Thursday, 29 October 2015
Click on the link and visit a world of supernatural hospital horror...
Phantasms in the Infirmary Vol II is now available for the next day on Kindle Countdown Deal for only £ 0.99
Experience hospital horror stories galore
Wednesday, 28 October 2015
Start your party with a story or two from this book.
Haunted hospital horror stories galore.
It's jam packed with ghosts and spectres
Click and purchase a copy now...
Sunday, 25 October 2015
Friday, 23 October 2015
THE portal to the book is thus:
However let me entice you if iI can?
Shadows on the Wall
‘I am well and truly shattered’said Dr Natalie Barlow to herself as she slumped on the comfortable and welcoming bed in the hospital accommodation she was renting during her six-month placement. She had just finished a stint in the busy medical wards in St Augustine’s Hospital. All in all, she had been on duty for more than twenty hours with little if no rest. She had managed to grab a quick few minute’s sleep between the incessant bleeps and calls and barely had any refreshments or nutrition. ‘Ironic’she thought, ‘considering I am supposed to look after people and I can barely look after myself it seems.’Life as a junior doctor was not all that easy. Learning the art of medicine was harder than she had anticipated. The long hours, calls, decisions, lack of support, lack of sleep and the miles and miles of walking were far from glamorous and fulfilling. She had to be at the beck and call of her registrar, Dr Gerry Fellows and her “Old school”consultant, Dr Cecil Johansen, a bright mind with no real character or people skills, for all those hours with little or no thanks from them. The hierarchy of medicine was not a nice and pleasant experience for her. Feeling like she was “flying solo”most of the time, this junior doctor was still supported but only for the more difficult and interesting decisions. It was certainly good experience but at times she felt she needed a short admission to a comfy bed on one of the wards, just enough to get some well-earned sleep and a welcoming meal. The pecking order did not stop there; she was also the “Goffer”for the myriad of ward sisters and nursing staff who insisted on her attention in order to manage the many patients under their care. ‘Dr Nat’as she was affectionately called by the nurses, ‘please write this patient for these meds’or ‘can you review Mr so and so in bed whatever to discharge them home, we need the beds and there is a bed crisis…’. The work seemed boundless and the bed crisis seemed to blend in from one day to the next. She must have walked thirty miles during her endlessly long stint, roaming the extensive corridors and endless staircases in the massive building. They seemed to get longer and the stairs steeper As she got more fatigued. ‘I must get one of those pedometers one day, it would be interesting to know what distance I have really covered on a shift’she mumbled to herself as her head snuggled into the comfortable feather pillow that now supported her weary head. ‘Surely this is enough exercise for anyone? I could even justify saving the extra expense of the gym fees with the half marathons I do on a daily basis?’the young medic thought. Now though, she could release some of the pent up frustrations and catch up on her precious sleep. This was time for herself, to pamper her battered physiological and psychological self. To regain some sense and shutdown the over activity her body and brain had endured with the assault of the last twenty hour shift. Although tired, she was not able to get to sleep straight away, after all it was three in the afternoon and people were in the middle of their busy working day and the hospital was crammed with visiting out patients and relatives undertaking investigations and undergoing consultations with her peers in the busy hospital. Doors banging loudly from parking cars outside, the din of people chattering, cries and wails from people, more cars and ambulance sirens galore were impeding her slumber, it was getting too much. Living in the hospital grounds was convenient and cheap but it had its obvious faults and she was experiencing them all. She needed a strategy to overcome the sleep deprivation and tiredness and Natalie busied herself in order to get the precious sleep her weary body craved for. She reached into the side table and reached for a small box, rattling it to ensure its contents were safely within it. Taking out a small lighter and a candle, she lit the candle, a scented candle with the essence of vanilla and lavender for ambience but kept the light on to ensure the dimly lit cell of a room was less eerie. She needed something to distract her for the next few hours and extinguish the noise pollution too as the candles scent would not achieve this so she reached out for her MP3 player in the same drawer. This was stuffed with relaxing tunes, placed the earphones firmly in her tired ears, looked through the range of genres in music and selected some appropriate music. ‘Aha, a little mood music from Enya will help soothe me into a snooze’as she pressed the play button and tried again to repose and rested back on the bed, staring up at the white ceiling and the light fitting fixed firmly in the centre of it. The sweet dulcet tones of Enya’s voice played “Orinoco flow”in her attempts at a lullaby. She was sailing into the song and getting more reposed with every note of the enchanting melody but alas, still not asleep. Still awake and eyes half open, she noticed the light bulb flicker. ‘Oh no, the bloody bulb looks like it is going to blow, I’ll wait for it to do so, change it then get some shuteye’she thought. The bulb now started to emit a brighter light and then flickered like a strobe light when suddenly the bulb no longer flickered and remained on. ‘Must have been a power surge?’said Natalie. ‘These old hospitals and their cranky electrical systems are quite the pain in the neck at times’she thought. Suddenly, the room became unbearably cold now and the scented candle extinguished itself. ‘That is very strange?’she reflected. However, little did she know what was to transpire? From the corner of the room, she noticed a smoky black figure appear. It was tall and big but there were no distinct features to identify it as anything in particular. It was simply a blackness that grew in front of her now gaping eyes. It glided across her small room stopping momentarily as if looking straight at her and then moved on until it disappeared through the wall opposite to where it originated. Natalie was frozen to the spot. Confused, bewildered and very scared, she was focused on its sinister sequence with no logical explanation to hand she clutched her quilted bed cover closer to her face, covered up in a protective huddle. A strong smell of burning accompanied the apparition. It was a spectral encounter for sure. The adrenaline surge now kicked in as she jolted up on the bed and starred at the wall. There was nothing there now. ‘It must have been a figment of my imagination’the young doctor thought, trying to distinguish logic from a mirage brought on by tiredness. Her rationalization made sense however this did not account for the candle, the light flickering, the cold…as she pondered on this, just as suddenly the smoky figure was standing in her room again. This time, its features were more evident. It was a man, or a figure resembling a man. Caped and sporting a big hat on his head, the appearance similar to a cavalier of old. The apparition was centered on the wall where it had disappeared. Again a sudden drop in ambient temperature and the smell of burning accompanied it. The burning smell was that of flesh. The ghostly dark figure now hovered toward Natalie, and screeched as it came nearer. Her response was to scream and jump out of the bed, propelling herself to the door of her room and pulling on the door knob to release her from her captivity. It was strange because despite the extreme coldness, the doorknob felt scorching hot and she released it immediately. It was then she felt the most helpless she had ever done. Her end was near, or so she thought. The ghost seemed to follow her and she felt trapped and endangered when the door suddenly opened and one of the neighboring nurses boyfriends was at the door, pushing it open and enquiring if she was okay. ‘Thank god you opened the door’a stuttering and shocked Natalie exclaimed. ‘Well we heard screams and wondered what was going on?’Rob, the boyfriend replied. ‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost’. ‘Yes, I think I have’she replied and grabbed hold of the young man and cried into his shoulder. Michelle, the nurse next door was now at the doorway, only witnessing this crying young doctor, grasping her precious boyfriend and wondered what on earth was going on. Rob gesticulated at Michelle as if to say ‘give her some space’as they led her to the communal kitchen. Michelle held her hand as she sat in the safety of relative strangers as Natalie now retold her short but terrible ordeal whilst sipping a small brandy. Michelle had been in the hospital accommodation for over two years and confessed to have heard this same story before. Natalie was shocked to hear that two previous occupiers of her lodgings had left suddenly following visitations from this cloaked smoky apparition. They had even given him a nickname; he was known as the “Caped Cavalier”. This was far from funny to the over tired and shocked Natalie. She was upset and no one had warned her of any malevolence or ghosts in her residence when she had pitched up the week before. ‘Well its something you don’t tend to advertise if you want to make some money from rent’an insensitive Rob uttered and stopped by Michelle’s look, before he said anything else that was equally as unhelpful! ‘It was extremely terrifying and I can’t go back in there’Natalie sobbed as she stressed the fear she was in. ‘I need to call the estates manager now and get another room’Michelle handed her cell-phone to the distressed woman and facilitated the call. ‘Hello, my name is Dr. Natalie Barlow, I am in room thirteen in the nurses quarters and I would like to get another room please, I cannot go back in mine’. There was a pause as she listened to the estates manager. ‘No there are no cockroaches or floods, there is a bloody ghost in my room and I cannot go back in there’she replied with a certain assertiveness to her tone. Again she listened before replying ‘don’t tell me to get a grip of myself, you haven’t had to live through a fucking cloaked man suddenly appearing out of no where, do something’. A few seconds later the call was ended and she hung up. ‘So, what’s the verdict?’Michelle enquired. ‘Well, apart from her thinking I am a nut-job, she will be here presently to examine the room herself’. Within ten minutes, a very hasty and flummoxed Mrs. Regan, head of estates was there. Mrs. Regan, a matronly looking woman in her fifties was now interrogating the young doctor ‘So tell me, where and when did this all happen?’Natalie recounted what had happened and the estates manager just replied ‘humph, we will see about that, give me your key, I will go in there and prove there is nothing like a ghost here in my building’. Natalie handed her the key to her accommodation and waited as the stout cynical woman made her way to the haunted room. Her little legs hurriedly propelled her down the short corridor in her determination to disprove this story. “Bang”the door closed firmly behind her, they waited. It was not long before the screams were heard from the room and a pale and disheveled looking Mrs. Regan appeared…‘Are you still insisting it
Thursday, 22 October 2015
Tuesday, 20 October 2015
Monday, 19 October 2015
This is a rollercoaster ride which has been likened to "Slumdog Millionaire meets In Pursuit of Happiness".
The story evolves slowly into a crescendo of disaster and mystery for a lottery winner.
It does make one think of what could go wrong if you had more money than you could handle.
Suspicion, espionage, courtroom drama and resolve... this book has it all.
Its waiting to be made into a movie - any takers?
Anyway, getting on with the matter in hand - read it now for at a discount for a limited period only....
Our new book has the potential and pedigree to succeed.
Why? Well evidence, only after 1day of being published, it had 181likes on Facebook and has sold a few copies of the paperback edition already.
The other factors include Halloween and maybe even Xmas gift considereration.
This book makes an ideal present for doctors, nurses and medics throughout the English speaking world.
It's not heavy and arduous reading and could be enjoyed by anyone with an interest in the occult or supernatural.
The short stories lend themselves to reading between work, enough to immerse the reader into the world of imagination without totally separating them from the real world and tasks at hand.
It's a very enjoyable genre too.
The paperback version is available on the createspace website and Amazon websites.
There is a reasonably priced Kindle version too.
The link below will direct you to the paperback version.
Enjoy and please don't have nightmares...!
Saturday, 17 October 2015
Better still, buy a copy of The Ultimate Phantasms in the Infirmary either on the link below or Amazon as it's also on kindle
A collection of supernatural hospital horror stories.
It is an amalgamation of volume one and volume two of the Phantasms in the Infirmary series.
This also has an added story to it which was not published in the previous volumes.
The many years in healthcare have not only served the authors well in their career, there have also been the opportunities to collect a number of ghost stories and spectral phenomena that are shared in this book.
The stories of ghostly nuns, poltergeists, mad monks, returning dead members of staff and patients are told in all hospitals.
This is the best of them in one book.
An eerie collection to keep anyone awake at night.
Dare to visit St. Augustine's hospital?
Kindle edition also available
Friday, 16 October 2015
ISBN-13: 978-1518652295 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
BISAC: Fiction / Ghost
As planned, "The Ultimate Phantasms in the Infirmary" is about to be published and available on Kindle and Paperback (CreateSpace).
Phantasms Galore will be available in time for All hallows Eve - Halloween.
The paperback has a nice matt finish and the black and white theme really suits it...
This is an amalgamation of both Vol I and Vol II resulting in "one hell of a book of ghost stories"
I am really pleased with it and so will you.
It is not just another book, it is several different theories put into practice too.
The stories have been developed from tales shared in many hospitals by many health care workers.
They have been spiced up for the delectation of the reader - You!
Two authors have contributed to it plus the Facebook page has produced an extra story that is included within it.
The third difference is that reader contributions have been added.
A Special Thanks goes to Pete Woolgar (Sussex,UK).
Pete was instrumental in adding in the seeds of the extra story and the results... Genius!
What happens now?
Well, I am just awaiting the review process to be completed, then after this, it will be available.
Next, get the book read and make it a top read around the world... Nothing wrong in dreaming big!
Be patient my friends, it is coming soon....
After publishing Legally Lucky, I wrote this one
This is challenging in many ways. It is a different deep and ingenious take on sci fi, science, phobias and environmental issues.
It is full of twists and turns that will keep you hooked on a very different type of story.
#Kindle Countdown Deal
October 16, 2015 to October 23, 2015 from 08:00 which means its been available at a discount price for just over an hour and a half and already, there have been several downloads..
Click on this link to get a dose of Phobic Wars
Thursday, 15 October 2015
Wednesday, 14 October 2015
Tuesday, 13 October 2015
Apart from writing, I do enjoy a spot of painting.. Again, it's a form of relaxation after a hard days work.
Today, I painted a watercolour of my home, Gibraltar inspired by a photo posted on Facebook.
It's an hours painting.. Not a protracted piece but it relaxed and pleased me... Needs a couple of finishing touches. Once done, I'm getting it framed.
Asked an artist friend of mine and will try mounting it with a 20mm wide white card border in a 15mm wide white frame, should look good, oh and glass in front too...
Monday, 12 October 2015
The following is an extract from Phobic Wars.
My second book published that is available on kindle Countdown Deal on the 14th of October
It's a complex and entertaining read guaranteed to meet your needs as a fiction aficionado....
Who is Miss Sally Mack?
It was a cold November morning, the snow had come early and the ward had seemed to admit half the population of the town. Obviously this was not the fact but it felt like it. The inclement weather and the low temperatures of minus ten degrees with a wind-chill factor of minus fifteen (Why not call it minus fifteen?) made many of the elderly patients quite unwell. On top of the bad weather, there was a particularly difficult strain of influenza hitting the community and the nation as a whole. The admissions ward was full to the brim, and there was a bed crisis in the hospital as always. A bed crisis is the term used when there are more patients needing beds in hospital than there are beds available. The crisis had escalated to Red on the Red, Amber, Green scale of bed management! All non-essential operations were called off, all staff available to cover any shifts were called in and in general, the movement of people, personnel, beds and equipment was planned and executed effectively by a bunch of managers and there teams. Frances was on duty on this day, working as hard and as fast as she could, supported by her team and colleagues. The phone rang for the umpteenth time that afternoon and the ward clerk jotted more details on the board, 3 patients coming up from the admissions unit. All three had “exacerbation of C.O.P.D.”as their diagnosis. With all the workload and the low numbers of staff, as a number of staff members were also suffering with the influenza virus, Frances needed to be dynamic with the management of her team. She asked a senior student and a more junior student to admit two of the patients, two males who were going to be allocated to one part of the ward and she would admit the lady, a Miss Sally Mack. The students would help each other and she could get on with the admission and any other pressing stuff that may be required of her and then she might squeeze in the I.V.’s and write up the reports and maybe cram in a quick cup of strong coffee to keep her going? At half past four in the afternoon, just before the evening meals were about to be served, Miss Mack and the two gents came from the admissions unit. Timing in hospitals is never right…Like a convoy of slow moving vehicles, the beds were wheeled in by burly porters and nursing staff, clad with notes, clothes, drips and oxygen tubing. Frances directed them to the spaces allocated for them and proceeded to delegate some tasks to Linda and Jill who were on duty too. As she was about to greet Miss Mack, the phone call she had heard in the background had been answered by one of the students and she said, ‘sister, it’s the E.R. asking to speak with you urgently’she turned and headed for the phone, gesticulating to the Porter to accompany the lady to the space in bed 5. Following the conversation about a possible other patient with a pneumothorax and chest drain in situ coming up to them, Frances directed her attentions to processing Miss Mack’s admission. She approached Miss Mack who by this point she was sitting comfortably on the bed, with the head-rest out, fluffed pillows and looking quite comfortable, despite the whooshing oxygen being delivered via the nasal specs. Her blue nightdress went quite well with her current complexion but hopefully, they would remedy this in the next few days. Frances approached her and said ‘Hello Miss Mack, welcome to ward 9’. Frances put her hand out to greet Miss Mack and then she noticed she had webbed fingers to both hands. Syndactyly. This was the rare Type 4: Haas-type syndactyly which was complete webbing, or complete syndactyly of all digits. She also had cupped hands. This was not mentioned prior to admission, the only problem she could foresee was that she may not be able to check her oxygen saturations with a finger probe and may need an ear probe. Practicalities of nursing care...! Frances tried not to show any shock on her face but it was too late, Miss Mack had noticed, but she said ‘it’s okay dear; it is not something you probably see every day’. She was right; Frances had seen clubbed fingers, cyanosed fingers, missing fingers, broken fingers, burnt fingers etc. but never webbed fingers. ‘I am sorry if I appeared rude but ...’‘Please dear’, Miss Mack interrupted, ‘don’t worry or apologise, you were not rude at all’‘Please call me Sally’. ‘I am Frances, the ward sister ‘she retorted. Frances proceeded to make her feel welcome and underwent the admission process, efficiently and with speed, not compromising on quality for the sake of getting the paperwork done. There was something atypical about her condition, during the admission questions she had noted that she was diagnosed with COPD yet she had never smoked, she was not an asthmatic or ever been ill before, her records were surprisingly small for someone so ill. What also made her curious was that her chest x-ray had shown she had pulmonary oedema yet her chest was remarkably clear of any crackles, strange! She was allergic to diuretics so none were prescribed and she noted that her blue discolouration, cyanosis, was not much better with her oxygen flowing at 2 litres per minute and her blood gases were quite normal, despite all the respiratory effort and breathlessness. Within 30 minutes, she was clerked in and ready for a bite of something warm to eat and a nice warm cup of tea. Hospital food can be quite off putting at times but hospital tea will help anything flow down the oesophagus. The meals, medicines, I.V. drugs, nebulisers and the plethora of other things that needed to be done had been done. The patients were comfortable, clean, fed and watered. Frances now had some time to herself as the visiting time was underway and she could catch up with the lesser priorities such as taking a quick break and resting. The shift was finally nearly over, ‘what a busy one it had been’Frances thought. She prepared all the information to hand over to the night shift and allowed the students off the ward a little early as they had worked their socks off and this was her way of thanking them, as well as saying ‘thanks for all your hard work today’. They left the ward with beaming smiles, feeling useful and part of the workforce. Frances handed over to the night shift and left for home, but not before she went down the ward and checked all was to her satisfaction. All was in order and as she passed by Sally Mack’s bed, she heard her say, ‘Frances, please go home and have a good rest, you cannot do any more for anyone else today, have a bath, have some food, have a warm drink and let your dreams take you on a nice long swim …’Frances smiled and said good night and walked off. However, as she left the ward, she recalled that last conversation and thought ‘a nice long swim’. What is a strange analogy’but thought nothing else of it. She drove home, in the winter weather; concentrating on the traitorous icy roads beneath the newly settling snow. She looked forward to the bath and rest, this triggered off another recall of that conversation with Sally and her watery comments. She arrived home, and run from the car, despite the snow. It was cold and she was looking forward to that elusive nice warm bubble-bath, putting the kettle and on and making herself a big mug of hot chocolate and the radio in the background chilling out. Once all this was done and she settled to bed, wrapped herself in her duvet and she finally relaxed and rested and seemed to go into a warm slumber.
Saturday, 10 October 2015
‘Don’t look at him straight in the face, whatever you do’the grandfather said to his grandson ‘Why grandad?’enquired the young child as he held his grandfather’s hand, now with a firmer grip than previously.
‘He is a zombie, the living dead’ he remarked. ‘If he looks at you and you look back at him, he will measure you up for the coffin you will soon be lying in’he added. Julian never forgot that. After all, this was quite the weighted statement for a young child to hear in the sponge-like formative years where all is absorbed, digested and learnt.
The person he was referring to was a strange; dysmorphic man that always wore a shirt, tie and dark suit.
He was dishevelled despite the attire, which incidentally was ill fitting and looked like they belonged to somebody else, twice his size. This man, Mr O’Hara, looked quite frightening as his head seemed out of proportion to the rest of his body, small and pea-like in comparison. His arms were long and a short torso carried him through the busy streets of the town. He always seemed solemn and down. What made matters worse was that he never seemed to be clean shaven or sport a beard. It was that scruffy and annoying in-between growth. The eyes were his worse feature. One looked at you, the other away from you…! All in all, it was easy to believe why he was called “El Muerto”the dead man. His function was that of an assistant to a funeral director. He was lowly paid for all the grafting he did when a funeral was in the planning. He would liaise between the local grave diggers and the family and help ensure all went well. As well as a funeral could go. The rumour had it that he was born from an incestuous liaison between siblings. This was unverifiable but it created the negative mystique this man bared and carried on a daily basis. He was visible on a daily basis. He would walk through the town conducting his funereal business and occasionally run into some kinfd of argument with a passer by taking the liberty of bullying him. Nevertheless, Julian always respected and remembered what his grandad had said and never looked him in the eye. It was many years later that as a young student nurse, he came in on duty for a shift on the surgical ward and lo and behold, there he was…Mr O’Hara was sitting on a bed, in red and white, candy stripped pyjamas, again, looking like they had been borrowed off someone else. The shoulder areas hanging well off the shoulders, top tucked in the trousers and his trousers tied around the top of this with a thick cord. Not a great sight by any means. He looked at Julian, straight in the face and smiled as if to say hello. This young student was taken aback by this. How was he supposed to react with the inner conflicts that now run through him? His grandfather had advised avoidance of any contact in his formative years but now he had to be professional and make some kind of contact with him. This was his duty and obligation. Julian smiled back, a disingenuous smile but none the less a minor breakthrough. ‘Hello young man, what is your name?’Mr O’Hara directed the question straight at him. ‘Erm, Julian’he replied. ‘ErmJulian?, that is a strange name?’remarked the patient, mocking the young man…‘No Just Julian’he added hastily. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am Tony’the man said as he now stretched his hand out in friendship and awaited the young nurses reciprocal hand. What a dilemma, not only was he having to face him, talk to him but now having to touch “El Muerto”but he did. He inwardly shuddered but made no obvious signs of outward revulsion. This was awful as the judgements he had made over the years that were just malicious rumours were having an impact on his interactions with a patient. Julian composed himself. ‘So, Mr O’Hara, what brings you into St Augustine’s then?’‘I have a hernia that needs repairing, been shifting too many bodies around I guess’as a broke into an eerie chuckle. So much for the breakthrough, the inner child kicked in and he stepped back slightly, enough to be noticed by the older man sitting next to them. He said, ‘don’t let this old bastard tease you with his stories, he is alright really, don’t be frightened, it’s the living you have to fear, not the dead’and they burst out laughing. The ice broken, Julian slowly recognised that this poor man had been dealt a very raw deal in life, remarkably well spoken and witty; he had never been given the chances he should have had, because of his physical appearance. Julian felt sorry for him rather than fear. Over the coming days he got to know the man and not the infamous legend that shrouded him. He managed his care and grew quite fond of him, helping out wherever he could in the pre and post-operative stages to his full recovery. He had spent a good week in hospital, he was now clean shaven daily and seemed to have filled into his attire a little more. Mr O’Hara was now mobilising well and his pain was under control, the wound was healing and discharge home loomed over the horizon. It was just after the evening meals had been distributed and prior to the evening medication round, Julian stood beside his patient and asked, ‘All ready to go home soon then Tony?’‘Yes indeed I am, I cannot wait to get back to work and get out of here’. ‘Oh, why the hurry?’‘Well Julian, you know they call me “El Muerto”don’t you?’Ashamedly he replied ‘Well yes, but that is nonsense and very cruel’‘Thank you for the vote of confidence but there is some truth in that I do see and speak to the dead’Julian now regressed to his child-like state, all the work he had done to ensure he was not put off by the malicious myth that surrounded this man was well and truly out of the window…Tony sensed this and replied ‘You have nothing to fear as long as you remain as helpful and compassionate as you are but be aware’. ‘Aware of what?’he asked nervously, not really looking forward to the reply. ‘Be aware that there are many spirits in this place, the long departed that have remained here for their own gains, some are good but many are not’. Julian was uncomfortable with this and challenged the patient by saying ‘surely you do not believe in all of those ghosts stories do you?’‘They are not all stories, be warned, be careful and be vigilant, there is a lot of danger in here, I have seen it over the last few days’. ‘Do you remember the last two patient’s that passed away?’‘Yes of course’he replied. ‘Well they were taken by the Dark Angel’. Now terrified, he tried to rationalise the statement by saying that the patients he was referring to had died as expected due to their underlying pathology. O’Hara now looked at him straight in the eyes. His meandering eye, strangely focussed on him and said ‘There is a dark Angel in this ward that does its rounds every night, it floats in and looks at everyone, whilst they sleep, I have seen it’. ‘Once it decides on who it wants, the dark matter engulfs he person and they are taken by it…’‘Come on Tony, don’t say these things, they cannot be true’‘Well if they aren’t true, then tell me why they seem to die between the stroke of two and quarter past the hour?’‘Check the records if you do not believe me’‘I will’replied the young man ‘…but why are you telling me this?’‘I like you, you have been kind to me and I want you to protect yourself, the Dark Angel will take many and is not fussed by who it takes, if he takes a fancy to a staff member, it will take them…’Mr O’Hara now said firmly as he held Julian’s arm ‘Leave this ward, leave this hospital as soon as you can, it is not safe’. Saved by the bell, the call buzzer was loudly blowing and Julian made his excuses and left him to attend to the needs of another patient. The shift got busy with numerous tasks and admissions galore. Although he was intrigued by the tête-à-tête with his unusual patient Julian did not have a chance to return to his patient “El Muerto”. The conversation had remained unfinished and maybe this was a small blessing. Julian had pondered on the significance of this all and how it would affect his career choices, based on ghost stories? Maybe leaving the dialogue hanging could help him in not making any rash decisions? He was on another late the next day so he knew he would not get to say goodbye to the much maligned man he had got to know, like but now fear again. The next day, on shift, he came in a little early in order to look at the ward register. He was inquisitive and a little intrigued. Was there any truth or pattern to this ? He took out the old register and looked at the deaths and noted the vast amount of “time of death”entries for 02: 00 –02: 15. It seemed unnaturally high. He looked down at the register over the last few weeks and it seemed to give substance to the supernatural theory That O’Hara had eluded to. He followed the register down to the last week and then …there it was, the latest entry “Mr Anthony O’Hara; time of death 02.14”. The “Dark Angel”, the angel of death he had referred to had come to collect him. Julian wondered if Mr O’Hara had guessed this was going to be the outcome? Improbable and quite impossible however the facts were there…Mr O’Hara was expected to make a full recovery, but as “El Muerto”himself had said if the angel wants you, he will take you…. There is no choice!
Wednesday, 7 October 2015
The reason for this is not all commercially driven but access driven too.
I needyyour opinion on this.
Is it viable and needed?
In other words, will it sell?
Let me know your thoughts on this, seriously....
Monday, 5 October 2015
The bright full moon shone on the stark looking edifice. St. Augastine's hospital was quiet and peaceful, apart from the occasional breeze whistling through the long corridors, you could say you could hear a pin drop. Now, the overwhelming silence, overpowering and all consuming was suddenly broken by a shrill scream of a woman's voice.
The fear was palpable as the young nurse was rooted to the spot, her heart pounding within her chest, pale and hyperventilating, something scary had just happened.
Not only had the silence broken but a strange aroma began to fill the space. It was almost like the sulphur of a recently snuffed match.
The nurse tried to move but, somehow, her legs would just not work.
She felt incredibly cold and could even see the puffs of her erratic breathing form clouds as she exhaled.
A slow, steady tapping sound started at the far end of the corridor.
Her colleagues hurriedly came to her assistance only to be equally arrested by what they encountered, a strange and inexplicable form that darted from end to end of the four bedded bay, knocking the overhead lighting with the expanse of its form. It was huge, bizarre and dark, very dark. The swollen blackness creating the tapping as it collided against the dimmed fluorescent bulbs.
Sunday, 4 October 2015
Obviously, I don't want to cannibalise sales so would leave the separate entities (pardon the pun) available for separate purchase.
However, there has to be something different in the amalgamated edition so I thought it would be great to write a scary hospital horror tale together with you all.. What are yourtthoughts on this?
How I will it work?
Add in and build the Story
On Google and on my Facebook page
Once we have a complete story, edit and include in the joint version.
Sounds like a good idea?
I'll give it a week for replies then we will start building it....
Ghosts fortunately aren't just for English speakers.
They are a worldwide phenomenon...
The Spanish version of Phantasms in the Infirmary is available very soon... In time for Halloween.
BOO is boo in any languageand screams of fear are the same in any ttongue.
Obviously, there will be reminders nearer the time.
Saturday, 3 October 2015
Working in hospitals for most of my life have given me many experiences to reflect on.
Most are positive and treasured.
Some are not so... Which is why Phantasms in the Infirmary was written and followed up by Phantasms in the Infirmary Vol II.
The spectral activity retold within the books is based on experiences from beyond the grave that have been shared by colleagues and friends.
They are adapted into the works of horror fiction that contained within the pages of these novels.
Ghostly monks and disembodied voices, nuns of death and shadows that attempt to take life.
Nurses that have never clocked out of shifts and others make an entertaining and colourful read.
They are ideal for reading alone or sharing in a group... Especially late at night, only of you dare.
The Phantasms series is one I would obviously reccomend not only as one of the authors but also as a reader....
You will never be able to attend a hospital appointment or visit in the same way for fear of the ghosts that lurk in the Infirmary...
Friday, 2 October 2015
Here is a light read that is sure to send your hairs in the back of your neck into a tingle...
Goosebumps galore with this collection of short stories that follow on from Volume one.
To make it extra special - it is available on a Kindle countdown deal for only a few more days.
Don't feel left out - check it out
Click and download as at the top of this email....
Enjoy and don't have nightmares
New review for the first one....
Phantasms in the Infirmary
Read it .....if you dare !
By MR H. - 2 Oct. 2015
A page turner ....if you are brave enough....maybe not for a late night read. Author obviously has endured many a night shift ...in the shadows and what was that creak or groan ...great read and now there is a second volume to savour