Tag Archives: ghost story

Book Review of “Ghost Story” (2011), Book 13 in “The Dresden Files” Series

ghost story

© James Pyles

I’ve been systematically going through The Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher and late last night, I finished Ghost Story (2011) the thirteenth in the series.

Oh man.

Spoiler Alert!

Stop here if you haven’t read the novel and want to be surprised (and there are a lot of surprises to be had). You have been warned.

This story begins six months after the end of the preceding novel Changes. In that book, everything Harry ever possessed was taken away from him including a daughter he didn’t know he had.

In order to save her from the Red Court vampires, Harry literally sells his soul and ultimately has to murder the love of his life and his daughter’s mother to save his child and really, the whole world.

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And the Sea Shall Claim Her Dead

roger-bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“We came to take nuclear torpedoes from an old submarine, not hunt for ghosts.” Simon, in the pilot’s seat of the deep-sea submersible, sounded almost panicked rather than his usual assured self.

“I can’t help that,” yelled Cora at the hydrophones. The banging I hear from the inside of that sub is an SOS. Someone’s still alive in there.”

“That’s bloody impossible,” snarled Vic. He was working the manipulators trying to free the first torpedo. “We’re 10,000 feet deep and that sub sank 60 years ago.”

“Tell that to them,” Cora shrieked. Then the sea’s dead came for the pirates.

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“Haunted Places” Anthology is Here!

haunted places

Promotional cover art for “Haunted Places” volume 2

It’s here!

The Haunted Places (universal link) anthology featuring my short story “Haunting Chloe” is now available!

Here’s a sample of my story:

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Coming Soon in “Haunted Places”

haunted places

Promotional cover art for “Haunted Places” volume 2

My short story “Haunting Chloe” will be featured in the upcoming anthology “Haunted Places,” edited by Jamie Ferguson.

Jamie’s probably one of the best fiction publishers and editors I’ve worked with. She is very keen on details and proverbially holds my feet to the fire to make sure I turn in the best story possible. She also provides exceptionally helpful feedback on my writing including how (thankfully) it has improved over the past few years.

Here’s the promotional blurb:

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Every 30th of May

brooklyn bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

She always manifested first for her life was the cause. Mist rose under the Brooklyn Bridge that May 30th as the twelve appeared. The people who were present either were unable to perceive them through a lack of faith or chose to ignore what they considered the impossible.

After all this time, those few who could see them but didn’t know what they were thought them to be performers in some macabre cosplay. When they tried to approach any of them, they wavered and vanished. The ghosts of the bridge’s tragic past were sentinels and did not speak cautionary tales.

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I See Dead People, Even On Vacation

gold hill

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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“Oh, come on, Grandpa. Gold Hill is such a famous street and Shaftesbury is so beautiful,” said twenty-year-old Nell. “Try to enjoy it. How often do you get to go on vacation?”

“I’m retired so every day is a vacation and you know how I hate old places, especially old crowded places.” Chandler’s eyes kept darting around as if following a cloud of wasps.

“Crowds? It’s early in the morning. There’s hardly anyone around.” Her eyes widened with realization. “You mean them? That’s just your imagination.”

“No, Nell, it’s not. I really do see ghosts and this place is loaded.”

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The Prattsville Spectral Tavern and Restaurant

prattsville

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

Ed held the polished wooden sign declaring “Homestead Bed and Breakfast” in both hands. He looked dubiously back and forth between the derelict building in the middle of nowhere and his wife.

Lorraine’s grin radiated absurd confidence. “Put the sign up next to the others. Our dear haunt will be incarcerated with the rest. You’ve seen Ghostbusters.”

“They had a laser containment.”

“Just stick it to the wall.”

The sign magically adhered to the rotting wood and because he was near the door, Ed could hear the other spirits welcoming their new resident. The party got started all over again.

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My Short Story “The Haunted Detective’s Cat” Has Been Accepted Into the Anthology “Moggie Noir 2”

moggie noir 2

Proposed cover art for the Raconteur Press anthology “Moggie Noir 2.”

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

Raconteur Press has just accepted my short story “The Haunted Detective’s Cat” for their upcoming anthology “Moggie Noir 2” (title and cover image subject to change).

The basic requirements are “crime noir” and “a cat.” A moggie or moggy is:

…an informal British term for a cat, especially one that does not have a pedigree or is otherwise unremarkable.

My story involves San Francisco Private Detective Marguerite “Margie” Potter set in the summer of 1948. Here’s a small sample:

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Haunting Ice

ice

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

Twelve-year-old Isabella used to resent having to spend two-weeks in January in Dad’s frozen cabin in the middle of nowhere. Two solid weeks of cold, gray suck.

She was in the mud room getting ready to go outside so Dad and step-mom could “try to make her a baby sibling.”

“Disgusting.”

She grabbed her skates. She would never use them again after she almost fell through the ice. Billy saved her just in time. Since then, she went to the pond to talk with Billy every day. He’d fallen through when he was her age. Now he’s the pond’s ghost.

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Among the Living

green door

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

Halloween, the Day of the Dead all blurred together for Eddie. It stretched from last Tuesday to early Monday morning. The deal he made was better than he expected. Sure, he died. Cancer was a relentless enemy and the reaper was always at his shoulder. But every year for a week he returned to life, free of haunting the house with the green door.

He didn’t realize how depressing life would become. Eddie died on V-J day, September 2, 1945. Right before he passed, they told him we’d won. They didn’t say how much they’d lose almost eighty years later.

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