Teri Thackston

Vampires and Ghouls and Zombies! Oh, My!

2011-10-26T18:32:00.000-07:00

The Halloween season is well under way, and how better to celebrate it than with spooky stories? My friend Suzan Harden is the author of a fabulous series that you will enjoy any time of the year.

Welcome, Suzan!

Vampires and Ghouls and Zombies! Oh, My! by Suzan Harden

I love monster stories. I always have. From the classics like Stoker’s Dracula and Shelley’s Frankenstein to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles and Brooks’s World War Z, I can’t get enough. Even my son worries about me.

So when I started writing it seemed only natural to write what I love. There was just one little problem. My creatures weren’t scary.

In fact, they were all too human. They loved. They grieved. They snarked. A lot.

So I went back to source materials, looking for something truly scary. Flesh-eating ghouls from 1001 Arabian Nights. Undead revenants from Medieval Europe legends. Soul-sucking kiang shi from Chinese myths.

Oh hell, I even went back and re-read some Lovecraft short stories.

And my tales still weren’t scary.

So I gave up attempts at terror, went with the humor and Zombie Love heroine Samantha “Sam” Ridgeway was born.

Smart-mouthed tabloid reporter Sam Ridgeway is mistaken for a spy by a billionaire and his mad scientists. They use her as their human guinea pig in their efforts to develop nanotechnology that will rewrite DNA, essentially giving humans immortality. Except when Sam wakes up, there are side effects no one anticipated. She escapes the bad guys with the help of hunky vampire, Duncan St. James. He and his mortal niece Tiffany try to figure out what Sam has been turned into.

Excerpt:

Duncan rubbed a hand across his jaw before he returned his gaze to me. “And first, we need to find out what was done to Miss Ridgeway. The information may give us an edge over Mallory.”

“What do you mean?” I really didn’t like the gleam in his eyes.

“We know you’re not a vampire, a were or a witch,” Tiffany proclaimed, ticking each item off on her black-nailed fingers.

My head bobbed back and forth, looking at each of them. “Are you sure? I may not have this V-virus, but the full moon was three nights ago. What if I sprout hair and start licking myself next month?”

Tiffany chuckled. “I tested for both were and witch too. There’s a particular blood enzyme each one has, and neither showed up”

“The vampire skills do concern me.” Again, Duncan watched me with a thoughtful look on his face. “Especially, your recovery from being shot. You did not have a pulse for nearly five minutes.”

“Yeah, but if I died, then . . .” My voice trailed off as the horror engulfed me. “Oh my God, I’m a zombie!”

“Zombies are a myth, Miss Ridgeway.” Duncan rose to refill his glass from a green bottle in the fridge. He took this awful revelation way too calmly. “And I certainly have not seen you take any orders.”

“Or eating any brains,” Tiffany chimed in cheerily.

The eight large pizzas had taken the edge off the gnawing hunger, but I’d need to eat again—soon. Worry chewed on the back of my mind. What would happen if I didn’t have access to food? Would my family and friends turn into dancing steaks, like in those old Warner Brothers cartoons? All zombie jokes aside, turning into a George Romero extra terrified me.

For more information on Suzan’s books along with e-retailers carrying Zombie Love, visit www.suzanharden.com.

Ghostly Adventures - The Duck Man

2008-06-23T16:39:00.001-07:00

When I was about 5 years old we lived for a short time in an old house in a small town. Strange things happened in this house to more than just myself. We blamed those strange things on the Duck Man.

No, he wasn't half-man, half-duck. He was a man who lived in the attic (unbeknownst to the adults in the household). I never saw him, but one of my young aunts claimed that he watched over the house and everything that "belonged to it". That included a black baby duck that my sister and I found wandering in the side yard one hot afternoon.

We were playing outside and saw this small black bird wandering in a sunny spot near the side of the house. It was small and cute and so of course we thought we should play with it. My aunt, just a few years older but much more in-the-know than the two of us came upon us before we could lay hands on the duck (as if we actually could have), and warned us to leave it alone. She said it belonged to the man who lived in the attic.

My sister and I looked up at the house and to this day I remember seeing the curtains over the attic window fall back into place, as if someone had been peering out at us.From that day on I could swear I heard footsteps in the attic of that old house although no one else would admit to hearing them. The baby duck, of course, vanished without a trace. So did other things now and then. For the rest of our time living there, we blamed the Duck Man for such disappearances

Ghostly Adventures - The Duck Man

2008-06-23T16:39:00.000-07:00

When I was about 5 years old we lived for a short time in an old house in a small town. Strange things happened in this house to more than just myself. We blamed those strange things on the Duck Man.

No, he wasn't half-man, half-duck. He was a man who lived in the attic (unbeknownst to the adults in the household). I never saw him, but one of my young aunts claimed that he watched over the house and everything that "belonged to it". That included a black baby duck that my sister and I found wandering in the side yard one hot afternoon.

We were playing outside and saw this small black bird wandering in a sunny spot near the side of the house. It was small and cute and so of course we thought we should play with it. My aunt, just a few years older but much more in-the-know than the two of us came upon us before we could lay hands on the duck (as if we actually could have), and warned us to leave it alone. She said it belonged to the man who lived in the attic.

My sister and I looked up at the house and to this day I remember seeing the curtains over the attic window fall back into place, as if someone had been peering out at us.From that day on I could swear I heard footsteps in the attic of that old house although no one else would admit to hearing them. The baby duck, of course, vanished without a trace. So did other things now and then. For the rest of our time living there, we blamed the Duck Man for such disappearances

Ghostly Adventures - The Glaring Ghost

2008-06-16T08:35:00.001-07:00

You know that sensation that occasionally occurs, convincing you that someone is watching you? You look over your shoulder but no one is there and a shiver tickles up your spine. Imagine waking in the middle of the night with that sensation. It happened to me at my sister’s house once.

I woke from where I’d gone to sleep on the couch but I didn’t open my eyes. I had the distinct feeling that someone was standing over me, glaring at me. I felt that it was a woman and I just knew that I’d see her if I opened my eyes. But I was terrified at the prospect and could not bring myself to open my eyes. I wanted to call out to my husband who slept nearby with the kids on a mattress on the floor. But my throat locked up as an unpleasant chill gripped me. Anger flowed from the unseen entity, frightening me more and more. Finally, I was able to shout out my husband’s name. Instantly, the sensation vanished. I opened my eyes and saw. . .no one. Believe me when I say that I had trouble sleeping for the rest of the night.

When I asked my sister the next morning if she’d ever experienced any supernatural events in her house, she looked at me with guilty surprise for a moment before admitting that the house was indeed haunted. The husband and wife who’d lived there most of their married life had both died in the house. My sister and her husband occasionally saw the spirits of both, leaning over their beds at night or passing across the far end of the hallway from one bedroom to another. She said that the woman especially seemed angry and would glare at my sister or her husband as if she didn’t want them in her house.

My sister did some research on the family that had lived in the house and discovered that the woman had hated cats. This explained why my sister’s cat lived in an almost constant state of skittishness, often leaping into the air and bolting from a room for no obvious reason. It was almost as if someone malicious had yanked on the poor pet’s tail or ear. The cat settled into a much calmer state after my sister’s family moved from that house and continues to be a calm pet today.

Have you ever had a similar experience? Feel free to share it here. And if you send me an email at t_thackston@yahoo.com that contains the name of any of the reviewers in the links below, I’ll enter your name into a drawing that I will hold July 5 for a $20 Barnes and Noble gift card. Review site links: http://www.theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/finalwordsthackston.htm “I was on the edge of my seat for much of the story…” http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=27963 “This is a great mystery with a spooky twist.”
http://www.theromancereadersconnection.com/reviews2/thackstonteri1508.html “The story is guaranteed to keep you engrossed from the very first page.” For a spooky, sensuous read, I hope you’ll check out FINAL WORDS at http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419915246

Cheers and shivers,
Teri
www.terithackston.com

Ghostly Adventures - Spirit Footsteps

2008-06-02T19:05:00.000-07:00

I must have been twelve or thirteen years old when I heard the footsteps. Mom and Dad were in the front yard visiting with some neighbors one late afternoon while my sisters rode their bicycles up and down the sidewalk. I had gone inside to get a sweater which was, of all places, under my bed. I know that I was alone in the house.

On my knees on the far side of the bed from the bedroom door, I dug through toys and books and just plain old kid junk, looking for the sweater. But for the sounds I was making, the house was dead quiet.

Someone walked into the bedroom. You know that soft stealthy sound that occurs when someone walks across a low-pile carpet. It can’t be mistaken for anything else.

I rose on my knees to see who was coming into the room. There was no one. The steps continued slowly, rhythmically, moving down the far side of the bed.

Now this was a fairly new house. We were the first owners. It was late afternoon and sunlight was pouring through the window. There was no way I couldn’t have seen someone walking on the other side of the bed in my small room.

Cold gripped me but did it come from my own fear or from some external force? All I know now is that I was alone in my bedroom and yet I wasn’t. I sat back against the wall, drew up my knees and covered my face with my hands.

The footsteps moved around the bed and along the end. I remember focusing intently on the sound as whatever was in my room moved nearer. The cold intensified and I was unable to call out. The steps rounded the end of the bed and moved toward me.

Whatever had entered my bedroom stopped right in front of me. I pressed my fingers tight against my eyes, terrified. But I needed to see. I needed to know who—or what—stood before me.

I relaxed my fingers, parted them, peered through them. Nothing stood in front of me. The room felt expectantly silent. And then the cold lifted and I was alone. I never heard those footsteps again.

What do you think it was? Share your theories and stories.

And if you send me an email at t_thackston@yahoo.com that contains the name of any of the reviewers in the links below, I’ll enter your name into a drawing that I will hold July 5 for a $20 Barnes and Noble gift card. Review site links: http://www.theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/finalwordsthackston.htm “I was on the edge of my seat for much of the story…” http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=27963 “This is a great mystery with a spooky twist.” http://www.theromancereadersconnection.com/reviews2/thackstonteri1508.html “The story is guaranteed to keep you engrossed from the very first page.” For a spooky, sensuous read, I hope you’ll check out FINAL WORDS at http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419915246 Teri

Ghostly Adventures - Grandma's Breath

2008-05-25T14:39:00.000-07:00

Old enough to sleep on a mattress on the floor, I took the single bed in the front bedroom at my grandparents' farm that night. I don't remember how long Grandma had been gone by that time, but I do remember that I still missed her. I still became teary-eyed thinking that I'd never see her again. And for some reason I was thinking of her as I settled down alone that night.

My sisters were in the full bed on the other side of the room, several feet off the ground and safe from any creatures that might creep across the old oak floor, breathing quietly in the deep sleep of children.

Summer nights on the Texas coast could be still and dark and heavy. "Close" my kin would say. Where I lay was well below the windowsill and the night air had definitely been close all night. I had kicked off my sheets and stretched out flat on the thin mattress in my short cotton nightgown. I tried really hard not to think about the scorpion that Grandpa had killed in the other bedroom the previous summer. It hadn't been very large, but it terrified me and my sisters for a long time afterward. Usually all of us got to sleep up on the beds but that night the house was full of family and I was old enough to take a floor bed. Old enough and brave enough. Or so I thought.

I have the worry gene and very good hearing. Tiny noises convinced me that a giant scorpion, its tale full of poison, was creeping across the floor toward my mattress. Mom and Dad were playing 42 with the aunts and uncles at the other end of the house. They would probably have heard my screams, but I convinced myself they'd never get to me in time. And opening my mouth would only invite that monster from my mind to pounce. So I just tried to keep thinking about Grandma, about her smile and her cool hands and her sweet, sweet iced tea.

That's when the breeze touched me. Cool and soft, it drifted over my face. No other part of my body felt anything, just my face. Like a kiss blown from the palm of Grandma's hand. Instantly my fear eased. The tiny noises disappeared and I was able to open my eyes and look around. Moonlight filled the dark room and I could see that there was nothing to fear. I was convinced that Grandma had come to comfort and protect me, and I was able to drift off to sleep like my little sisters.

Some would say that breeze came through the open windows, a cross-current sweeping through the bayview farmhouse that early summer night. But I rarely experienced a night breeze there, just a hot and sticky stillness.

Now a cool breeze is weak evidence of afterlife, but that night I was certain that Grandma had come to visit. Even now, decades later, I'll take that incident as proof that some part of us continues beyond death. How about you? What are your experiences? Share.

And if you send me an email at t_thackston@yahoo.com that contains the name of any of the reviewers in the links below, I’ll enter your name into a drawing that I will hold July 5 for a $20 Barnes and Noble gift card.

Review site links:
http://www.theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/finalwordsthackston.htm
“I was on the edge of my seat for much of the story…”

http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=27963
“This is a great mystery with a spooky twist.”

http://www.theromancereadersconnection.com/reviews2/thackstonteri1508.html
“The story is guaranteed to keep you engrossed from the very first page.”

For a spooky, sensuous read, I hope you’ll check out FINAL WORDS at http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419915246

Teri