Lee Allen's Blog - Posts Tagged "whispers-from-the-dead-of-night"
Coming soon... A Deathly Shade of Pale
This Hallowe'en, my brand new short story, A Deathly Shade of Pale, will be available to download.
___
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
Waking on a boat in a sea of mist and water, with no memory of how I got here, I find myself pursued by fragments of dreams and memories.
A beautiful woman haunts me, while whomever ferries the boat remains silent.
As I find my way to land, the mystery threatens to unravel in a devastating revelation.
___
This will be the first story from my upcoming collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night, and will be available to download on Amazon and Lulu on October 31st, with more retailers to follow during November.
Watch out for a preview coming soon...
Pre-order now on Amazon
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
___
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
Waking on a boat in a sea of mist and water, with no memory of how I got here, I find myself pursued by fragments of dreams and memories.
A beautiful woman haunts me, while whomever ferries the boat remains silent.
As I find my way to land, the mystery threatens to unravel in a devastating revelation.
___
This will be the first story from my upcoming collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night, and will be available to download on Amazon and Lulu on October 31st, with more retailers to follow during November.
Watch out for a preview coming soon...
Pre-order now on Amazon
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
A Deathly Shade of Pale - Preview
I am amongst the lost ones now. Disjointed, fragmented, like I am only pieces of myself, an unknown quantity no longer wholly me, ground to dust and dispersed like slivers of shattered glass, carried as the breeze carries grains across dunes of sand, far and wide and without their own defined and fixed space, without their own identity. Is it possible that in those pieces are parts of me now irretrievable, like an emotion no longer felt, a memory without recollection, a lesson unlearned? Has the whole of me – my body, my mind, my soul – become so unrecognisable that I am no longer myself; that whatever I feel that I am, is simply not, and I am only a single fragment, drifting in desolation and bewilderment, like that single grain of sand, until it snuffs out like dispelled smoke, as all other fragments have been or will soon follow?
Consciousness thuds into my brain, hammering at my skull with relentless malice, daring the fog clouding my mind to clear, to burn my retinas with the truth of clarity. In this fog floats the remaining pieces of me, in a cloud of dislocation. The pain sears through my head, ringing down my ear canals, breath catching in my throat as if taken for the first time. Light-headedness is like a hot, clammy hand clasping my brain, sucking me down into a vacuum.
Vision blurred; I am aware only of the cold. My fingertips feel enclosed in icicles, breeze ruffling the hairs on my hands with a coating of moisture. I startle, rising quickly, and realise how stiff my body has become, collapsing back and hitting solid ground – yet feel it sway beneath me. A wave of disorientation, like the cloud has formed a fist with which to break me down; I raise my arms to protect my face from the blows. But they do not come. My breathing sounds shallow to my ears, alien and not from my own body, part of the tapestry of the looming threat that does not manifest, but simply hovers, its shadow a constant and lingering spectre.
I drop my arms, hearing the splash as my fingertips collide with the iciness once more. Only now does clarity break a small dawn into my consciousness; I am beside water, my cold hand and arm the victim of its selfish kisses. I pull my hand away, reaching instinctively to wipe away the water on my coat. I stroke the fleece lining, its thick durability, understanding now why only parts of my body feel the chill, others insulated. Fragmented awareness.
My movements have triggered nerve endings to send sluggish messages to my brain, the burning crick in my neck forcing its way through the laziness, demanding to be acknowledged. I am slouched into a corner and my hand moves from my coat to what lies beneath me. It is solid, neither the soft sand nor rough earth I had expected. It is smooth, not the rugged formation of rock. My skin catches, pierced, blood drawn. A splinter. I am on a wooden surface. I force my body upward to relieve the pain, the ground rocking, my hand gripping an edge beyond which is thickening fog. I am on a boat, a small wooden boat in a sea of mist.
I listen to the silence, staring into the blackened water and the thick blanket of grey that hovers above it. I can see no more than a few feet beyond the edge. I watch the impenetrable blackness of the water and wonder at what is lurking just beneath the surface, that if my hand were to break the rippling calm if I would be dragged from where I sit. In the dark, there is no indication of the water’s depth or the dangers it obscures. By night, it is a great slumbering beast that when awakened will erupt with hisses and roars. But for now, its sound is silence, but for the lapping at the sides of the boat, the gentle breathing of sleep.
I cannot remember how I came to be here, what led me to set off from the shore, nor even how far away that may be. I crane my sore neck, only to see more fog thickening in my vision, the black water beyond the stern of the wooden vessel. I climb to my feet carefully, slowly, the boat rocking with my movements. I grip the side as I stand, stooping, praying I will not be tipped over into the murky depths. As I steady myself, I pull my coat tight around me, squinting into the fog. There is nothing to see.
I register movement to my left. From the little I see, it cannot be a large boat on which I find myself, suggesting the movement is at its bow. I hear dragging in the water, subtle under the constant lapping against wood. Again, my eyes detect movement, a flash of ivory dim amongst the fog.
“Hello?” My voice cracks in my throat, the words escaping in a hoarse whisper. I clear my throat soundlessly, now unsure whether I ought to call out again.
Beneath the swell of the water, I hear the ripple of musical notes, incongruous in this cavern of mist and water. It is far away, a glimpse of the land I left behind or a memory I can’t quite reach out and hold, I cannot be sure which. No longer am I stood on the deck; I dance, swirling in circles, no longer in my heavy lined coat, dressed in tails, my partner nestled in my arms, as elegant as she is beautiful. My hand reaches to touch her face, but she is gone, disintegrating into mist, her image now unclear in my mind.
___
A Deathly Shade of Pale will be available from Amazon and Lulu.com on Hallowe'en, with other retailers to follow.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Consciousness thuds into my brain, hammering at my skull with relentless malice, daring the fog clouding my mind to clear, to burn my retinas with the truth of clarity. In this fog floats the remaining pieces of me, in a cloud of dislocation. The pain sears through my head, ringing down my ear canals, breath catching in my throat as if taken for the first time. Light-headedness is like a hot, clammy hand clasping my brain, sucking me down into a vacuum.
Vision blurred; I am aware only of the cold. My fingertips feel enclosed in icicles, breeze ruffling the hairs on my hands with a coating of moisture. I startle, rising quickly, and realise how stiff my body has become, collapsing back and hitting solid ground – yet feel it sway beneath me. A wave of disorientation, like the cloud has formed a fist with which to break me down; I raise my arms to protect my face from the blows. But they do not come. My breathing sounds shallow to my ears, alien and not from my own body, part of the tapestry of the looming threat that does not manifest, but simply hovers, its shadow a constant and lingering spectre.
I drop my arms, hearing the splash as my fingertips collide with the iciness once more. Only now does clarity break a small dawn into my consciousness; I am beside water, my cold hand and arm the victim of its selfish kisses. I pull my hand away, reaching instinctively to wipe away the water on my coat. I stroke the fleece lining, its thick durability, understanding now why only parts of my body feel the chill, others insulated. Fragmented awareness.
My movements have triggered nerve endings to send sluggish messages to my brain, the burning crick in my neck forcing its way through the laziness, demanding to be acknowledged. I am slouched into a corner and my hand moves from my coat to what lies beneath me. It is solid, neither the soft sand nor rough earth I had expected. It is smooth, not the rugged formation of rock. My skin catches, pierced, blood drawn. A splinter. I am on a wooden surface. I force my body upward to relieve the pain, the ground rocking, my hand gripping an edge beyond which is thickening fog. I am on a boat, a small wooden boat in a sea of mist.
I listen to the silence, staring into the blackened water and the thick blanket of grey that hovers above it. I can see no more than a few feet beyond the edge. I watch the impenetrable blackness of the water and wonder at what is lurking just beneath the surface, that if my hand were to break the rippling calm if I would be dragged from where I sit. In the dark, there is no indication of the water’s depth or the dangers it obscures. By night, it is a great slumbering beast that when awakened will erupt with hisses and roars. But for now, its sound is silence, but for the lapping at the sides of the boat, the gentle breathing of sleep.
I cannot remember how I came to be here, what led me to set off from the shore, nor even how far away that may be. I crane my sore neck, only to see more fog thickening in my vision, the black water beyond the stern of the wooden vessel. I climb to my feet carefully, slowly, the boat rocking with my movements. I grip the side as I stand, stooping, praying I will not be tipped over into the murky depths. As I steady myself, I pull my coat tight around me, squinting into the fog. There is nothing to see.
I register movement to my left. From the little I see, it cannot be a large boat on which I find myself, suggesting the movement is at its bow. I hear dragging in the water, subtle under the constant lapping against wood. Again, my eyes detect movement, a flash of ivory dim amongst the fog.
“Hello?” My voice cracks in my throat, the words escaping in a hoarse whisper. I clear my throat soundlessly, now unsure whether I ought to call out again.
Beneath the swell of the water, I hear the ripple of musical notes, incongruous in this cavern of mist and water. It is far away, a glimpse of the land I left behind or a memory I can’t quite reach out and hold, I cannot be sure which. No longer am I stood on the deck; I dance, swirling in circles, no longer in my heavy lined coat, dressed in tails, my partner nestled in my arms, as elegant as she is beautiful. My hand reaches to touch her face, but she is gone, disintegrating into mist, her image now unclear in my mind.
___
A Deathly Shade of Pale will be available from Amazon and Lulu.com on Hallowe'en, with other retailers to follow.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Whispers from the Dead of Night
Happy Hallowe'en!
A Deathly Shade of Pale, my brand new short story and the first from my upcoming collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night is available to download now at Lulu.com and Amazon.
The full collection will be available in ebook and paperback in early 2020.
___
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
A forbidden love…
A killer who preys on the lonely…
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter’s evening.
Pre-order on Amazon now!
Look out for the next short story, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas on Friday 13th December.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
A Deathly Shade of Pale, my brand new short story and the first from my upcoming collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night is available to download now at Lulu.com and Amazon.
The full collection will be available in ebook and paperback in early 2020.
___
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
A forbidden love…
A killer who preys on the lonely…
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter’s evening.
Pre-order on Amazon now!
Look out for the next short story, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas on Friday 13th December.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Coming soon... 'Twas the Night Before Christmas
’Twas the Night Before Christmas will be available to download on Friday, 13th December.
---
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
Ellie and her family are preparing for their annual festivities, while the weather begins to deteriorate and threatens to cut them off from the outside world.
A man arrives out of the snowstorm, stranded and in need of their help, so they invite him to join them for the evening.
But as the snow continues to fall, Ellie discovers that behind a façade of innocence may hide the face of evil.
---
This will be the second story from my upcoming collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night, following the release of A Deathly Shade of Pale on Hallowe’en.
’Twas the Night Before Christmas can be pre-ordered from Amazon for just 99p and will be available from Lulu.com on Friday the 13th, with other retailers to follow.
A Deathly Shade of Pale can be downloaded FREE from Lulu.com.
You can also pre-order Whispers from the Dead of Night for download from Amazon.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
---
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
Ellie and her family are preparing for their annual festivities, while the weather begins to deteriorate and threatens to cut them off from the outside world.
A man arrives out of the snowstorm, stranded and in need of their help, so they invite him to join them for the evening.
But as the snow continues to fall, Ellie discovers that behind a façade of innocence may hide the face of evil.
---
This will be the second story from my upcoming collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night, following the release of A Deathly Shade of Pale on Hallowe’en.
’Twas the Night Before Christmas can be pre-ordered from Amazon for just 99p and will be available from Lulu.com on Friday the 13th, with other retailers to follow.
A Deathly Shade of Pale can be downloaded FREE from Lulu.com.
You can also pre-order Whispers from the Dead of Night for download from Amazon.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
'Twas the Night Before Christmas - Preview
She would always remember the first night he visited, on a cold and treacherous Christmas Eve so many years before. Not unlike this one, with the wind howling down the chimney and a young child awaiting the arrival of St. Nicholas. Through the thin glass, she watched the cobbled street, awaiting the purr of the engine and crunch of tyres, fearful of a faraway tread of hooves and wheels bouncing from the cracks.
Her fingertips touched the cold pane, as the first snowfall of winter began; flakes gently floating against the glass, vanishing as if at the touch of her fingers. That day had seen the first snowfall of winter too, while she had been walking the fields with her younger brother, her father having gone down into the village to stock up on provisions. She had raised her arms to the sky, thanking the Lord that it was to be a white Christmas.
Laughing, she and her brother had run back to the house, where they found their mother assisting Mrs Gibbon, the cook and housekeeper, with the preparations for this evening’s dinner and tomorrow’s celebratory luncheon. It was a tradition for their mother to help in the kitchen each Christmas; so as never to forget her roots, she said.
“Would you like any help, Mother?”
“No, thank you, Ellie. You just keep your brother occupied until your father gets home and we can prepare for this evening.”
Which she dutifully did. Holidays, Christmas in particular, while they were children had been filled with games and laughter, the sheer joy that only children can feel. Reminiscing, then, had always overflowed with a warm glow, not tinged with the cold edge of sadness and the bitterness of regret. Childhood should be as sweet as candy cane and she was glad of it, but only wished she could see it otherwise than as through the glass of a snow globe.
She remembered the many Christmases spent baking in the kitchen with Mrs Gibbon, singing carols along to the wireless with her brother, taking long walks in the countryside in the brisk air with her father. She could shake all of these images and watch the snow fall around them the way the icing sugar used to fall through a sieve to top a Victoria sponge, each one like a scene from the handmade Christmas cards which her mother would send to cousins and aunts and uncles whom she had never met. The mirage of a perfect Christmas.
They spent the afternoon in the sitting room, listening to the wireless, watching out of the window as the snow fell thicker, listening to the carols. A radio play aired, a tale of goblins who hijacked St. Nicholas’ grotto and forced the elves to make monstrous toys to be delivered to the world’s children on Christmas Eve and trap them all in a time loop, so that Christmas morning would never again dawn. Darkness fell slowly from mid-afternoon, the white haze growing thicker. The snow was sticking and getting deeper before they finally heard the clattering of the front door.
A flurry of snow preceded their father into the hallway.
“Maud and her brood assured me they were leaving promptly as I left. She said we shouldn’t wait for her to serve dinner.”
“Hugo, that simply won’t do. They are our guests; I should not be seen to be ungracious enough to sit down to dinner prior to their arriving.”
“Very well, Carolyn, we shall await their arrival.”
Ellie listened to this exchange as she watched the snow begin to pile in the driveway. Her aunt Maud, Maud’s husband Gregory, and her cousins, Jack and John, would likely struggle to reach them. It would be a shame. They visited every Christmas. The boys, aged nine and ten, were like brothers to Eustace, her own nine-year-old brother. When it snowed, she and her father would help the three boys build a snowman while her mother assisted Mrs Gibbon in preparing the luncheon.
“Eleanor, perhaps you and your brother should help your mother prepare the dining room and then get yourselves ready for dinner.”
“Yes, Father.” She switched off the wireless and beckoned to her brother.
After laying the table for eight, Ellie filled herself a bath, enjoying the hot water enveloping her body whilst listening to the wind howling outside, rattling the window pane, whipping the snow into a blizzard.
Washing and drying herself, she pulled her clothes tight around her to block out the chill, filling the bath again and calling out to her brother that his bath was ready as she passed his bedroom on the landing. She sat on her bed and watched the snow for a while, the trees shrouded in white, branches reaching out like claws in the darkened evening.
She changed into her eveningwear, her garments finished with a winter gown featuring a fitted corset and dresses flowing to the floor. Her brother knocked on the door, asking her to secure his bow tie for him, a skill he’d not yet mastered.
They returned to the sitting room, where they found their parents also dressed in preparation for dinner. They settled to await the rest of the family’s arrival, listening to the wireless forecast the most severe snowfall in several years, recommending they do not venture out of their homes unless in the most necessary circumstances.
‘In other news, authorities are seeking a man who absconded from prison earlier today. Edward Hitchfield, 42, who was convicted of two murders in March this year, escaped prison officials early this morning after being admitted to hospital following a minor injury. He has been described as medium-build, bearded, with dark hair but balding, last seen wearing prison-issue garments. Police have advised the public to be vigilant. They suspect he will have made changes to his appearance and urge the public to report any suspicions they may have.
‘Elsewhere…’
“My sympathies are with anyone who is without shelter in this weather, whomever they be,” Carolyn commented.
“This fellow won’t get far in this weather,” Hugo added. Ellie wondered fleetingly if it was truly their minds he was attempting to put at ease. “They’ll have caught him in no time at all.”
“Assuming he doesn’t freeze to death,” Ellie added aloud, looking out into the ever-falling snow. It sounded more savage to the ears than she intended. Neither of her parents commented.
They were silent as the news programme was succeeded by carols, the lyrics of God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman swelling to fill the room. They all gazed thoughtfully through the window into the ghostly glow of the dark night. No one broke the silence. Satan’s power seemed particularly potent at that moment, with a man led astray somewhere out there in the wilderness, cloven hooves treading in his shadow.
A loud knock roused them from their rumination.
___
'Twas the Night Before Christmas will be available from Amazon and Lulu.com on Friday the 13th, with other retailers to follow.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Her fingertips touched the cold pane, as the first snowfall of winter began; flakes gently floating against the glass, vanishing as if at the touch of her fingers. That day had seen the first snowfall of winter too, while she had been walking the fields with her younger brother, her father having gone down into the village to stock up on provisions. She had raised her arms to the sky, thanking the Lord that it was to be a white Christmas.
Laughing, she and her brother had run back to the house, where they found their mother assisting Mrs Gibbon, the cook and housekeeper, with the preparations for this evening’s dinner and tomorrow’s celebratory luncheon. It was a tradition for their mother to help in the kitchen each Christmas; so as never to forget her roots, she said.
“Would you like any help, Mother?”
“No, thank you, Ellie. You just keep your brother occupied until your father gets home and we can prepare for this evening.”
Which she dutifully did. Holidays, Christmas in particular, while they were children had been filled with games and laughter, the sheer joy that only children can feel. Reminiscing, then, had always overflowed with a warm glow, not tinged with the cold edge of sadness and the bitterness of regret. Childhood should be as sweet as candy cane and she was glad of it, but only wished she could see it otherwise than as through the glass of a snow globe.
She remembered the many Christmases spent baking in the kitchen with Mrs Gibbon, singing carols along to the wireless with her brother, taking long walks in the countryside in the brisk air with her father. She could shake all of these images and watch the snow fall around them the way the icing sugar used to fall through a sieve to top a Victoria sponge, each one like a scene from the handmade Christmas cards which her mother would send to cousins and aunts and uncles whom she had never met. The mirage of a perfect Christmas.
They spent the afternoon in the sitting room, listening to the wireless, watching out of the window as the snow fell thicker, listening to the carols. A radio play aired, a tale of goblins who hijacked St. Nicholas’ grotto and forced the elves to make monstrous toys to be delivered to the world’s children on Christmas Eve and trap them all in a time loop, so that Christmas morning would never again dawn. Darkness fell slowly from mid-afternoon, the white haze growing thicker. The snow was sticking and getting deeper before they finally heard the clattering of the front door.
A flurry of snow preceded their father into the hallway.
“Maud and her brood assured me they were leaving promptly as I left. She said we shouldn’t wait for her to serve dinner.”
“Hugo, that simply won’t do. They are our guests; I should not be seen to be ungracious enough to sit down to dinner prior to their arriving.”
“Very well, Carolyn, we shall await their arrival.”
Ellie listened to this exchange as she watched the snow begin to pile in the driveway. Her aunt Maud, Maud’s husband Gregory, and her cousins, Jack and John, would likely struggle to reach them. It would be a shame. They visited every Christmas. The boys, aged nine and ten, were like brothers to Eustace, her own nine-year-old brother. When it snowed, she and her father would help the three boys build a snowman while her mother assisted Mrs Gibbon in preparing the luncheon.
“Eleanor, perhaps you and your brother should help your mother prepare the dining room and then get yourselves ready for dinner.”
“Yes, Father.” She switched off the wireless and beckoned to her brother.
After laying the table for eight, Ellie filled herself a bath, enjoying the hot water enveloping her body whilst listening to the wind howling outside, rattling the window pane, whipping the snow into a blizzard.
Washing and drying herself, she pulled her clothes tight around her to block out the chill, filling the bath again and calling out to her brother that his bath was ready as she passed his bedroom on the landing. She sat on her bed and watched the snow for a while, the trees shrouded in white, branches reaching out like claws in the darkened evening.
She changed into her eveningwear, her garments finished with a winter gown featuring a fitted corset and dresses flowing to the floor. Her brother knocked on the door, asking her to secure his bow tie for him, a skill he’d not yet mastered.
They returned to the sitting room, where they found their parents also dressed in preparation for dinner. They settled to await the rest of the family’s arrival, listening to the wireless forecast the most severe snowfall in several years, recommending they do not venture out of their homes unless in the most necessary circumstances.
‘In other news, authorities are seeking a man who absconded from prison earlier today. Edward Hitchfield, 42, who was convicted of two murders in March this year, escaped prison officials early this morning after being admitted to hospital following a minor injury. He has been described as medium-build, bearded, with dark hair but balding, last seen wearing prison-issue garments. Police have advised the public to be vigilant. They suspect he will have made changes to his appearance and urge the public to report any suspicions they may have.
‘Elsewhere…’
“My sympathies are with anyone who is without shelter in this weather, whomever they be,” Carolyn commented.
“This fellow won’t get far in this weather,” Hugo added. Ellie wondered fleetingly if it was truly their minds he was attempting to put at ease. “They’ll have caught him in no time at all.”
“Assuming he doesn’t freeze to death,” Ellie added aloud, looking out into the ever-falling snow. It sounded more savage to the ears than she intended. Neither of her parents commented.
They were silent as the news programme was succeeded by carols, the lyrics of God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman swelling to fill the room. They all gazed thoughtfully through the window into the ghostly glow of the dark night. No one broke the silence. Satan’s power seemed particularly potent at that moment, with a man led astray somewhere out there in the wilderness, cloven hooves treading in his shadow.
A loud knock roused them from their rumination.
___
'Twas the Night Before Christmas will be available from Amazon and Lulu.com on Friday the 13th, with other retailers to follow.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Whispers from the Dead of Night
I cannot quite believe that I am finally writing these words.
Whispers from the Dead of Night
is finished! Aside from another read-through and final edits, book four is complete. There were moments when I wasn’t sure if it ever would be. I have worked so hard on it over the past eighteen months, whilst also persevering with work and some personal challenges.
This collection, a hybrid of horror and multiple sub-genres, features seven short stories. I released two of them as ebooks late last year – A Deathly Shade of Pale and ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas – and have received some great reviews for them already. I cannot wait to share the full collection, and hope that my readers will enjoy these stories as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.
Now for some tea and cake to celebrate!
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
A forbidden love…
A killer who preys on the lonely…
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter’s evening.
Pre-order on Amazon
A Deathly Shade of Pale
“…its haunting atmosphere really grips you.” Lulu Reviewer
Download free at Lulu.com and other retailers. Read a preview here.
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
“…such a wonderful thing to discover a current author who not only appreciates the poetic prose of the classic, Victorian Gothic novels, but can also deliver it with a modern twist.” L.B. Stimson, Author of A Pale Shade of Winter
Download for just 99p at Lulu.com and other retailers. Read a preview here.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
This collection, a hybrid of horror and multiple sub-genres, features seven short stories. I released two of them as ebooks late last year – A Deathly Shade of Pale and ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas – and have received some great reviews for them already. I cannot wait to share the full collection, and hope that my readers will enjoy these stories as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.
Now for some tea and cake to celebrate!
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
A forbidden love…
A killer who preys on the lonely…
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter’s evening.
Pre-order on Amazon
A Deathly Shade of Pale
“…its haunting atmosphere really grips you.” Lulu Reviewer
Download free at Lulu.com and other retailers. Read a preview here.
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
“…such a wonderful thing to discover a current author who not only appreciates the poetic prose of the classic, Victorian Gothic novels, but can also deliver it with a modern twist.” L.B. Stimson, Author of A Pale Shade of Winter
Download for just 99p at Lulu.com and other retailers. Read a preview here.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Whispers from the Dead of Night
The wait is finally over. The day I have been working towards for so many months has arrived.
Today, I published Whispers from the Dead of Night, my brand new short story collection featuring seven tales, a blend of horror and multiple sub-genres.
With a mixture of excitement and anxiety, I present these tales to my readers and await your feedback. In the meantime, I feel like I need to go into hibernation for several months. I very much
hope you enjoy these stories.
Available to download from Amazon (Kindle) and Lulu.com. Coming soon for iBooks, NOOK and Kobo…
Available in paperback from Lulu.com. Coming soon to Amazon…
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
I. A Deathly Shade of Pale
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
“…its haunting atmosphere really grips you.” Lulu Reviewer
Available to download free from Lulu.com, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble (NOOK) and Rakuten (Kobo). Read a preview here.
II. Prisoner
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
III. The Wanderer
A forbidden love…
IV. I Killed Dorian
A killer who preys on the lonely…
V. Bluebell
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
VI. ’Twas the Night Before Christmas
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
“…such a wonderful thing to discover a current author who not only appreciates the poetic prose of the classic, Victorian Gothic novels, but can also deliver it with a modern twist.” L.B. Stimson, Author of A Pale Shade of Winter
Read a preview here.
VII. Run
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter’s evening.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Today, I published Whispers from the Dead of Night, my brand new short story collection featuring seven tales, a blend of horror and multiple sub-genres.
With a mixture of excitement and anxiety, I present these tales to my readers and await your feedback. In the meantime, I feel like I need to go into hibernation for several months. I very much
hope you enjoy these stories.
Available to download from Amazon (Kindle) and Lulu.com. Coming soon for iBooks, NOOK and Kobo…
Available in paperback from Lulu.com. Coming soon to Amazon…
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
I. A Deathly Shade of Pale
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
“…its haunting atmosphere really grips you.” Lulu Reviewer
Available to download free from Lulu.com, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble (NOOK) and Rakuten (Kobo). Read a preview here.
II. Prisoner
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
III. The Wanderer
A forbidden love…
IV. I Killed Dorian
A killer who preys on the lonely…
V. Bluebell
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
VI. ’Twas the Night Before Christmas
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
“…such a wonderful thing to discover a current author who not only appreciates the poetic prose of the classic, Victorian Gothic novels, but can also deliver it with a modern twist.” L.B. Stimson, Author of A Pale Shade of Winter
Read a preview here.
VII. Run
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter’s evening.
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Happy Hallowe'en!
In the depths of autumn, dark and cold sweeping in, winter is almost upon us as we arrive in the final weeks of the year, while the dead no longer rest.
The perfect home for my collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night, featuring stories of horror blended with multiple sub-genres and layers of myth, history and mystery.
I wish to thank all my readers, reviewers, followers and supporters for all their encouragement and feedback. I am overjoyed whenever I hear that someone has enjoyed reading my stories.
I hope you all have a fantastic day and night, whatever your plans may be in this bizarre year that we are living. Whether you embrace the spirit of the season for its roots in Gaelic Samhain, Catholicism's All Hallows' Eve or popular culture's modern Halloween of horror entertainment - or a mix of all three and much more besides, like myself - grab yourself a treat and enjoy!
The dark hours will be lit by the blue moon (experiencing two full moons within the same month), piercing the mist. Light yourself a candle and brew a hot drink. If you listen closely, you may hear something beneath the wind rattling the windows and howling down the chimney. Perhaps a storm is coming. Spirits are restless. You may just hear their whispers from the dead of night. Come and read with me...if you dare!
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
A forbidden love…
A killer who preys on the lonely…
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter's evening.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Follow me on Instagram
The perfect home for my collection, Whispers from the Dead of Night, featuring stories of horror blended with multiple sub-genres and layers of myth, history and mystery.
I wish to thank all my readers, reviewers, followers and supporters for all their encouragement and feedback. I am overjoyed whenever I hear that someone has enjoyed reading my stories.
I hope you all have a fantastic day and night, whatever your plans may be in this bizarre year that we are living. Whether you embrace the spirit of the season for its roots in Gaelic Samhain, Catholicism's All Hallows' Eve or popular culture's modern Halloween of horror entertainment - or a mix of all three and much more besides, like myself - grab yourself a treat and enjoy!
The dark hours will be lit by the blue moon (experiencing two full moons within the same month), piercing the mist. Light yourself a candle and brew a hot drink. If you listen closely, you may hear something beneath the wind rattling the windows and howling down the chimney. Perhaps a storm is coming. Spirits are restless. You may just hear their whispers from the dead of night. Come and read with me...if you dare!
Are you sitting comfortably, the fire crackling, a mug of cocoa in hand? Then let us begin…
A journey through fog and darkness, destination unknown…
A sexual obsession spiralling out of control…
A forbidden love…
A killer who preys on the lonely…
An investigation into a haunted monastery…
A visitation on Christmas Eve with diabolical intentions…
A night-time escape through the forest…
Seven tales of mystery and the supernatural for a winter's evening.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Follow me on Instagram
Bookstagram Author Interview
What difficulties did you face in getting the Whispers From The Dead Of Night published and how did you overcome them?
Perhaps the greatest difficulty I had to face was overcoming the doubts and anxieties that crept in along the way, the thoughts that I may never finish writing these stories, and persevering through all those doubts to get to the end.
Each of the stories was very clear in my mind, as was the cover art I was searching for and the style I wanted. I worked on the book for eighteen months and didn't stop until it was published.
I wrote it during evenings and weekends around my day job, battling through the exhaustion just to make sure I kept going. I'd recently gone through a relationship breakup, also experiencing some health issues and suffering a family bereavement during writing. For me, this book was about overcoming all of those things and coming through the other side. It was both cathartic and healing.
What is the special thing in Whispers From The Dead Of Night Because of which people need to Read it?
This collection is very special to me for many reasons. It features seven individual stories - my first short story collection after previously publishing a novel and two novellas. While all primarily horror stories, they are each a blend of multiple genres, including crime thriller, gothic romance and mystery. I like to blend multiple genres and themes into my work.
I loved writing every one of the seven stories and, as a whole, I'm incredibly proud of this collection. Each story is primarily character driven, exploring their relationships and how that impacts the situations in which they find themselves. The stories deal with themes of loss, obsession, love, heartbreak and betrayal, which I think many of us can relate to.
I dedicated the book to my grandfather, who passed away last year. For that reason alone, it will always remain a very special collection to me.
Do You Read Your Book Reviews ? How Do You Deal With Good Or Bad Ones?
I always read my book reviews. I love hearing what readers thought of my work, if they've enjoyed the stories and found they resonated with them.
During a recent blog tour for 'Whispers from the Dead of Night', the book was very well-received and I was completely blown away by the feedback, with multiple 4* and 5* reviews. I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who takes the time to read and review my work.
When it comes to anything that may not be so positive, I remind myself that art and entertainment are subjective. Not everyone is going to like everything. Though I am yet to receive an overtly negative review, so I have no doubt it would be disheartening.
What I've found most interesting with reviews for 'Whispers from the Dead of Night' is that different readers have different favourite stories. In fact, I've seen the same stories described as readers' favourite and least favourite. It just goes to show that people's opinions are different and you can't allow it to steer your writing.
What was your best and the worst experience when you decided to publish/write your first book?
The best part of the experience was undoubtedly being able to publish my book. I had still been at school when I completed the first draft - it had then been finished for almost four years and I'd packed it away, imagining the writing dream would have to wait to be revisited later in life. I'd attempted to approach a few agents when I finished school, but continuing this quest hadn't been financially sustainable, especially as I was out of work initially and struggling to even get job interviews as the recession had hit.
Traditional publishing was still widely considered to be the route to follow, and there seemed to still be a lot of negative thinking surrounding indie and self-publishing at the time, something that has thankfully changed since then.
I found it very difficult learning to overcome my perfectionism when it came to editing the book. I lost count of the number of times I proofread it, to the point where I was changing one word for another and then back again in the next read-through. Self-editing is not an easy skill to master, and at twenty-one years old (twenty-two at publication) editing a debut novel, in which you have an emotional connection to every single word, it could at times be very overwhelming.
Hardest of all was shaking off my lack of confidence in myself and the anxiety about sharing my book with the world. I'm not sure those feelings ever fully go away, even with each successive book you write and publish.
How did you develop such a distinctive voice as a writer?
I've been writing for as long as I can remember. My best estimate is that I was around five years old, but it may even have been sooner than that. If you count making up stories in your head, then it was happening before I can remember. I haven't stopped since.
I think that a person's creativity is something that comes from deep in their souls - it's both thought and feeling combined, and every creator has their own individuality. The more you create and the more you observe and absorb of the world around you, the more that craft becomes refined.
I love reading, music, film and television; I have a keen interest in the topics and themes I write about, so even research is fun and fascinating. Which I think is the key thing - if a writer loves what they do, it bleeds into their work, and their readers will feel that enjoyment too.
I'm currently hard at work on book 5 and am very excited about it. I can't wait to share it with my readers.
Interviewed by Daksh Setia - see the post on Instagram
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Follow me on Instagram
Perhaps the greatest difficulty I had to face was overcoming the doubts and anxieties that crept in along the way, the thoughts that I may never finish writing these stories, and persevering through all those doubts to get to the end.
Each of the stories was very clear in my mind, as was the cover art I was searching for and the style I wanted. I worked on the book for eighteen months and didn't stop until it was published.
I wrote it during evenings and weekends around my day job, battling through the exhaustion just to make sure I kept going. I'd recently gone through a relationship breakup, also experiencing some health issues and suffering a family bereavement during writing. For me, this book was about overcoming all of those things and coming through the other side. It was both cathartic and healing.
What is the special thing in Whispers From The Dead Of Night Because of which people need to Read it?
This collection is very special to me for many reasons. It features seven individual stories - my first short story collection after previously publishing a novel and two novellas. While all primarily horror stories, they are each a blend of multiple genres, including crime thriller, gothic romance and mystery. I like to blend multiple genres and themes into my work.
I loved writing every one of the seven stories and, as a whole, I'm incredibly proud of this collection. Each story is primarily character driven, exploring their relationships and how that impacts the situations in which they find themselves. The stories deal with themes of loss, obsession, love, heartbreak and betrayal, which I think many of us can relate to.
I dedicated the book to my grandfather, who passed away last year. For that reason alone, it will always remain a very special collection to me.
Do You Read Your Book Reviews ? How Do You Deal With Good Or Bad Ones?
I always read my book reviews. I love hearing what readers thought of my work, if they've enjoyed the stories and found they resonated with them.
During a recent blog tour for 'Whispers from the Dead of Night', the book was very well-received and I was completely blown away by the feedback, with multiple 4* and 5* reviews. I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who takes the time to read and review my work.
When it comes to anything that may not be so positive, I remind myself that art and entertainment are subjective. Not everyone is going to like everything. Though I am yet to receive an overtly negative review, so I have no doubt it would be disheartening.
What I've found most interesting with reviews for 'Whispers from the Dead of Night' is that different readers have different favourite stories. In fact, I've seen the same stories described as readers' favourite and least favourite. It just goes to show that people's opinions are different and you can't allow it to steer your writing.
What was your best and the worst experience when you decided to publish/write your first book?
The best part of the experience was undoubtedly being able to publish my book. I had still been at school when I completed the first draft - it had then been finished for almost four years and I'd packed it away, imagining the writing dream would have to wait to be revisited later in life. I'd attempted to approach a few agents when I finished school, but continuing this quest hadn't been financially sustainable, especially as I was out of work initially and struggling to even get job interviews as the recession had hit.
Traditional publishing was still widely considered to be the route to follow, and there seemed to still be a lot of negative thinking surrounding indie and self-publishing at the time, something that has thankfully changed since then.
I found it very difficult learning to overcome my perfectionism when it came to editing the book. I lost count of the number of times I proofread it, to the point where I was changing one word for another and then back again in the next read-through. Self-editing is not an easy skill to master, and at twenty-one years old (twenty-two at publication) editing a debut novel, in which you have an emotional connection to every single word, it could at times be very overwhelming.
Hardest of all was shaking off my lack of confidence in myself and the anxiety about sharing my book with the world. I'm not sure those feelings ever fully go away, even with each successive book you write and publish.
How did you develop such a distinctive voice as a writer?
I've been writing for as long as I can remember. My best estimate is that I was around five years old, but it may even have been sooner than that. If you count making up stories in your head, then it was happening before I can remember. I haven't stopped since.
I think that a person's creativity is something that comes from deep in their souls - it's both thought and feeling combined, and every creator has their own individuality. The more you create and the more you observe and absorb of the world around you, the more that craft becomes refined.
I love reading, music, film and television; I have a keen interest in the topics and themes I write about, so even research is fun and fascinating. Which I think is the key thing - if a writer loves what they do, it bleeds into their work, and their readers will feel that enjoyment too.
I'm currently hard at work on book 5 and am very excited about it. I can't wait to share it with my readers.
Interviewed by Daksh Setia - see the post on Instagram
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Follow me on Instagram
Bookstagram Author Interview
1) Please introduce yourself?
Hello! I'm Lee Allen, an author based in South Wales in the UK. I've thus far published five books, the most recent being "Bitten", an erotic horror vampire thriller.
2) When did you first realise that you have an interest in writing and wanted to become an author?
I've been writing for as long as I can remember. My best estimate is that I was around five years old, but it may even have been sooner than that when I started committing stories to paper. I have always loved books and reading and wanted to be able to create my own too. So, in a way, it feels as if I've always known I wanted to be a writer and I can't point specifically to when it started. But I haven't stopped since.
3) Which genre do you prefer the most to write and according to you which genre do you find difficult to write?
I tend to blend different genres together in my work. People often imagine genre to be neatly divided into boxes, yet there are complex webs of sub-genres and grey areas, stories being much like life itself. Primarily I tend towards the thriller and horror umbrellas, but within that there is so much potential - crime, romance, erotica, sci-fi, psychological, historical, the list goes on. I had a lot of fun mixing different genres when writing my short story collection "Whispers from the Dead of Night".
My new novel, "Bitten", combines erotic thriller, police procedural and gothic horror.
My work tends towards being quite dark, so I think I would probably struggle to write comedy - particularly sitcom or romcom.
4) How long does it take you to complete a book?
It varies from book to book. I was still in school when I wrote my first novel, which took me about two years to complete. My first novella took me a year to write around work, while my second novella took only six months (I was made redundant around that time).
I wrote my short story collection across a period of eighteen months. "Bitten" was already half written by the time I began working on it again just over a year ago, and I took a year to complete it. Both of those books were written around my day job, primarily worked on during evenings and weekends. I would love to be able to work on writing full time in the future - which will then mean more books (or longer books) for my readers!
5) What is the easiest and difficult part for you while writing a book?
I love writing. So, for me, the easiest part is being in the thick of a story, exploring themes and plotting for my characters, being in the midst of writing the next scene, building those images and thoughts and feelings. The characters live inside my head. I love what I write about, so even background research is fun. I feel I have found my vocation with writing and love burying myself in it.
Perhaps what's most difficult is overcoming the doubts and anxieties that creep in along the way, the thoughts that I may never finish writing the story, having to persevere through all those doubts to get to the end. I'm a perfectionist, which sometimes makes it a challenge to even pick up a pen to write the next sentence, through the fear it won't be my best writing. When it comes to editing, it can become quite intense and fraught with anxiety.
6) What was the reaction of your family when you decided to start writing books?
My family have always been very supportive of my writing. It feels like it's been a part of me my entire life - it's who I am - and they have embraced that. The stories may not always be in genres they would choose, but nevertheless they have supported me and are proud of what I've achieved.
One of the things that sticks in my mind is when my grandad, who rarely read fiction, started reading my first book, "Those Crimes of Passion". He said there was far too much sex and violence in it for him. Yet compared to "Bitten", it's remarkably tame! I wonder what on earth he would have made of that - it cannot help but make me smile.
7) Are you planning to launch a new book shortly? If yes, what theme are you deciding to write upon?
I recently launched my new novel, "Bitten", on Valentine's Day. It's the story of a police officer, Holleigh Ryder, and the pursuit of a vampiric serial murderer who strikes on Valentine's Day. It's an erotic thriller, a police procedural and a horror story entwined into one. I've already received positive feedback from readers and am very excited to hear from more!
Beyond "Bitten", I've already started work for my next book, which is in the very early stages at the moment.
8) What are the things that you are interested to do, other than writing ?
I love reading, music, film and television. I have a keen interest in the topics and themes I write about, which makes research fascinating. I believe that's something that is key to writing - if a writer loves what they do, it bleeds into their work, and their readers will feel that enjoyment too.
I also enjoy going to the theatre and cinema, or eating out at a restaurant, at a time when we were able to do those things safely. But I'm frequently a home bird - it's where I feel most relaxed and most productive and my imagination is free to roam in my next book.
Interviewed by Diksha Malik - see the post on Instagram.
Order Bitten from Amazon, Lulu.com, and Barnes & Noble.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Follow me on Instagram
Hello! I'm Lee Allen, an author based in South Wales in the UK. I've thus far published five books, the most recent being "Bitten", an erotic horror vampire thriller.
2) When did you first realise that you have an interest in writing and wanted to become an author?
I've been writing for as long as I can remember. My best estimate is that I was around five years old, but it may even have been sooner than that when I started committing stories to paper. I have always loved books and reading and wanted to be able to create my own too. So, in a way, it feels as if I've always known I wanted to be a writer and I can't point specifically to when it started. But I haven't stopped since.
3) Which genre do you prefer the most to write and according to you which genre do you find difficult to write?
I tend to blend different genres together in my work. People often imagine genre to be neatly divided into boxes, yet there are complex webs of sub-genres and grey areas, stories being much like life itself. Primarily I tend towards the thriller and horror umbrellas, but within that there is so much potential - crime, romance, erotica, sci-fi, psychological, historical, the list goes on. I had a lot of fun mixing different genres when writing my short story collection "Whispers from the Dead of Night".
My new novel, "Bitten", combines erotic thriller, police procedural and gothic horror.
My work tends towards being quite dark, so I think I would probably struggle to write comedy - particularly sitcom or romcom.
4) How long does it take you to complete a book?
It varies from book to book. I was still in school when I wrote my first novel, which took me about two years to complete. My first novella took me a year to write around work, while my second novella took only six months (I was made redundant around that time).
I wrote my short story collection across a period of eighteen months. "Bitten" was already half written by the time I began working on it again just over a year ago, and I took a year to complete it. Both of those books were written around my day job, primarily worked on during evenings and weekends. I would love to be able to work on writing full time in the future - which will then mean more books (or longer books) for my readers!
5) What is the easiest and difficult part for you while writing a book?
I love writing. So, for me, the easiest part is being in the thick of a story, exploring themes and plotting for my characters, being in the midst of writing the next scene, building those images and thoughts and feelings. The characters live inside my head. I love what I write about, so even background research is fun. I feel I have found my vocation with writing and love burying myself in it.
Perhaps what's most difficult is overcoming the doubts and anxieties that creep in along the way, the thoughts that I may never finish writing the story, having to persevere through all those doubts to get to the end. I'm a perfectionist, which sometimes makes it a challenge to even pick up a pen to write the next sentence, through the fear it won't be my best writing. When it comes to editing, it can become quite intense and fraught with anxiety.
6) What was the reaction of your family when you decided to start writing books?
My family have always been very supportive of my writing. It feels like it's been a part of me my entire life - it's who I am - and they have embraced that. The stories may not always be in genres they would choose, but nevertheless they have supported me and are proud of what I've achieved.
One of the things that sticks in my mind is when my grandad, who rarely read fiction, started reading my first book, "Those Crimes of Passion". He said there was far too much sex and violence in it for him. Yet compared to "Bitten", it's remarkably tame! I wonder what on earth he would have made of that - it cannot help but make me smile.
7) Are you planning to launch a new book shortly? If yes, what theme are you deciding to write upon?
I recently launched my new novel, "Bitten", on Valentine's Day. It's the story of a police officer, Holleigh Ryder, and the pursuit of a vampiric serial murderer who strikes on Valentine's Day. It's an erotic thriller, a police procedural and a horror story entwined into one. I've already received positive feedback from readers and am very excited to hear from more!
Beyond "Bitten", I've already started work for my next book, which is in the very early stages at the moment.
8) What are the things that you are interested to do, other than writing ?
I love reading, music, film and television. I have a keen interest in the topics and themes I write about, which makes research fascinating. I believe that's something that is key to writing - if a writer loves what they do, it bleeds into their work, and their readers will feel that enjoyment too.
I also enjoy going to the theatre and cinema, or eating out at a restaurant, at a time when we were able to do those things safely. But I'm frequently a home bird - it's where I feel most relaxed and most productive and my imagination is free to roam in my next book.
Interviewed by Diksha Malik - see the post on Instagram.
Order Bitten from Amazon, Lulu.com, and Barnes & Noble.
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Follow me on Instagram
