Guest Post: Spook House by Michael West

Spook House

Michael West

There are some places in this world that go far beyond any normal definition of “haunted.” These places are so evil, so diabolical, that they become gateways to Hell itself. The Fuller Farm is one such place. 
It is said that old man Fuller conducted unspeakable acts, blood rituals and human sacrifices, all in an attempt to gain the ultimate knowledge, the ultimate power. And then, he was killed–horribly murdered on his own lands, leaving the house to stand as a vacant monument to his wickedness. But once a door is opened, it can never really be closed.
 
Now, the stars are right. The gateway is ready to once more unleash unspeakable horror upon the town of Harmony, Indiana. And this will be one Halloween that they will never forget!

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Guest Post

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My name is Cayden Donnelly.  What?  You don’t know me?  I’m not surprised.  I’ve tried to keep a low profile until now, stay under the radar, but that’s difficult to do when you’re forced to leave mutilated bodies behind you like a trail of breadcrumbs in the woods.

I saw the doorway again tonight--a ragged fissure of light in a dark, crumbling brick façade--and beyond it, I saw the Old Ones; pressing in against it, trying to push their way through to this world, trying to be free.  They called to me, their voices deafening yet muffled and faint at the same time.

“I hear you,” I screamed aloud, trying to be heard above the din, “but I need more!  Give me more!”

Instead, the vision spiraled away from my eyes like a flashlight tossed down a deep well, and the distant thunder of those ancient voices died in my ears.

You see, I’ve been chasing those echoes all my life.  From my home in Connemara, Ireland, to Salisbury, Wiltshire and Cardiff, Wales.  Across the sea, to the shores of Easter Island and the caverns of Cenote, Mexico.  And then, here to America; Maine, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Arizona, New Mexico...  I’ve journeyed to all the thin places, spots where the veil between worlds has worn and frayed to form a connection; tapestries woven together in some mystic loom.  And up to now, I’ve always been too late.  Inevitably, someone beat me to the punch and cut those threads, collapsing bridges before they could be crossed, keeping my gods at bay.

But not this time. 

No.  This time will be different.  This time, I’ll find the doorway and see it unlocked.  This time, I’ll be there to greet my lords with open arms.

 I will not be robbed of my triumph.  Not now.  Not after I’ve worked so hard.  Not when my life finally had meaning.

The gods...they’re counting on me.

All I need is more blood.

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About the Author:

Michael West is the critically-acclaimed author of The Wide Game, Cinema of Shadows, Skull Full of Kisses, and The Legacy of the Gods series. He lives and works in the Indianapolis area with his wife, their two children, their bird, Rodan, their turtle, Gamera, and their dog, King Seesar.
 Every Halloween, he turns his garage into a haunted house 

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Michael-West

@bymichaelwest

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