Do you Remember?

Check out my latest blog post, an autobiographical short, “Do you Remember?”

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Starblood

 
Graphic Novel release party on FB https://www.facebook.com/events/1769878229937641/
 
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
 
Satori, an adept Chaos Magician, casts a spell to try and win back his lost love, Star. Lilith, mother of demons, has other ideas. Summoned by Satori’s magic, she makes it her mission to manipulate and separate the doomed lovers.
 
Satori knows he and Star are meant to be together. He battles demons, travels worlds and even transcends death for her but, however much she begs, he can’t grant her the freedom she craves.
 
The Starblood Trilogy is a tale of sorcery, demonology, murder, sexual obsession and Gothic subculture. In the words of Jef Rouner (Houston Press) “You don’t read [Carmilla Voiez’s] books. You survive them.” and Starblood may be the most brutal female-centred horror of them all. Winner of numerous indie awards, The Starblood Trilogy is being adapted into a series of graphic novels with art by Anna Dmitrieva.
 
“Carmilla Voiez is more of a singer than a writer. She tells her compelling story in a hypnotic, distinctive voice that brings her eerie world vividly to life.” Graham Masterton.
 
#horror #darkfantasy #murder #obsession #lgbt

Cellar Door (final part)

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

The light switch was the same as my dream, but the cellar was brighter when Yolanda switched it on. No longer just a dim puddle of light that barely reached past the end of the stairs, but a swathe of illumination that filled the small room. The floorboards were dry, not mud and concrete. I almost didn’t bother to follow her down the stairs, until I saw something familiar in the corner. A tin bucket, the one Carl had carried from my room. Logically it probably contained my body waste, vomit or something else. The way he’d held it suggested a strong, unpleasant smell. But it was the only touchstone that connected my waking world with the fevered dreams and I wanted to take a closer look.

I followed Yolanda down the narrow staircase.

‘See,’ she said.

‘Yes.’ I walked towards the bucket.

‘Kate?’

‘Just a moment.’

‘I’m going back up.’

‘Okay.’

Before the light went out I reached the bucket. It hadn’t been emptied. Whatever I had expelled from my skin in the midst of my fever had grown. The black, slimy, over-sized leech-like creatures that curled around each other in the bucket were sleeping. At least until they smelled me. I saw their blind faces turn towards me just before everything went dark.

‘No!’ I screamed.

I ran towards the stairs, or so I thought, but I hit a wall. My toes sank into damp earth. I felt something heavy slide across my foot.

‘Yolanda!’ I shouted.

I heard the clatter of metal. A bucket pushed over, perhaps. They were coming for me. The flesh of my flesh. My nightmare.

My hands flailed in front of me as I ran away from the sound. My foot slipped in the muck and I landed on my hands and knees. The room was silent other than my laboured breaths and I could not judge the direction of the stairs or the bucket. My body shook as panic took hold. When the first leech reached my toe I screamed then realised, too late, my mistake. They were everywhere, and now I had let them inside my mouth too. Their slimy noses pushed into every orifice. Even my tear ducts seemed a viable point of access, and they stretched and tore around the wet bodies. What I had dispelled in my fever were now forcing themselves back into my body. Racing like spermatozoa towards their goal.

My head swam as I felt the dark stuff enter my brain. The others stopped moving inside me and those monsters, which were still outside my skin, made plopping sounds as they fell to the floor. I sat up slowly and realised it was light enough to see. The stairs were less than a metre away and I struggled towards them until the strength returned to my limbs and I was able to walk.

I had assumed the cellar door was locked, but the handle turned easily in my strong grip and I stepped into the bright kitchen, blinking. Yolanda was there, waiting. Her smile brighter than the sunlight. I walked towards her and she took my hand in hers, my skin, the shade of a bruise, deep purple, almost black, looked much darker than hers now.

She led me out of the cabin and to the river bank where Carl waited.

‘She’s ready,’ Yolanda said.

I nodded.

Together we dived into the water, now the perfect temperature for a swim. Without moving her lips Yolanda told me everything was right. I would no longer be alone and my new family would take care of me. The truth of this wrapped me in a loving embrace and as my body sank deeper what was left of my mind soared high above, laughing.

Cellar Door, part 4

Read part 1 here.

Read part 2 here.

Read part 3 here.

Cellar Door, by Carmilla Voiez (part 4).

It was dark when I woke. My body shuddered with cold and my mouth felt dry. I tried to stand but my body wobbled so fiercely I decided to crawl to the kitchen to get myself a drink. Sweat dripped off my nose. The floor was closer than I thought and scraped the skin from my hands and knees each time I misjudged the distance and tried to slam my limbs through the floorboards. Somehow I reached Carl’s door and knelt up to open it. I had to shuffle to get through the narrow crack I’d managed to open. The kitchen was full of dense fog. It pressed against my mouth and nostrils. I felt its pressure against my eyeballs and eardrums. My brain writhed like a bed of snakes and the fierce noise of hissing was everywhere. I shook until my limbs could no longer support me and landed heavily on my belly, forcing the air from my lungs with an even louder hiss. Between the table legs I saw the cellar door, wide open and darkness beyond.

My thirst felt like broken glass in my throat. It took all my strength to pull myself up at the sink. Thankfully there were clean mugs on the draining board and I filled the same one three times from the tap. The water was cloudy, but it dulled the pain and only made my stomach churn for a few minutes.

I let my legs buckle and carry me to the floor, wondering whether I would make it back to the settee before passing out.

I woke with Carl’s blankets wrapped around me and no clear memory of making it out of the kitchen, let alone to the sofa bed. I felt as cold as death. My teeth chattered so hard I wondered if they’d shatter against each other. The skin on my chin felt too tight and the light in the room too blinding. I closed my eyes and placed my hand over my forehead. My fingers felt like ice and my head like fire. Checking one’s own temperature was problematic at best, but I was certain I had a fever. I tried to sit up and felt bile rise in my throat. It was no good. I just had to rest. I lay back on the damp pillow and tried to remember snippets from the past twenty-four hours. There had been dreams. Dark creatures expelled from my pores, slithering over my skin. Yolanda with a cold cloth pressed against my face, Carl holding a filthy tin bucket as far from his wrinkled nose as possible and hurrying out of the room. I tried to call out, but I couldn’t make any sound louder than a rattle come from my chest. My body was soaked as if from a deluge. My thighs slipped against each other as I tried to get comfortable.

Brief periods of bleary wakefulness surrounded by vivid dreams. In the dream world I explored the forest as bright eyes watched me from the shadows. I saw again the slow, heavy movements of creatures in the river, and I heard their siren call, telling me to join them. The sun rose and set and rose again. My body spasmed as countless black leeches pushed their way out through my skin, leaving me wet and sore.

Yolanda and Carl were there but not there. They cared for me and gathered what my body expelled. Changed soiled sheets and made me drink cups of cloudy water that tasted like lead. I was too weak to lift my hand and the drinking straw stuck to my scabby lips. I wished for death and was certain it would come for me soon.

The last time I woke I managed to sit up. My skin felt cool and dry, not cold and clammy. The haze in the room was gone and I saw books, statues and discarded male clothing with perfect clarity. The sunlight, which nudged through the gap in the heavy curtains, didn’t hurt my eyes. The fever had broken.

Carefully I stood up. My legs felt weak from lack of use, but held me steady. Muscles ached as I stumbled to the door, but I did not fall.

I opened the door quietly and stepped into the bright kitchen. Yolanda was there, sat at the table with her laptop. She looked up and smiled.

‘Hi Kate. How are you feeling?’

My knees buckled.

The pressure of her arm against my ribcage pulled me back. She was trying to lift me. I reached out to the panelled wall and supported my weight, pressed against her in an embrace, with my feet on the floor.

‘I thought … ‘

She looked at my face and smiled. ‘What did you think?’

‘How long was I unconscious?’ I asked.

‘Most of the day. If you weren’t better tomorrow we were going to get you to a doctor.’

‘Just a day?’

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Thirsty,’ I said.

‘I’ll get you some water.’

She helped me reach the table and I lowered myself onto a chair. She closed her laptop and filled a glass from a bottle in the fridge.

‘Thank you.’

The water tasted so clear and fresh. It felt as though I had drunk nothing but sweat and sludge for weeks.

‘Where’s Carl?’ I asked.

‘Fishing.’

I nodded. None of it made any sense. I wondered whether this too was a dream. It felt slow and gentle, like an impressionist’s rendition of a scene. Spots of light and only the idea of a kitchen, a friend, a table. I touched the table top and thought I felt wood, but distantly like a memory.

Yolanda pursed her lips. ‘How are you feeling?’

I shook my head slowly, afraid that too swift a movement would send me away from this scene. ‘You don’t want to know. Any new photos?’

‘I’m just working on yesterday’s. I thought it best not to leave you alone.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need. Maybe you ate something that didn’t agree with you. You didn’t drink the water, did you?’

I shrugged. I couldn’t remember whether I had drunk the tap water or just dreamed that I had.

‘I should have warned you. Sorry. We don’t have drinking water. We don’t even use the tap water to make coffee. Maybe we should take you into town and get you checked out.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

She touched my forehead and I thought I might weep. ‘At least your fever has broken. Will you be okay for a minute if I go and tell Carl you’re awake?’

‘Just refill my glass first.’

As Yolanda left, I found myself staring at the cellar door again. Had it all been a dream brought on by bad food or toxic water? It had felt so real: the noises in the cellar, Carl falling and my locking him in there, Yolanda’s disappearance, the car driving away, leaving me behind, alone. It had all happened, hadn’t it? It wasn’t just a dream. Did that mean I was dreaming now?

I downed the delicious water and made my way across to the door. It was bolted again. I touched the cool metal and stood there for a moment, weighing my options. If I went down there what would I find? Could I prove to myself either way, whether Carl had been locked in the cellar? Whether we had even gone down there together?

I heard footsteps on the porch and returned to my seat.

‘Katie!’ Carl said smiling. ‘Welcome back.’ He didn’t look angry.

‘When was the last time you saw me awake?’ I asked.

He frowned. ‘Dinner. You went to bed early.’

‘We didn’t go into the cellar?’

He shook his head.

My mind screamed, liar! But I couldn’t trust my memory and why would Carl lie to me?

‘Do you want me to take you to the doctor?’ he asked and walked towards me, touching my forehead in the same gentle way Yolanda had before.

I shook my head and a fat tear pooled under my eye then rolled down my cheek.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, clasping my hand. ‘It was the fever.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Yolanda asked. ‘Your dream, I mean.’

My cheeks burned and I felt ashamed as if I really had locked them both in the cellar and left them there. ‘I just remember the cellar was really muddy, flooded.’

Carl searched my eyes for more, but I wasn’t ready to offer it. That’s it. If the cellar was muddy it couldn’t have been a dream.

‘Can you show me the cellar?’

‘Why?’

‘So I can convince myself it was only a dream.’

Carl looked over his shoulder at Yolanda who shrugged.

He looked back at me. ‘Sure. If you want.’

‘Will you come with me?’ I asked.

He looked a little nervous.

‘Did you get locked in there? As a kid I mean. You look frightened.’

‘How did you know that?’ he whispered.

‘What happened?’

‘It was dark and I was scared. I thought … ‘

‘There was something down there with you?’

He nodded slowly. ‘I’ve never told … ‘

‘Did it hurt you?’

Yolanda stepped forward and placed her hand on Carl’s shoulder. ‘Enough.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘Maybe you should go to bed.’ Yolanda’s stare was cold. Was she angry?

‘I’ve slept enough,’ I argued.

Carl drew away from me. Yolanda whispered something in his ear. He nodded. I couldn’t hear what she said, but it made me anxious. Carl glanced at me, frowning, then left.

Yolanda sat beside me. ‘Tell me about your dream.’

I shook my head.

She sighed. ‘Okay, you want to see the cellar?’

My skin crawled. I wasn’t sure any more.

‘Come on then.’

The light switch was the same as my dream, but the cellar was brighter when Yolanda switched it on. No longer just a dim puddle of light that barely reached past the end of the stairs, but a swathe of illumination that filled the small room. The floorboards were dry, not mud and concrete. I almost didn’t bother to follow her down the stairs, until I saw something familiar in the corner. A tin bucket, the one Carl had carried from my room. Logically it probably contained my body waste, vomit or something else. The way he’d held it suggested a strong, unpleasant smell. But it was the only touchstone that connected my waking world with the fevered dreams and I wanted to take a closer look.

The Starblood Trilogy

image

The Starblood Trilogy – read chapter 1 for FREE – http://smarturl.it/Voiez1.

#horror #gothic #demonology #gothicromance #lgbt

Cruelty, sexual obsession and death.

Starblood (book 1) Be Careful What You Wish For.

When Satori invokes a demon, hell comes to earth.

Sex, Goth subculture and violence mix to create an explosive narrative.

“Carmilla Voiez makes Clive Barker look like Stephanie Meyer.” Jef Withonef (Houston Press)

Psychonaut (book 2) An epic journey within the mind of a magickian that spans worlds.

Psychonaut is a unique mix of horror, BDSM, sex and magic with Kafkaesque surrealism to terrify and inspire.

“A work of genius or insanity.”

“Carmilla Voiez is more of a singer than a writer. She tells her compelling story in a hypnotic, distinctive voice that brings her eerie world vividly to life.” Graham Masterton.

Black Sun (book 3) An intricate web of murder, intrigue and magic allows gods to rain chaos and despair upon all. of human life.

“’Black Sun’ is the perfect conclusion to the Starblood Trilogy. The book is well written, with Gothic atmosphere, and it’s a refreshing look at life, death, family, friendship, and the every changing world around us.”

cowers

Cellar Door (part 3)

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Cellar Door by Carmilla Voiez.

A grin spread across my face and I wrapped the blankets around my body, cosy now, warmed by the knowledge that they weren’t going to make a fool out of me. They had messed with the wrong girl. Well they could stay down there tonight and I’d decide in the morning whether to let them out.

While my night was disturbed by the occasional knocking and clamouring my self-satisfaction comforted me and I slept remarkably well.

I took my time packing my luggage and luxuriating in a hot bath, before I descended to the kitchen. I searched Carl’s room and found the keys to the Land Rover on a Welsh Dresser. I filled the car with the things I needed and tucked the keys into my pocket before filling the kettle for coffee. As I sat at the small table, cradling the warm cup, I thought about what to do next.

There was no sound from beyond the cellar door and it was firmly bolted on this side. There was no sign of Yolanda and I became more convinced that brother and sister were waiting on the other side of the door for me. I made some toast, partly because I was hungry and partly because the smell might drive them to speak to me, beg me to let them out. I sated my hunger, but not my curiosity.

I could just drive away. I could return to college. Finish my studies and pretend that none of this had happened. That’s what the voices in my head advised. But things were never that simple, were they? Surely at some point Carl and Yolanda would escape the cellar and come after me. Unless they were dead. Even if they were, eventually someone would find their bodies. Someone would know I had come to the cabin with them and left alone. If Carl and Yolanda didn’t find me then someone else would.

I could open the door and let them out. Pretend that I had been so scared I hadn’t known what to do. That was at least partly true. If they were hurt then they would have learned a valuable lesson. If they laughed then at least the worst of it would be over. The joke had backfired anyway. They should be more humiliated than me by this point.

Or I could open the door and find nobody there. What would I do then? How could I sleep at night? How could I leave? How could I stay?

I realised after my third coffee that there was no perfect ending to this story. Whatever I did now would haunt me. My anger last night had blinded me, but now the weight of responsibility crushed both my schadenfreude and anxiety into a solid mass the size of a golf ball that clogged my arteries and blocked my windpipe. I walked across to the door. With my shaking fingertips against the bolt I called out.

‘Carl, Yolanda, is anyone there?’

I pressed my ear against the wood. I heard hissing, but it could have been an echo of my blood.

What now?

I retrieved my mobile phone from the car, even though I knew there would be no signal. I wasn’t wrong. If it had worked I could have phoned Yolanda, the police, or my mum, but it didn’t and I felt more alone than ever. I pulled the keys from my pocket and toyed with the idea of leaving. There must be a signal a few miles away. I could stop there and decide what to do. I closed my eyes and saw Yolanda bleeding out on the cellar floor, her dead brother curled up beside her. No! That wasn’t right. I was the victim here, not them. If they were hurt it was their fault. I climbed into the car and put the keys in the ignition. I just sat there, on the drivers seat, watching the key chain swing beside the steering column. Listening to it tap, tap, tap as it bounced against the dashboard. Tap, tap, tap, “let us in”.

Sighing, I climbed out of the jeep and headed back to the cabin. I grabbed a knife from the drawer, just in case. In case of what? I had no idea. I reached up to pull back the bolt, and discovered it wasn’t locked. Had I pulled it back earlier? I didn’t think so. But I must have. It was painful to swallow. The golf ball felt heavy in my chest. I reached for the door knob and heard a car engine roar into life.

Relief lifted my cheeks and the golf ball cleared. Someone was coming. Someone who could save me. Help me clear up this mess. I ran out onto the porch, just in time to watch the blue Land Rover drive away.

‘Shit!’

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’

I ran after it. My heart pounding. ‘Wait!’

My thighs were on fire and my ankles juddered each time my foot hit the soft ground to propel me forward, but the car was further and further ahead until it was lost among trees.

I hobbled back to the cabin, having no other place to go. I wanted to open the cellar door but I was too afraid. The room was spinning. I held onto walls for support and made my way to the bed-settee in Carl’s room. The air still smelled of him. I rested my head on the calico arm rest and closed my eyes.