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The Macabre Mansion, Home To The Horror Tales Of Douglas J Moore
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Profile Information
- Are you an Author, Reader, Publisher, Editor, Agent or Other?
- Author And Self Publisher.
- Do You Have A Website?
- One is in the works.
- About Me:
- I write fiction with a element of horror slowly creeping into it. This always happens after the location and year and the people in them have been made real to the reader.
- Do you have a blog site?
- http://myhauntedhorrorfiction.blogspot.com
- Favorite Books:
- Ray Bradbury
Arthur C. Clarke
There Is No Turning Back Now That You Have Entered The
The doctors had remained silent. They did not have to remind each other about how they had agreed not to say another word about what did happen in that room. Not a word was said when they had met in private consulation about a patient. Nor was anything said in a group meeting of medical specialists from other fields, for which they were all gathered together and then put in a conference room, who were there to discuss the treatment of this now deceased woman and how to treat any other patient who might be exhibiting similar symptoms. The man in the dark suit had quietly slid into a carefully chosen place between them and a fat and balding doctor clutching a stack of notes. He turned to look at this little fat man just the way the uptight rear ends in their religious garments did when they had just sentenced another woman to death by stoning and or burning, she had been accused of witchcraft by a teenage girl who spoke in tongues and screamed in agony as if there was some hideous witches familar bedeviling her, at the stake because none of her children had gone crazy with fever or had the scratch marks made by the devil that had cursed their children with the madness fever and had the marks that he had left on them so it could come back and claim them as his own. A smile seemed to eat up more than half of his face and had revealed perfect white teeth.
"Little Doctor Potbelly," the man said, showing sharp white teeth. "This is not a good time to discover that your wife ... who has been having hot sweaty sex on your bed and on your desk with the garbage man who is pounding her ... on your desk ... where you pound the keyboard and write the crappy articles that your medical collegues laugh at every time you publish one in some obscure medical journal ... has not ripped away your scrotum after all. We can agree on that, right? Of course we can. Now why don't you go over to the buffet table and eat something and think about what you are going to do to your wife and how you are going to get your kitchen knife and slice the testicles away from the body of the garbage man and then put them in your favorite drinking glass. Thank you for leaving now, Doctor Potbelly."
The teeth that now seemed sharp enough to devour a small child as a sacrifice
His teeth have devoured half of his face and if they grow any more,they will be wide enough to swallow me whole. he thought, wiping the sweat away from his face.
They hid behind medical charts and the case history of the other patients that they had been asked to read and might then be called upon to provide a new medical opinion on how to treat the life threatening illness that was killing them. "Use them to avoid getting spotted by the reporters of third rate rag newspapers who were hiding behind a vase filled with flowers or a newspaper bought in the gift shop," the custodian said, holding of box of light bulbs. "This breed of vermin is here to get you to say something that will be printed in a rag paper read by fat women and guys who are one beer can away from having no brain cells left. "Do you know how crazy you sound," the second doctor said. "Even if there are any people like the ones you have-" "They are very real," the custodian said."You can find them pushing a shopping cart filled with the store brand boxes of cereal, frozen food and beer if they have a husband and live in Florida." "The people you have described," the second doctor said. "They all can't be that stupid. Can they?" "They believe the headlines about aliens having babies with earth women," the custodian said. "And look at the pictures of a ghost haunting a Texas family and of Bigfoot on a rural highway in Georgia."
The doctors had remained silent. They did not have to remind each other about how they had agreed not to say another word about what did happen in that room. Not a word was said when they had met in private consulation about a patient. Nor was anything said in a group meeting of medical specialists from other fields, for which they were all gathered together and then put in a conference room, who were there to discuss the treatment of this now deceased woman and how to treat any other patient who might be exhibiting similar symptoms. They hid behind medical charts and the case history of the other patients that they had been asked to read and might then be called upon to provide a new medical opinion on how to treat the life threatening illness that was killing them. "Use them to avoid getting spotted by the reporters of third rate rag newspapers who were hiding behind a vase filled with flowers or a newspaper bought in the gift shop," the custodian said, holding of box of light bulbs. "This breed of vermin is here to get you to say something that will be printed in a rag paper read by fat women and guys who are one beer can away from having no brain cells left. "Do you know how crazy you sound," the second doctor said. "Even if there are any people like the ones you have-" "They are very real," the custodian said."You can find them pushing a shopping cart filled with the store brand boxes of cereal, frozen food and beer if they have a husband and live in Florida." "The people you have described," the second doctor said. "They all can't be that stupid. Can they?" "They believe the headlines about aliens having babies with earth women," the custodian said. "And look at the pictures of a ghost haunting a Texas family and of Bigfoot on a rural highway in Georgia."
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Check out the Mystery of the Missing Checks
Monday, I'm over at my group blog, http://makeminemystery.blogspot.com/, where I'm blogging about the mystery of the missing checks. Come on over and find out what it's all about.Thanks,
Morgan Mandel
Can We Talk?
I'm firming up some dates for speaking engagements in 2010. One's tentatively set for March 28, at 1:30 at the Niles Public Library, another probably in mid May at the Schaumburg Township District Library.Also, coming up is a radio interview at WJJQ again on May 7, at 9:35 a.m. before my booksigning May 8 at Cover to Cover Books in Tomahawk, WI.
I've heard that some people are more afraid of public speaking than of dying. Surprisingly, I find it easier each time I do it. As long as I have my cheat sheet with me to glance down at once in a while for security and I like what I'm talking about, I'm okay.
What about you? Do you like to talk or would you rather not?
Helpless
Over the Holiday weekend I took a good look at my house and that familiar helples feeling washed over me again. It seemed like an insurmountable task to get the place in order. It still does.I spend so much time writing and promoting after I do my day job, what little time I have left is precious. Still, sometimes I just have to buckle down and ignore my compulsion to write and make myself clean house instead. I tackled the spare bedroom, which had clothes and all kinds of other articles strewn over the bed, on the floor, and anywhere you can think of, compliments of myself and the DH, who were equally guilty. I did make some headway, which made me feel good, but if I had more time I know I could do better. Also, there are so many other projects left to do if I were to get the house really into shape. I'm wondering how much I'll get done before Christmas, when I have my family over.
Maybe over the weekend I can get more done, that is, after I do the Illinois sales tax form first, which is due by the end of the month. I've got almost all of my check statements, except one, which I think I can find online, so maybe I can get that done. You may have guessed I'm not the most organized person in the world.
Anyway, let's see how far I can get cleaning up. I've got this kindle on loan from the library, with about 9 days left on it, and lots of good books on it beckoning to me. I've got some great ideas for stories I want to start and others I want to continue. I've got some blog buddies I haven't visited for a while. I wonder what will win out. (g)
What about you? What do you do about housework? Does it get in the way sometimes?
PS The not so surprising results are up on the left for my EZ poll. I'll have to do a harder one some time.
New Killer Career Excerpt at Acme Authors Link
Hi Gang,Today, I've got a new Killer Career excerpt up at http://acmeauthorslink.blogspot.com/ . This one continues from the first excerpt I posted on Monday at http://makeminemystery.blogspot.com/
If you're curious about my recently released romantic suspense, come on over to one or both blogs to check it out.
Thanks,
Morgan
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When RASCAL wakes up, you'll hear from her and/or her Mom - that would be me, Morgan Mandel.
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He was a janitor in the basement of a mall. He'd dress up in this crappy quasi-Superman getup to then show the movie. He was a lot like Schneider on One Day At A Time. I LOVED the Capt! All schlock and misplaced overconfidence.
And then came the movies he'd show. Kids today. They don't know what they missed. How can a person develop properly as a human without a steady flow of late night schlock?
Take care!
Ken
Amy
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