Showing results by author "Ronald Kelly" in All Categories

Webster's Dictionary defines the word "appetite" as: a) any of the instinctive desires necessary to keep up organic life; specifically: the desire to eat, or b) an inherent craving; an insatiable appetite for nourishment. Of course, there are other terms for appetite as well. Craving, coveting, hunger, lust, gluttony, ravenousness, want, yearning, and passion, just to name a few. South of the Mason-Dixon Line, we call it a "hankering". When thinking of appetite, two supernatural beings come instantly to the minds of horror fiction readers: vampires and werewolves.

After his family is killed by a pack of rabid wolves, Jefferson Gray survives the horrid disease himself, with the aid of a Cherokee medicine man. But, unfortunately, he can not banish the hatred that dwells within him: an animosity toward dangerous game, particularly timber wolves. Fifteen years have passed. Timber Gray is known throughout the western territories as a seasoned tracker and hunter. But can Timber tackle his greatest challenge - a pack of 50 wolves led by the legendary Cripplefoot?

It usually happens by chance. You are alone in a deserted parking lot or at an interstate rest stop, when a man approaches you out of nowhere. An average-looking fellow with a good-natured smile; a man who, in your opinion, certainly couldn't harm a fly. Then, in a flash, it happens. The pepper spray, the duct tape, the forceful imprisonment in the oily darkness of a car trunk.

Ronald Kelly returns to the land of his ancestry and explores the dark superstition and frightful folklore of Ol’ Éire. Seven stories of Celtic gothic terror… tales to quicken the beat of the heart and chill one’s bones to the very marrow.

Down below the Mason-Dixon Line, deep in the shadowy hills and hollows of Tennessee, lives a teller of terrifying tales and a spinner of dark yarns unlike any you have ever heard before. Stories to chill your bones and pepper your flesh with goose bumps. What his true name may be, no one knows for sure. But, if you listen closely, you can hear his voice ringing through the dead of night!

Below the pale orb of a full moon, a lone boat navigates the dark channels of the Louisiana bayou, moving between ancient cypress and the heave mats of Spanish moss that dangle from their gnarled limbs. Who are the two who brave the swamp at night? One is a lanky Cajun man by the name of Pierre, while the other is his visiting cousin from Tennessee. The man folks call...the Old Storyteller.

Halloween is more than a holiday; more than a fun time of candy and costumes for the young. It is inoculated into our very being at an early age and there it remains. As we grow old, it grows dormant… but it is still there. For the lucky ones, such as us, it emerges every year, like a reanimated corpse digging its way out of graveyard earth to shamble across our souls. And we rejoice… oh, if we are the fortunate ones, we most certainly rejoice.

Vile, unstable, brimming with ill intent, like pus on the verge of eruption. Repulsive to gaze upon and even more disturbing to comprehend. It reaches out and discovers that the others—its siblings—have abandoned this cancerous womb long ago. Angry and alone, it thrashes violently…tearing, clawing its way from dormancy into daylight…and onto the dark playground of your bookshelf.