Spooktacular Ghost Story Month: Fiona Hogan

I’ve teamed up with a bunch of other swell authors to bring you spine-tingling tales to get you in the Halloween spirit. All this month, I will introduce you to a new author and their Spooktacular ghost story.

Meet: Fiona Hogan

Fiona Hogan is a writer, blogger and editor based in the midlands of Ireland. She writes horror under the name F.B. Hogan and has two collections of short stories in the gothic horror genre on Amazon: Death Comes Calling and The Nightmare. An acknowledged horror addict, Fiona is influenced by the Victorian ghost story and gothic tales of Le Fanu, Poe, Lovecraft and Stoker. There is a horror novel near completion and a new collection of gothic tales in the pipeline.

Fiona Hogan writes in a mix of media and genres and has two books published on Amazon under the name Fiona Cooke Hogan: The Lights Went Out and Other Stories; a collection of short and longer fiction in a mix of genres from humour, romance to the supernatural, and What Happened in Dingle; a romantic comedy novella.

 

Spooktacular Ghost Story Excerpt from: You Won’t Feel A Thing, from the gothic horror collection – Death Comes Calling.

The log crackled noisily in the fireplace and John Graham stretched out in his Parker Knoll chair, his hand stroked the slender stem of his crystal wineglass. The wine was particularly good; an award winning Pinot Noir brought up from his cellar the previous day. He enjoyed each and every sip, staring into the fire with contentment.

It had been a good month, three elderly souls and one child’s soul (courtesy of a lucky accident he happened upon before the paramedics). He rarely took more than a couple a month, the shared doctors’ practice covered a sprawling area of the suburbs and he didn’t always record his visits. He was very careful and in this way had racked up a total of four hundred souls in the past five years. The Master was most pleased.

He called earlier with his usual dramatic aplomb, appearing through the alcove in the hall in dress robes as if coming from the opera. His appearance brought with him the scent of church candles and sulphur and Doctor Graham was pleasantly reminded of home; the fire pits, the descending stone circles and the everlasting screaming of the damned.

Polite as ever, his guest had enjoyed a glass of the Pinot, complimenting him on the vintage and they conversed pleasantly on a variety of topics. After he took possession of the canisters, he placed a manicured hand on John Graham’s shoulder. An ornate ring on his second finger caught the doctor’s eye. The large ruby shone in the firelight, fashioned in the shape of an eye set in human bone that was carved as a serpent. A ring Graham greatly admired and desired, but not something that would be admired by others in his normal course of business, perhaps in another realm he might own such a thing.

“Keep up the good work, John,” The Master said and in his voice was the screeching of souls in torment and John Graham felt a great joy rise up inside him. He turned his head, bent and kissed the proffered ring and when he looked up the Master was gone leaving only the hint of burning wax in his wake.

Another hundred souls, he mused as he stared into the rising flames of the fire, a paltry amount in the scheme of things. He looked forward to November, always a bad time for the elderly. People expected and watched for death during the winter, especially the elderly. They watched and prepared and prayed.

Doctor Graham threw back his head and laughed. Prayers and masses in brightly lit empty churches! Desperate mutterings from the mouths of the helpless! How he loved their desperation and pointless hope, the clutching of rosary beads and dreams of resurrection and all the while he harvested their helpless souls.

And soon he would go onto even greater things. He was getting tired of the English weather; his skin missed the heat of the flames. Once he had reached his quota and his promotion was in effect he intended to head to Italy. To the country of Dante’s Divine Comedy.

He thought of the lines his Master often quoted from that delightful work – “through me you go into a city of weeping: through me you go into eternal pain: through me you go amongst the lost people” and he decided to head to the Vatican where there was always a place for the ambitious.

Fiona Hogan’s Links

Death Comes Calling

http://www.unusualfiction.wordpress.com

amazon author page

For other fun Spooktacular ghost story reads check out these authors, Pam Lecky, William Todd, DJ Doyle, Catherine Kullmann, and  me, Tam Francis. Look for their features in the next coming weeks!

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Tam Francis is a writer, blogger, swing dance teacher, avid vintage collector, and seamstress. She  shares her love of this genre through her novels, blog, and short stories. She enjoys hearing from you, sharing ideas, forging friendships, and exchanging guest blogs. For all the Girl in the Jitterbug Dress news, give-aways, events, and excitement, make sure to join her list and like her FB page! Join my list ~ Facebook page Can’t wait to read Tam’s spooktacular ghost story tomes. Check out these pages: Ghostoria or The Flapper Affair