My Type of Horror

Originally, this article appeared in the Brain to Books Cyber Convention.

I'm fond of the message in the article, since it gives the reader

  • an understanding of where I am coming from.
  • Please enjoy.


The horror genre is massive. The streets of horror are connected to side roads. Those side roads are connected to dirt roads. Fair warning no good can come from a dirt road on the horror path.  There seems no way of mapping the horror genre it is something that must be explored. Many steer clear of the horror roads, being afraid of where they lead to.  I have been down many of those roads trying my best to discover what branch of horror I liked. The horror inclination was always tugging at me giving me the need to wander in it finding where I fit in.

This is article isn’t for or against any facet of horror.  In writing my Women of the Grey series I am constantly surprised at what my readers find creepy, unsettling while others find the same section mysterious and poetic. The fact that this happens is a tell of human nature. While some people smell the flowers, others stomp them, and some plant them.

In my wanderings down the horror path I discovered my horror love is classic horror mixed with some camp. I’ll be the first to line up for a Hammer film festival or to see Elvira at local venue.  I am not a blood and guts fan. My heart belongs to monsters, Kaiju, and those creepy things that go bump in the night. Most of all my heart pumps for those terrifying things that visit us from outer space.

My fandom for monsters and classic horror started off when I was very young. I might have been the only 8 year old on the block watching Godzilla movies, not sure. Thinking back at such a young age my love for these monsters came from admiration. Who wouldn’t want to be Godzilla? If you’re having an awful day wouldn’t it be great to just knock down a building? As a kid I didn’t think about the logistics of knocking down the building, I just knew I wanted to be Godzilla.


As I grew older my tastes for monsters progressed. I watched Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds and had my mind blown by the fact that there was other type of monsters out there. Everyday things could be a monster, just like the birds in the movie. By the way I’m still a bit wary of large groups of birds, being almost certain that they are called a murder of crows for a reason.

In my teen years I discovered Tolkien. Orcs were a new type of monster. After my Lord of the Rings obsession (read the series 5 times) came the Alien movie franchise. As I grew older my palate for monsters was developing. My palate became enhanced more than what was typical. I can clearly remember the first time I watched Pan’s Labyrinth; the eye holding, saggy skin, kid eating monster that our heroine narrowly escapes shook me down and woke me up. That, I could point a finger at, was my type of horror.

There were other things before Pans Labyrinth that put the stepping-stones down for my education into horror. I watched things like Faces of Death and I read Stephen King. I took long walks with Anne Rice books bringing along her vampires and witches.  I did these things to further explore the horror path. I wanted to know how many places it could lead me to. The Faces of Death movies weren’t for me. Stephen King books were a pleasure to read and his movies enjoyable. Anne Rice vampires were seductive, her witches intriguing.

There was so much out there to understand about my relationship with horror, why I liked it and what I liked. Horror is not one solid thing. What is one person’s horror is another person’s main stream; some might believe to have horror you must have torture or captivity. While others might believe to have horror there must be a guy with a mask and machete romping around some lake. 

When it is discovered that I am a writer the first thing people ask is what genre I write. When I say I am a horror author some immediately put their hands up explaining to me that they can’t handle it, don’t like it. “Oh girl, I can’t sleep at night after reading that stuff.” I understand that, but I invite readers to stick a toe in any way. Try my books or other horror authors. Horror isn’t just one thing; horror is many things that can challenge the reader into feeling emotions that perhaps they haven’t explored in a long time.

My cousin and I often had horror, let’s call them discussions she loved the movies I run from. She wanted to watch movies where the human spirit is challenged by little men on tricycles. When I asked her why, she said that she would become engrossed into trying to figure out how she would survive such an ordeal. My cousin is a survivor she’s been through a lot, it added up and made sense.

Another avid fan of gore horror books and movies told me it wasn’t the horror that he loved most of all, but the psychology of it. I often hear this, horror takes us to places within ourselves that we would rather not explore. Horror can have the reader questioning themselves. What would I do? What could I handle? It’s actually not about the zombies, but about how the people handle the zombies.

As a writer I am still on my monster hunt, but now I create them. My current manuscript The Demon Dealer is a nod to the great Stephen King and my love for the show Stranger Things. My books are me still searching, traveling down those horror roads figuring out what makes me jump back and take notice. 

For me the scariest thing of all is the unknown. It’s not that there is something under that bed. It’s the not knowing what that thing is. Because of that I fill my books with mystery. I want the reader to get the creeps over what “it” might be.  Those dark corners of the unknown are where I find myself most often.

If you haven’t tried horror before maybe it’s time you go find your monster; you might learn something about yourself that was hidden on one of those dirt roads.



Brain to Books Blog Hop


Brain to Books Blog Hop


from the Diabla Poetry Collection

by Carol James Marshall



Sitting back

behind the trees

behind the brush and leaves

she lingers

wondering if they

can sense her


Introspective, is she

always contemplating

the gears and pulleys

of humans

how do they work?

what makes them do,

what they do?


She crunches herself

into a ball

eyes sharp as glass

hair beaten bloody pulp red

she is pushing the instinct to

crawl over to them



Instead she inches closer

listening to the chatter

of ghost stories and

Big Boo’s

humans cling to each other

so scary

the dark

the stories


So funny

it all is to her

the dark

the stories

are nothing

compared to her

compared to the horror

she can accomplish with the

 flick of a finger


But not right now

she ignores the

Inner flame

to cause terror

tonight is a study

In human’s

to learn them

to laugh at them


So that one day

she can educate them

bring herself into their site

let them think

let them know

Is she monster?

Is she vampire?

What is that thing?

Could it be real?

What is she going to do to us?

The humans quiver


Then they’d hear a voice

Crystal clean and loud

enough for everyone to hear

What if the devil was a girl?


Hope you enjoyed my horror poem! Please check out my Women of the Grey series on Amazon and everywhere EBooks are sold.

Stalk the Monsters Scavenger Hunt!

As part of the B2BCyCon blog hop of horror, come join the Stalk the Monsters Scavenger hunt!

Somewhere on this site you will find a piece of the puzzle that will allow you to enter to win a grand prize pack of books and other goodies. Once you collect them all, (or as many as you can find), pop over to the contest page and enter!

What you need to find on this website: A quote from a famous horror author.

What you need to put on the entry form; The Authors Name

Hint: Find out more about me!


When you are done with clues hit the link!




The Demon Dealer Ch 1

Enjoy a sneak peek at The Demon Dealer my current work in progress. Keep in mind that this is a sneak peak of an unedited still being written manuscript, not available anywhere else but on my website. Enjoy!


The Demon Dealer



The room in back

                Mr. Martinez entered the room as he always did huffing and lugging a very expensive looking suit case. The type of suitcase woman with jewelry and attendants have at the airport.  The suitcase catches a person’s eye for the reason that everything else about Mr. Martinez was shabby. He seemed the type of man that when at home wore nothing but old boxer shorts and a bathrobe that once belonged to his grandmother. He was however interesting to look at and interesting to observe.

                Moping behind Mr. Martinez was his nephew Jorge. Jorge was everything that Mr. Martinez was not. Jorge walked a slack walk with both legs aiming at their next step. His clothing seemed expensive but hinted that they might be knock off name brands. Jorge had a haircut so tight and well done that it almost looked painted on, it didn’t seem that such precise perfection was possible from a barber. Jorge walked behind Mr. Martinez and once settled he also sat behind him, always observing the situation from the furniture to every person who entered the room nothing was lost to Jorge.  The only thing Jorge had in common with his uncle was that he also seemed interesting but only by the association to his uncle beyond that he was a common street hustler.

                The room where both sat waiting on their customers was like Mr. Martinez shabby, but hidden in the very back of a luxury furniture shop. The kind of furniture that people with the means to not use their furniture bought, chairs that were merely art pieces on display in some big house, by some big window. Neither the chair nor the window ever got used. They were there for their looks and not for their comfort.  None of this bothered Mr. Martinez but the idea that the shop owner could put a better table in the back room passed by his mind occasionally, but he was usually too busy to mention it.

                All these details did not matter. Mr. Martinez organizing and reorganizing his pens and papers, Jorge staring at the door then glancing at the suitcase and the shopkeeper who knew exactly what was about to happen in his back room, but was desperate for the cash.


                Gloria didn’t move a muscle on the drive over to the furniture shop. She sat in the passenger seat stiff and counting every breath she took. Gloria had been to that shop countless times, buying this or that for their home. This time though, this time was different. This trip was for all the wrong reasons. Or all the wrong actions, Gloria couldn’t decide which it was, reason or action.  Counting her breathing 1,2,3, she decided that their wrong reasons where leading them to the wrong actions and for this she would spend the rest of her days paying penance so she could perhaps save her soul.

                Watching his wife tremble Ted felt deeply satisfied despite her doom. After all, his wife a woman of endless beauty and soft words was also full to capacity of doom.  There was no happy day that Gloria did not seek doom and gloom in. Ted loved his wife deeply and vowed he would stay by her side till his last breath but he had learned throughout the years of marriage to ignore her endless warnings, so the trembling Ted would simply brush off and savor this day. A day he had worked hard for since he was a young man who learned in back rooms amongst the well to do, that such things were available to those with the means and the how.


Mr. Martinez greeted Ted and Gloria warmly with hard handshakes and polite nods in the direction of Gloria. Jorge stood up and was neither warm nor polite, he mostly stood up so his uncle wouldn’t say something embarrassing about having a useless nephew he was forced to help out of family obligation. Mr. Martinez pointed to the chairs and everyone sat down, some in loud heaps like Mr. Martinez others hardly sat ready to run out of the room before the transaction ever happened. Ted knowing Gloria might at any moment either weep or run held her hand tightly with a soft warning to behave, this meant the world to him and she would not intervene. Gloria sat on the edge of her seat but she sat.

“The cash yes?” Mr. Martinez tapped the table.

“Oh course” Ted planted a small brown bag with what seemed like a significant amount of money. Ted had spent years skipping lunches, wearing old suits, and depriving himself of anything he wanted for this purchase today. A purchase he felt would give him all that he had ever desired.

“Once I hand you your receipt the sale is final. There is no returning or going back. Once I walk out the door you will not contact me again. Is this understood?” Mr. Martinez looked directly at Ted then Jorge never bothering with Gloria it was obvious she wasn’t voluntarily in this game and Mr. Martinez being a man of money cared not for her feelings.

“Now, we must go over the rules. The rules are very important and not to be broken.” Mr. Martinez sat up and Jorge did the same. Jorge again only sat up straight for the sake of not hearing his Uncle complain about his “lazy ways,” but he didn’t believe it was necessary.

“The rules are spoken just once at time of purchase. They are not to be written down. I will not give you a copy and I will not repeat myself.”  Ted and Gloria sat up straighter, the intensity that Gloria put in listening made Mr. Martinez feel sorry for her and that was a big deal for him, as stated Mr. Martinez was a man of money things such as empathy for others wasn’t on his agenda.

“If you break a rule, there is no way of telling the outcome. Each one has the same rules, but each one has different outcomes. There is no telling what will happen to yourself or your family.”

Gloria felt the urge to vomit or urinate she wasn’t sure which. Since their first kiss she knew Ted was a man of determination. A man that would get what he wanted no matter the work he’d have to put into getting it. She also knew he was a man that fiercely protects his family and he thought this was the way. Gloria closed her eyes and told herself to forgive her husband for what he was about to do, he believes that this is their future this is the way to protect the family and fortune he had meticulously built.  Opening her eyes Gloria wondered she could and would forgive her husband for this, but could she forgive herself?


“Rule 1: Treat your purchase with absolute love and kindness. Never a harsh word may come from your mouth. Always use kind hands. Your purchase will grow and if treated correctly will be extremely loyal to your family. :


“Rule 2: watch your mouth…one moment of frustration or a second of angry words directed to your neighbor and your purchase might see that as a threat to its family.  There is no telling how it will handle threats. “


“Rule 3: Be loyal to your purchase, if it senses even the slightest disloyalty it can turn on its family.  Once its loyalty has turned there is no fixing it.”


Mr. Martinez wiggled his nose and nodded to Ted and Gloria. “Now for a side note, there is no killing your purchase. They do not die and leave when and if they choose. Also, I do not know what you are getting. Once the bag is opened I will give you a simple explanation of what kind you purchased and that is all. Again, I do not know what’s in the bag. We are not allowed to choose what we get and all sales are final.”

Ted nodded a little too aggressively he had enough of chit chat blah blah he wanted to see it now. He wanted to greet it happily and greedily into his arms.  He met one year’s ago when he was a young man working his way through college. His professor and mentor had one. It was always near the professor, in his home, at his work carefully guarding him till the day the professor took his last breath. That day Ted had already graduated and had just started his medical practice. Ted knew from the moment he felt it’s presence from the second the professor lifted a hand and it read his every want, Ted knew he had to have one. It was considered old school now a days when these purchases were discussed in hushed tones in small back rooms like this, but Ted didn’t care if it was old fashioned and against the rules. He had to have one.


Mr. Martinez opened the suitcase took out a bag and placed it on the table, with one quick and very unexpected swipe from Jorge’s blade the bag fell open.  Blinking and titling her head was what looked like a baby girl. Maybe 9 months old. She was exquisite. A tangle of black curls flopped around her head, eyes that were as black as coal with eyelashes that looked painted on. Her lips were pink and lush as if she was spoon fed beautiful by fairies.  Ted stood up and put his arms out to the baby girl hoping that she would respond. He wanted her loyalty so badly, that he would bend anyway she asked. He would crawl if she pleased, he would beg.

Coughing a bit then looking that baby up and down Mr. Martinez tapped the table with his pen “This is a Sheba demon.  A female that can be the most alluring thing anybody has set eyes on. She can seduce anyone into doing anything.  Be careful Ted you can easily slip down a very dangerous slope with her.”  With that Mr. Martinez grabbed his suitcase waved for Jorge to get to the door.

Jorge took one last glance at the baby and memorized her face, then memorized her kind. He hadn’t seen one before. A Sheba demon looked like every man’s dream and she was just a baby. Meeting Gloria’s eyes Jorge squinted at her and held his lips tight he knew that one day he’d see her again and she’d be dead or near it.


Holding the baby Ted looked at Gloria he was full of pride and acted as if he himself did not have two of his very own children at home. Gloria felt a pang of anger, but remembered the Demon Dealers words to mind her tongue and her emotion. She would have to push her everything aside to greet this baby, this demon into her home.

“Let’s name her Valentina, I’ve always loved that name.” Ted cooed at the baby who blinked her eyelashes at him and curled her little fingers over his.  Ted laughed and smiled at Valentina before giving Gloria a peck on her cheek. “Let’s get home to your brother and sister.”  Gloria felt nothing but tenderness for her husband at that point. The kind of tenderness you feel for the handicapped and disfigured. Today she witnessed that he was a fool and Gloria never thought the same of her husband again. From that day on her respect for his intellect was under her shoe. 



Sister Wives

I’m not a reality TV show watcher, but I do for some odd reason love Sister Wives. In fact I just got done binge watching season 9 on Hulu. For this blog post please set aside all the religious beliefs about polygamy and those polygamists wearing the old western dresses with hair that looks like a Little House on the Prairie nightmare, put those people out of your mind. I’m talking about modern polygamy.

I’ve watched every single episode of Big Love and Sister Wives. I have analyzed that about myself and this might be why, but first I have to digress a bit to make sense; walk with me I’ll get to the point.  I am working on an article about the horror genre for the Brains to Books cyber con because of this I am talking to different people about which horror genre appeals to them. My cousin loves watching movies like Saw, The Purge when I asked her what attracted her to those movies. She told me that she would become fascinated with the idea of what would she do in that situation. How would she survive it?

Maybe, that’s why I watched Big Love and still watch polygamy shows. Could I do that? Could I handle 3, 4, whatever sister wives because come’on ladies the question is not whether you can handle the man, it’s whether you can tolerate the other wives.  Ugh, I hate the term “sister wife.” I don’t know why I find that seedy. If I was a one and had to introduce another one to people as in “this is Julie, my sister wife”  ewww, that sounds jeeez I don’t know what it sounds like. It sounds like, not right that’s what it sounds like. Possibly because I am a horror author but if you were to say to me without me having any knowledge of what it meant “you are going to become a sister wife.” I would assume that my life was about to turn into a very sordid sticky place. I don’t find the words “sister wife” appealing and I don’t know what I would replace it with.

Let’s set my dislike for the term aside, could I handle it?  Thinking on it there’s lots of good that I can think of. First thing is the worry if your man is cheating should be out of the question, when he’s with the other women you know who she is, where she lives, and you had coffee with her yesterday.  If you’ve got a kids and you trust your sister wives you can co-op babysit with all of them, that’s appealing.

Maybe you’re a very independent type of woman, perhaps you like to be on your own but still want some male companionship, a couple kids but not fulltime dude in the house stuff. Polygamy gives you a man on loan, like a library book; a guy in bed a couple nights a week, wink wink.

All of this is just theories of mine, different ways of looking at why women choose this lifestyle that doesn’t involve their religious beliefs. Could I handle being a polygamist wife? Not sure, I’ve been married for 18 years and the thought of having the lady next door deal with him when he’s grumpy, is interesting. I know when my hubby isn’t home its Little Caesar’s pizza for dinner; not cooking all the time also gets my attention.  Or the thought that I would have the Xbox to myself several days a week, perks my ears up.

I can hear everyone now, scoffing at me looking at the arrangement so coldly without feeling, without pain or jealousy. Again, I’ve been married for 18 years the hearts and flowers, little baby bunny running through the field of love is done for me. I don’t have the patience for it. At this point the idea of getting laid and having an Xbox to myself several times a week sounds pretty damn good. I’ve mentioned the Xbox several times, sorry about that. I am a gamer.

I wrote all of the above to get to my biggest question of all. Why aren’t there female polygamists that are the family lead?  I think the biggest reason is a woman couldn’t have babies for 3 husbands, her vagina would fall out and crawl away like a beaten animal, so let’s set that aside; forget the babies thing.

Maybe there’s let’s say three guys that want a wife, but are busy doing guy things like I don’t know, bowling. Why couldn’t those three guys share one wife?  I’ve asked this to groups of women when discussing the Sister Wives reality show. A hundred percent of the time the ladies all huff and say “no thanks….” “oh no…no….no..” Then they walk away quickly as if I’m going to pop out husband number 2 from my pocket and make them take him home.  

I ask the same question to myself, could I be a polygamist wife of 3 men?  Instantly, the answer is yes.  I could totally handle it if I had every 4th night off. I could have a secret cave where I could sit in silence, drink wine and not cook.  Then I think on it, would my vagina also crawl away like a beaten animal after handling 3 husbands for years?

I wonder about this crazy stuff while I watch Sister Wives. I watch Mary cry, Christine bitch, Robin stress and the big blonde one analyze herself all while questioning if Cody is secretly taking naps all over the place in order to keep up with everything. He probably has a secret nap spot the camera crew hasn’t found.

There’s no point to this, other than I would love to sit down with the Brown family and not go over their jealousies, sex lives, kids, who cares about that. I want to see their bank statements. I want to see what their monthly electric bill looks like in those Los Vegas summers. I want to know on a average month what’s the grocery bill combined for all of them. That’s seriously interesting, who gives a crap how they are handling their sex lives. Cody seems to be doing just fine there are a slew of his kids all over the place.

Most of all I want to see a polygamy show where the woman is the polygamist head of household and the hubbies discuss their relationships with her, it’s about time for that right?


The Cooked Beast Blog


The Cooked Beast Blog

What my blog will not be:

I have a writer’s blog on my Goodreads page where I post my frustrations of being an unknown indie author.  This blog, on my personal website will be different. It will be a mixture of my writing, my personal life, movies, TV shows, video games; it’ll be many things but let me tell you what it will not be.

It will not be:

Pictures of cats sorry I’m not a cat lover or hater or anything. I am 100% dog person. 

Recipes, I hate cooking. I cook because the law states that I must feed my children, but there is no love for it. I’m the lady at the fast food restaurant with coupons, following my very tight writer’s budget but trying to get out of cooking dinner. If you want recipes I highly recommend Trisha Yearword. I do however watch many cooking shows; I don’t understand the psychology behind that. 

Pictures of babies, I’m a 45 year old menopausal woman. If a baby so much as coo’s within 30 feet of me I leave the building. Toddlers as far as I’m concerned are small mean drunks if I see one in the parking lot I drive home. A screaming child will cause me to leave my shopping cart behind and try to find a bar.  There will also not be any photos of my children. I do not post photos of my children online. 

Gardening, I want very badly to grow a beautiful garden full of veggies and flowers, but unfortunately if it’s green and I try to nurture it…well it usually commits suicide. I gave up on gardening. I have figured out dogs and little boys, but plants can sense my neediness for them.

Crafts, I’m not the mom to put together Popsicle sticks and marshmallows to create something that the kid will toss on the grass 10 minutes later. I’m the mom that plays Xbox with her kids them takes them to a Marvel movie usually followed up by more Xbox and milkshakes. 

Shopping, I hate shopping. I order as much as I can online. I’d rather get kicked in the crotch than hang out at the mall

Relationships, I’ve been married for 18 years I’ve had some great times with my hubby and some horrible times with my hubby none of which I find remotely interesting enough to discuss. 


You won’t find politics; I have my firm beliefs and will not share them. 

Religion, I’m agnostic and have zero interest in knowing what everybody else believes in.

 Lies, I tell it like it is. I’ve been lied to enough in my life to propagate such behavior. 


I will never discuss The Bachelor or Dancing with the Stars, but can discuss Sister Wives for hours. My love for Sister Wives is embarrassing. 

Lastly, my grammar is usually poop, which is why I have an incredible editor for my books, so grammar police this blog is about emotions, thoughts, writing, life the occasional Owl GIF lay off if my grammar sucks. 

Looking over my list I’m screwed I’ve omitted everything that makes a popular blog and I’m a horror author…LOL shit to be popular I’ve got to write romance and post about how hard it is to figure men out while explaining how to organize your closet and make a great lasagna. If that’s what you’re looking for you’ve got the wrong chica. 

Hope you stick with me.