Allisha McAdoo is a rising author in the horror genre for several years now. Her stories are self-published on Amazon where her fans constantly check for her latest offerings. She has been writing since an early age and has finally started letting the public read her work. Using her life experiences to fuel her stories her readers can feel the emotion and pain in her work, which always leaves them wanting more from her. Allisha's ability to create such in-depth characters keeps her writing ones that you cannot put down; you have to know what is going to happen. Allisha's stories are dark and twisted packing so much emotion into them you build a relationship with the characters. After you read this story, you will want more from her as we all do please enjoy. - Thomas J Kline-
I have been writing horror since I was four years old scaring everyone in my path. I just recently started to publish my work and dive into all the different sorts of the horror genre. For right now I am just starting off with Ebooks but will hopefully release paperbacks soon with the help of my great friends and other authors like Howard Carlyle and Sam West. I write from my heart and make the reader feel a certain way about my characters until I unleash hell. Stay tuned as I add more from my twisted mind. My name is Christine King, I am a horror writer and yes, I am a woman. I like to write spooky, creepy horror. I don’t always succeed but that is what I like to read, and so that is what I write. If you want to know more about me then feel free to visit my author page, I have excerpts from some of my work on there. If however you are looking for the kind of writer who produces vampire love stories, gore filled pages of unnecessary blood or torture porn. Sorry, that’s not me. I fell in love with horror when I was in my teens. My mum had no where to store her book collection and they ended up in my bedroom. I sat reading Dracula and Frankenstein, they thrilled me but I wanted something I could connect with. Then one day I picked up Skeleton Crew by Stephen King at a local charity shop. The introduction touched me, the words settled in my soul, like a secret letter from an admirer, and made me fall in love with Mr King. That book became my favourite, and I must have read it at least fifty times. I found other books by my love at the library and sat up late reading, absorbing every word. Amazed at the images in my mind, the story, the craft. I read other authors, I lost myself in worlds full of dark mystery and blood. Then I tried to copy my heroes and I began writing a few little stories. But as these things often go, when I got up the courage to show them to those I trusted, I was told they were not good enough, told to not waste my time and so I moved on, heartbroken. I still wrote, but just for me. Many years later, I met my husband and he was supportive, kind and wanted me to follow my dream. I began to write. Shy at first, nervous of peoples reactions, toughening my skin for those rejections. But, after quite a few replies saying “We loved reading your work but it isn’t right for us at this time.” I found someone who wanted to publish my work and I can tell you that the day that happened was amazing. I cried with happiness that someone had validated my efforts, someone, somewhere had said “You are good enough.” No matter how strong we are as women it is always nice to hear that. I continued to write, to be published, and I have a short story book available on Amazon. It is called `A kiss in the dark’ and if any of you know the book Skeleton crew then you will know the title is a homage to my first love, they say you never forget your first. But I also found resistance, some magazines and anthologies seemed reluctant to take my stories despite my efforts. These publications were often male orientated. I had never thought that being female might be a turn off to readers. I started a group on Facebook to help get new female writers into the genre, to give them support and a place to vent. Then my nine year old daughter began to show signs of wanting to write. Amazing, but she liked writing fantasy. I had dabbled in fantasy a few times. I love the Discworld books and I had tried my hand at some dragon stories and gritty tales of the tooth fairy but my little one wanted help to create an entire world. She wanted a strong female character that didn’t rely on men to save her, or her looks to get her what she wanted. She wanted to write something that she would want to read, it was difficult and challenging but together we managed to craft six books in a children’s fantasy series. The first `Gem masters and the search for the unicorns tears’ has been published by Foundation books and is available here. She is very excited and I am so glad I can encourage her to follow her dreams. I often wonder what her first true love will be? Harry potter? Narnia? His dark materials? Or something else? I can only hope that what ever it is, it inspires her to be or do what ever she wants to and that she will let me, her long suffering mother, tag along for the ride. A short piece from one of my stories. Unknowing The cave was warm and the large fire at its mouth danced hungrily, as people added dried out leaves and wood. Some had sticks with small fishes, or other foods dangling over the flames. The cold, merciless night seemed to stop at the fires edge, its life-giving glow providing security, heat and a way to cook whatever they had caught. People chatted in the golden, swaying light and some laughed at the children performing an overly dramatic play, the little ones had worked all day on it and many had gathered round to watch. Sam was watching from a distance, he felt happy and content after eating a good meal that his father had cooked earlier, he had found three new books to read today and he was sure that Susan, daughter of the Petersons was making eyes at him earlier as he ate. She was a beauty, really stunning, she also knew how to hunt and sew. His mum said she was a catch, so he knew his parents would approve of her. He held up the books to look at the condition of the covers, many books were disintegrating and yet these three looked in great condition, he had found them on a scavenger hunt, it wasn’t what he was meant to have done today. His father had asked him to go fishing, but Sam hated fishing, and seed sowing, and picking. He didn’t enjoy melting metal, or crafting ways to heat the caves, nor did he enjoy toil of any kind, he did like hunting, but his large frame wasn’t easy to conceal, and he was a little clumsy. Still the books were a great find, so maybe he had done well after all and what his father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He just said he didn’t catch anything today and acted upset at his lack of luck. The cave walls were graffitied with so many drawings, some by the kids, sweet, colourful and some higher up and better painted by the adults, those ones had a purpose, those ones told a story. He looked at the flickering images and felt sleepy. With his eyes half open he strained to see the pictures way back, the ones almost lost to the darkness of the cave, they started the story. The day the sky had cracked open, the Day of loss. Sam had been about five or six when it all happened, he didn’t remember very much but the pictures showed him the story, day after day, and the elders often told them about the Day of loss if no other entertainment was forth coming. Something had happened with a new machine, a new experiment, it had been all over the news, Sam remembered it vaguely, it was so long ago. Something about recreating the big bang. His tired mind sent up a little chuckle, they had created a big bang all right. They, scientists, had wanted to know what happened when you created worlds, the sky had split in two and the world had changed, a new world was created but ours was in the way. A rip to another dimension opened, a way from there to here, and something came through, some things. Huge, tentacled creatures, land bound squids. Things with four mouths and twenty eyes, so big they seemed to swallow the sun. Bringing with them, fear and panic. People are not sensible on mass, they feed each other’s anxieties, they run, they scream, they loot. People scrambled, armies joined forces, presidents, generals and kings shouted orders. The creatures didn’t notice. They explored this new land and seemed to find it pleasant, they settled in. The bombs and other weapons had little effect, like bugs throwing grains of sand at the foot of a human. The creatures destroyed much, but the people destroyed more, trying to fight the monsters, monsters who didn’t even know they existed. Christine King is a writer of horror, sci-fi, fantasy and poetry, she is a wife and a mother. She also works in a local primary school and volunteers for Dementia friends. She has been writing for many years and has had a few poems win awards and many stories published in various magazines and anthologies. Recently she was named as ‘one to watch’ in female horror writing. She has produced a book of short stories which is available on Amazon and she runs a blog that will hopefully be incorporated into a book sometime soon. Her favourite authors are Terry Pratchett, Stephen King, Jules Verne and Jane Austin, she often finds them influencing her style of writing, but she also finds her own voice. She enjoys sushi and a good cocktail. When she has time, she loves a bit of archery and is an eighties cinema buff. She can usually be found at the cinema and although she loves movies, she often, like many others, finds the book is better. I’m The What? by Christine Morgan Just within the past few months, I’ve found myself dubbed both “the Martha Stewart of extreme horror,” and “the female Edward Lee.” Well, no pressure, right? Hardly daunting, right? Not much to have to live up to, right? Hahahahahaha(help). I was the what? I was? Me? The first was bestowed after my appearance on the Bizzong podcast, earned in part no doubt by my reputation for bringing baked goods to events (often themed for the occasion; at my Murder Girls release, I had cupcakes topped with little blood-spattered bowling pins as a reference to one of the characters’ weapon of choice; brought real dried bugs in “amber” jello to a Jurassic Park party, etc.). Earned in part, also, for my other hobby of weird crafts. I modify fashion dolls into twisted creations and make little nut-people or puffball or other such things inspired by horror movies, video games, the books of fellow authors, Halloween, and so on. I’ve made buttons for swag giveaways, centerpieces for conventions; if someone needs party favors, I’m your gal. So, okay, fair enough, once the initial shock passed, I could see it. Not sure what the real Martha Stewart would have to say about it, but I like to hope she’d be amused. I’m certainly no threat to her culinary and crafting empire. (As a side note, one of the first follow-up questions I got after that moniker went public was, “so then, who’s your Snoop?” … the answer was obvious and immediate: Jeff Burk, formerly of Deadite Press, now head of Section 31 Productions, one of my favorite people in the whole world. He was all too glad, even gleeful, to accept the designation.) As for the other title, the “female Edward Lee” thing, that reputation probably got going with my trashtastic Deadite debut, Spermjackers From Hell. I mean, reputation-wise, once you do a book with a title like that, especially when you’ve already published minotaur smut and some hardcore Viking stories gross and violent even by Viking standards, you’re already on your way, I suppose. When it fully solidified itself, though, was with the release of Lakehouse Infernal, which wasn’t just a Lee-type book but an author-approved sequel tying into his Mephistopolis series. I’d already been a fan of Lee’s for years. Had reviewed almost everything in his catalog, had met him at cons and corresponded, gotten good feedback from him on some of my own writing. He’s even put me to work as a proofreader and editorial assistant (which has led to some interesting email exchanges regarding … certain of his word-choices and terminology, shall we say). Great guy, total sweetie, can’t say enough good things. Yet there he is, producing some of the sickest of the sick fiction anyone will ever find. To be listed in the same category, let alone put anywhere near on the same level, is an honor I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around. But, however unworthy imposter syndrome may make me feel, I do like to think there’s something to it. I hope to live up to the comparison. And, if I’m being honest here – what the hell, why not? – I hope to keep going. I hope to push it, take it further. I want to keep playing in his sandbox, building on and expanding. I want to write more Mephistopolis stories. To collaborate with him, hey, dare to dream! To delve into the more feminine depths of mythology, folklore, and psyche, which is where I believe the origins of all our best horror comes from. Think about it … the first horror stories we hear, the ones we grow up with … think about where they come from, and who tells them to us. Sure, they call them ‘fairy tales’ now, as if to lighten-and-fluff them, diminish them, make them silly and frivolous and harmless. Y’know, like the genre as a whole has done to a gender as a whole for centuries now and it’s maddening we still have to have a Women-In-Horror month year after year to stand up and holler and remind them not only are we here, we’ve been here all along! Deep breath. Okay. Moving on. Look at those ‘fairy tales’ our mothers and grandmothers told us. Really take a good hard look some time. They are dark. They are horror stories. Loss, death, betrayal, curses, monsters! Way back in ye olden days, the women were trying to warn their children, to frighten them. Consider how many revolve around the death of a mother, or an evil stepmother. People scoff about that in Disney films now, but consider … that was the mother’s own fear coming through. What if I died? she’s asking herself. What would happen to my babies? Who would take care of them? What if their father married some wicked selfish thing who might want to get rid of or hurt them? Tell me that’s not horror. Way before Shirley Jackson and Mary Wollestonecraft-Shelley, oh, we women already had and knew horror. We knew it well. It’s still there. It’s always been there. Our horrors are the core of everything. It’s just, at some point, all the male-dominated stuff bulled in and took over. There were heroes, and soldiers, and princes, and gods to stand in the spotlight and wave their … swords, of course I was going to put ‘swords.’ Sitting down to write Lakehouse Infernal, I don’t recall deliberately setting out on purpose to bring an emphatic strong female perspective to Lee’s universe (or, more of a one; on only casual familiarity with his work, it’s easy to miss, but it’s there), and even less any plans of doing so to make a point or anything. I didn’t go at it all, “I’mma do a Mephistopolis reboot with all female leads and chortle at each dudebro ragefit as I ruin their childhoods like they did with Star Wars and girl-cooties Ghostbusters!” (admittedly, my approach to Spermjackers From Hell may have been closer to that attitude; a lot of the stuff in that book was totally done on purpose). But, no. With Lakehouse Infernal, I went into it with a scenario, and a bunch of characters, and ideas for diabolical atrocities. Not to make a statement or push any agenda. Having it turn out to have a more female-focused theme, well, it just sort of … happened. There are explorations of various aspects of the mother-daughter dynamic, toxic femininity, pregnancy, virginity, themes involving sexual empowerment. Some of the women in the book are victims of terrible acts, but not so much victimized, if you get my drift (a few of the male characters wish they were so lucky!). They have agency and identity, strengths, weaknesses, powers, faults. Some of them are good people. Some aren’t. Some start off not so nice and end up downright horrible. Even the angel has quirks and flaws. And, okay, yes, there is a character made entirely of boobs … but that one was kind of to make a point, if only in fun. And, okay again, yes, the ending surprised even me. When I realized where particular story arcs were headed, I had to take myself for a walk and sit myself down for a talk, ask myself if I was sure (as if I had any choice; by then I knew it was too late for backing out). I’m not sure how much, if any, of this does make me “the female Edward Lee.” But, while I may never know what Martha Stewart might think, I have it on personal authority that Lee gets almost as big a kick out of it as I do. So, thank you; I will continue trying to live up to the honor! (I’m thinking Warlock Infernal for a sequel, how’s that sound?) Christine Morgan is twice-married, twice-divorced, twice a cancer survivor, and springs from the more twisted branch of an otherwise fairly normal family tree. She currently resides in Portland, Oregon, where she works the overnight shift in a psych facility because when it's quiet, she can write on company time. Her home life involves being bossed around by cats. As well as writing, she sometimes dabbles in editing, and has been a longtime regular contributor to The Horror Fiction Review. Her other interests include dinosaurs, superheroes, big stupid disaster movies, and collecting rocks.
We moved as fast as we could, as our lungs strained to siphon oxygen from the damp air that swamped us. Forcing our way through the undergrowth, we came to a small clearing. Although visibility was limited, we could not have missed the horrific spectacle twenty meters in front of us… Strung up in a twisted knot of a tree, no more than a few meters ahead of us, was Doc. He was spread-eagled in some a gruesome parody of his Jesus on the crucifix. Our comrade swung there, still very much alive and whimpering in agony, with blood gurgling from hismouth in hot pink bubbles. His chest had been sliced open, and his ribs cracked wide apart to display the bloody, raw mess inside. Stunned with disbelief, Macka stepped forward as he attempted to make sense of the horrific scene in front of us. Then came the audible click of a tripwire and Doc exploded. Blood, flesh, and gore rained down on us, and splintered shards of bone sliced through our clothes and skin miniscule razors. It was at that point that I simply quit functioning. Everything I could see, smell, and hear was entirely incoherent; my brain slid into slow motion, my body numbed, and I slumped to the ground. I stared down at my hands which were thick with grime and peppered with bone fragments—Doc’s bone fragments.” An avid reader from a young age Lee discovered a penchant for the dark and is fascinated by the horrors both in film and books. She considers her horror gauge is broken and is rarely spooked or grossed out. Lee, is also a developing writer with a novel and, several short stories published by the likes of Hellbound Books and KJ Kennedy to name names.
Female horror authors are not as common as male authors, but they do make an impact and many have influenced current writers today. Stephen King has famously said that he was heavily influenced by Shirley Jackson who wrote The Haunting of Hill House. Jackson focused on Gothic horror and adaptations of her work are still being made today.
One of the big names of the 20th century is Anne Rice. Anne has written over forty books in her time, most focusing on vampires. Some of her books have been made into films, the most famous being Interview With The Vampire. She still writes today. More recently, Laurell K Hamilton has found fame as a horror writer and she constantly hits bestseller lists. The most prolific horror writer though has to be Mary Shelley. She spawned an entire genre - science fiction horror with her novel Frankenstein. Not bad for someone trying to come up with a ghost story in a friendly competition amongst friends! There are many great female writers and it would be impossible to name them all. Who are your favourite female horror writers? Oh! The Horror. I love writing horror. Even though I have always loved reading classic horror and Gothic lit, that's something I never really thought I'd say... until mid 2017, when something clicked and I started writing spooky stuff. Since then, I have written four books of horror stories and released one collection of dark and horror poetry. I am currently working on stories for another horror short story collection. The opportunity to explore the balance between light and dark, good and evil, is fascinating. And the ability to make someone's skin crawl, or stomach flip, or to send a chill down their spine is, quite frankly, exhilarating. It’s also fair to say that writing something terrifying and to make someone’s suffering both mentally and physically agonising is most cathartic. Tappety-Tap This is one of my newest stories, and it’s free to read on WordyNerdBird Writes https://wordynerdbirdwrites.wordpress.com/2019/10/21/tappety-tap/ The Silver Feather. A haunting story for lovers of horror and macabre. A grieving teen. Creepy stuff. A confrontation between good and evil. A bit of splatter. And twists aplenty. And there’s a shiny award on the cover that shows it's really good! Lac Du Mort and Other Stories.
From the macabre to the deeply disturbing, Lac Du Mort and Other Stories delivers eight chilling tales that will please lovers of horror and dark fiction. These stories are for brave readers only. These stories will make you want to sleep with the lights on. They don't call me "Mistress of the Macabre" for nothing. A scream queen is an actress associated with horror movies. One of the most prolific is Jamie Lee Curtis for her role in the Halloween franchise. She has suffered through multiple Halloween movies including a new trilogy of films, over a decade after she was killed on screen! That's dedication.
Not to be confused with the final girl, a scream queen can be killed in a horror movie. Jamie Lee Curtis' own mother - Janet Leigh - was a scream queen in her own right and she died in the movie Psycho. The scene is iconic and most people know about the shower stabbing. Other notable scream queens are - Linda Blair, Heather Langenkamp, Marilyn Burns and Neve Campbell. Horror films do focus a lot on female characters in all roles - victims, survivors and the final girl. Women are even killers themselves such as the original Friday the 13th killer, Mrs Vorhees and Annie Wilkes in Misery. Long gone are the days when the female protagonist is there to scream and hide. Nowadays, she fights back! Laurie Strode has taken on Michael Myers several times and in one memorable occasion she took off his head with an axe. (or at least thought she did). Neve Campbell has shot, stabbed and beaten the killers coming after her. They are shown as capable women who can handle themselves. Unfortunately, the killers they take down tend to be unkillable or supernatural in some way. In 2015, Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuck, the creators of Glee and AHS, created the short lived show Scream Queens - a horror paraody. It even featured Jamie Lee Curtis and new Scream Queen and Scream star - Emma Roberts. Horror movies never get old and the scream queen continues to reign. Who is your favorite scream queen? Comment below. We want to hear from you! 1) Why did I choose to write horror? I honestly didn't plan to write horror. I kind of fell into it. I have always avoided anything that had horror in it until the day I stood in the doorway and watched half an hour of the Walking Dead. I had been expecting blood and guts, but instead I found a story. It was a story that pulled me in so quickly that I went back and started at the beginning. Since then I have jumped into the world of zombies which are label under horror. 2) What is your fav thing about the genre? My favorite thing about the genre is that you can write the story in such a way that it seems intense without giving all the gory details just to make the story work. 3) Tell us about your latest book The latest book that I've release is Infected Poppy Fields: A World War One Disaster. It's a story about how the horrors of war weren't what most people remember or imagine they were because zombies were the the main killer of the war. It was a challenge to keep things true to the historical details while adding the twist of zombies to give readers an alternative history. 4) If you had one piece of advice about writing horror, what would it be? What advice would I give my others trying to write horror? Stay true to where your story leads you. Don't discount the details, but don't add gore just for the sake of calling it a horror story. 5) Who are your fav women in horror? I'm still new to the horror genre, but I have to say that Laurel K. Hamilton is one female author that really understands how to make readers fall in love with the horror genre. Dr. Pepper is the fuel by which Alathia Morgan's zombie stories are brought to life. While she hopes that she won't have to face her worst fear of being in a real life zombie apocalypse, not having her favorite drink or having electricity to get through it would be horrible.
She enjoys watching her favorite t.v. shows, reading books and quilting while contemplating how to get her characters out of their next life or death set of problems. She also writes thrillers under the name Paris Morgan and spicy, steamy romances under the name Pepper Paris. Excerpt from Infected Poppy Fields: A World War One Disaster “Well, ladies, I guess this is our stop.” I picked up my bag, having left my suitcase and extras back at the mansion where we’d been staying. If we had to leave in a hurry, it would be better if we didn’t have a lot of luggage to carry around with us.” The tent flap opened, and a young man came out. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to move along. The men inside are doing a very difficult job, and it’s hard to hear with you twits prattling about.” “Hmm, I believe we’re their relief. We’re part of the Signal Corps, and you’ve been assigned to carry the remote telephones out to the battle areas.” I ducked inside the tent and placed my bag by the flap. “W–Wait, you can’t do that,” he sputtered as the other girls followed suit. I held out a paper signed by General Pershing that gave me or any of the other women in our unit permission to take charge on threat of a court martial if they didn’t do as we asked. He gulped at the official signature and dropped the tent flap to salute. Returning it, I turned to the men at the board. “Hello, gentlemen. We’re here to relieve you. Get some food, and then head out with the portables toward the places you’ll find marked on this map,” I informed them, handing it to the highest-ranking officer. “Yes, ma’am.” With a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he gave a salute. “You heard the orders. Let’s get these out there where they’re needed the most.” We had our hands full with keeping the phone lines open and transferring the most important information between the troops and headquarters. Arriving at noon, we hadn’t even considered eating until the officer we’d relieved showed up with food for us all. “Thank you.” I offered my hand to him. “You didn’t have to do that.” “Not a problem, ma’am. I’ve instructed Private Emerson to make sure you ladies have plenty of coffee and food. He’s also been instructed that he’s not to let anyone into this tent without checking to make sure they are supposed to be here.” “Oh, that’s wonderful, but we can take care of ourselves,” I hurried to reassure him, although I wasn’t as certain as I sounded. “Our pleasure, ma’am. The general gave specific orders for us to follow, and we’re going to protect you with our lives, just as he would if he were here.” The officer twirled his hat nervously. “It’s not safe for a woman to even go to the outhouse by herself.” I blushed. “Very well,” I answered more briskly than I’d intended. “I’ll be checking in and making sure the person taking his place understands as well. In the daylight, it’s not as bad, but the things men think they can do in the darkness without anyone knowing is…well, almost as evil as the Germans.” He gave a quick salute and disappeared without another word. “Private? What is his name?” I inquired, holding the flap open to let in the bright midday sun. “Lieutenant Roman, ma’am. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He turned his back to the opening, ready to do his job. The girls had already managed to divide the food that we’d been given, and were eating between calls. While this was what we had been doing the past few weeks, it was much faster and more intense here close to the battle. Explosions echoed in the distance and through the lines as we helped coordinate our troops so we could keep the Germans from advancing. It is Women in Horror Month 11! Welcome to our month long event where I will be featuring a number of female horror authors. They will be giving interviews, guest blogging and there might even be an original story or two thrown in!
Celebrate all women in the horror industry this month. From final girls to directors, authors to screenplay writers. We want to show them that their contribution to the industry is recognized and how much we appreciate it. Join us each day in February for a brand new post. Happy Women in Horror Month 2020. |
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About the Author:S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland. “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” Archives
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