They’re multiplying, and I’m loooooosing control…
Ah, um, sorry. Got carried away there. And yes, my singing is truly terrifying. Let’s just say I won’t be queuing up to audition for the X-Factor any time soon.
I write quite a bit of paranormal erotica and erotic romance, but not all of it is scary. Much of it is just sexy, and sometimes bloody. But I have been known to dip into the scary side of erotica, sometimes bordering on horror. I’ve even given myself chills when writing some of this stuff. Here are some examples (click on the titles or book covers to find out more):
That decided, the girls walked in. Stephanie, the more logical of the two, led the way through the narrow corridors in search of the elusive centre. She felt confident at first, but as the twists and turns continued, she felt less so. That and the fact that she’d been right about the creep factor. It was a clear but not particularly bright day, resulting in very little natural light penetrating the hedges that made up the maze. It was navigable but incredibly gloomy, and Stephanie sensed that Jenny was staying as close behind her as possible without treading on the backs of her shoes. Honestly, she didn’t blame her. Even Stephanie was starting to feel a little spooked. The silence wasn’t helping. From their sheltered position, they could see glimpses of the sky, but they couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of their own footsteps and breathing.
Stephanie picked up the pace, albeit subtly. She didn’t want to worry Jenny, but she wasn’t quite sure where they were and she was feeling really quite nervous. Despite the silence and the fact they hadn’t seen another soul since they’d left the house, Stephanie suddenly had the oddest feeling that they weren’t alone. It was a silly notion, because the walls of the maze were so thick that you couldn’t see through them, so it wasn’t like anyone could be secretly spying on them. But Stephanie simply could not shake her apprehension. She desperately wanted to get out of the maze, but saw no way of doing it quickly. Even turning back wouldn’t guarantee a swift exit because they wouldn’t remember each twist and turn they’d taken. They could just end up stuck in here even longer.
Suddenly, Jenny’s Alice in Wonderland comment didn’t seem so stupid after all. Refusing to let Jenny sense her fear, she looked steadfastly in front of her and carried on walking. Then she heard the crack of a twig which sounded like it came from up ahead. Unfortunately, Jenny heard it too.
“Wh – what was that?!” Jenny said, clutching onto the back of Stephanie’s coat.
Get your copy of Weekend at Wilderhope Manor here.
Emily worked in peace for a while longer . . . until she felt a draught on the back of her neck. Carefully placing down the book she was retouching, she fidgeted in her chair and moved her head from side to side and up and down, as if to erase the odd feeling. She forgot it almost instantly, until a few seconds later, it came again, as though someone was blowing on the back of her neck. Emily shivered, both at the sensation and at the thought that had entered her mind. Goosebumps crept over her entire body, and the third movement of air made her jump up out of the chair and spin around to face the source.
There was nothing there. No one. Emily rolled her eyes. Why on earth was she getting like this? She’d worked in dozens of rooms, perfectly alone, and not once had she creeped herself out. Why now? When her gaze fell on the window, she rolled her eyes again. Of course. Old houses like Westbury more often than not had panes of glass that didn’t fit into their frames properly. The draught was coming from the window. Emily crossed the room to the window, drew the curtains—she’d open them again before she left, and Mrs. Thompson would be none the wiser—and sat back down again. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, Emily continued working on the book she’d just abandoned, quickly becoming absorbed in her task once more.
A noise from over by the ladder startled her, making her jump and almost jab herself in the eye with the end of the brush she was using. Turning, she saw the photograph she’d righted earlier once more lying down. She’d obviously not fixed the stand properly. After downing her tools, Emily stomped across the room, cross at the seemingly endless interruptions, and grabbed the photograph. She checked it to make sure it held firm, wagging a finger at the man in the image.
“Just you behave. I’ve got too much work to do to put up with your shenanigans if you don’t mind.”
Get your copy of Love Through Time here.
The path forked, the left turning being the one which would lead me down by the water. I took it. The closer I drew to the mere, the more another part of me wished I wasn’t alone. The quiet was uncanny, as was the absence of any wildlife. You’d normally expect to find midges, dragonflies, and the birds that ate them around most bodies of water. There was nothing, which was strange enough. Stranger still was that despite its exposed location and the slight breeze in the air, the pool’s surface remained undisturbed. I wish I could have said the same for my state of mind.
I was still a short distance from the mere, lingering at the end of the path. I looked behind me at the setting sun, which would soon disappear behind the rocky mountain range to the west. I glanced back at the pool. My lengthened shadow stretched from my feet to the edge of the water, and beyond. From where I was standing, it looked like the shadow of my head had been chopped off, or swallowed into the murky depths of the mere.
Suddenly, I decided I really did not want to be there when there was no sun at all. I resolved to look around, take my photos, write my notes and be on my way as quickly as possible. My rational mind knew nothing was going to happen, that the recent disappearances had been nothing but elaborate hoaxes. Despite that fact, I still desperately wanted to get out of there.
A bench on the left-hand side of the path made me wonder why anyone would want to sit there, gazing upon this lifeless, creepy body of water. I walked over to the seat and read the writing carved into its surface.
In the summer at mermaid pool
As the grass grows all around
I think I sometimes hear her sing
For the mermaid’s home I’ve found
If I’d been creeped out before, that was nothing. It was past nine on a Wednesday evening and the sun was only just setting. That definitely qualified as summer in my book. And Blake Mere had grass growing all around, right up to the very edge of the water, in fact. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Just then the breeze picked up, whistling past my ears, and I fancied I could hear singing. I’d had to stand with my back to the pond in order to read the writing on the bench, and as my brain registered the eerie sound I couldn’t bring myself to turn around. I was frozen in place. I looked up and saw that the sun was sliding closer and closer to the rocky horizon. I didn’t have much time.
Get your copy of Seducing the Myth here.
Happy almost-Halloween, folks! 🙂