Long overdue updates and news

Hi Guys,

Sorry about my absence recently, but I've been up to my neck in writing (as usual). Woke up today after only two hours sleep and decided I'd better keep in touch with everybody...What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?

OK, firstly I've been slowly working my through BOOKEND. It's been sat on my PC for nearly three years and it was time for me to make it what I wanted it to be. It's gonna be a long job, but it is finally turning into the tale I wanted to tell.

Started a new novel called HOTEL HOLLYWOOD. Expect more dark fantasy and horrendous death scenes coming your way soon.

SLAVIS is nearly finished (co-written by the one and only ERIC ENCK) It will be released by BLU PHI'ER later this year. Monsters and violence should spill from the pages of this little beauty.

STONE COLD SNAKE EYES (also written with ERIC) will be turning up early next year. This one is an mythical orgy of sex, violence and probably more sex.

The big project (The one taking up most of my time) hasn't been a novel at all, but still has me writing until my fingers bleed....

...SILENT CITY is a planned TV Series, a futuristic action/thriller that will grab the viewer and drag them through four seasons of total mayhem, mystery and into the unknown.

The pitch has been great to work on, something totally new for me and an experience I will never forget. The interest in what I am doing has blown me away and I can't wait to see it move along.

In just a few weeks I have managed to get the following names involved...

Actors and Actresses

Jason Flemyng (LXG, Stardust, TV's Primeval)

Andrew Tiernan (300, Stone's War, The Bunker)

John Rhys Davies (Sliders, Lord of the Rings, Raiders of the Lost Arc)

Leslie Simpson (Dog Soldiers, The Decent, Doomsday)

Christa Campbell (2001 Maniacs, Day of the Dead remake)

Jennifer Lim (Hostel, When Evil Calls)

Axelle Carolyn (Doomsday, I Love You)

Warwick Davies (Willow, Small Town Folk)

Shona McWilliams (When Evil Calls)

Guest Writers

Mark Chadbourn (Hounds of Avalon, The Burning Man)

Jeffrey Reddick (Final Destination, Day of the Dead remake)

Harry Shannon (Dead and Gone, Daemon)

Stephen Romano (Masters of Horror)?

Guest Directors

Marko Makilaakso (Stone's War)

Uwe Boll (House of the Dead, Dungeon Siege)

Johnny Kalangis (The Mad, Love is Work)

Johannes Roberts (When Evil Calls, Forest of the Damned)

 For anyone interest the initial blurb is this...

One city…Six strangers…No memories

Welcome to the Silent City, a future earth where freedom is a lost cause and history has been forgotten…or has it just been hidden?

Six new arrivals are thrown into this strange society. They are tortured and forced to work as they attempt to piece together the lives they no longer remember.

Allies and enemies surround them and nothing is quite as it seems. Each of them is linked to events in the past, events that have shaped the new world order.

Can they unearth the truth?

Can they unravel the past?

Can they escape?

Only the Silent City has the answers.

Lots of interest from US and Canadian financing just have to find UK financing first (So begins the long slog). I'll keep you posted.

HEAVEN'S FALLING is still looking like becoming a video game. The ex-vice chairman of EA GAMES has asked to represent me on this one and seeing as I know nothing about computer games I said 'yes'.

Anyway, that's me in a blog. I hope you are all well and that the Summer is agreeing with you as it is me.

Talk soon

Garry

1:56 AM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Interview with Ryan Nicholson...Gutterballs
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

Ryan Nicholson makes films that are truly ’Balls to the Wall’ and I was lucky enough to have a chat with him.....

(Myspace would ban the three stills that Ryan supplied to go with this interview, but if you want to see them email me at garrycharles@hotmail.co.uk)

GC: Nice and easy ’break you in’ question to get the ball rolling. Ryan, introduce yourself to the myspace legions...:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

RC:  Writer/Director/Deviant  and Co-owner of Plotdigger Films Inc. and Live To Death FX Inc.  I was born and raised in ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Canada where I continue to live and make movies.  I’ve created make-up effects and creatures for many movies within the last fifteen years, including "Final Destination", Jet Li’s "War" and "Ghost Rider".  Of late, I’ve been more focused on making my own movies, writing and directing them as well as producing them.  Plotdigger Films is pretty much a fulltime gig for me now.

GC: The end of 2007 saw the UK release of your debut in the director’s chair of a full length movie. You gave the world LIVE FEED the short film TORCHED, very nasty little tales of mutilation and torture. How did these projects come into being?

RC:  I had planned on directing a short film before trying to do a feature.  This was strictly an experiment to see if I could do it on time and on budget.  That movie turned out to be "Torched" and became quite successful on the internet and on a legitimate dvd release called "Hell Hath No Fury".  I wrote a creature movie called "The Dig" around the same time and tried, unsuccessfully, to get the monies to shoot it as my first feature.  It needed some real money to get off the ground and eventually was shelved.  "The Descent" came out years later and was very similar to "The Dig".  It’s too bad I didn’t get the chance to do "The Dig" way back because now when I make it, the "rip-off" accusations will be plentiful but I’m used to that with the "Hostel" comparisons I get with "Live Feed".  I’ve set the record straight quite a number of times but I’ll say it again for shits and giggles, "Live Feed" was announced before "Hostel" and was shot before it as well.  The "rip-off" accusations only came about because "Live Feed" was released after "Hostel" because it took nearly two years to get a worth while deal and of course the distributors marketed it as a "torture vacation" movie but who’s to blame them after all of the box office success of "Hostel", which I quite enjoyed.  The two movies are like night and day.  I wrote "Live Feed" in the Summer of 2004 after hearing stories of a porno theatre with live sex shows and gang bangs taking place there.  I investigated and found it to be true and found these creepy V.I.P rooms with a "Live Feed" to an old television featuring the porno that was playing outside the room on the big screen.  Of course all sorts of fucked up shit happened in these V.I.P rooms.  "Live Feed" brought in a group of tourists into the theatre and slaughtered them one by one.  The Asian theme was a must because the theatre is in Vancouver’s Chinatown with Chinese ownership and Vancouver has a tremendous Asian population that have produced some of Canada’s best actors.  I needed to get these awesome Asian actors into "Live Feed" and the criminal element inside and out of the porno theatre wasn’t fiction.  "Live Feed" was a far more financially realistic shoot than "The Dig" would’ve been.  So we made "Live Feed" and the rest is straight to dvd history.

GC: I’ve seen several reviews and comments for your work and many of them make comparisons with the likes of HOSTEL. Personally I think this is unfair as the two are worlds apart.

How do you feel about the comparisons?

RN:  At first it bothered me but if people had done their research before accusing me as a rip-off artist, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But to count the movie out before even watching it is the real piss-off.  I really enjoy Eli Roth’s movies and his style but as any artist, I have my own style and I really think that the only thing the two movies share is the vision of two horror fans that have been given the ability to make some cool shit.  In the end, "Hostel" helped "Live Feed" get into thousands of dvd stores.  Without the success of "Hostel", "Live Feed" would’ve been a very limited dvd release.

GC: From what I’ve seen of your work so far you appear to have no fear of showing death in its full, blood drenched detail. Do you have anything that you wouldn’t film? What subjects do you find taboo?

RN:  I really don’t find much taboo anymore.  I wouldn’t touch child murder because I have a child and as a parent you see things different.  Other than that, I exploit anything I can.  I push my cast and crew as far as they will go to get stuff you don’t see everyday onscreen.  "Gutterballs" takes cinematic violence and rape to another level.  It’s a tough movie because it shows it how it really is without candy coating the carnage.  "Some things are better left implied" fuck that, I’ll show it because I want to see it.  If people don’t like that, don’t watch it.  I make these movies for me and fellow horror fans that want to see some cool shit that isn’t readily available.  I’m not re-inventing the wheel, I’m just making the tread a lot more naked and blood-soaked until I’m riding on the rim balls-out!

GC: Where on earth did the idea of forcing a woman to eat a fucking deep fried penis at gunpoint come from? And will you be going even further into the realms of bad taste with your newest feature, GUTTERBALLLS?

RN:  You don’t see a human forced to eat penis too often.  The Asian theme of "Live Feed" gave me a chance to cook up some nasty shit, including the tempura dicky roll.  Walking around Chinatown, you’ll see deer penis for sale, lizards on a stick, eels, guts, you name it and they’re eating it.  You can order dog at certain upscale establishments because it’s a delicacy.  The ultimate form of humiliation came in the form of "Emily" nibbling on "Mike’s" deep fried dick.  It had just been in "Sarah’s" twat so I guess you could say it was marinated as well?  "Gutterballs" explores humiliations and depraved acts in depth.  There’s loads of bad taste, I wonder what I’ll actually get to show?  The censors will drop dead when they view "Gutterballs" as it hops genres and even into XXX you could say.

GC: I was checking you out on IMDB and I was surprised to discover the long (and I mean fucking long) list of credits to your name as special effects artist. How did the experience of being the head honcho on LIVE FEED compare to working on big budget movies?

RN:  I love the idea of being able to set up the shots, the lights, everything to sell an effect because it’s just that, an effect.   A few shows I’ve worked on don’t give us the time to make our work look as good as it could.  When you’re shooting a rubber head, it doesn’t take a genius film-maker to see that it is rubber and why not take the time to light it properly, to make it look ultra-realistic.  You’d be surprised at how make-up effects are always the last thing on a few productions minds.  Having my own film company gives me the ability to make sure my people have time and having my own fx shop means I still get to make the severed heads and dicks just how I want them.  On "Gutterballs", my partner in life and work, Michelle Grady, was the Prosthetic FX Designer and we worked day and night to make the gore look fucking insane. Way beyond "Live Feed" and any other show I’ve worked on.  We wanted "Gutterballs" to have some of the sickest most ultra-realistic gore in it and plentiful at that!

GC: I must warn you, RYAN that I have two favourite questions that I always ask. The first one is this:

What question have you never been asked that you really want to be asked and what would your answer be?

RN:  Hmmm, maybe why do I have a running theme of penis violence in my movies?  My answer would be that I’m trying to appeal to the masses as there’s so many fucking dickheads in this world!

GC: From watching the ’Making of’ on LIVE FEED it’s clear that you love your work. Where did that need come from? What was the defining moment when you knew this is what you wanted to do?

RN:  When I was like 10 years old I knew I wanted to make monsters and horror movies.  I took the path of an effects artist working on movies to learn a bit about making movies.  I don’t believe you need to go to school to learn how to make a movie or fx for that matter.  You just need the drive,  a natural interest in it, not a learned one.

GC: I loved the fact that you filmed for 15 days in a real porn theatre. What was it like entering the shady underworld of cheap thrills?

RN:  It was more than often highly disturbing but entertaining to.  I’d walk in to start the night and there would be guys giving each other blow jobs on the couches I would have to shoot a scene on later that night.  And there would be a line-up of more men shooting their loads in the vicinity, watching the show.  Hookers would shit in the seats to piss off the theatre owners, men would sit in these seats because it’s so fucking dark you couldn’t see a foot in front of you and the worst thing was some of these men sitting in the junkie shit got off on that!  They would talk about it like the struck gold or oil depending on how you look at it!  It was tough, hypodermic needles sticking out from junkie patrons.  It was a biohazard, the place should’ve been condemned.  But that’s what makes the movie work.  The feel is not made up, it’s not a set or set dressing.  It’s all real.

GC: Did you use a real bowling alley for GUTTERBALLS?

RN:  Yes, a massive 10 pin bowling center with 36 lanes, a pub, an arcade, etc…It was huge!  You could get lost in the place…or killed.

GC: This is my second favourite question and it reveals a lot about the interviewee. Future subjects beware, I will be asking you.

You are stranded on a desert island with two other people. One is a rather portly, middle aged man with a great intellect. You sit and have some in-depth discussions on a variety of subjects.

The other is a young, chubby woman with a high sex drive and a willingness to experiment. She is, however, as thick as fuck.

The supply of food is running low and you have a choice to make…

Who do you kill and eat and who do you keep alive for company…

…Your ten seconds starts…now.

RN:  All you had to say was a willingness to experiment!  I’m thinking of two year plan. With the chubby chick, I’d impregnate her which would give me milk to survive on while I ate her arm and leg slowly over the course of 9 months, then I’d have some tasty afterbirth to eat as well as a plump newborn.  After my meal I’d do it all again.  She’d be a stump after the second birth but hey, who said you need limbs to fuck?! 

GC: As well as working on movies you have a long list of TV show credits ranging from the X-FILES, SMALLVILLE, SUPERNATURAL and the new BLADE series. What are the differences in between working for TV and then Film?

RN:  TV and Film are different in the sense that if you’re doing a series, you have to work with the same people for the duration of a 22 episode Season, which depending on the people you’re working with can either suck bad or be a fun time.  With film, you’re in and out pretty quick which can be a drag if the crew is awesome, but if the crew is lame, the short schedule is a blessing.  The people that complain about long hours and just do it for the paycheck are the people I’d rather not be around.  Independent film is great, everyone is there because they want to be there.  They put in that extra effort you don’t see on the bigger shows, be it TV or film.

GC: If you could chose one film that you could have directed which would it be and how would you make it your own?

RN:  "I Spit On Your Grave" is one film that I’m a huge fan of, so much so that I even pitched the original director a redux version of it before someone else did it.  My version had ample gore and some very savage revenge.  It takes place on a houseboat and reads like "Cape Fear" meets "I Spit…"  If "Gutterballs" is a success,  perhaps I will return to him with some real money. 

GC: Your Company is called PLOTDIGGER FILMS. Where and who came up with the morbid moniker?

RN:  I came up with the name way back when I had a horror rap band called "Disturbed Company" back in 1990 to 94.  I had a song about Ed Gein and had lyrics about grave-robbing and plot-digging.  I always wanted to put the name "Plotdigger" to good use and there was no question about what to call our little film company.

GC: Since moving into the director’s chair do you still work closely with the special effects team you use? Do you have much practical input into the effects you use?

RN:  I love make-up effects and still marvel at the wizardry of Rick Baker, Stan Winston and Dick Smith.  I still take on fx gigs when I’m not writing and directing.  I’ve had an fx studio for a decade and it’s good to keep the doors open.  I do operate under a different banner now "Life To Death FX".  It’s my Father, my girlfriend Michelle Grady and I.  I use to go under "Flesh and Fantasy Inc." but I’ve had too many dipshits work for me at one time or another and either undermine me or try to ruin my reputation for their gain.  By keeping things simple I have full quality control.  Michelle is an amazing artist and "Gutterballs" will show the world what gore fx with balls looks like.  Even though I directed "Gutterballs", I was still involved in the build of the fx and helped Michelle when I could.  Working with your loved ones can be trying but I’ve managed to keep it all good with my Father as well for quite a few years.  He actually helps out in the studio building things as well from time to time.

GC: What is your opinion of the ’less is more’ credo utilised by many horror film makers in recent years?

RN:  Fuck that!  "More is more" as I like to say.  Why hide the carnage and sex acts?  Show everything and let the viewer decide if less is more.

GC: You didn’t use any GCI in LIVE FEED and I was pleased to see a film with the pride to do it the traditional way and it paid off. Will you continue with this style with GUTTERBALLS?

RN:  Yes BUT there are things like our old school computer scoring system in "Gutterballs" that we had to create.   If there’s a light or reflection in a shot, I’d remove it as well digitally.  It’s just distracting otherwise.  Shooting on such a tight schedule, you will incur a few errors, like shadows or the boom mic bobbing into frame.  It’s nothing that can’t be fixed nowadays, that’s the only reason I’d use CGI, to fix a fuck up.  I’m still learning how to make movies so there’s fuck-ups here or there.

GC: True horror fans will already be familiar with LIVE FEED, but what can we expect from GUTTERBALLS?

RN:  A balls-out gorefest that delivers some originality.  They don’t make "bowling alley" horror movies that often!  Balls to the wall!

GC: I’ve seen some mention of a new project called BLOODSICK. Can we get an exclusive piece of news about this from you?

RN:  "Bloodsick" is a collaboration between me and a close friend of mine, Killjoy from hard as fuck metal band Necrophagia.  Killjoy and I share the same horror movie interests.  We’re both obsessed with gore and horror and have been since we were little fuckers.  We met a few years ago and have worked together on some music as well as some video stuff.  "Bloodsick" is simply going to be one of the most brutal, disgusting and vile movies ever made.  I can’t elaborate more until I personally get more info on it but it will shoot in Vancouver and one the locations will be back at "The Venus Theatre" which reminds me, the city is tearing down "The Venus Theatre" to make room for condos.  We better get "Bloodsick" done soon! 

GC: Your partner in crime/Father has recently made a jump into writing short stories. I had the pleasure of reading LOWE’S DESCENT and I thought it was outstanding. Any plans for you doing the same?

RN:  I love reading short stories and novels, your "Hammerhead" was fucking brutal by the way!  But when I write, I’m always thinking of it in terms of will it work for the screen.  Whereas Roy loves writing for the sake of writing for people to read, I write hellbent on making it into a movie.  Writing scripts is fucking awesome but taking it to the next level and filming it is a fucking blast!

GC: What about the future, what does it hold for RYAN NICHOLSON and PLOTDIGGER?

RN:  I’m onto "Done To Death", my hooker zombie creature bestiality horror movie.  That’s my next movie then hopefully I’ll return to "Live Feed" with some insanity I have planned for the prequel/sequel.  And maybe a "Gutterballs 2:  More Balls"?  Come on, it’s a given!

GC: Thanks for talking to me and hopefully we’ll do this again as you make your way up the ladder of celluloid mayhem. But, before you go, any last words of wisdom?

RN:   Make the best of what you have and give the best you have to give.  And I’m not talking about blowjobs either!

3:35 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

SHOCKANORY

Just the other day I was asked if I could come up with an idea for a low budget TV show to be aired on LURID TV when it goes live later this year.

Working with a close friend we came up with SHOCKANORY (for those who don't know or don't remember JACKANORY was a childrens show on BBC where stories were read by celebs).

Well, this idea was to have authors of dark fiction reading their own work and then to interspace the reading with live action cut scenes. The guy's at LURID TV loved the idea and asked for a pilot.

As such a film crew arrived at my home on Saturday and set up to film in my office. This is no easy feat as my office only measures ten feet by about six (yes, like to work in a closed enviroment. Buried away like a troll at my PC).

So, we have me in my chair with a big, black bound book of terror, a camera sat atop a ruddy big tripod with camera guy. Squeezed in next to him is a sound guy with equipment and crouched on the floor is lighting guy. If any one of us had farted paramedics would have been needed (especially if I'd have been smoking).

I started and the first reading was done in one go, no mistakes on my part. I closed the book, said goodnight and gave a grimace like grin that probably made me look like some kind of pervy.

The director says 'Great, but we gotta do it again and this time get your kids to be quiet.'

So I squeezes past the crew (sure that one of them may be gay as I felt definite cupping). I herd the kids together and send them to the furthest reaches of the house and then return to the office to find a whole new lighting method going on.

Candles everywhere and it looks fucking cool.

'Atmosphere,' claims the director and gives me instructions on how he wants me to pause every other paragraph to change camera angles.

I squeeze back past the crew (once again touched gently by an unknown hand and decide I may be bi as it's quite nice ((only kidding, I felt violated)). I get positioned and we start again.

I'm not even a paragraph in when a great big sacrificial show dagger I own falls from the wall and hits the desk. I duck, drop the book and scream 'Fucking twat'. I think I may have done a small shit in my briefs.

The knife is put somewhere safe and replaced with a severed head in a glass orb (yes, I own some strange shit) and we begin again.

I blame the knife and the sleazy touch ups but I think I'd lost my mojo. I fluffed lines more than once, read lines just wrong and reshoot after reshoot I thought it was over, but oh no.

'Right let's do some from handheld angles,' says the director and we go again.

To cut a long story short it was a great experience and I think it will look good when finally edited together with the live action shots. I want to thank LURID TV for giving the idea a chance.

I'll keep you all posted on progress

***

In other news the Heaven's Falling option talks have taken a turn in the direction of exciting and all thoughts are on turning it into a console game. How cool is that? I think way cool.

Stone Cold Snake Eyes, the Medusa novel is nearly in the bag and will be unleashed this Halloween. Erik Enck has been a great writing partner and I hope to do it again before the year is out.

BOOKEND. I've finally decided that it needs to be seen and will be doing a full re edit on the bastard and then subbing it out to the publishers. It's more dark fantasy but that is the way I want to go. The horror is fun but my heart is more into dark tinged adventure. Maybe I'm growing up (nah).

SILENT CITY is a futuristic action adventure project I've just started dabbling with. Think Lost meets The Prisoner with a hint of Logan's Run and you're in the right ball park. I want to do this baby as a novel written like a TV series with the first book as series one and the chapters as episodes. Who knows it may get pitched as a TV show first.

SHORT STORIES

Valhalla Unleashed was accepted for inclusion in the antho NIGHT OF THE WORKING DEAD from Blu Phier. (release date Halloween)

Vomit Baby was accepted for the charity book HELP in aid of Editors and Preditors.

FILM

Working with UK director Johannes Roberts on HOODS. The promo trailer should be ready soon. Johannes has already made a name in horror with such titles as WHEN EVIL CALLS, FOREST OF THE DAMNED and SANITARIUM. It's great to be able to work with him.

HELLFIRE: A screenplay I'm working on just for fun. Who knows?

HAMMERHEAD: I'm told will be filmed this summer and directed by Joe Castro.

OTHER WORK

I've just written six video concepts for the amazing band STARVING FOR GRAVITY. If one of them is picked up the world may get to see that I have a soft side.

GOREZONE: Monthly book and movie reviews and the odd article coming out each and every month. Keep reading.

I think that's it for now, but please do come back and check soon.

Peace

GARRY

7:03 AM - 8 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

WHO DUNNIT?

Who Dunnit?

"I'm telling you, Mr Bones, it was the blue lady who done it," insisted the cook, Miss Basted.

"She's right, you know," added Mr Hoe the gardener. "She roams these halls in search of vengeance.

"I refuse to believe in such mumbo jumbo," stated the detective, fingering the pipe hanging from his mouth. "I have not made it this far in my career by chasing ghosts and ghouls."

"Then how do you explain the trail of other-worldly juices?" Lord Stickleweather pointed at the liquid covering the floor below the swinging body.

"All will be explained, my dear chap, as soon as we are all here." As he spoke he allowed the pungent pipe smoke to drift from between his lips.

Shylock Bones was sure he had all the answers, years of hard work and practice had honed his skills as a detective. He would not allow himself to be caught up in talk of the supernatural. He was a firm believer in that which he could touch, see and smell. His world had no room for such wayward thinking.

"And just who are we waiting for, Mr Bones?" Stickleweather asked with a snort of derision.

"Two important players in the game." Bones removed the pipe and pointed at them all with the tip.

"It's the blue lady, I tell ya, she's coming for us all." Miss Basted began to cry, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"Someone get that woman under control," Bones snapped. "I'm trying to think.

Mr Hoe obliged, standing up and crossing the room. He grabbed Miss Basted by the shoulders and shook her from side to side, pausing to slap her around the face. Finally the woman snapped out of her frantic state and, without any warning, her knee came up and stole the wind from Mr Hoe's sails with a firm blow to his tender area.

"Why you little bit…" Mr Hoe gasped as he doubled over and cupped the agonized area.

"Please, people, some decorum," Bones yelled in impatience.

He glanced around the study and pointed at the maid, a shy young thing who had spent the evening standing off to one side.

"You, girl, I think tea is in order."

The maid nodded silently and scuttled from the room.

"And bring the custard creams," Stickleweather shouted after her and then turned back to the detective. "You still haven't answered my question. Who are we waiting for?"

Bones sucked deeply on his pipe, pausing to savour the taste and apparently thinking over whether he should answer the Lord or not. As he thought he paced the floor, finally stopping and turning to face the man who had hired him.

"We're waiting for your wife, Lord Stickleweather," Bones shouted.

"Are you mad?" Stickleweather jumped up, his face flushing deep red. "My Angelique has been dead these last five years."

"Some say she is the blue lady," whispered Miss Basted.

Before another argument could arise the maid returned with the tray of fine china. She stood in the doorway and looked around blindly, her eyes rolling in her head. The tray fell from her fingers, hitting the hardwood floor seconds before she followed.

Miss Basted began her screaming anew, but Mr Hoe stayed clear of the woman with the deadly knees, his testicles only just returning to a state of normality.

Reverend Fiddler ran over to the fallen maid, his hand outstretched towards the knife protruding from her back.

"Don't touch that," yelled Bones as lightning flashed outside.

The lights flickered out.

Yet once more Miss Basted screamed; the sound akin to that of nails on a chalkboard. As her new fit of hysterics died away the lights flickered back to life and revealed a fresh scene of death.

The knife was no longer sticking from the maid like a grave marker; it was now lying on the floor at Stickleweather's feet. But not before it had been used for yet more nefarious means. Stickleweather was dead, a bright red gash running from ear to ear. The Reverend Fiddler was laid across his lap, his stomach open from ribcage to pubis.

"I need the toilet," cried Miss Basted, running from the room.

"Go with her, man," Bones, pointed at Mr Hoe.

The gardener hobbled after the cook, his genitals complaining at the sudden movement. This left Bones on his own to contemplate the situation. He looked at the bodies' one at a time, finally taking in the body hanging from the ceiling and the watery spillage below the corpse. Bones crouched down and ran a finger through the residue before rubbing it around his gums and smacking his lips together.

"Urine and ejaculate," he mused. "I deduct that this man committed suicide, expelling his life fluids on the point of death."

The case was interrupted by the sound of yet another scream from the direction of the water closet.

"The game is afoot," Bones exclaimed, taking off at a quick trot that made him appear extremely camp.

Outside the storm reached its zenith, thunder shaking the windows and lightning turning the interior into a zoetrope of light and dark. Bones came to a sliding stop at the open door of the water closet and his stomach knotted at the carnage laid out before him.

Miss Basted sat on the Royal Dalton toilet, her face covered in thick red that still poured from the wound in her head. The murder weapon – the cistern lid – had been discarded to one side.

Mr Hoe was sprawled at her feet, his trousers around his ankles and clearly something was missing. Not that the gardener would ever need that tool again.

Bones turned at the sound of footsteps and was met with the sensation of cold steel plunging into his gut. He fell to the floor and stared at the highly polished shoes in front of his face. As he died he looked up at the impeccably dressed figure and rolled his eyes.

"I should have known," he cursed. "The bloody butler did it."

9:00 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

My Kids are mad

My two children, Chandler and Estelle are crazy.

I don't mean crazy in a bad way, but in the way that makes me laugh. When most kids are drawing flowers and cars, my two are drawing vampires and zombies.

I know that I must be to blame for this, doing what I do and all. But It's the amazingly silly things they say that really makes me smile.

Example one:

I was sat writing one day and Estelle came over to the desk (she was about 3 at the time) and climbed up on my lap.

She started, as kids do, fiddling with the things laying around my laptop and decided that a big book looked like an interesting place to spend some time.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's a Thesaraus," I replied.

Her little eyes went wide with amazement and she looked from me, to the book and then back to me.

"Doe's it have dinosaurs in it?" she innocently asked.

When I explained the truth behind this wonderful tome she left, quite dissappointed.

Example two:

Walking to school a few weeks ago Chandler was talking non-stop as he tends to do most times. He was going on about everything and anything.

The mindless chat suddenly turned to Scotland.

"I want to go to Scotland," he stated and looked up at me. "Do you know why?" he asked.

"Why's that then?" I enquired.

"Because I love PIPEBAGS."

I tried, but it was impossible to hide the smile. He must have noted the reaction and, knowing it had amused me, he began to use any sentence that allowed him to use the word pipebags.

Well, it ended up being one of those times when if you hear a certain word again you are going to either scream or eat you own ears and I decided to put him straight.

"Chandler, they're not called bloody pipebags."

With this his younger sister stopped walking and turned to him. "You idiot," she said. "Everyone knows they're UNIBAGS."

KIDS, the never cease to amaze me.

10:49 PM - 3 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

DANCE OF THE GYPSY

This story first appeared in the ezine Sien Und Werden. I just wanted to share with as many people as possible. I'll try and post a new tale every month.

Enjoy

DANCE OF THE GYPSY

By Garry Charles

   They watch the woman and her man as they caress each others bare skin, excited by the dark colour of her breasts and the even darker shade of her erect nipples. They stifle their gasping breaths as the touching becomes lovemaking, each of them wishing they were alone to witness the event.

   The evening air is cool, but as she moves up and down astride her lover the sweat beads on her shoulders and runs down her arched back. Her moans grow in strength from low whimpers of joy to shouts of ecstasy. With a final cry of satisfaction she collapses onto the man she has taken pleasure from.

   "I love you, Lorca." Her voice is exotic and thrills the young men that watch her.

   "I love you too, Martina," he replies, kissing her softly on the lips.

   With the act of love over the couple hastily dress and their secret audience leave in silence. All, that is, except one. He remains hidden; stroking the handle of the knife nestled in his pocket.

   "I want you, Martina." And he is prepared to do whatever it takes.

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   "Forgive me father for I have sinned." Father Thomas listened silently to the confession. "I've had relations with a woman that isn't my wife." The man paused and coughed nervously before continuing. "In truth the woman is my wife's mother."

   Father Thomas smiled to himself at the irony of it all. People came to him, confessing their sins in anonymity, not realising that he recognised each and every one of them. He knew it was Roger Foreman sat in the cubicle, head in his hands as he hoped for forgiveness.

   Mrs Foreman was on the church committee; Father Thomas knew her well, would have gone as far as classing her as a friend. But, like her husband, she held onto her own secrets. These too had been whispered to Father Thomas. He had sat in the confession box, fingering his rosary as he listened patiently as she cleared her mind of sin. When she was finished, crying softly, he had handed out her penance and sent her on her way. For a while she would be happy that she was clean of sin, but he knew that before long she would be back to confess again.

   They all came back sooner or later. Both Mr and Mrs Foreman visited the church on a regular basis and they always carried with them the same weight on their shoulders. He with his untamed passions and she with her passionate love affair with the bottle.

   He didn't feel sorry for them, not one of the sinners deserved his pity. They didn't learn from their mistakes; to them confession was just an easy escape from their burdens. It would do them good to be more like him, to carry the load like a mill stone around their neck, to use their pain and suffering to make themselves stronger.

   He had never confessed to his truest sin and he never would, that wasn't why he had joined the church. A life in the service of God had been chosen to escape the things he had seen and done. No, not escape, it was more than that. He had used the church to protect himself.

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   Father Thomas was old, old enough to remember leaving the church doors unlocked during the night for those that sought solace. It saddened him that he now lived in an age when scoundrels would just as soon steal from the church as they would an unlocked car.

   It was with a heavy sign that he slid the latch and fumbled with the padlock.

   "Am I too late, Father?" The question was unexpected and Father Thomas jumped, dropping the lock to the stonework floor.

   "It is late, my son," Father Thomas replied. "What is it you need?" He tried to hide the unnatural fear he felt in his stomach.

   "I need to confess." The stranger remained in the shadows. "I must shed the shadow of guilt that envelopes me before it consumes my soul completely." The statement was filled with an emotion that intrigued the Father.

   "Who am I to refuse the faithful when in need?" He pulled the latch back and swung the door inwards. "Just give me a moment."

   "Of course, Father." The figure made no effort to move into the light, remaining shrouded in darkness until Father Thomas had left to prepare himself.

   Only then did he step into the arched doorway and let the dim light of the church interior touch his pale, grey skin.

   "I'm far from faithful, Father." He gazed at the huge cross that held a bleeding Jesus and sneered. "And if the truth be known, Father, so are you."

   With steps that made no sound he crossed the floor, pulled back the curtain and took his place within the confession box before drawing the fabric back across the doorway.

   "Forgive us Father for we have sinned." The stranger didn't cross himself.

   "You can only confess for yourself, my son." Father Thomas frowned, for the first time since finding sanctuary within the church he was scared.

   "Tonight Father we shall both confess."

   "Who are you?" Father Thomas wanted to leave, but something held him in place.

   "That is why we are here," the stranger chuckled. "So that you remember.

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   He waits until his friends are gone, though he realises they aren't real friends. They see him as a safety net against bullies. They use him and he lets them, but he knows they see him as a bad apple. Not that it bothers him; he doesn't need anyone to tell him he's bad. He also knows that some things are best done alone.

   He moves forward quietly, watching the couple embrace tightly in a fond farewell. He has seen her in the town recently, but he's sure that soon she will be moving on. Her kind never stays in one place too long, always moved on by disgruntled villagers. But before she leaves he must have her. He doesn't understand the yearning that draws him towards her, but she has filled his every waking thought and teased him through endless dreams. He needs to touch her skin, needs to see her body up close and now he must punish her for loving another.

   The knife feels good in his hand, the blade sharp enough to slice his thumb as he absent mindedly rubs it along the honed edge. He feels a power surge through him like nothing he has ever experienced; his eyes fixed on the prize soon to be his.

   He is close enough to smell the musky odour of her sweat and it floods him with wave after wave of indescribable arousal. It's as if she pulsates with a magic that draws him in.

   Closer still now, he's within touching distance and they have yet to notice him, too involved with the sharing of tongues and the heat of their intimate kiss.

   "Mind if I cut in?" As he asks the knife is already at her lover's neck.

   She pulls back in horror, but a flame of excitement burns in her eyes.

   "Lorca?" Tears quickly quench the fire and concern for her love takes over.

   "Just tell the pretty lady to do as I ask and all will be fine." He pushes the tip of the knife into soft flesh, a fine point of blood rising where steel meets skin.

   "What do you want?" Just the sweet sound of her voice makes him hard.

   "Dance for me," he makes the order with a grin from over Lorca's shoulder.

   With tears now running down her cheeks she begins to sway to a beat that only she can hear, a beat that matches the pulsing of the blood in his veins as he watches.

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   "Why are you doing this?" Father Thomas chokes back the fear in his throat.

   "You will soon find out, Father," the stranger replies. "But first I must finish, I must unburden myself."

   Father Thomas falls silent, the Lord 's Prayer running through his mind in an endless loop.

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   He can almost hear the music as her gyrations intensify; her hips sway from side to side as her arms swirl around her body.

   So engrossed by the sight of her he lets the knife arm drop away. It is only for an instant, but the man known as Lorca sees his chance. He runs. He has no wish to die for the woman he has spent the afternoon professing his love to. After all, she is his brother's wife, his wife's sister. At least this way she may never the others of their forbidden love.

   "LORCA!" he hears her cry and ignores it, hating himself for such weakness, but glad to be alive.

   She tries to run, but the knife plunges deep into her gut, the steel burning as it passes easily through flesh and organs. She slumps into her tormentors arms and he looks down at her with a smile that hurts deeper than the fatal wound.

   In his mind he knows he should run, get as far away as he possibly can, but the sight of her blood as he withdraws the knife works a new magic on him. He can see her breast rise and fall with each shallow breath and his earlier feelings of need grow tenfold.

   With the knife he cuts away her clothes, the blade tearing fabric and peeling skin without prejudice. The more he sees of her the more he wants, the knife a frenzy of movement as he strips her down to bare muscle.

   He strokes her moist, truly naked, being with one hand and throws the knife aside so that he can stroke himself with the other. No longer able to hold back he spreads her out on the leaf littered ground and takes her.

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   "Our Father," Father Thomas had begun to pray out loud, attempting to block out the words of the stranger.

   "Shut up you pious fraud," the stranger snapped. "Your God can't hear you."

   "Who art in Heaven."

   "One more word and I'll tear your fucking tongue out." The stranger beat against the dividing wall with his fist. "Now, let me finish."

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   He slides in easily, she is wet from her earlier activities and the blood that now seeps from her naked torso. Her dying breath is a gargle like sigh, but it does not stop him.

   With increasing vigour he pounds into her motionless, warm corpse, a climax of epic proportions building within his groin. As he reaches his peak he screams in pleasure, his body racked by sensual spasm. As the seed leaves his member and enters her body the once dead eyes snap open and her hands are at his neck.

   He thrashes at her in a vain attempt to free himself, but the knife is out of reach. She grabs him around the throat and pulls him towards her mouth.

   "Kiss," she utters the single word before their lips touch and the pressure on his windpipe tightens.

                        *                                              *                                              *                     

   "I've served her ever since." The stranger finished his confession and stared at Father Thomas's outline through the tiny meshed window that separated them. "But I've finally found you and she will now allow me to die."

   Father Thomas sat frozen to the spot as he listened to the stranger. His heart beat like a hammer in his chest at the sound of footsteps and the smell of her drifted in under the heavy red curtain.

   "He is here Martina." The stranger made no att