you can!  You know...  Before I go into the most important interview of my life”

Her unintended mockery fell on deaf ears to her relief, as Steve gladly accepted the invitation to conclude his morbid yarn:

“I heard that this kid could have been no older than thirteen, OK?  So, he enters the building that as I mentioned, was looking pretty much derelict at the time.  It’s all dark and shit, like no-one had visited there for like ten years.  He made his way through the entrance and down the lobby, through to what used to be the main hall.  He had to be careful because there were floor boards missing, loose tiles y’know around the place and tons of shit lying around.  I mean, they had only just moved in on the place to do it up or whatever.  Anyway, as the story goes, he ventured further until he reached the point that even the shadows dare not tread, right into the heart of the loonie bin!  A breeze unlike any other, they say, blew through the whole building as if to warn him not to go any further but he didn’t listen.  The breeze grew stronger and colder, so much so that he could see the breath in front of his very eyes.  That’s when he heard it...”

Chloe always chose to ignore the campfire tales.  This was no different but the narrator continued without prejudice:

“This maniacal evil laughter which cackled and reverberated around the entire place!  The thing is, it did not emanate from a particular point, no, it was if it came from around the entire building.  This laughter, I mean it was the most evil...”

Pulling at the lever on the passenger door to remove her from the clichéd tale that Steve was regaling, prompted him to terminate his yarn.  He blushed ever so slightly you could have blinked and missed it.

“Steve, I must thank you for the lift and say goodbye.  I don’t understand what you are trying to do by telling me this, but it really is not helping!  I’ll see you around...”

Taking a final glance at him, before opening the door fully to leave the truck, Chloe was surprised that the usual sniggering or “gotcha” was not forthcoming, and so she remained stationery, mirroring the vehicle and it’s driver, watching as he shook his head slowly:

“Legend has it that when the boy span around in horror in all of that evil cackling noise, he saw it.  This shape, some kinda black void that appeared from where he came from.  The light from the moon could be seen through the thing and the story goes that it was looking straight at him.  I mean if it was me I would have shit my pants on the spot!  Whatever it was scared the kid so damn much, he was changed from that very day.  Within a year, he was an inhabitant of the place.  You know what, I don’t care if you think I am fucking with you, I know it happened and you know why?”

Chloe shook her head, bewildered that a guy that had obviously worked so hard in the gym, and on his tough street credibility, would react to an old myth that surfaced in probably every town in the State and beyond.

“The reason why I know is because like I said, as kids we used to hang out around there, to see if we could see what he saw.  Only thing was, none of us were brave or stupid enough to ever try and enter that building, day or night.  There may have been doctors and patients all over that place, but hell, that isn’t what stopped us, no, we all felt there was something wrong with the place and one night in Spring break, we heard its screech! I tell you, it wasn’t human!  What we heard that night was the devil, he’s in there all right and he saw us and he mocked us.  I swear to God it happened.  We never went back around there again.”


Entertained by the story, Chloe did her best to appear in earnest.  She explained calmly that she understood his fears but that this was many years ago and if it was as he described, then a derelict building on a cold windy night could easily create strange ungodly noises, appearing all the more threatening to a thirteen year old boy.  The tale would have gathered momentum amongst the local kids and before long, facts would be mixed with fiction.  Although he too may have heard a strange noise, the natural causes would have had to have been exhausted before any true investigator would ever give credence to the disruption being of another world.  Steve acknowledged her explanation without comment and not wanting to appear entirely dismissive of his childlike warning, Chloe attempted to engage him in conversation about her housemate, always steering clear of the possibility of the conversation leading to the embarrassing sexual action she had witnessed earlier that morning.  It was 1:45pm; her interview was not for another half hour, so she was in good time as always.

“So you and Monica huh?  How is that working out for you?  If you don’t mind me asking?  Sorry, am I prying?”

The smile returned to Steve’s face; this of course was a relief to Chloe, his strained look had worried her.  His story had troubled him deeply, this was obvious and her decision to change the conversation was a good one, she surmised.

“It’s ok.  I mean we are not an item or anything.  We just you know, kinda like the same thing...”

As Steve had earlier, Chloe blushed, only hers lasted much longer and burned bright making her cheeks appear like two ripe tomatoes.  Her complexion was always a challenge to control when confronted with the dreaded “S” word.  Steve had not even said it; simply alluding to sex had the unfortunate effect and Chloe needed a lifeline:

“Err, so do you like Johnny Depp?  I mean, Monica does; you did notice the huge poster on her bedroom wall I take it?”

They both laughed which seemed to dissipate the tomatoes and return her skin tone to a more acceptable pale white appearance.

“Well, I guess he’s ok.  I have never really thought about it.  I liked that film he did with Pacino.  I take it you are not into him though, I mean I’m not being funny or anything, but you are into some wacked out shit!  I have seen your room when Monica was looking for a pen to take down my number a week or so ago.  I hope you don’t mind...  You got your own library in there.  Do you and Monica get along?  I mean, you are like chalk and cheese!”

Chloe smiled acknowledging the clichéd metaphor:

“Well, we do, but that’s probably because we hardly see each other.  You are correct in your judgement though.  I wonder what gave it away.  Ha-ha.  Maybe the fact she has Johnny Depp adorning her wall where as I have Aristotle.  I guess that says it all.”

Nodding, the jock smiled meekly, hiding his discomfort, having never heard of Aristotle.  It was not a case of belittling Monica, but it was a clear indication of the polar opposites of the two inhabitants of number Fourteen, Ducee Avenue, of Edison County.

“It is funny though.  I mean, from time to time Monica will attempt to show an interest in my studies.  It is usually when she needs to lend a few bucks or whatever, but when she does show willing or try and do something nice around the house, she always messes up anyway.  Sweet really, I guess, I mean if she was to hang a portrait of a philosopher on her wall, she would most likely choose the wrong one anyway; it certainly would not be Aristotle.  Ha-ha-ha, she would probably end up with Epicurus beaming down on her!  Ha-ha-ha-ha.”

The intellectual humour was all too much for Steve, and his uncomfortable laughter following Chloe’s amusement, made it abundantly clear that he had no clue of who or what Chloe was talking about.  Picking up on the awkward mirth of her companion, Chloe attempted to explain:

“Epicurus has shall we say, a slightly tarnished reputation.  Don’t get me wrong, he was indeed a philosopher, but he has gained some notoriety of a teacher of self-indulgence over the centuries.  He sought delight in excess as was to quote: ‘Don’t fear God; don’t worry about death; what is good is easy to get; what is terrible is easy to endure.’ Or something along those lines.”

Although he did not fully comprehend what Chloe was referring to, Steve did understand the reference of Monica seeking delight in excess, yes, that was Monica alright!

“Ok, well what about your guy?  Aristackle or whatever his name is?”

Chloe checked the time.  With less than ten minutes until her interview, she would have to make the history lesson short, something that she would often struggle with.  She loved to discuss philosophy with her peers and tutors, Steve was unlikely to be interested, but he was seemingly polite and showing willing so she continued:

“Aristotle was pretty much the guy who came up with the original theories to which most other infamous philosophers, no matter whether they agree or not, would refer to.  For example, he was the first to have written systems by which to understand, criticise everything from politics, pure logic to ethics and literature...  Even science.  His theories that there were just four qualities of anything in existence:  The material, which is basically what everything is made up of, the formal cause, which is the arrangement of the subject material; the effective cause, which is of course, the creator of the thing and finally, the final cause – which is the purpose for which the subject exists.”

Steve was dumbfounded.  He shook his head and sighed:

“Pheweeee, you lost me after you said wrote loadsa shit.  Did they even have pens then?  Shit!  How do you know all of this stuff?  That’s crazy!”

His remarks brought further merriment to the setting and in judging the situation poorly, Steve rather presumptuously, queried the other picture adorning the wall in the dark study of Attwald:

“OK, so I get that philosophers are your thing; that other picture, the one of your family?”

The smile disappeared in an instant from her wispy features.  Like a corpse evicted from a sepulchre, the facade remained, yet the entity was suddenly hollow and without meaning.  The automated reaction a tried and trusted defence mechanism, well oiled and in motion as per a Broadway actor in the final show of a tiresome tour, going through the motions and the want of an escape plainly visible.

“My family, they died...”

The slender creature looked at the ground longing for it to swallow her up; if Herman Melville’s great whale had so been inclined, then why not something just as miraculous open its huge jowls to deliver her away from such impertinence?  Owing only to fairy tales, Chloe chose to continue her gaze at the ground.  Her interview was imminent and her composure would return in a moment, then all would be well.


Steve apologised profusely, her sorrow was evident and as dim-witted as he may have been, he was not completely ignorant to human suffering:

“I didn’t realise.  Did it happen a long time ago?  Shit, there I go again.  It’s OK; you don’t have to answer that.”

Steve fell silent, observing her as she continued staring at the floor.  She appeared mouse-like; timid and eyes twitching nervously behind those thin, rimmed spectacles.  Her hair was pulled tightly back and wrestled to submission with a solitary black clip.  There was not a single item of jewellery on her person, just as he had discovered earlier – she was the complete opposite of Monica.   For a reason Steve could not explain, he leaned over and attempted to kiss the pale cheek of the meek female, perched so uncomfortably in his cab.

“What?  What the hell are you doing!  You jocks are all the same!  I cannot believe I fell for it – accepting a lift off the likes of you!  I must have been out of my mind!”

Panicking and lashing out, Chloe managed to find her way to the door release handle.  She pulled it and tumbled from the vehicle awkwardly onto the moist ground.  She quickly picked herself up and dusted down her soiled clothing whilst walking hurriedly away and without looking back.  Steve punched his steering column in anger; if any of the guys heard about this he would be a laughing stock.  He pulled the passenger door until it locked into place and sped away.


 Chloe continued forward towards the hospital.  Her earlier request to be engulfed by the infamous white whale as a route to escape was pure folly, but as she walked up those harsh concrete stairs and entered the great mouth of the building, the echelon of evil surrounding the case she was to embark on, would surely swallow her up unceremoniously with sinister satisfaction.  The groan of the trees as the wind bristled through the branches caused her to look back at the murky grey grounds and shudder; the light now almost completely extinguished yet somehow appeared more welcoming than the cold, stone building and her appointment.


The Dangerous Mind Of A Hooligan



TRAILER : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-WJuc5C2Uo




This stinker of a movie is so bad I urge you not to watch it.  Sometimes you find movies that are so bad you have to 'recommend' them to friends - just to either share in the hilarity of the wooden over-acting, or the ridiculous situations the characters find themselves in.  This movie however, does not come into this category.


My first issue is the title of the movie: "The Dangerous Mind Of A Hooligan" suggests another of the many football violence movies that have been released; as a fan of some of these films, I purchased this with a fair understanding of what to expect.  Well, aside from one - yes ONE scene, where one of the characters runs away from a bar that is full of football fans, there is absolutely no connection to football in this film.  Despite this, they have given the movie a cover that again indicates it to be a film that it plainly isn't.  False advertising this certainly is.


The story is about five 'hooligans' who rob a bank and basically we are shown flashbacks throughout the movie of how it all transpired, why they were chosen and some of their background.  These guys talk the talk apparently but with so many better movies of this nature out there already, I am struggling to find anything redeeming about this feature.  They are followed by a dodgy violent detective who appears to nonsensically know about their every move and thus appears not long after they show up at their next location.


All in all, this film is a farce.



Stay Scared






Apartment 1303


TRAILER:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ruBY0VhY1I



This disaster of a movie is not worth my time in reviewing to be honest.  However, I will endeavour to do so if only to save people time and to stop them falling into the trap of watching this mess.  The cover of the movie gives an impression that this could be one sinister addition to one’s horror collection.  This is the last time I will be fooled by an impressive DVD cover only to watch the film open-mouthed in shock at the obvious neglect of anything tangible, watchable or even entertaining. 


I will admit to watching this disaster a few weeks ago so it is already evaporating from memory, and I am delighted to be frank.  There were around two sets in the entire movie.  In all honesty, this could have been a theatre production; I am sure my old school drama class created equally awful presentations such as this.  The actors are woeful and few and the scary scene’s limited too.  The lead characters boyfriend has an uncanny resemblance to George Michael which caused a moment of amusement but, unlike the duration of the film, this passed quickly.


The main premise of the movie being about an old, alcoholic, washed up, one hit wonder pop star suffers a dysfunctional relationship with her daughters.  Her youngest, in her naivety moves out into apartment 1303, the first apartment she has viewed.  Despite the reservations her elder sister has over her sister’s decision to move into the new place, our main character is stubborn and so begins the story of Apartment 1303.  As the story sluggishly moves on, we discover that past residents of this apartment have met with horrible yet hard to explain deaths.


It honestly does not get any more exciting than this.  Despite some aesthetically pleasing shots, there is absolutely nothing to save or recommend this turkey.  With the vast array of horror movies out there, do the right thing…  Pick another!

3.5/10 ***


Stay Scared,







The Lost Boys





I will not spend too much time going into the qualities of this immense film.  Not only is it a cult classic, it should actually just be referred to as simply 'a classic'.  It has a soundtrack to die for and manages to maintain the 80's horror feel without falling into 'too cheesy to take seriously' category.


The first time I watched 'The Lost Boys' I was seven years old.  I remember that day clearly even now.  I don't think I realised (despite at the time watching with awe at my first 'real' horror movie) how much I would end up adoring this movie.  Despite watching it over thirty times it has lost none of it's charm and despite the senseless sequels released fairly recently, the Lost Boys maintains its qualities and still stands as one of the best vampire movies out there.


Boasting a considerable cast, good effects for the time, the aforementioned killer soundtrack, and an enviable mixture of humour and horror, punctuated with witty one liners from the likes of Corey Haim, Corey Feldman and Kiefer Sutherland, if you have not seen this movie then please, hang your head in shame.


When a down on her luck mother decides to move across country and house share with her eccentric father, she arrives with her two children, Michael and Sam, much to their dismay.  'You know what no TV means?  It means no MTV!"  Their initial trepidation is only further enhanced when Sam runs into the strange siblings 'The Frog Brothers' who run a large comic store in town.  The Frog Brothers encourage Sam to begin reading comics of a darker nature 'Read this, it could save your life'.  With much amusement Sam ignores the strange store owners and mocks their warnings.  The feel of threat builds as the viewer first encounters the young biker gang headed by Sutherland (David).  With Michael's attraction to the young female Starr growing, David uses this to his advantage and before long, Michael is initiated into the gang.  Little does he know however that to join the biker gang will bring with it such dire consequences.  The small North California town it seems, is riddled with vampires.  As Sam and his new comic-book store friends engage in battle to save his brother and rid the town of the growing death-rate and vampire problems.


If you have not seen 'The Lost Boys' you should.  Do it today.  This movie IS a classic.

A full and deserved 10/10 **********


Trailer:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WlON7r0m7E












After the devastating reaction to Boxing Helena, it was understandable to imagine Jennifer Lynch being somewhat nervous upon the release of "Surveillance'.  However, there was little need for such trepidation if that be the case.  Surveillance is a superbly crafted Indie gem that although seemingly has disappeared under the radar for many, has been welcomed warmly by fans of her father and producer of 'Surveillance', David Lynch.


Within the opening moments it is hard not to smile at the screen as it portrays broken America and the horrific slaughter of an innocent.  It is not that one is twisted enough to smile at the macabre offerings, it is simply because it evokes memories of many of her fathers earlier efforts on the big screen.  The movie consists of three stories all wrapped together and presented by the surviving witnesses of the graphic and brutal murders that have taken place on that lonely deserted highway.  The police are depicted as nasty and despicable characters throughout and this aids the feeling of suffocating despair as the movie builds.  I do not  want to give away too much relating the plot so will avoid describing in any detail what transpires but there are a few twists along the way.  I know some have suggested that Bill Pullman overacts in this movie but I personally thought he played it brilliantly.  The final scenes are brutal and unsettling and the ending (despite the offer of an alternative option on the extra's)played out perfectly.


It may not be a classic but it certainly helps pass a couple of hours and I would recommend.  A worthy 7/10 *******

Stay Scared





The Roommate


After the monstrosity that was ‘The Dinosaur Project’ I decided upon watching a thriller that supposedly (according to many reviews) could provide some solace from the disappointment of the earlier offering.  How I wish I had not bothered.


Now, don’t get me wrong, if you have never viewed ‘Single White Female’, ‘Fatal Attraction’, ‘Swimfan’ or any other number of these psycho-fem movies then you may well enjoy ‘The Roommate’.  I however have viewed plenty of these movies (the three films I have mentioned all of which are vastly superior to this dull and frankly rip-off film that I am still at a loss as to how it so blatantly got away with it).  I appreciate that there are many movies which are released seemingly these days which are basically a mish-mash of earlier efforts, and movies under the guise of a ‘re-imagining’ of someone else’s work.  To be such a blatant rip-off however, I feel, is unforgiveable.


In Single White Female we watch in horror as the main character’s boyfriend is enticed (whilst being half asleep) into sexual activity.  Only when fully into the ‘action’ does he realise that the person he is enjoying the moment with, is not who he thought it was…  By then, it is too late.  Well, this scene is copied and portrayed without prejudice in ‘The Roomate’.  Plagiarism?  Pah!  Who Cares??!!


I would like to say that despite such obvious duplicating and re-working of scenes, themes and ideas, this modern update is an improvement.  There again I would like to say that I have a bank account and shares of over three million pounds, unfortunately I cannot as it would be a lie.  To say this movie offers anything of an improvement on the films it borrows heavily from would be a lie also, so I won’t. 


If you are after a good thriller which involves psychic female stalkers, watch the other films I mentioned previously and confine this to the dumpster.


Another 4/10 I'm afraid. ****


Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mUDIohiK2I


Stay Scared.





The Dinosaur Project


What began as an exciting premise rapidly dropped into something quite ridiculous.  As an avid fan of ALL horror, I can accept and even expect at times god-awful acting.  In "The Dinosaur Project" I am not sure if any could particularly act.  The father of the main character in the film however, gives a truly terrifying performance.  If that is acting, well, let's just say that times have changed since Brando.


The concept of the story was good and even the CGI was not the worst I have seen.  I feel there could and should have been plenty more dinosaurs for the viewer to enjoy.  Instead we were left with a poorly acted, disappointing mess!  As an avid fan (like many boys) growing up of dinosaurs (well before Michael Crighton published 'Jurassic Park') I was really looking forward to this one.  With quotes championing the movie emblazoned on its cover 'The best dino film since Jurassic Park' and such, the build up was far too much for this cheap and nasty bore-fest.  There were too few dinosaurs in the movie for my liking, the hand held camera style movie is past its best.  This style not only made the film look cheap but made the viewer dizzy when anything appeared about to happen.


All in all, I would leave this well alone - even if you are truly a dinosaur enthusiast, there are much better 'Dino-movies' out there.


Trailer: www.youtube.com/watch?v=4kYXf4mJ4hw


All in all, I will give this a generous 4/10 ****

Stay scared






This movie will have you in "Stitches"...





My Thursday Cinema night was the first showing of the movie “Stitches”.  This British film went under the radar for some, but appeared to have received glowing reviews so arrived with a decent reputation.  I was unsure what to expect, and to be fair, judging by the cover, I could not decipher if it was to be a comedy or a horror/comedy.  As it turned out, it was the latter and I thoroughly enjoyed it!


Ross Noble plays ‘Stitches’ who is brutally killed accidentally within the first ten minutes at a children’s birthday party.  Noble (better known for his stand-up comedy) plays the role superbly.  This is not a movie that one is to take seriously, yes there are certain ambiguities (the children aged 8-10 at the aforementioned birthday bash are English) yet six years on, have suddenly developed Irish accents, but for me this just added to the humour and charm.


The gross-out scenes for me personally, are what really hammered this movie home.  Some of the best kills I have seen this year were blazing and depicted in full glory on the screen.  Watch a guy have his head blown up by bicycle pump only to reach its limit and explode like an overblown balloon.  There are decapitations galore (note the male genitalia savagely ripped from a student’s groin in class).  The humour is spot on, with Stitches spouting lines Schwarzenegger would have been proud of in his heyday. 


I will definitely view this one again, even if it is when I have a group of friends around, for it is well paced, hilarious in parts and gross in others: Perfect.  Nothing new here but as I am sure most horror fans would agree, if it is done well, it is worth watching.  Stitches was done excellently.  If you want blood, laughs, gore and more blood, vote “Stitches”.   The Blu-ray boasts some decent extra’s which at the time of writing I am yet to view.


A decent offering, well worthy of any horror connoisseur’s collection.

Rating: 7/10 *******

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsvuQVo6uxI

Stay Scared






Blood Cabin AKA 'Murder Loves Killers Too'





I sometimes find it hard to be totally scathing and disparaging about certain movies, particularly when their sentiment is well-meaning.  ‘Blood Cabin’ AKA Murder Loves Killers Too (the most ridiculous title for some time) certainly falls under this bracket.  The opening with the pro-longed commentary providing the viewer with a background and introduction to the story was fine.  The rapid murder spree taking out the vast percentage of the cast in the opening twenty minutes was rather refreshing too.  It’s just that, the movie is simply not very good.  If you are a member of geekdom towers then you will no doubt pick up on the numerous sly winks and nods to horror classics of the past: Alien, Evil Dead, Halloween, Friday 13th and so on…  However, despite this, the movie ponders along sluggishly in the middle.


I am still unsure if I like the ‘hero’ of the movie; our bad guy.  Big Stevie (Allen Andrews) says pretty much nothing until the final showdown, but I personally just did not find any of it menacing.  The deaths were good in parts and poor in others.  I particularly liked the nod to ‘House by the Cemetery’ with the knife through the mouth scene, but some of the deaths were poorly constructed and executed.


With its short running time and funky soundtrack (very reminiscent of some of the classic Giallo tracks) there is some fun to be had, but with the stunning comments on the cover I felt somewhat deflated at the end of the movie as I was expecting more.  One other point of note is the ending; most slasher movies conclude with some form of twist and Blood Cabin is no exception.  I won’t say anymore as I do not wish to spoil one of the main highlights of the movie.


Overall, we have seen this done numerous times previously and done better.  I will never grow bored with slasher movies or horror movies in general for that matter, but I think we as the audience should expect more these days and unfortunately, Blood Cabin did not deliver with such expectations.


On a final note, the extras on this DVD are excellent.  There are cast and crew interviews, a behind the scenes documentary and an excellent (running over fifteen minutes) short consisting of the director reading through the (literally) hundreds of titles created before they finally settled for the bizarre title of ‘Murder Loves Killers Too’ or Blood Cabin for UK viewers.


Overall, I will give this a generous 5/10 *****


Stay Scared





Cobain "Montage of Heck"


It is easy to pick apart the numerous documentaries and literature surrounding the death of an icon.  Like many, I have read thousands upon thousands of pages on my heroes: Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Dimebag Darrell, Layne Stayley, Sid Vicious, and Kurt Cobain to name just a few.  It is the death of the latter on that short list that perhaps personally affected me more than any other. 


As a child I was brought up with stories of Morrison, Hendrix, and Joplin which set the groundworks for the hero-worship I would bestow upon the Doors lead singer and icon, Jim Morrison.  Paris was the destination of my first ever Foreign holiday and the reason: "To visit the resting place and every haunt imaginable of the infamous poet and singer".  However, despite all of this, the death of the grunge legend is the one that stopped me in my tracks more than any other. Kurt Cobain's death happened when I was a frail pupil at school.  I remember ascending my parents stairs as the old grainy news report emerged and spluttered into our living room.  The unforgettable and despressing scene of the police force and the medics removing the lifeless body of the hero of a generation.  Little did we know that this was the beginning of a muddled story of conspiracy, drugs, sex, rock and roll and murder?  Maybe it was because it happened when I was a mere young scamp and embedded into my soul like a needle into a vein.


Thankfully this movie does not focus on the death of Cobain.  Instead it provides an insight into his life and the success of his band, Nirvana.  I have seen all of the movies: "Kurt and Courtney", "About A Son", "Apologies", "The Boy In The Bubble", "The Early Life Of A Legend", "All Apologies" and the list goes on...  I was delighted to see that his much maligned father was interviewed as was his first girlfriend, mother, and step-mother.  The access to the family archives was welcome and new, something the film could boast and was a refreshing change from the second-hand gossip and innuendo often present in the docuimentaries I mentioned earlier.  Courtney Love was as interesting in her interview as ever.  Love or hate her (sorry), the footage of Kurt and Courtney was both revealing and sometimes made for uncomfortable viewing; most notably, the close up macro-shots of their kissing and intimate moments were close to the knuckle and hard to watch.


The use of Nirvana's music certainly added to the movie and although it has received criticism in some quarters, the animated sequences I found entertaining and a novel way of telling parts of the story.  The film with a rather generous ruuning time of nearing two and a half hours certainly cannot be accused of lacking in detail.  From early footage of Kurt from a baby to a child, to his teenage days looking for a real home, I thought there was plenty of stuff for even the hardened and completist Nirvana fan.


Although I enjoyed the film it was not without it's flaws and usual innuendo one often finds with documentaries on our icon's.  Perhaps it is too difficult for the director's of such movies to remove themselves and avoid including their own personal opions and conceptions.  I felt this movie intimated that Kurt was suicidal and depressive, that he could not take any more etc.  This is all well and good, there is plenty of evidence out there to support such theories.  However, if one wishes to take this tone and suggestion, then surely they should use the best evidence available to support such reasoning and rhetoric.  For example, at a point in the movie when discussing Kurt's state of mind and depression, the evidence used to support the theory he was intent on killing himself, was an animated shot of his journals.  The camera zooms rapidly into the colourful annotation and scribble of Cobain "Kill Myself, Kill Myself, Kill Myself... etc".  Fine...  however, under that paragraph were the words "Rape is good, Rape is good, Rape is good..."   Now, ask any self-respecting Kurt Cobain fan, and they would tell you that Cobain detested the idea of rape, be it the feeling of being raped by the media or for the act of physical rape in the sexual context.  Thus, these notes suddenly take on the context of irony, making the point that the movie was attempting to make at that moment, void.  Even if this is not the case, it can be interpreted as such and I and as I have witnessed, many viewers are inclined to agree, so is rather poor editing and lazy researching not to mention, direction.


The extra's on the Blu-ray were rather disappointing but that is only a small gripe.  This is a movie that focuses on Kurt and Nirvana and is not bogging itself down too much with the final chapter.  Maybe they could have included a little more on Kurt's death.  Death is a part of life and as such, perhaps concluding the movie with the words "Kurt took his own life..." could have been avoided and they could have touched upon the tragic end.  Maybe, but with the movie only released recently "Soaked in Bleach" then I feel we may have this covered and it could be an excellent accompaniment to "Heck".


If you are a fan of Kurt, Nirvana, Grunge, Rock music, or documentaries, go and watch the movie.  I highly recommend it.  Touching, uplifitng, thought-evoking, depressing...  More importantly, entertaining.  8/10 ********


Link to trailer:






Where have I been? It's a long story...

Good day to you all,


It has been quite some time.  Nine months in-fact since I last ventured onto my blog and for that I apologise.  It has been a slightly crazy few months (if you hark back to my last blog, way back to 2014 - Halloween) you will note that I mention in passing my having a few issues personally.  Well, since then, I have had issues professionally too!  Unfortunately, unbeknowst to me, Spore Press were moribund and early this year were finally officially deceased meaning that I needed to negotiate and recover Glory Hole before sending it out to be signed by a different publisher. To make matters worse, my second novel, "The Field" which is part one of a trilogy I have named 'The Hell's Overspill Trilogy' would also have to be sent out too.  Normally, this would not be an issue, but, due to it's size (it is a huge novel which stands at over a hundred pages larger than Glory Hole) and the fact it is part of a trilogy, this has made the process sluggish and to be quite frank, a nightmare.


I am happy to tell you that this is now almost resolved.  Glory Hole (with slightly differing artwork) has been re-signed and is back on the shelves once more.  The Field will be out in due course.  Whilst I am on the subject, as a special thank you to all of the people that have been following me and requesting updates, I will be uploading the first chapter of 'The Field' absolutely *FREE* and for those who have not yet devoured Glory Hole, I will be offering this as a download, absolutely *FREE* in just a few weeks time for a limited period.  I will of course advise via the usual outlets in due course.


On a different note, I will be adding a new side project to my blog which will cover another of my passion's...  Movies.  I will be reviewing films regularly on here starting with 'Cobain - A Montage of Heck' which I viewed on my usual 'Thursday Cinema Night' showing and let me just say right now, it was a treat., touching, uncomfortable viewing and rivetting all rolled up into one large grunge-ball.


Finally, I would like to give a small shout to my 'significant other' Niki.  I will be adding a link to her website in due course; check it out and observe her amazing glass work.  I find it truly inspiring and i am sure you will too.


Have a great weekend one and all.


Stay Scared


Hallows Eve is almost here...

I would like to thank all of the people who have been bombarding me with requests relating to my new book "The Field".  It is with my publisher, Spore Press currently.  "The Field" is part one of 'The Hell's Overspill Trilogy" and I will be sure to let you know when it arrives on sale.

Halloween is almost upon is once again.  The months are flying by and it seems quite bizarre that it was a full twelve months ago when I enjoyed the 'Glory Hole' release and excitement that brought with it.  The audibook is there or there abouts so should be hitting the shops very soon.

On a personal note, I have been going through somewhat of a difficult time with bits and bobs that life throws at you.  Not to worry though, it will be hopefully part of the past soon and I can concentrate on writing and perhaps a few more blogs would not go amiss either!

I will endeavour to post a few photo's from my 24 hour annual film marathon.  This year it is on Halloween night itself and I will be enjoying various delights from the Hunchback of Notre Dame, P2, Insidious 1 & 2, Sinister, TCM, Paranorman, Halloween and many more (not forgetting the midnight showing of The Exorcist).  My hot dog roller is ready and my pop corn machine too...  I just need to get the rather large (thanks Holly) pumpkin carved.  I have not decided on the pattern I will be carving but will post a photo once complete.

Until tomorrow, stay scared folks!





Happy Halloween 2014 everyone!




Friday 13th At Guys Cliffe House - Our most recent paranormal investigation uncovered... (Part One)



Welcome to Guys Cliffe House



The journey to Warwickshire was filled with the usual delays when crossing through Birmingham from Manchester.  With a large bag stuffed to the brim with goodies, one thing was for sure... We would not starve!  But the clock ticked away far too hastily for our liking.  We had not left Greater Manchester and with little sign of the traffic abating, we surely were pushing it to reach our destination at the allotted 8pm arrival time.  Thankfully, our worries were left behind as the roads became clearer and our destination grew ever closer.


We pulled up in the rather ample parking spaces and trudged through the gravelly path whilst making ourselves accustomed to the (although partly dilapidated) rather grand building.   The summer sun was beating down thankfully after the inevitable few raindrops on our journey (which rather dishearteningly threatened the pending investigations on the caves found within the grounds of Guys Cliffe House).  I was busying myself taking a few photograph’s of the building and the land surrounding the property whilst my team (Holly, Brian and Louise) took a look around and gave their legs a much needed stretch after the three hour journey.



The team arrive...



The welcoming voices of our hosts greeted us and we shared stories of past investigations and encounters since our last meeting.  Particularly impressed with my shot of “the blue man” from our Halloween investigation last year in Drakelow Tunnels, I was invited to show the group our findings over an eagerly anticipated cup of tea and a biscuit.  The excited chatter and wholesome laughter would not last long however, as we would soon be getting down to business investigating the secrets that were locked within the confines of the mysterious and eerie Guys Cliffe House.



This place is huge!



It was Friday 13th after all, and we were all geared up for an interesting investigation.  This building boasted hundreds of years of history.  The original cottage dated back to the 800’s and the large house around the 1400’s; this was a true piece of history and we could not wait to enter the dark tunnels and dozens of rooms that the place offered.  Of particular interest to me was the connection that rumour had it, Alistair Crowley (senior member of the Knights Templar), sexual deviant, and leading figure in the dark world of Satanism, was reputed to visit the place in spirit.  The main room that the team would enjoy tea breaks and report our findings was a hall regularly used in the past by the Mason’s.  This Masonic lodge housed portraits of Royalty and leading mason’s, as well as an unsettling facial sculpture housed in a glass box.  I enjoyed my refreshments before removing my camera and camcorder from my backpack: it was time.


Taking a walk to the ‘suicide tree’ may not sound the most enlightening, enjoyable thing to do.  This walk was greeted however with anticipation and excitement.  We walked through the grassy path and amongst the overgrown shrubs and nettles, along the winding trail and up to the highest point.  From here the view was incredible.  Fields as far as the eye could see segregated by a small picturesque lake, that lapped against the grassy path we had tread moments earlier.  We were joined by a medium named Mark, and a local historian who explained that throughout the ages this place had been the scene of many suicides.  The path was reputedly haunted by a white lady who legend has it, had leapt from this hundred foot or so, drop.  The huge tree that bristled in the breeze witnessed the act and dozens more; a sorrowful backdrop to such beautiful surroundings.



The Suicide Tree:  Hundred foot or more drop from where we standing - incredible.



Part Two is on the next blog (already uploaded)







Friday 13th At Guys Cliffe House - Our most recent paranormal investigation uncovered... (Part Two)



Side on View of the great place



Back at the base, we enjoyed another hot cup of tea before we would venture out around the back of the property to the caves and one of the many cellars.  These huge ‘rooms’ were dark, damp and dingy.  The blackness of the area was lit up by the sole green light of our K2 EMF meter.  With our medium in tow, it was no surprise when the EMF Meter indicated a presence.  Our medium had already alerted us to the fact that they were experiencing visions of Parakeets and Marmoset monkeys that had not been particularly treated well.  These visions were of many, many, years ago yet they appeared so vivid to our medium and with the K2 indicating a presence (there was no electrical wiring and no magnetic field present in this area) it appeared that something was indeed occurring.  Brian checked the temperature in the far corner and pointed the digital laser thermometer in the area the medium expressed their displeasure at the sight of the mistreated animals (this was located at the high point of the wall near the ceiling).  Alarmingly the temperature indicated a jump of over twenty degrees.  Again, this was hard to explain away, particularly as five minutes later, the temperature returned to normal – with no change whatsoever from floor to ceiling.  We dodged a few adventurous frogs who were trying hard to return to the lake as two dozen unwelcome feet trudged back towards the main building.



The view from the top of the hill (the other side was the suicide tree)




Entrance to one of the caves



After a shot break, we would investigate the old haunted chapel.  This part of the building had been kept immaculate and housed many valuable paintings, artefacts and religious treasures.  It was furnished with chairs and pews from varying ages – notably Tudor and Victorian.  There were stories of angered spirits of the masons, disgruntled by the sight of females wandering through the rooms and halls that had once been only enjoyed by the masculine Masonic circles and Knights Templar before them.  We began our investigation in the boardroom where we would attempt contact via a medium and a witchboard.  I would not describe myself as overly-familiar with witchboard’s in general, but I have nevertheless used them on a good few occasions.  I must declare that this was the most impressive experiment so far.  Noting the planchette reacting to the questions my team asked, it was still a shock when I saw – for a split second I might add, the star move without aid or anyone’s finger touching it.  Never before have I encountered this, and I am still perplexed and in awe at what I witnessed at midnight on June 13th 2014.  Other members of the group witnessed activity directed at them individually.  Holly had her chair grabbed from behind by unseen child-like hands and the entity appeared attracted to Louise and confirmed this via the Ouija board.



The regeneration begins...

Part 3 has already been uploaded... 





Friday 13th At Guys Cliffe House - Our most recent paranormal investigation uncovered... (Part Three)



Inside the haunted chapel



The next experiment we decided to complete was in the old chapel.  We decided to try some table-tipping initially, before attempting communication via a glass on the same table (not dissimilar in principle to a witchboard).  It took at least ten minutes for anything to occur but when it did it would prove to be the most impressive outcome of the evening.  The medium that was present began the questioning but stood well away from the table, leaving my team of four to surround each edge of the table.  It became apparent that a person named ‘Roy’ wanted to communicate with us.  Adding extra spice to the peculiar paranormal platter of panic, our medium confirmed that ‘Roy’ was a regular on her séances and had once been a member of a paranormal group before he unfortunately passed at the grand age of eighty.  Having knowledge of the spirit’s background on a personal level gave us a great insight and made selecting appropriate questions to ask easy, and our medium directed us to talk of cricket and beer.  The table tipped and moved erratically, before moving towards me with some gusto.  Questioning ‘Roy’ if he felt a connection to any particular member of the group, it appeared he felt an empathy with this very author, and quite touched by the kindly gentleman’s apparent warmth towards me, I was sorry when he left and the table became as it should be – lifeless.


Moments passed and my disappointment at Roy’s leaving soon dissipated as another spirit entered the atmosphere.  This was indeed the one we (and the entire group) had been waiting for – none other than Aleister Crowley.  I won’t go into his background but have attached a link giving some general background details on this colourful character from the past: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley)



Aleister Crowley



Crowley, like Roy, appeared to be interested in me – much to the group’s amusement.  Having read varying amounts of literature on Aleister Crowley over the years, I had an idea of the type of question that would garner a reaction.  Questioning him on his apparent rise to cult icon among certain groups to feed a character famous for his ego, the table moved so much so, that I had to pull myself from under it.  Crowley it is reported, was attracted to males, females, males dressed as females, and the list goes on.  He was, shall we say, a colourful individual.  I questioned him on the reported copraphiliac tendencies which caused the table to bolt alarmingly (later when using the glass as a planchette and broaching the same subject, caused the glass to circle the table excitedly).  It seemed we had hit the spot with Crowley and the atmosphere turned to laughter (not on my part I hastily admit) when Crowley divulged that he would quite like to see me wearing a dress!  This was not a part of the agenda for the evening I am elated to say (although my team were rather disappointed at my non-conformist approach to the suggestion).



Note the strange 'mist' that appeared on this photo of the old chapel



Due to the energy and reactions displayed to our questioning we attempted table-tipping with us all stood away from the table.  The light of the EMF meter the sole luminosity in the ground surroundings.  How could it be however that when questioning Crowley, he could display his power by lifting the table (indicated by that very light of the EMF Meter) without the aid of a human hand?  This was an amazing sight to behold, and I simply cannot give a rational explanation for how that table lifted into the air of its own accord.  We tried in addition to communicate via a torch and although it flashed in response to our questioning, nothing could come close to the awe at viewing that table move of its own will.  Simply amazing.


After another break and excitedly informing the rest of our group of the amazing experience we had just encountered, we ventured out to one of the caves that housed an ancient coffin-like container that once protected an ancient relic, protected by the Knights Templar.  This was a great piece of history and we were very excited at the prospect of a séance around this ancient artefact.  Our medium confirmed that a spirit remained connected to this ‘coffin’ and would remain so forevermore.  His job in life was to protect the ancient relic and even in death it appeared he was sticking to his task.  What the relic actually was is negligible but is certainly something I will endeavour to research.



The ancient 'coffin' that housed the relic protected to this day by the Knights Templar



Further experiments with an ovilus, motion detector, and shadow machine were interesting and some proved more fruitful than others.  The spirit box gave mixed results.  A spirit came through and appeared to be an old bare-knuckle boxer who had apparently lost the sight in his eye due to his battles.  He was quite animated initially, with the motion detectors and K2’s alerting us to his presence on more than one occasion before suddenly departing, leaving the sound of white noise to reverberate around the cold musky corridors.



Entrance to the cellar



I have not had enough time to check all of my recorded footage, although some strange sounds have already been discovered on my DVR which I hope to upload to my blog in the near future.  The camcorder footage has also to be explored and again, should anything significant materialise, you will be the first to know.


Until the next time, stay scared folks!









Property from the rear


It has been a while but I am still right here...

Greetings One and All...

It has been quite a while, over five months in-fact since I last had the opportunity and desire - not to mention the energy, to blog and I sincerely apologise for that.  Quality as opposed to quantity has always been the prerogative however, and so I will attempt to make this blog a worthy note after such a long delay. 

In order to really detail events that have transpired and reared their ugly unforgiving heads would prove futile as five months is a long time so I will not procrastinate and instead highlight and summarise the nature of some of the thoughts, feelings and occurrences that I have experienced. 

Firstly, may I congratulate the Manchester United board on finally making the correct decision.  David Moyes was always a bad choice.  Let me be honest, I wanted him to succeed.  The idea of a British (particularly a Scottish chap) manager was completely appealing for obvious reason, but from the moment he accepted defeat when 4-0 down at City (he gingerly made a single substitution and disappeared after that) I was ready to sharpen the axe.  I will not go into all of the reasons as there are numerous, but let me just say that the whole experience brought me down - very low, Manchester United is a massive part of my life, from the tender age of 5 right up until now (only a week from my 35th birthday) and this season has been soul destroying.  It is not the losing, it is how you lose.  I am not sure if my season ticket renewal was in peril but let me put it simply, I never EVER thought it would be in question.  Before I move on from the subject of United, I must welcome Louis Van Gaal.  I am sure he will do a brilliant job and keep the players on their toes.  I cannot wait for the new season.

The final edit of my new novel is almost complete.  I must admit it is completely different to Glory Hole.  It is one of the darkest stories I have ever created and I am really excited to see what you guys think.  I will be blogging the latest news as it nears release.  It is a much larger novel than Glory Hole and is part of the trilogy I have named "The Hell's Overspill Trilogy" and I have already begun the process of planning the second part of the trilogy.  Watch this space...

Over the months I have encountered computer problems (graphics card explosions!), decorating fiasco's and a house without electricity!  It has been quite the year so far.  Rather than focus on the negative, I will instead let you in on another passion of mine.  When my partner Holly decided the place needed a spruce up, I decided that as well as a decorating job, my home cinema could benefit from an upgrade.  As a proud owner of around 10,000 movies I have to admit it is certainly a dear love of mine - the wonder of film.  It has taken some time but my new cinema (named Waz Cinema 2) is proving to be a real hit with my friends.  I don't doubt the popcorn machine (and the pending hot dog roller) helps.  I must confirm that I am still undecided whether to add a movie review on my webpage, it is something I took great pleasure in a decade or so ago but with time constraints...  I am not so sure,

Finally, as I believe I have gone on for far too long already, I have another paranormal event organised.  I will blog all of the details as the event draws closer but let me tell you one thing, it promises to be something that may just be the scariest and most interesting place we have visited yet.  I won't give the location away just yet but it will be happening on the only Friday 13th this year...

Until the next time (which I promise will be days, not months)...

Stay Scared


P.S.  A big shout out to Andy Dinnage who has been creating some absolutely stunning photography on abandoned places around the country.  He really is a talented chap. 



A wonderful Invitation only MUFC charity bash I went to with 14 ex-players and legends in Windsor.  This snap was with Lee Martin (I'll never forget that FA Cup winner...)




Paddy - A True Legend



Choccy's humour always a welcome tonic to an evening.



Ray Wilkins, a true gentleman



Clayton still tanned...



Chuckles with Alex


Seasons Greetings One and All!

Just a little Christmas Message to all my friends and publisher Spore Press, as a thank you for all the wonderful support this year. It has been an exciting, busy and most importantly, fun experience and Glory Hole is only the start. To t...he many requests for a sequel, let's see what 2014 will bring. May I take this opportunity to wish you all a very merry Christmas and a prosperous new year. Watch this space for my new novel "The Field" coming hopefully early 2014  So lets fill a glass of our favourite tipple and drink to a safe, vibrant, and lovely Christmas. All the best, everyone and here's to an even better 2014!

Christmas morning is just not the same with a festive tug of war with my Greyhound, Morrison.  He loves Christmas...  Food, treats and presents to unwrap - whether they are his or not!


The Loss Of A Dear Friend

On Sunday 17th November at around 4:30pm GMT one of my best friends passed away aged just 29 years young.   It was not only a shock but a terrific hammer blow to the heart.  I first met Kelvin Kenney when he was just out of school and he joined my workplace and ended up working alongside me for around seven years.  He was one of the sweetest, poilte and genuine guys i have ever met.  It is hard to comprehend how something like this could happen to such a gentle soul and I know that quite often when folks pass away, the people they leave behind will refer to them with fondness - and rightly so! 



With my friend, every comment regarding his wonderful attitude to life and his friends are true.  His early teenage years he spent looking after his terminally ill brother, rejecting the opportunity to go out with friends doing the 'normal teenage stuff'.  Within three years of him enjoying life and going out socially, he was diagnosed with epilipsy.  When good luck was dished out, Kelvin Kenney was closer to the end of the line I suspect.  Yet he never complained and everyone always commented 'what a happy chappy' he was.  I have so many fond memories however, which I will forever treasure - thanks Kel, you are a true star.



It is Friday now, and I am managing to control my tears a little better.  This is why I am writing this blog. I have attached a couple of old pictures.

RIP Kelvin, my dear friend.  Save a place for me at the table - next to Jim Morrison, if you can?

Have a lovely weekend one and all - look out for each other.

Stay Scared






Drakelow Tunnels - Halloween Vigil Pictures 4



This image I find fascinating.  What appears to be the uniformed man walking - note the shadow that reflects from it. 



We really cannot work out what this image is...  It was taken in the room that housed the heating system.  There was no item coloured blue so it remains a mystery.



The team exploring.  Note the dark shadow figure in the background watching us ominously.  Again, we have no idea who this was but we were alone as far as we were aware.


Drakelow Tunnels - Halloween Vigil Pictures 3



Close to Ivan's lair



The old factory



Do you have the time?



Bri before the 'touching' incident


Drakelow Tunnels - Halloween Vigil Pictures 2



Pictures of a bygone era



Donnie Darko anyone?



Tunnel vision



One of the many strange mist photographs that are a part of the collection from Drakelow Tunnels


Drakelow Tunnels 31/10/13 - Halloween Vigil - the FULL report

Setting off at just gone six in the evening was our only option, in order to make the 100+ mile trip.  The previous evening my team and I had discussed the potential activity we could face the following day, whilst busily carving up our pumpkins.  I decided to carve Pamela Voorhees (pic below) and it happily sat on the parcel shelf of our vehicle, as we ventured out on the long journey to the Midlands, Kidderminster.



Pamela Voorhees, mother of Jason and my carving for Halloween 2013




The rain was heavy as was the sky and the darkness shrouded us and our car sped along the M6 motorway.  The country lanes that would take us to our destination after leaving the motorway were disorientating In the never-ending black of night.  As the clock arrived at 8:45pm, our car pulled into the car park.  We had arrived, and with our equipment at the ready, we began the short walk to the entrance of Drakelow Tunnels.  Please see link for some interesting facts and history of this huge complex http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drakelow_Tunnels



Drakelow Tunnels appear picturesque in the daylight...




After initially walking around for an hour or so to enable us to gather our bearings and plan the vigils, we settled down with a hot cup of tea.  The dank dampness and pitch black surroundings only heightened the expectation, and we had to consider this when conducting the many experiments we had planned.  There were too many points of interest to ever attempt to investigate in one sitting, and I am sure this will be a place we will return to at some point.  However, the places chosen were the BBC studios, the 'tunnel of the devil' (as we christened it), the war plane factory, and the area of Ivan (not the character from my latest novel, Ivan Macneil - see link for my new novel http://www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com/#!buy-books ).


The BBC studio was a small soundproof room that housed ancient telephones and equipment. This area was incredibly eerie.  After researching the room I uncovered reports of a female ghost named Emily.  Although not grounded, Emily was a regular visitor.  According to the literature, she haunted the area because of the happy memories of meeting her lover and husband, and visitor's had reported hearing laughter and voices only to enter the room and find it empty.  We set up our equipment and began our vigil.  For this experiment we conducted a hand held séance, and before long we were all encountering strange sensations.  I had my hat pulled over my face on two occasions and my partner, Holly, was aware of someone standing behind her and brushing past her as she turned around to witness the cause of the uncomfortable feeling.  Of course, there was nothing visible to the naked eye but the feeling of being watched was prominent.



One of the many maze-like tunnels




The next vigil we decided to use a Spirit Box.  This equipment was not something we had used before, and so with little experience and much trepidation, we began our experiment.  The witching hour was closing in and little did we know that this piece of equipment would produce remarkable results.  Within moments of setting up the box, the spirits were eager it seemed, to communicate with us.  What initially was exciting, did become frustrating.  As good as the box is, if you have multiple entities attempting conversation, the results can become somewhat confusing and hard to decipher correctly.  Initially the first spirit that attempted to converse with us, gave his name as Cyril.  A very amiable chap it seemed, and only too happy to chatter away!  He told us that he was grounded in this huge place and although he enjoyed working here, it seemed he was not aware he had passed away.  He continued on and told us he had passed away very quickly after falling from ladder in the tunnels.  He was also more than happy to discuss other spirits that resided in the place and even described what another group of investigators were experiencing two miles away with the medium who was also conducting an experiment.  



Dozens of orbs and a strange mist are just one of the eerie occurrences of Halloween 2013 in the tunnels




Our early excitement quickly changed to fear as Cyril called out to my partner, Holly.  Hearing her name through the voice box was certainly a shock and unnerved her, understandably.  We continued in conversation however and Cyril discussed the demonic entity that was present in Drakelow tunnels.  This was something I personally, was eager to explore and Cyril did not disappoint.  Naming the demon as Baphomet, I knew only too well of this particular demon.  Noted as a horned, demon with wings, this demon or devil is well known in occult circles.  The box only contains 2000 words in its vocabulary and we double-checked, Baphomet was not included in the 2000 words available.  I had set up my camcorder and listening to the footage from this experiment, I was stunned to hear a loud sound of someone exhaling close to the microphone.  This in itself was unexplainable, as the camera was situated away from the group and on the ground.  The microphone is positioned on the base of the camera, meaning that in order for one of the team to have caused this sound would have meant crawling along the floor to the whirring camcorder.  Very strange to say the least!



Baphomet, the winged demon mentioned in the 14th Century trial transcripts of the Knights Templar.  This demon was (according to reports) summoned by devil worshippers in the last few decades of history in the tunnels.  Furthermore, the stupidity of teenagers and their meddling with a witch board in recent years have further entrenched the rumours of a demonic presence in the Drakelow Tunnels.



We attempted a Ouija board which disappointingly revealed little.   In its prime the old factory would produce plane parts for the planes of World War II.  Although the results in this area were less than satisfactory, I did manage to catch dozens of orbs (see photo) on my digital camera.  The K2 EMF meter revealed little and the digital laser thermometer revealed even less.



As the hour of 2am passed, we ventured into the area of Ivan.  I had spent twenty minutes alone in a tunnel, with only the darkness for company (or so I thought).  I heard many sounds which appeared to react to my question's.  However the EMF meter picked up no changes in the atmosphere, and I had to conclude that potential wildlife or consequences of the surrounding environment were the cause.  Returning to the séance I was amazed when my friend Brian confirmed he had been interfered with!  It was reported that this was a consequence of meeting Ivan, who, notorious with many previous investigators, enjoyed nothing more than man-handling the visitors.  Women and men alike reported being touched in their intimate area's and it seemed that Brian was to become another name on the growing list of Ivan's victims.



The evening concluded at 3am and we were all exhausted with our night's work.  An enjoyable Halloween for 2013 and a place that definitely needs another visit.  I truly believe that there is a lot happening in those four miles of underground tunnels and hopefully we will return there one day.

Check out the further blogs for more pictures straight after this one (including an image of a ghostly pair of legs, reminiscent of the reports of a man in blue uniform seen carrying a clip board that supposedly haunts the tunnels)


Stay Scared








Happy, Happy Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, Happy, Happy Halloween, Silver Shamrock!

It's here!  It is finally here!  I will be setting off in just an hour.  The paranormal team will be on the road to Drakelow Tunnels, Kidderminster.  Three miles underground and a maze of dark, damp, dank tunnels... Perfect for this Hallows Eve!  There have been reports of visitors being slapped, their hair being pulled and being pushed around.  Sounds just the ticket!  I will be sure to post a full report over the coming days.  Keep visiting my blog for the whole story.


Tomorrow begins my 24hr horror movie marathon.  Friends visit throughout and we have food and treats and basically chill out for the duration.  A perfect tonic after tonight's investigation.


Must dash, so happy carving, full on trick or treating and turn the volume up on those horror films!

Stay Scared - Happy Halloween one and all!


Enjoy your pumpkin carving,
The trick or treat galore...
But when the witching hour approaches,
Be sure to lock your door.

Turn on all the lights,
Whilst reading Glory Hole
Cosy up beside the fireplace
Take another treat from that Halloween bowl.

And if you hear him coming,
As each page you turn with haste,
Remember to all stay safe tonight
Whilst John Seba remains untraced.








Drakelow Tunnels Halloween Paranormal Investigation 2013


Au-Thursday with C Dennis Moore!

Hello everyone, I hope this blog finds you wherever you may roam.  As the darkness falls upon the land and the eerie cackle of the whores of hell combines with the various covens of witches, all awaiting the ghastly hours of Sam Hain, I have been busy as ever.  I will be setting aside some time each day over the next seven days leading up to the wonderful event of Halloween to blog away as I realise I have been neglecting my blog somewhat over the last couple of weeks.  This week I have been watching my football team win - amazingly!  I have been on the long trip to Rugby, aquaplaning for much of the 300 mile round trip.  The weather in the UK has been wet, cold and miserable.  Just the tonic for Halloween?


The preparations are under way for our pending paranormal trip to Kidderminster on Halloween night itself!  I will write more on this on the further blogs over the week.  But for now, Au-Thursday...  This week with C Dennis Moore, a fabulous writer of many books including the newly released The Ghosts Of Mertland.  Check out his interview exclusive to www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com

Until Tomorrow,

Stay Scared and get working on those costumes folks!




Au-Thursday with Sharon Van Orman

"14 days till Halloween, Halloween, 14 more days till Halloween... Silver Shamrock".  Don't you just love that irritatingly loveable, strangely addictive tune from Halloween III - Season of the Witch?  I hope you are all gearing up for a fantastically frightful, fiendishly good Halloween!  As I am sure you all know, my team and I have been busily planning our paranormal investigation for Hallows Eve.  I cannot reveal anything yet but keep checking on this very blog for updates.


Due to my being crazily busy, I have neglected this blog over the last week or so.  Apologies for that.  At this time of year, it always becomes rather hectic in the Rome household.  The initial murmurs of Christmas just around the corner, the continuous planning of Halloween (not to mention purchases of decorations for the house), the continuing promotion of Glory Hole whilst working on The Field, Au-Thursday interviews and escaping dogs!  (I will tell all tomorrow about Morrison's Grand Day out yesterday whilst Holly and I were at work...   Anyway, i will do my utmost to blog every day but please bear with me as I am insanely busy at the moment and hoping I can conclude everything in good time.


Today is of course, Au-Thursday and I am proud to welcome fellow Spore Press author, Sharon Van Orman, writer of the quite brilliant 'Lykaia'.  Sharon is a fabulously talented author and I am sure we will be seeing many more books from her in the future.  She was also one of the authors in the compliation recently released by Spore Press (www.sporepress.com) 'Season of the Dead'.  Another fantastic read, I am sure you will agree.  Be sure to check out my interview, exclusive to Au-Thursday and www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com later today.


I will reveal all about Morrison's Grand Day out on tomorrow's blog and give a little more news on the current goings on in the world of Warren.


Until then,

Stay Scared





Au-Thursday tomorrow with D.A Wearmouth


Good evening everyone,

I hope this blog finds you all well and gearing up for a scary Halloween.  I just love this time of year.  The beautiful colours of the environment changing around us, the crispness of the air, the building crescendo of excitement as children and adults alike began creating, contemplating before finally choosing their costumes.  Unfortunately, I will not be partaking this year due to other commitments (a paranormal investigation three miles underground), but I hope you will send me some of your pics - go crazy guys and gals!


I hope to complete The Field imminently.  It will then go through the editing and re-editing process which should take around a month.  Finally, after all of this the manuscript is submitted to my publisher.  I will keep you all posted.


I will receive the figures for sales of Glory Hole next month.  The comments by Spore Press indicate it to be doing well which is promising.  I know readers have submitted excellent reviews and I have received numerous kind comments relating to my work - thank you all for the support, it is very much appreciated.  However, the number of requests for a sequel has begun to gather momentum.  Sheesh!  Let me be completely honest.  I never intended to write a sequel.  Initially, I contemplated penning a prequel relating to Ivan and Danny in 'Nam.  With the many other books I will be writing, it has remained just a possibility.  With so many requests for a sequel - many requesting the return of Taylor (something I was not originally considering) I will take into account all of the reader's remarks, and I will keep you posted.  All I will say is, it is a possibility.  I have thirteen more books weighing heavily on my shoulders and I need to unburden my crooked spine and complete them.  If only you could bottle time...


Finally, Au-Thursday returns tomorrow with D.A Wearmouth a writer (with his brother) of the fantastic horror / thriller First Activation : A post apocalyptic thriller.  Not only an incredible talent but a really nice guy, too.  Check out the interview tomorrow, exclusive to www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com

Until tomorrow folks,

Stay Scared




Sunday Giveaway

As promised on an earlier blog, I have a five pieces of Glory Hole artwork to give away.  I was thinking of doing a quiz but what the hell, I have just returned from a great holiday, Halloween is on the way and we are busily planning our next paranormal investigation.  My football team even won at the weekend!  So, to celebrate the good humour, I will be giving away five signed pieces of artwork to the first five people who contact me via the 'contact me' page on my website. 


In order to win, just describe the fancy dress costume you have decided to wear this Halloween - any pictures welcome too!  I will post the five winners on my blog by the end of the week.  Please be sure to include your name and address so I can send the prizes out!


Stay Scared





My Spanish Trip

After a day and a half of pretty much sleeping, I feel energised enough to create a worthy blog of the fantastic week I enjoyed in the Costa Del Sol - Benamadena near Malaga.  It was week that included many heavy nights on the San Miguel and Rum...  Dolphin watching near Africa, Karaoke, meeting with friends (old and new), good food, shopping, dancing, walking, lounging and reading.


Holly and I visited Gibraltar and enjoyed taking a trip out on the boat on the waters on the outskirts of Tangirs, Morocco.  These guys were awesome!  They chased the boat and dances and flipped their way along.  It was awe inspiring.  Other than this we  enjoyed a walk around the square and a touch of shopping.


Puerto Marina is a beautiful place to eat.  Over the seven days, we ate at a Mexican, Italian, Spanish, American, Chinese (& Thai), Indian and Canadian restaurant.   We met with old friends (Tommo, Julie, Speedy, Mad Terry - thanks for another wonderful adventure) and made new friends (Jordan, Stacey, Vladimir - great to meet you).  We enjoyed wild nights in Rum Runners, Buzby's and Café Ons.  Rest assured, we will return as soon as we can!  Thanks everyone for making it an unforgettable holiday.


I have just got hold of a few last copies of the artwork from my debut novel.  I will be signing each one and there will be a completion posted on this very blog over the weekend.  The first ten people to send the correct answer will receive one of these and personally signed.  Be sure to keep checking this blog and send the response via the 'contact me' page on my website (See link below)



Until then,

Stay scared






Benalmadena Sunset




Dawn sun rising over the ocean





Dolphins give chase on the African border




Strike a pose there is nothing to it...


I am back and so is Au-Thursday...

After a fantastic week away in Spain (check out my blog tomorrow and I will reveal *a few stories), as promised, the return of Au-Thursday.  This week I had the amazingly talented and best selling author Eli Yance (penning such brilliant horror books as Consequence, House 23 and Fairwood).  Check out the great interview exclusive to www.warrenrome-authorofthemacabre.com

Until my next blog tomorrow,

Stay Scared




Au-Thursday with author of Anti-Sentient (a new Zombie classic) Linda J Butler

These Au-Thursday's seem to come around quicker than ever!  This week I am proud to interview fellow Spore Press author, Linda J Butler.  Her book, Anti-Sentient is a great read, and an instant zombie classic.  Check out the interview via the link below.  Please note, there will be no Au-Thursday next week as I am on holiday in Spain.  However, the week after I will be interviewing D.A Wearmouth who was topping the charts with the horror novel First Activation.  This is a real treat so don't miss it, Au-Thursday October 3rd.


I am continuing the completion of my second novel The Field this evening.  I hope to complete it before I jet to Spain.  When I return I will have the 'joy' of editing it before it is finally submitted to my publisher Spore Press.

Stay Scared





Just another Manic Monday

As I write this the hour of ten closes in.  It has been a loooooooooooong day.  I have been at work, had a meal with a friend and old work colleague (see you after Halloween, Mark) and now contemplating writing a couple more pages of The Field.  I might just watch another serial killer documentary before I begin...  There is nothing like strict discipline! 


I have been busy attempting to build up my author facebook page as opposed to using my personal account over the last couple of weeks or so.  I know, I know, the thing is, I really am not used to the world of Facebook and Twitter, but I am learning...  Slowly.  Please 'Like' me if you have a moment, the link is below:



I am watching my football team (or Soccer depending where you are from) tomorrow night, and Wednesday I hope to complete the end of the second to last chapter.  It really is that close!


Au-Thursday this week will be with fellow author of Spore Press, the lovely Linda Butler.  Linda has created a zombie classic in Anti-Sentient.  Check it out, I am sure you will agree.  Check it out, exclusive to Au-Thursday on the 19th September.  Link below.


I better check out and get writing!

Until tomorrow,

Stay Scared,






I just had to share this...  Love it!





Wow! What a day!

Talk about up and down.  After watching my team play rather average football and win, I headed for my parents home as they wanted to show off their new fireplace.  It was a lunch time kick off, so I reached my folks not longer after three.  Upon reaching my destination, I received a text from my partner, Holly.  It informed me that one of large cd towers had decided to collapse.  Wonderful!  As some of you know, I own a large collection of cd's and so, one of these towers alone contained over four hundred of the blighters.  When one owns anything in large quantities, it is often useful to organise the collection appropriately in order to able to decipher and locate specific items in the future.  This meant arranging them once more in alphabetical order!  Two hours later, it was done.  


I sat back and attempted to relax with a bit of television and realised that the cd tower had somehow dislodged the aerial cable in the earlier collapse.  This meant unscrewing the box from the wall and sorting the wiring inside, not before disassembling a further three cd towers and then re-assembling them (and cd's) once the re-wiring was complete.  What a way to spend a Saturday afternoon!


Other than that, I enjoyed a wonderful interview with Jason L. McPherson, a fellow author and horror fan.  Check it out on the link below:



I am off now for a long relax and a touch of Hitchcock (not literally).  Rear Window, methinks.

Stay Scared




The weekend is almost upon us

As I sit nibbling my buttered toast, I wondered what the day would bring?  I check through my emails, noting some of the kind remarks and comments regarding yesterday's Au-Thursday, featuring JC Martin.  People are really responding to this little feature, and with the authors I have lined up, it can only become bigger and bigger.  I am really pleased I decided to do this, and look forward to next week's edition with Linda Butler, author of the quite brilliant Anti-Sentient (an instant Zombie classic).  More on this however, next week.


I continue to scan through the emails, hastily removing the Spam and numerous Facebook group messages.  I wonder if before the internet was invented, authors received this amount of advertisements, and if so, did their postman continually need time off with a damaged hernia, or curvature of the spine?  I notice a couple of messages from people who have purchased my debut novel Glory Hole.  Thank you, guys, you know who you are.  More wonderful comments and requests for updates as to when my second novel will be appearing.  So, I decided, rather than keep sending emails regarding the same subject, I would put a little update on my blog.


The Field is very close to the conclusion of the second draft.  I would say it is two chapters from completion and then I will need to grab my small team together and begin the reading process.  This basically involves us sitting around my living room whilst I read out loud the entire book - editing and highlighting the text along the way.  Once this is completed, I re-read it alone and edit as I see fit.  The final stage will be a final reading and editing session, and a final re-read (usually with a very VERY large mug of tea) before finally being submitted to my publisher for final review.  I estimate that it will be in the hands of Spore Press by Halloween.  I will of course, keep you all posted.


Have a great weekend everyone,

Until the next time,

Stay Scared







Au-Thursday is here again... Today, the wonderful J C Martin - author of the Doll and Oracle

Au-Thursday seems to be arriving with more haste as each week quickly passes.  Today, I was lucky enough to catch up with the writer of The Doll and the recently released Oracle.  Be sure to check out the Au-Thursday page and the insightful interview from J.C. Martin.

It was another misty morning again this morning.  As my holiday to Spain draws near, I count down these dreary, grey, Manchester mornings.  Not long to go now.  Just thirteen more, to be precise.

The Field is so close to completion now, I can almost taste it!  The writing continued last night and I estimate that in a week's time, it should be complete (writing-wise).  After that, the incredibly 'fun' editing process begins.  Always the long drawn out process that can make authors hide behind anything big enough to accomadate them, it is something that needs to be done and it will be, folks, it will be. 

Other than this, I have been contemplating a Movie Review page on my website, this is something I used to do for a big, famous website, some years ago and I quit due to time constraints.  However, now I am busier than ever, I have began thinking about resurrecting the idea... Yeah, I know.  Time and energy permitting, it is a possibility.  I'll leave it there, for now, though.  The thoughts of concluding the Field and the first of the trilogy is eating away at my insides - forcing its way out to reveal its dark, ugly self.  Tentative notes and scrawls on the second part of the trilogy, Scab are in the works, also.  Again, I'll post more on here when I am able to do so.

Have a good day my friends,

Remember to always...

Stay Scared




Jack Frost rears his head and the season of Autumn is just around the corner

Well, already the car is sodden when I drag myself from my slumber each morning.  The wet droplets of the fading frost, a precursor to the season of the slippery, leaf-mashed, pavements.   The rain has returned to Manchester too.  I shouldn't complain, it is - after all, a rainy city.  We have had a decent summer - there has been some hot sunny days...  The season of Autumn then, what will it bring?


I have started work once more on my second novel.  This is much darker than Glory Hole and a bit of an epic too.  This is no surprise as I originally intended this book to be a trilogy.  It is though, a part of a trilogy.  I have mentioned this recently in some local newspaper interviews.  I will reveal today to you good folks, the name of each part of the trilogy - never before released, so I guess this is an exclusive.  The first is The Field, the second is to be named Scab and the third, Nine in a line.  I can reveal no more than that, but the magic of my new babies is that you do not have to read them in sequence.  No sir!  They each, individually, can stand alone.  Readers of Glory Hole will already recognise my fictional setting of Edison County.  Well, let me tell you, things have certainly moved on from the era that was Glory Hole and Ivan with his notorious slaughterhouse.  I will reveal more at a later date but The Field is set in the present day, so Edison County has undergone some big changes in the twenty years or so, since Glory Hole.


Other than the completion of my second novel, we will have one of my favourite times of the year...  Halloween.  This year I will be completing my usual 24hr horror movie marathon on the 30th October, as I have something special planned for Hallows Eve of 2013.  A paranormal investigation - 3 miles underground - a location brimming with history - a setting of Satanic value...  Again, keep checking my blog as I will reveal more details as the date approaches, concluding with the usual full report.


Don't forget to check my Au-Thursday page on Thursday as I will be interviewing the fantastic JC Martin, author of the incredibly creepy book "The Doll" and of course, "Oracle".

Until the next time my friends,

Stay Scared




The dark rumbling began and I turned to view the creator of the din...

It was a tepid, dark evening, last night.  The rain forever threatening, teased the landscape into a submissive merciful mess of colour.  The crescendo of sound building from over yonder, that would entice one to venture out, only to recoil in fear once one had viewed the repulsive persuasion of the creators of the din, cascaded over and into my solitary dwelling and reminded me of my youthful exuberance and wonderment at the merry bartenders, over indulgent patrons, and nervous bar maids, as they provided the beverages.


It was only as I closed the door and settled into my cosy settee that I heard another noise.  A foreign invader in my own lodgings.  My partner, Holly, was not present this night.  My loyal and submissive hound was seated beside me and observed my every move with his sorrowful, chocolate-brown eyes.  His perplexed look confirmed that my ears were not deceiving me.  Yet again - that unearthly sound.  Like a gargling drunk combined with the fiery wrath of a cellar furnace, the noise refused to abate.  The doors and windows were locked.  My dog and I were alone.  This noise polluted the atmosphere with its guttural, deep moans.  Finally, Morrison, my greyhound and trusty companion, span around to face this alien force.  His rubbery lips lifted to reveal dozens of snarling white teeth.  The direction of his anger?  It lay very close to us both.  Too close in-fact.  His head and craning neck were facing the rumbling sound head on.  It was his stomach and the result of an old sausage he had snaffled whilst his owners devoured an Indian meal.




Morrison - my faithful friend


Stay Scared




If you missed it yesterday, check it out now - Exclusive Interview on Au-Thursday with AR Wise

It has been a very long and hard week this week, for reasons I cannot divulge.  On the book front, it seems my novel Glory Hole is doing relatively well which is great news.

Yesterday I uploaded the fantastic interview with AR Wise, writer of the awesomely graphic books 314 and the Deadlocked series.  Check it out on my Au-Thursday page - you'll be glad you did.

Have a good weekend all - wherever you are...

Stay Scared






Our Saturday Night on Pendle Hill - Part Two

We decided to set up our equipment in an area closer to the car (for obvious reasons).  We were still in the vicinity of the age-old walk that Alice Nutter would take between the two farms.  It was well past the hour of 1a.m. and were still reeling from the strange sounds we had witnessed on our previous vigil.  Not to be out off by the events, I removed the Ouija board from my bag, and we sat down before I opened the session with the guidance and open call to our spiritual guide's for protection.  We were in an area that would potentially reveal frightening messages and I was not going to take any chances.



Ouija 'fun'


This still from my camcorder footage is a close up of the early stages of the experiment.  Brian is, shall we say, not a fan of the Ouija board.  This works well however, as it means we always have a cameraman.  Brian held the camera and Louise, Holly and I started asking the board if there was anyone present who wished to communicate with us.  For a while it appeared that we were not to be in luck.  Thankfully after some time, the 'planchette' began to move.  It was stutter at first and all I can say (for people who have never taken part in a Ouija board experiment) is that when things begin to happen, you can feel it.  My right index finger was placed on the ghostly pointer and I felt initially, a tingling sensation which followed into a strange feeling of a tentative 'push' under the planchette.  The communication however was muddled.  It appeared that whoever or whatever, was trying to communicate, was not feeling particularly sociable.  It was frustrating to say the least and after an hour - maybe a little longer, we concluded our investigation. 


We will be going back - make no mistake.  This was all the more definite when I reviewed the footage.  I will try (currently having issues with You tube but I will hopefully resolve this very soon) and upload some of the video footage as I did with our investigation at Newsham Orphanage (see blogs of July 14th and onwards for video's and full report).  What can only be described as a strange gasp (Brian has confirmed it was not his voice and besides, the next sound picked up was when I was holding the camera - and I certainly did not produce this strange phenomena).  The next noise was a sinister slamming sound.  It sounded like it was from inside a room due to it's echoing aesthetics.  We were of course in a field in the middle of Pendle Hill so this is very interesting and needs to be explored further.


The next strange occurrence was the red glow that appeared on the planchette.  There were no traffic lights or anything on our person that could cause this.  Again, I just cannot explain it (see photo below)



The strange red glow...


Finally we had orbs shooting past the board - again caught on the camcorder, and I will try and upload them as soon as I can.  I will upload some more photo's on two bonus blog's (if you cannot see them below this blog, click on the arrow for previous post and they will be there)  and I will tweet when I manage to sort the You tube issue.  By 2:30 a.m. we returned to the car and set off for home.  It had been a very interesting and at times, terrifying experience at Pendle Hill.  It is deserved of it's fearsome reputation and I cannot wait to return!


Remember to check out my website tomorrow where I will be hosting a very special and exclusive interview with A.R. Wise, author of the dark and disturbing books 314 and Deadlocked to name just two!  Sales for my novel Glory Hole are seemingly going well and my new novel The Field gets ever closer to completion.  Exciting times indeed!


Until tomorrow night, my friends,

Stay Scared








Welcome to Pendle Hill


Pendle Hill Pics 2



Donnie Darko anyone?








Pendle Hill Pics 3

Walking with ghosts




I'd explain what I am attempting here but I think it is more interesting if I let you use your imaginations...


Our Saturday Night On Pendle Hill - Part One

It was certainly a strange one on Saturday.  Initially the outlook was good; the weather was holding up, the team were all geared up, then things started to go awry.  The first instance was the realisation that our planchette (that was only recently purchased) had miraculously gone walkabouts.  Not very odd, you say?  I would be inclined to agree only for the fact that we always place the planchette in the same place (ornamental glass bowl on our living room table).  Anyway, we had to hastily find a substitute - first 'disaster' avoided.  After an equipment check and a hot cup of tea, we ventured out to meet the other two member of the group.  Louise - the driver and Brian. 


In good spirits we set off and within minutes the excited chatter of what we could possibly expect began:

"Maybe we will contact Old Demdike and she will tell us where to go!"

 "I reckon there is going to be bad shit going down tonight" and "I have a bad feeling about this" were just a few of the comments noted.  The car began to judder and before we knew it, we had swerved, narrowly avoiding the kerb and potentially writing off our vehicle.  Brian, thankfully, was quick to repair the damage and a changed tyre and with much gesticulating and cussing later, we were back on the road (I did help, it must be noted, as I held the flashlight on the wheel change for almost the entire duration) :-D


We arrived in good spirits and after noting the travellers guide, we set off in search of the pathway which would be found between our two main points of interest for the evening.  The farm owned by the descendants of Alice Nutter and the once, meeting point of the nine witches, all those years ago.  The two farms otherwise known as Tynedale and Lower Well Head Farm respectively, are not particularly easy to find (to the locals delight) unless you know the area.  Having been before, and even in the deathly dark, I am thankful to say, we managed it without too much trouble (even with closed roads and tricky terrain).


This area is visited by so many witch and paranormal enthusiast, the locals often will not speak of the two aforementioned farms and rarely offer guidance on their whereabouts.  To be honest, I can understand why.  It is no fun to have dozens of people traipsing around in search of ghosts and goblins.  In-fact at Halloween it has become such an issue, in recent years the roads surrounding the entire area leading to Pendle, are closed and heavily guarded by police and council employees.  Local residents are given a pass in which they reveal upon entering the area.  Heavy handed, yes, necessary?  Well, one can only guess the amount of debris left around after Halloween and the onslaught of youths looking for an annual scare.  Back to our evening of August 31st however...


Upon reaching the 'path' between the two farms and in complete darkness, we set up our equipment,  The air bristled with expectancy and trepidation and I for one, was unnerved.  It is an incredibly eerie place, unsurprisingly considering its history.  Witches who, according to reports, murdered, maimed and cannibalized were not the most enticing entities to communicate with.  However, we set up the equipment and Brian was first to test the dowsing rods.  Whilst Brian was wandering I set up the camera's leaving Holly and Louise to explore.  I took many random shots (I will attach a few to this blog and through the week - time permitting).  Although the shots taken were inconclusive, I am sure you will agree, one or two contain strange anomalies that need further investigation.


It was getting very late already (around 1a.m.) and as we continued our vigil using the K2 EMF meter and dowsing rods, the strangest occurrence of the evening happened.  Again, it is something I cannot explain so I will just say it.  If I was to say, there were strange flashing lights in the sky occurring intermittently and then followed by a noise - or bang, as loud as a firing range and at such a late hour in the pitch black, I feel you would be inclined to agree with me, it was unsettling.  The truth is, we do not know what caused this.  My camera froze and failed and I was urged by the team to gather my belonging and "get the fuck outta there!".  We were scared - that is the truth.  It would not have been so bad but the noise followed us.  I frightened the animals too as we heard the sound of sheep and other unseen creatures crying and scurrying away.  Still the sound continued to get closer (without the light show now) and it followed us until we left the area.



The heart-sinking feeling as we arrived.  We were not for turning back however...





Brian involved with the dowsing rods





The bleak landscape of Pendle


Be sure to check my blog tomorrow evening (BST) as I conclude my report with more photo's and the full account of our terrifying Ouija board experiment.  Also, see my 'bonus blog' using the 'previous post' icon below, including three more photo's...

More Photo's of the Pendle Hill Investigation 31/08/13



Bridge to nowhere



I have no idea what this 'phantom-like' image is.  Very strange to say the least.  There were no flashlights aimed at the area when this photo was taken.





Return of the Jedi


Busy Weekend...

Well, the weekend is nearing conclusion and it has certainly been a busy one!  On Friday, my brother and his partner joined Holly and I for a movie night, where we watched The Lodge and devoured far too much pizza! 


On Saturday my paranormal team finally made our annual visit to my personal, favourite location, Pendle Hill.  Be sure to check my blog tomorrow for the full report, photo's and camcorder footage (including an orb shooting past us as we attempted a Ouija board experiment).  I love Pendle Hill for its creepy atmosphere and notorious history (see Pendle Witch trials including the infamous Elizabeth Demdike and Alice Nutter  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pendle_witches).  Last night proved to be terrifying and tomorrow I will explain why...


On the book front, J.C. Martin kindly blogged about my new novel Glory Hole.  J.C. Martin is the author of two incredibly creepy novels (The Doll and the recently released Oracle).  Thank you so much for the support J.C.http://jc-martin.com/fighterwriter/2013/08/glory-hole-wa-rome/


On a sour note, my football team lost.  I don't want to discuss it as I am fanatical about my team, all I can say is, bring in a midfielder - pllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!

Check out my blog tomorrow on the goings on in Pendle on the night of the 31st August 2013 and why we must return to the sight again very soon!

Stay Scared



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