Haunted Houses and I go way back. I used to set up a haunted house display in my parent’s garage and enlist my brothers and friends to play the roles of various monsters as I, as a mad scientist, led other neighborhood kids through the chamber of horrors. The tour would end with me dissecting a monster in a serio-comic way, removing all manner of things from its abdomen (such as a pop bottle, an old shoe, and a dirty sock). At the conclusion, the creature’s arm would swing out at the other kids, courtesy of a little fishing line, and send the frightened kids running from the haunted garage.
After college, I took a job in a nursing home as I dipped my claws, er, toes, into the writing life. At the nursing home I reprised my earlier passion for haunted houses and got other members of the staff and the management to buy into the idea of putting on a haunted house for the patients. People were encouraged to retrieve a treat from the bottom of a bowl of intestines (OK, it was pasta). There were opportunities for (geriatric) boys to meet ghouls, and gals to hang out with all sorts of unsavory monsters. The conclusion, once again, was me as a mad scientist werewolf (showing my true colors) who would operate on a monster and once again pull out various things from its abdomen (this time it included a bedpan – I’m such a wit). Since I was an adult, I also jazzed it up childhood shtick with beakers of dry ice and colored liquid bubbling away behind me on repurposed bookshelves. The pièce de résistance was me (as the ersatz wolfman/mad scientist) throwing the breaker switch (OK, it was a sponge mop handle) and causing the creature’s eyes to light up. At this point, the creature’s arm would swing out, as before (remember the fishing line trick?) and grab one of the patients. As I look back on my cavalier sensibilities, I realized I was damn lucky I didn’t cause a heart attack.
When my older son was in kindergarten and first grade I resurrected the haunted house motif, this time for my son’s birthday parties. I used all the same ideas to great success, perhaps too great. After causing one little girl to pee her pants, I realized I had ridden this horror express perhaps a little too far. My forays into this live on only in the nightmares of former kids, now adults.
The haunted house that left the biggest impression on me was as a high school student when I participated in a spooktacular haunted house that was put on by a local rock music station. I helped with the construction, mostly as a gofer, and got to be a werewolf (oh, the joy) once the place opened. This haunted house was not for kids, and had many a frightful room as we repurposed an old home before it was to be torn down. I, as the wolfman, was in a room with Dr. Frankenstein and the monster, and we’d all jump at folks and delight in their screams. Then, toward the end of the evening, in a moment of werewolf abandon, I decided to jump up onto the wall and grab the bars on a window. Much to my chagrin, and pain, the iron bars were actually wooden dowels that broke off and I crashed down onto my werewolf tailbone. I howled in pain. People loved it! I, however, too embarrassed to admit my pain and mistake, limped the three miles home that night instead of begging a ride from someone with wheels. My lesson: One must suffer for one’s art!
The
Eidola Project
An
Eidola Project Novel
Book
One
Robert
Herold
Genre: Horror
Publisher: Wild Rose Press (Black Rose Imprint)
Date of Publication: November 18,
2019
ISBN: 978-1-5092-2406-7 Paperback
ISBN: 978-1-5092-2407-4 Digital
Number of pages: 290
Word Count: 69870
Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor
Tagline: The Eidola Project is recruiting. Dare to
join them?
Book Description:
It's 1885 and a drunk and
rage-filled Nigel Pickford breaks up a phony medium's séance. A strange twist
of fate soon finds him part of a team investigating the afterlife.
The Eidola Project is an intrepid
group of explorers dedicated to bringing the light of science to that which has
been feared, misunderstood, and often manipulated by charlatans. They are a
psychology professor, his assistant, an African-American physicist, a sideshow
medium, and now a derelict, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses.
Called to the brooding Hutchinson
Estate to investigate rumored hauntings, they encounter deadly supernatural
forces and a young woman driven to the brink of madness.
Will any of them survive?
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/SZovJ-MZQ5Y
Excerpt:
Sarah
retrieved the lamp and twisted the peg. The outhouse door swung open on its
own, and she gasped.
“Momma?”
Sarah asked as she held out her lantern. No. A ruined version of Molly stood in
the doorway.
Before
her disappearance, people often commented on the sixteen-year-old’s beauty, but
in the last twenty-eight days birds pecked out her pretty blue eyes, and
maggots now swam in the sockets. Molly’s head hung to the left at an odd angle.
Her skin looked mottled with patches of gray, blue, and black. A beetle crawled
out of Molly’s half-opened mouth and darted back in.
Sarah’s
heart leaped to her throat, and she jumped back. She lost her footing, fell
onto the outhouse seat, and dropped the lantern to the floor. She bent to
retrieve it; thankful the glass globe did not break. Sarah looked up and saw an
empty doorway.
Impossible,
she told herself. Must’ve dozed off, had a nightmare, and woke up when I
dropped the lamp. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and Sarah took a deep
breath to calm herself.
Holding
the lamp before her once more, she crept out…
About
the Author:
The supernatural always had the
allure of forbidden fruit, ever since Robert Herold’s mother refused to allow
him, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved in.
(Well, not literally.)
As a child, fresh snow provided
him the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors’ lawns halfway and then make paw
prints with his fingers as far as he could stretch. He would retrace the paw
and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned
into a werewolf on their front lawn. (They were skeptical.)
He has pursued many interests
over the years (among them being a history teacher and a musician), but the
supernatural always called to him. You could say he was haunted. Finally,
following the siren’s call, he wrote The Eidola Project, based on a germ of an
idea he had as a teenager.
Ultimately, he hopes the book
gives you the creeps, and he means that in the best way possible.
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