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Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Monday, March 19, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Google celebrates Charles Addams 100th
gothicteasociety.com
HAPPY 100th BIRTHDAY
Charles Addams!
Google has acknowledged the day with a special doodle!
Read all about Charles Addams, creator of the Addams family HERE.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Tiki's Zombie Style
You can get a set of these ceramic monsters for your next Zombie party HERE at the Tiki Farm. Look around the site! They also have skulls and other Zombies as well as lots of neat looking Tikis! Thanks to Haunt Style for bringing this site to our attention.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Mc Kenzie's Pyramid
Hope St, Liverpool, UK
One cold foggy Sunday night in the autumn of 1871, 68-year-old Lionel Harland, a respected Rodney Street doctor, left his surgery and walked up Liverpool's Maryland Street, when he heard footsteps approaching. The shadowy figure of a tall wiry man wearing a top hat and a flowing cape was emerging from the swirling fog, a hundred yards ahead.
Dr Harland hesitated at the corner of Maryland and Rodney Street and felt a shiver run up his spine, even though he wore a heavy fur coat on this chilly September night.
The silhouette advanced towards the doctor with an almost military gait, and as it came within range of the flickering yellow flame of a lamppost, the elderly doctor saw to his horror that the approaching figure was the very same one he had encountered twenty years before.
It was not a living person at all, but the ghostly shade of a dead man - a dead man the doctor had known personally many years ago. It was the terrifying apparition of James McKenzie, an evil and wicked man who gambled with the Devil and lost his soul as a result, forever condemned to walk the earth without rest until Judgement Day.
Before the doctor could cross the cobbled road to escape the terrifying ghost, the apparition let out a spiteful laugh and sneeringly said: "Ha! Hospital Sunday!" The spectre was referring to a charity collection the doctor held on Sundays to raise funds for poor people needing hospital treatment.
Halfway across the road, Dr Harland was brave enough to take a single glance at the cursed phantom, and he almost fainted with fear. McKenzie's face looked as if it was lit up by a red flame, and his eyes were ink-black and lifeless. As the doctor shivered, the figure in black walked straight through the wall of the cemetery.
The trembling doctor reached the house of his friend Daniel Jackson in Blackburne Place, and after giving a garbled account of his meeting with McKenzie's ghost, he clutched his heart and collapsed onto the hearth rug.
Mr Jackson and a servant managed to revive the doctor and gave him a shot of brandy. Dr Harland nodded, then said: "Mr Brocklebank; tell him about McKenzie. He knows the story." Moments later, the surgeon quietly died in the fireside armchair.
The only Brocklebank Daniel Jackson knew of was the wealthy philanthropist and ship-owner Ralph Brocklebank, so after his friend's funeral, he forwarded a letter to the local tycoon about the strange story of Dr Harland, but did not expect a reply. He certainly did not expect a personal visit from the affluent Mr Brocklebank in response to his correspondence.
The 70-year-old millionaire paid his unexpected visit to Mr Jackson's house shortly before 11 pm. He alighted from a hansom cab in an anonymous black Ulster coat with a black felt fedora pulled over his eyes.
Brocklebank was led to the drawing room by a servant who he rudely dismissed with a wave of the hand. Daniel Jackson offered his illustrious guest a finely-cut tumbler of Hoagland's eight-year Scotch Whisky, rumoured to be Brocklebank's favourite tipple, but the mogul shook his head and in a cavalier manner he told his host to go over the story he'd related in the letter.
Mr Jackson gave his account of Dr Harland's final moments, and Brocklebank became very uneasy. He sat on the edge of the fireside armchair, jabbing the glowing coals of the fire with a poker with a tense expression.
After he had listened to Mr Jackson, he told a very strange story indeed which threw some light on the McKenzie ghost. It was a tale of greed, murder and the supernatural. Brocklebank seemed to see the events he described in the flames of the grate ashe spoke.
He said, "I remember James McKenzie. He was one of those people who are born old and crooked. Even then he was in his fifties. I was 25-years-old when I first met him, and your deceased friend was 23 and fresh out of medical school.
"McKenzie made and lost fortunes most men can only dream of. He backed the early railways and financed George Stephenson's locomotive machines. He was seen as pillar of the community and a backer of commerce and industry; but there was another unsavoury side to the man few people were aware of. He was a compulsive gambler and an ardent atheist.
"Someone told me that he put his family Bible on the fire after his sweetheart died from a fever. They say he hated God because of her death. And there were strange rumours about the man."
In 1826, eleven bodies were found in barrels in the cargo hold of a ship at Liverpool Docks. The police traced the barrels to a house at Number 8 Hope Street. That house was being looked after by a James MacGowan, who was an associate of James
McKenzie.
Anyway, the police arrested Mr MacGowan after they found 22 corpses of men women and children that had been dug up from the local cemetery. Mr MacGowan refused to name names, but everyone suspected Mr Mackenzie of being the
instigator.
There were whispers that he had turned Number 8 Hope Street into a body-snatcher's warehouse, where the corpses were pickled in barrels, ready to be shipped to the medical schools in Scotland. The going rate was £15 per corpse, be it a man, woman or a baby. But Mackenzie needed the money.
But in October 1850, something happened which I will never forget. McKenzie became acquainted with a mysterious gentleman known only as Mr Madison. Madison was the sharpest poker player McKenzie had ever met, and on this memorable occasion, they played a game throughout the night. McKenzie lost everything to the unbeatable Madison.
Just before dawn, the weary and defeated McKenzie was making preparations to leave when Madison made a bizarre proposal. He said: "One more game Mr McKenzie sir?"
McKenzie was literally penniless and said he had nothing left to gamble for. Mr Madison said, "What about your soul?" McKenzie said, "This is not the time for jests, please leave."
But Madison made it plain that he was not joking. He really did want to play a game of poker for McKenzie's soul. McKenzie nervously and said, "I think I know who you are." And Mr Madison said, "If you sir, are an atheist, then what have you to lose? For a man who does not believe in a creator cannot believe he was given a soul."
McKenzie was too proud to acknowledge the existence of the Almighty, and the fool played a game of poker for 'his soul - and Mr Madison won. James McKenzie fell to 'his knees with fear when Mr Madison presented his 'winning hand, but his opponent, who was really the 'Devil laughed and said to him: "Fear not, vain and defeated one. I will not take your soul until you are 'laid to rest in your grave."
And when McKenzie glanced up, Mr Madison had vanished, but there was an aroma of something burning in the room. This explains why Mr McKenzie was entombed in his little pyramid above ground sitting up at a card table with a winning poker hand.
It was his desperate attempt to cheat the Devil out of claiming his soul. As long as McKenzie's mortal remains are above ground, Lucifer can't claim his soul. But because McKenzie rejected eternal rest with God, he has condemned himself to walk the night as a restless ghost until Judgement Day.
When old Mr Brocklebank was leaving the house in Blackburne Place, Daniel Jackson said to him, "Sir, did you actually meet - you know who? Mr Madison?" Before the millionaire walked off into the jade fog, he nodded twice and with a worried look, he replied "You don't think I accumulated my wealth through hard work do you? But I'll have the devil to pay when my time comes."
Dr Harland hesitated at the corner of Maryland and Rodney Street and felt a shiver run up his spine, even though he wore a heavy fur coat on this chilly September night.
The silhouette advanced towards the doctor with an almost military gait, and as it came within range of the flickering yellow flame of a lamppost, the elderly doctor saw to his horror that the approaching figure was the very same one he had encountered twenty years before.
It was not a living person at all, but the ghostly shade of a dead man - a dead man the doctor had known personally many years ago. It was the terrifying apparition of James McKenzie, an evil and wicked man who gambled with the Devil and lost his soul as a result, forever condemned to walk the earth without rest until Judgement Day.
Before the doctor could cross the cobbled road to escape the terrifying ghost, the apparition let out a spiteful laugh and sneeringly said: "Ha! Hospital Sunday!" The spectre was referring to a charity collection the doctor held on Sundays to raise funds for poor people needing hospital treatment.
Halfway across the road, Dr Harland was brave enough to take a single glance at the cursed phantom, and he almost fainted with fear. McKenzie's face looked as if it was lit up by a red flame, and his eyes were ink-black and lifeless. As the doctor shivered, the figure in black walked straight through the wall of the cemetery.
The trembling doctor reached the house of his friend Daniel Jackson in Blackburne Place, and after giving a garbled account of his meeting with McKenzie's ghost, he clutched his heart and collapsed onto the hearth rug.
Mr Jackson and a servant managed to revive the doctor and gave him a shot of brandy. Dr Harland nodded, then said: "Mr Brocklebank; tell him about McKenzie. He knows the story." Moments later, the surgeon quietly died in the fireside armchair.
The only Brocklebank Daniel Jackson knew of was the wealthy philanthropist and ship-owner Ralph Brocklebank, so after his friend's funeral, he forwarded a letter to the local tycoon about the strange story of Dr Harland, but did not expect a reply. He certainly did not expect a personal visit from the affluent Mr Brocklebank in response to his correspondence.
The 70-year-old millionaire paid his unexpected visit to Mr Jackson's house shortly before 11 pm. He alighted from a hansom cab in an anonymous black Ulster coat with a black felt fedora pulled over his eyes.
Brocklebank was led to the drawing room by a servant who he rudely dismissed with a wave of the hand. Daniel Jackson offered his illustrious guest a finely-cut tumbler of Hoagland's eight-year Scotch Whisky, rumoured to be Brocklebank's favourite tipple, but the mogul shook his head and in a cavalier manner he told his host to go over the story he'd related in the letter.
Mr Jackson gave his account of Dr Harland's final moments, and Brocklebank became very uneasy. He sat on the edge of the fireside armchair, jabbing the glowing coals of the fire with a poker with a tense expression.
After he had listened to Mr Jackson, he told a very strange story indeed which threw some light on the McKenzie ghost. It was a tale of greed, murder and the supernatural. Brocklebank seemed to see the events he described in the flames of the grate ashe spoke.
He said, "I remember James McKenzie. He was one of those people who are born old and crooked. Even then he was in his fifties. I was 25-years-old when I first met him, and your deceased friend was 23 and fresh out of medical school.
"McKenzie made and lost fortunes most men can only dream of. He backed the early railways and financed George Stephenson's locomotive machines. He was seen as pillar of the community and a backer of commerce and industry; but there was another unsavoury side to the man few people were aware of. He was a compulsive gambler and an ardent atheist.
"Someone told me that he put his family Bible on the fire after his sweetheart died from a fever. They say he hated God because of her death. And there were strange rumours about the man."
In 1826, eleven bodies were found in barrels in the cargo hold of a ship at Liverpool Docks. The police traced the barrels to a house at Number 8 Hope Street. That house was being looked after by a James MacGowan, who was an associate of James
McKenzie.
Anyway, the police arrested Mr MacGowan after they found 22 corpses of men women and children that had been dug up from the local cemetery. Mr MacGowan refused to name names, but everyone suspected Mr Mackenzie of being the
instigator.
There were whispers that he had turned Number 8 Hope Street into a body-snatcher's warehouse, where the corpses were pickled in barrels, ready to be shipped to the medical schools in Scotland. The going rate was £15 per corpse, be it a man, woman or a baby. But Mackenzie needed the money.
But in October 1850, something happened which I will never forget. McKenzie became acquainted with a mysterious gentleman known only as Mr Madison. Madison was the sharpest poker player McKenzie had ever met, and on this memorable occasion, they played a game throughout the night. McKenzie lost everything to the unbeatable Madison.
Just before dawn, the weary and defeated McKenzie was making preparations to leave when Madison made a bizarre proposal. He said: "One more game Mr McKenzie sir?"
McKenzie was literally penniless and said he had nothing left to gamble for. Mr Madison said, "What about your soul?" McKenzie said, "This is not the time for jests, please leave."
But Madison made it plain that he was not joking. He really did want to play a game of poker for McKenzie's soul. McKenzie nervously and said, "I think I know who you are." And Mr Madison said, "If you sir, are an atheist, then what have you to lose? For a man who does not believe in a creator cannot believe he was given a soul."
McKenzie was too proud to acknowledge the existence of the Almighty, and the fool played a game of poker for 'his soul - and Mr Madison won. James McKenzie fell to 'his knees with fear when Mr Madison presented his 'winning hand, but his opponent, who was really the 'Devil laughed and said to him: "Fear not, vain and defeated one. I will not take your soul until you are 'laid to rest in your grave."
And when McKenzie glanced up, Mr Madison had vanished, but there was an aroma of something burning in the room. This explains why Mr McKenzie was entombed in his little pyramid above ground sitting up at a card table with a winning poker hand.
It was his desperate attempt to cheat the Devil out of claiming his soul. As long as McKenzie's mortal remains are above ground, Lucifer can't claim his soul. But because McKenzie rejected eternal rest with God, he has condemned himself to walk the night as a restless ghost until Judgement Day.
When old Mr Brocklebank was leaving the house in Blackburne Place, Daniel Jackson said to him, "Sir, did you actually meet - you know who? Mr Madison?" Before the millionaire walked off into the jade fog, he nodded twice and with a worried look, he replied "You don't think I accumulated my wealth through hard work do you? But I'll have the devil to pay when my time comes."
Thanks to Clare for this story
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
The 31 Days of Halloween
In just a few hours the month of October begins. The Gothic Tea Society is participating in three 'blog walks' and we are very excited about it. As any visitor might see from our regular postings we tend toward spooky and bizarre on a daily basis, but the fun is in posting extra spooky, morbid and dark topics to delight our visitors and hopefully they will stay for tea, and then visit often!
Check the buttons over there------> and please do visit the blogs who were kind enough to organize the blog walks. There are lots of other fun blogs to visit as well. And while you are here- please do take a peek at the personal blogs of The Gothic Tea authors- Visitors always welcome!
Sweet Screams!
Wendy
Friday, September 18, 2009
Ten steps (short film)
Alone in an old house during a power cut, a young babysitter who is scared of the dark, faces the prospect of a terrifying trip to the basement.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Night of the Living Dead (1968)
When unexpected radiation raises the dead, a microcosm of Average America has to battle flesh-eating zombies in George A. Romero’s landmark cheapie horror film. Night of the living dead (1968) A classic, Enjoy!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The Red Tree
Do you like Neil Gaiman? Clive Barker? Poppy Z. Brite? H.P. Lovecraft? Good, then you'll like Caitlin Kiernan too. Caitlin's been around for a while, churning out works of primal horror such as Threshold, Silk and Low Red Moon. She also wrote one of my most favorite Lovecraft inspired short stories: "A Redress For Andromeda" which you really should dig up if you can manage it.Now she's back with The Red Tree, the story of Sarah, a grieving author who abandons Atlanta for rural Rhode Island, renting a broken down house out in the boonies. When she finds a half finished manuscript in the basement, left behind by the previous owner (who later killed himself) she becomes obsessed - just as he had - with a humungous red oak tree growing on the property. Is the tree Evil Incarnate, or is Sarah just losing her mind? Or both?
I'm not finished with it yet, but I gotta tellya - I have a hard time putting it down at night. It's so melancholy and autumnal (despite its summer setting) and yet crazy intense and downright freaky. Perfect reading for the upcoming Halloween season.
Friday, July 31, 2009
"Satan S'amuse," Segunda de Chomon, 1907
In this silent film from 1907 ~"In an unnamed place, Satan is bored. Despite his servants' exertions, nothing can be found to cheer him up." According to weirdwildrealm.com ~ Teruel Segundo de Chomon y Ruiz (1871-1929) was an Aragonese film pioneer who worked in Paris for Pathe from 1905-1910. His association with Pathe began in 1901 when from Barcelona he hand-tinted Pathe releases, & his own earliest works from 1902 were distributed in France by Pathe.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Delphine LaLaurie
Delphine LaLaurie was a beautiful and wealthy young socialite whose elaborate parties attracted only the most wealthy and elite of the early 1800s New Orleans social scene. Madame and her third husband, Dr. Louis LaLaurie, lived in lavish splendor at 1140 Royal Street, a mansion which Madame would be forced to flee a mere three years later when a charnel house was discovered within.Madame's neighbors had already lodged a complaint with officials in 1833, after witnessing Madame LaLaurie savagely whipping a young slave girl in her backyard for a minor infraction. The slave girl, apparently in a hurry to escape Madame's punishment, either fell or leapt to her death from a balcony to the courtyard below and was unceremoniously buried beneath a tree soon afterwards.
In April of 1834, a fire broke out in the LaLaurie kitchen. When firefighters arrived at the scene, they found two slaves chained to the kitchen stove. Apparently, the slaves themselves had set the fire deliberately in a last ditch attempt to call attention to their plight. Upon further inspection, the hideously tortured and mutilated bodies of seven slaves were found in the LaLaurie slave quarters. It seemed that Madame LaLaurie herself had committed the atrocities, taking a sick pleasure in personally torturing and killing her slaves.
Madame LaLaurie fled the city before she could be arrested. Some say she made her way to Paris, retreating into isolated grandeur. She was never caught, and never seen again in New Orleans, although the LaLaurie mansion is rumored to be haunted, both by the tormented slaves and by Madame herself. (wiki)
left R. PUSTANIO ©2006
left R. PUSTANIO ©2006
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Incubus
This is perfect summer reading for the devoted horror fan!Incubus is the story of an isolated Maine town, afflicted by a severe heat wave in the summer of 1974. As temperatures rise, strange phenomena descends upon the town. One by one, the women fall victim to nightly sexual attacks perpetrated by an unseen force. Could there be a demon in their midst? Sensible minister's wife Cora sets out to learn the truth in this updated take on the tale of Persephone and Demeter.
This is truly fascinating stuff, frightening and terrifyingly realistic without being overtly graphic. The depictions of the small town life are absolutely beautiful, from the tending of gardens and the cooking of meals to the rediscovery of Women's Lib and Goddess worship. This is one of my personal all-time favorite books - picked it up on a whim one day and have read it and re-read it to shreds.
Ann Arensberg's "Incubus" is out of print - sad, but true - but amazon has plenty of used copies ranging in price from 1 penny to 94 cents! What do you have to lose besides a dollar?
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