Please help me welcome Robert Herold with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series, Witch Ever Way You Go…
Witch Ever Way You Go is set in the Seattle area where I live. There is a bit of rivalry between Seattle proper and the suburban areas. Playing with this idea, I envisioned two rival covens, one in Seattle, the other in the wealthy suburb of Baalberith. (Baalberith is the name for a powerful demon who tempts people to engage in blasphemy and murder. Heck, there is a Diablo Dam and Diablo Lake in Washington State. Diablo means devil, so I didn’t think it was much of a stretch to call a Seattle suburb Baalberith!)
I used many other actual locations for the story: the University of Washington, the 520 Bridge (which was under construction in 2015, when the book is set) and neighborhoods on Capitol Hill. One of my favorite places was a decrepit but awesome Victorian house. Here’s a picture of it:
I have a wonderfully grisly scene in that place! I had planned to do an Instagram reel in front of the house to promote my story. Unfortunately, I just discovered it has turned into something really scary:
Bonus fun fact:
As a boy, Robert Herold wanted nothing more than to grow up to be a werewolf. (Is there any wonder why he writes horror?)
When an ill-fated graduate student and his girlfriend are lured into a terrifying world of witchcraft and murder, they become targets for human sacrifice. Is there a chance they can escape a bloodthirsty coven of witches and certain death until the curse is lifted? A spellbinding story of modern horror.
The crowd in the room became more animated, their voices rising until they were shouting. The man standing over the woman turned one way then the other, presenting the dagger. As the crowd continued the deafening chant, he raised the blade as high as possible, then thrust it down, just below the woman’s left breast. He yanked the knife free, and a fountain of blood sprayed over the man’s robe and white tuxedo. The crowd erupted in ecstasy.
My stomach turned in revulsion. We had been flirting just a few minutes earlier, and now she was dead. “Holy fuck.”
About the Author:
The supernatural always had the allure of forbidden fruit, ever since my mother refused to allow me, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved in. (Well, not literally.)
As a child, fresh snow provided me with the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors’ lawns halfway and then make paw prints with my fingers as far as I could stretch. I would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on their front lawn. (They were skeptical.)
I have pursued many interests over the years (among them being a history teacher and a musician), but the supernatural always called to me. You could say I was haunted. Finally, following the siren’s call as an adult, I began writing horror.
Ultimately, I hope my books give you the creeps, and I mean that in the best way possible.
Welcome to my weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters.
I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, Robert Herold…
A Passion For Paranormal
We all feel a little unnerved when the power goes out, when we are plunged into darkness, when we are booked into a room on the 13th floor, or when 13 is missing from the elevator options, and most especially when people we know pass away. People have huddled around fires since ancient times to keep away their fears, both real and imagined. Today, when the power goes out, we cluster around that scented candle on the coffee table, or that flashlight app on one’s cell phone—until the battery wears out. Are we really so different from those in the past?
Imagine it is 1885, the beginning of the modern era. Science is making new strides in hitherto unexplored areas: chemistry, physics, psychology, even applying the scientific method to the hereafter – exposing frauds and maybe, just maybe, proving the existence of life after death. This was a passionate sideline for William James, a real figure from history. He was a famed Harvard professor, father of American psychology, and brother to the famous writer Henry James (author of The Turn of the Screw, among many others).
Professor William James helped found the American branch of the Society for Psychical Research, who applied the scientific method to investigations of the supernatural. Eventually the group in America became headed by a dogmatic skeptic and James had a falling out. Using this as a springboard, I imagined he then started his own investigative group, The Eidola Project (eidola being a Greek word for ghost). Some real investigations, including those that are downright spooky, are woven into the story, especially while he is building his team of paranormal researchers.
In addition to William James (age 42), the Eidola Project consists of Annabelle Douglas (age 28), one of the first graduates of The Harvard Annex (later known as Radcliff), Sarah Bradbury (age 18), an authentic medium, Edgar Gilpin (age 26), a brilliant African American physicist and graduate of Howard and Yale Universities, and Nigel Pickford (age 39), one of the youngest Confederate officers, who in the years following the Civil War is plagued by paranormal visions & has become a drunken derelict. Each contributes to the group, but each has his or her own peculiar baggage and set of weaknesses.
Professor James directs The Eidola Project from Harvard, sending them off on various missions, and occasionally joining them (akin to “Rupert Giles,” a character in the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer). The Eidola Project are intrepid explorers of the supernatural, but in doing so, they enter the darkness and become ensnared in a dangerous investigation of a haunted house, where they encounter all sorts of things that go bump—or worse!
It’s 1885 and a drunk and rage-filled Nigel Pickford breaks up a phony medium’s séance. A strange twist of fate soon finds him part of a team investigating the afterlife.
The Eidola Project is an intrepid group of explorers dedicated to bringing the light of science to that which has been feared, misunderstood, and often manipulated by charlatans. They are a psychology professor, his assistant, an African-American physicist, a sideshow medium, and now a derelict, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses.
Called to the brooding Hutchinson Estate to investigate rumored hauntings, they encounter deadly supernatural forces and a young woman driven to the brink of madness.
Will any of them survive?
Sarah retrieved the lamp and twisted the peg. The outhouse door swung open on its own, and she gasped.
“Momma?” Sarah asked as she held out her lantern. No. A ruined version of Molly stood in the doorway.
Before her disappearance, people often commented on the sixteen-year-old’s beauty, but in the last twenty-eight days birds pecked out her pretty blue eyes, and maggots now swam in the sockets. Molly’s head hung to the left at an odd angle. Her skin looked mottled with patches of gray, blue, and black. A beetle crawled out of Molly’s half-opened mouth and darted back in.
Sarah’s heart leaped to her throat, and she jumped back. She lost her footing, fell onto the outhouse seat, and dropped the lantern to the floor. She bent to retrieve it; thankful the glass globe did not break. Sarah looked up and saw an empty doorway.
Impossible, she told herself. Must’ve dozed off, had a nightmare, and woke up when I dropped the lamp. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and Sarah took a deep breath to calm herself.
Holding the lamp before her once more, she crept out…
The supernatural always had the allure of forbidden fruit, ever since Robert Herold’s mother refused to allow him, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved in. (Well, not literally.)
As a child, fresh snow provided him the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors’ lawns halfway and then make paw prints with his fingers as far as he could stretch. He would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on their front lawn. (They were skeptical.)
He has pursued many interests over the years (among them being a history teacher and a musician), but the supernatural always called to him. You could say he was haunted. Finally, following the siren’s call, he wrote The Eidola Project, based on a germ of an idea he had as a teenager.
Ultimately, he hopes the book gives you the creeps, and he means that in the best way possible.
Award winning author, Casi McLean, pens novels to stir the soul with romance, suspense, and a sprinkle of magic. Her writing crosses genres from ethereal, captivating shorts with eerie twist endings to believable time slips, mystical plots, and sensual romantic suspense. Beneath The Lake won the 2016 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence for BEST Romantic Suspense.
Her stories entwine strong, believable heroines with delicious hot heroes to tempt the deepest desires then fans the flames, sweeping readers into their innermost romantic fantasies. Ms. McLean weaves exceptional romantic mystery with suspenseful settings and lovable characters you’ll devour. You’ll see, hear, and feel the magical eeriness of one fateful night. You’ll swear her time travel could happen, be mystified by her other worldly images, and feel heat of romantic suspense, but most of all you’ll want more.
Casi’s Inspiration For Beneath The Lake:
I love to talk about my, Beneath The Lake, and the eerie lake lore that inspired my muse. A town that time forgot––the history and creepy stories attached to a rural area that sleeps beneath Atlanta’s famous man-made lake, Sidney Lanier, fascinated me. Homes, churches and businesses still linger beneath the surface. The moonshiners of the 1940’s added built-in suspense, and the birth of NASCAR. Looper Speedway, a half-mile dirt track where bootleggers competed with their souped-up cars, exposed its cement stands in a recent draught.
There’s a Lady of the Lake who haunts the ghost town too––the spine-chilling lore is the basis for book three in my Beneath The Lake series, Between The Shadows. Some say she lures victims to her watery grave. The truth is, swimmers get trapped among the deadfall of sheered-off trees and town remains. Even expert divers get tangled beneath the murky surface, hence the lake’s unnerving label: Lanier never gives up its dead. The inspiration swirled in my mind, begging for a story to be told. What a perfect setting for my romantic time-slip suspense series.
Why time-slip? Ever since my childhood imagination discovered Madeleine L’Engles, A Wrinkle In Time, the idea of time travel intrigued me. And Lake Lanier, a man-made lake with mesmerizing history, presented a plausible theory. What if the excavation explosions triggered a seismic shift? Given enough energy, could the blasts rip a portal into a different dimension or a crack in time? The possibilities were endless.
The birth of Lacey Montgomery evolved through my young adult love for Jude Deveraux’s A Knight In Shining Armor. The time-slip novel introduced her endearing Montgomery family. I hope my books honor her inspiration. My high school friend, Hilary Johnson, inspired the persona of my heroine, Lacey Montgomery. A lawyer, discouraged with defending criminals, yearned to help honest people in trouble. Some of Hillary’s finer qualities became part of Lacey––the dysfunctional relationships came from my own personal experiences. LOL. Once these elements entwined, Beneath The Lake blossomed with an energy and life of its own.
The sequel, Beyond The Mist, picks up where the first story ends incorporating two minor characters as the new hero and heroine. Beyond The Mist is complete, in editing, and will be published in a few months.
A ghost town submerged beneath Atlanta’s famous man-made Lake Lanier reportedly lures victims to a watery grave. But when Lacey Montgomery’s car spins out of control and hurtles into the depths of the icy water, she awakens in the arms of a stranger, in a town she’s never heard of–34 years before she was born.
When the 2012 lawyer tangles with a 1949 hunk, fire and ice swirl into a stream of sweltering desire. Bobby Reynolds is smitten the moment the storm-ravaged woman opens her eyes and, despite adamant protest, Lacey falls in love with a town destined for extinction, and the man who vows to save his legacy.
Threatened by a nefarious stalker, the wrath of bootleggers, and twists of fate, Lacey must find the key to a mysterious portal before time rips the lovers apart, leaving their star-crossed spirits to wander forever through a ghost town buried beneath the lake.
Lake Lanier, Georgia—June 2011
A final thud hurled him backward, flailing through brush and thickets like a rag doll. Grasping at anything to break momentum, Rob’s hand clung to a branch wedged into the face of the precipice. Spiny splinters sliced his skin. Blood oozed and trickled into his palms, and one by one, his fingers slowly slipped.
A sharp crack echoed through the silence of the ravine as the bough succumbed to his weight. He plummeted into free-fall. Clenching his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, terrified of the pain, the mauling that waited on the jagged rocks below.
When icy water broke his fall, the chill kept him from losing consciousness. He spun, straining to see, but darkness enveloped him. Soggy clothing pulled him deeper—deeper into the murky, fathomless depths. He wrestled to squirm free from the waterlogged jacket dragging him down to a watery grave, watched the coat disappear into black obscurity. Panic gripped his stomach, or was it death that snaked around his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing the air, the life from his body? Lack of oxygen burned his lungs, beckoning surrender, and a shard of rage pierced his gut as reality set in. He lunged upward with one last thrust and burst from the water’s deadly grip, gasping for air. A gurgling howl spewed from the depths of his soul and echoed into silence.
Sunlight shimmered across a smooth, indigo lake, but aside from the slight ripples of his own paddling, nothing but stillness surrounded him. He floated toward the shore, sucking deep breaths into his lungs until the pummeling in his chest subsided. When he reached the water’s edge, he hoisted his body onto the soft red clay and collapsed while the sun’s warmth drained the tension from his body.
No one knew he had survived. The rules had shifted. Now he could reinvent himself, become a stealth predator. His target: Lacey Madison Montgomery.
I’m pleased to welcome Juli D. Revezzo and her latest release, Sing a Mournful Melody…
Where did you get the idea for your novel?
The idea for “Sing a Mournful Melody” came from a daydream about a woman (Maribelle) hearing a ghostly voice from her Victrola. As I looked into the time period in which I wanted to set the story (1901) I found a phonograph developed by Alexander Graham Bell called a Graphophone. It’s a version of the record player that people don’t seem to know much about, so it drew my interest. The story of Maribelle’s beloved composer husband, and what becomes of him, blossomed from there.
What book have you read that you wish you would have written?
Oh, I wish I’d written “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, or Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. Barring that it would be great to know Coleridge or Woolf, I think. 🙂
What’s the main thing that you could get rid of in your life that would give you more writing time?
I hate to say it, but social media. That’s the biggest time suck in life these days.
What’s your favorite book of all time and why?
My favorite book of all time? Elric of Melnibone by Michael Moorcock is probably my all-time favorite fantasy novel. As far as Classics, I have to go with LeFanu’s story from 1872,“Sir Dominick’s Bargain” and “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798) as an influence on my inclusion of Supernatural elements in my work. They particularly had an influence on the genesis of my story “Sing a Mournful Melody”.
What do you want readers to come away with after they read “Sing a Mournful Melody”?
I hope they will enjoy the story. Perhaps it will send their spines. 😉 Maybe, they will even learn something they hadn’t known before.
Would you rather have a bad review or no review?
That’s a tough question. A think a bad review. For all that they sting, I’ve noticed they do boost the signal a bit. 🙂
What genre have you never written that you’d like to write?
From the first time I picked up a pen, I have pretty much always experimented across genres. However, I would like to try my hand at a historical novel. In fact, I’m working on a Gothic romance right now, so it’s a distinct possibility I may tick it off my bucket list eventually. 🙂
What is your favorite…
Movie: I’m a movie fan, so there are many. Room with a View, Excalibur, Enchanted April, Pan’s Labrynth, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy…I could go on, but I won’t bore you. 🙂
Music: I enjoy a wide range of music—Rock, blues, heavy metal, classical, some new age, even some alt-country. Johnny Cash rocks, Elvis is good too. 🙂
Place you’ve visited: South Carolina.
Place you’d like to visit: Italy or Ireland.
TV show from childhoodBeauty and the Beast and Isis.
TV show from adulthood: I loved Gilmore Girls. Currently I’m obsessed with Once Upon a Time and Sleepy Hollow.
Sports team:I must admit, I don’t pay attention to sports.
Which do you prefer:Board games/card games or television? I do like a good game of Monopoly but I must admit, I veg out in front of a movie on the DVD player more often than not, these days.
Thank you for joining me, Juli. Some very interesting information. I agree about the bad reviews. Uh, and you know I liked that you mentioned Elvis in your list of music 😉
Juli would like to ask readers a question now…
Who is your favorite Gothic heroine?
At the turn of the 20th century, tragedy has left Maribelle grief-stricken. After her beloved husband is murdered, his body disappears from his crypt. Worse, ghostly voices call from the widow’s Graphophone. Is she losing her mind, or does something wicked this way come?
Maribelle, Maribelle. The words rang from the Graphophone in the corner, its needle humming across the short cylinder.
A shudder crept over her skin. Maribelle frowned and berated herself. Of course she was alone. How could she have expected otherwise? And yet, the voice gave her pause.
She couldn’t remember any song that mentioned her name, couldn’t remember having left the Graphophone running. Certainly not in so short a time.
“By God,” she said approaching the Graphophone, intent on shutting it off, “how could you let that thing scare you?”
“Maribelle,” the disembodied voice of the Graphophone said, deep and different now, “I know what you would do. You wish to die.”
Maribelle gasped and halted in her tracks. “How could you?”
The voice continued, oblivious to her question, “I have another suggestion for you.”
She flicked the switch on the side of the Graphophone’s case. “Be quiet, won’t you? I can’t hear myself think.”
She turned toward the door.
“Maribelle,” the voice came again.
Maribelle screeched in shock and turned, heart fluttering like a nervous sparrow’s wings.
The Graphophone played on its own. Its polished nickel tone arm glowed with a gloomy blue light as its needle scraped across the brown wax cylinder.
“As I said, I have another suggestion for you, if you’d listen for moment.”
Maribelle reached toward the needle. “I will hear no more,” she said.
“No,” said the stranger’s voice. “Listen to me. The one you loved is gone forever. No one can reunite you.”
She sniffled. “I know that much, sir.”
“So all the authorities say. But what do doctors and police truly know of death?” said the voice. “They cannot help you. Perhaps I can.”
Juli D. Revezzo is a Florida girl with a love of speculative and romantic fiction and legend, and loves writing stories with all kinds of fantastical elements. She is the author of The Antique Magic series and the Paranormal Romance Harshad Wars series, New Adult romance Changeling’s Crown, and many short stories. She is also a member of the Independent Author Network and the Magic Appreciation Tour. To learn more about this and future releases, visit her at:http://julidrevezzo.com Follow her on
Hello and welcome to my version of the game, ‘F*@#’, Marry, Kill. This week we are WWW’ing the hot guys from CW’s Supernatural.
Myself and some of my friends are sharing our Want, Wed, and Waste choices from this week’s list:
Misha Collins as Castiel – Jared Padalecki as Sam Winchester – Jensen Ackles as Dean Winchester
Click on book titles below to learn more and to be taken to a buy link
Me (Alicia Dean). Author of DEATH NOTICE (Northland Crime Chronicles, Book 1) – A killer has something to say, and he’s using her obituary column to get his point across…
(I don’t watch this show, so I’m going to go by my impressions)
Want: Jensen Ackles -He’s a hottie, for sure, but he seems to have an attitude that would be hard to take on a regular basis. (The actor, not the character). I’m not sure why I get that vibe, but I do. So, I would have to ‘want’ him then toss him.
Wed: Misha Collins – There’s something very sexy about him. I’m really drawn to him even though I’ve never seen him in action. And, come on, how cool would it be to marry an angel? .
Waste: Jared whats-his-name – You are outta here! Something about him rubs me the wrong way. He’s not as hot as everyone lets on and I don’t like his stringy hair, especially when it’s down in his face. How many enemies did I just make? 🙂
M.J. is offering a free ebook of The Heart Teaches Best to one lucky commenter!
Want: All of them! But if I have to pick, Sam (Jared Padalecki). “Moose,” as they call him on the show, is one good-looking guy! Tall, and all that hair! But as for marrying, I know he kills a lot of bad guys on the show, but I still think he’s too much of a softy for me.
Wed: Dean (Jensen Ackles). Now I’m not usually into pretty boys. I tend to like guys who are sexy, but not picture-perfect. Dean is the exception, and man what an exception! The man positively makes me drool! Then add his personality to the mix, hot and funny. Yes, sir! I’ll take that! He could protect me from any sort of supernatural creature, he has a nice ride, and we’d laugh for hours on end…when we weren’t doing other things. Yes, Mrs. Ackles has a nice ring to it…if only there wasn’t one already…
Waste: Castiel. Did you really just make me kill an angel, Alicia Dean? Although I thoroughly enjoy watching him on the show, I’m not really turned on by him. Sorry. And being an angel, he may not get me. Yep, give me, Dean. …NOW please!