"From its darkly sensual opening to it's shocking ending, The Butcher Bride combines the creeping dread of a ghostly horror with the slick fast-pace of a teenage slasher flick. With elements of Carrie and The Haunting, this is one Halloween tale you won't forget."

-- Sarah Pinborough, author of Tower Hill & Feeding Ground

"Vince Churchill taps the haunted house theme for all it's worth in THE BUTCHER BRIDE. Graphically gory and sexually explicit, you don't want to leave a copy of this novel in Grandma's Christmas stocking..."

-- Judy Comeau, countgore.com

"A wicked delight served up by a genuine master chef of chills!"

-- Lisa Morton, Bram Stoker Award-winning author

"Churchill has an almost De Sadeian eye for sex and gore. If you like your horror filled with vivid, almost sadistic details of bloodshed than this novel is for you."

-- David Whitman, from FeoAmante.com

"...this book is so damn much fun...colorful characters, beautiful scares, lots of gore, definitely naughty sex scattered about, and one helluva badass vengeful ghost all mixed together in 269 pages of giggling horror delight."

-- Greg Hall, Host of The Funky Werepig

. . . The Story . . .

Thirty years ago...

... a depraved assault during a Halloween costume ball shattered a young woman's mind, turning her into a brutal mass murderer. Dressed in her rival's blood-soaked wedding gown, the legend of the Butcher Bride was born.

Now, decades later...

... everyone who enters the Silas Mansion will discover a frightening spirit ravenous to satisfy perverse appetites. Death is the only escape.

. . . Excerpt . . .

Hannah found Cal standing in the kitchen, the beam of his flashlight trained on the floor by a large preparation island in the middle of the room. She added his light to his.

"What are we looking for?"

Cal continued to star at the dark stain under the dust of the tiled floor."I think this is where the Butcher Bride killed two people. They were supposed to be…" His voice trailed away.

"What?"

"The story is they were doing it when she snuck up on them."

Hannah’s eyes got big. "Let’s just get the music box and get out of here, okay?" She hesitated. "Do you think anyone else is coming in?"

Cal looked at her like she was insane. "Are you kidding?"

The two followed their flashlights from the room.

...

Cal and Hannah passed through the library. It was even darker than the kitchen. Surprised rodents squeaked softly, and then disappeared before they were exposed to the sweeping light beams. The room had obviously survived a fire. The surviving furniture had been covered in cloudy plastic. Their noses wrinkled at a faint stench.

"People die in here too?" Hannah asked.

Cal nodded. "Yeah. A couple."

The pair walked into the home’s main foyer. Faint glow from the sunset crept around the edges of the closed drapes, easing the gloom. They let their flashlights play around the open area. Other than the dust, the house looked pretty well preserved. There was more plastic covered furniture. Dusty paintings still hung on the walls. The main staircase waited for them.

"Ready?" Cal asked. Hannah looked at him and smiled weakly. "Ladies first."

"Uh, the staircase is plenty wide enough for us to walk side by side," Hannah observed.

"Oh,yeah, sure." They started up together. Portraits lined the right hand wall. It felt like the eyes of the Silas family ancestors were following their every step. Both teens tried their best not to look at them.

Cal whispered as they neared the top of the stairs.

"You know, this weekend is the thirtieth anniversary."

Hannah stopped two steps short and put her light on him.

"What? Are you kidding?"

Cal stopped at the top. He shined his light down both ends of the corridor, then back down towards Hannah.

"That’s how the dare came up."

"Fuck me," she whispered, following. Cal heard her, but decided to pretend he didn’t. The two stood at the top of the stairs.

"Jake said to the left. Last room on the right."

Hannah nodded. "Do you believe this place is haunted?"

Cal shrugged. "I don’t know. A lot of people have died in here."

Hannah’s face bleached. "How?"

"Accidental deaths. But the stories blame the Butcher Bride."

Faint sounds drifted down around them.

"Do you hear that?"

Cal nodded. His flash light beam danced. He couldn’t stop his hand from shaking.

The sounds grew louder. It was strange, nonsensical. The tune was off-key, almost like a warped record.

Cal’s throat felt tight. "What is it?"

The music continued to increase in volume. Hannah’s mouth dropped open. "I think…I think it’s the wedding march."

"Holy shit," Cal whispered. "That’s what the sewing box is supposed to play."

When the attic ladder dropped from the ceiling just behind them, Hannah screamed and Cal almost pissed his pants. Frightened, Hannah ran half way down the gloomy hall. Cal was frozen to the spot.

The music spilled from the pitch black opening. Cal had to steady himself to keep his light trained inside the dark square. He glanced at Hannah. She shook her head

"Jake said the box was…"

"Jake was wrong. It’s playing from up there." Cal stepped toward the ladder, still trying to make anything out.

"Don’t go up there, Cal."

"I can’t go back without the box."

Hannah moved toward him cautiously. "I’ll tell everyone we couldn’t find it."

He shook his head. "That’d be chicken shit." He took a step up the ladder. "It has to be pretty close." He took another step up.

Hannah tried to reason with him, even as she added her light to his. The darkness was impenetrable.

"What music box plays that loud? And why can’t we see anything up there?"

He took another step up. His head was almost to the opening. "Wait, I think I can see something…"

Hannah took a tentative step closer. "Please come-"

Cal was jerked into the attic by an unseen force.

Hannah stared up into the darkness. There wasn’t a sound. The music had stopped. She was all alone. Her light shook badly.

"Ca…Ca…Cal?" She could barely whisper. The silence was like a winter breeze, causing goose bumps to crawl all over her skin. It felt like the darkness was staring at her.

There was no response. The gloom seemed to close in.

"Cal?" She called out, stronger this time. Her voice only trembled a little.

There was a small sound, both foreign and familiar. A dim light glowed from the attic. There was no other sound or movement. Hannah eased toward the ladder. Her flashlight continued to be useless. She put a hand on the ladder and a foot on the first step.

"I’m going to kill you for scaring me, Cal." She climbed the few wooden steps, her head nearing the opening. The next step would push her head into the attic and she hesitated. The faint light wasn’t very comforting and her light seemed to go mute into the darkness just a few feet in, exposing nothing.

"Cal? Come on, this isn’t funny. Get the box and let’s go."

Cautiously, just below the opening, Hannah craned her neck to peer into the attic in the direction of the light. There were faint shapes, maybe boxes, more covered furniture. Everything was vague under the meager light.

Cal was facing away from her, a ways from the opening. The light cast from the weak, single bare bulb barely reached him. Relief flowed through her, warm and comforting. She’d heard her college aged sister describe the feeling after drinking alcohol.

"Cal! Jesus Christ! Get the box and come on!"

He didn’t answer. He didn’t move. It was as if he didn’t know she was there. Her relief evaporated like steam.

"Cal?" She hadn’t meant to, but it almost came out as a scream.

Cal turned slowly, but something was wrong. His body didn’t move at all. It was like an invisible hand was turning a chess piece. Hannah could only stare.

Partially in the shadows, she could barely recognize him. His face was pasty pale and his expression was of stark terror. His mouth was locked open in a silent scream. His eyes were wide and wild. Paralyzed as he seemed, his eyes managed to flicker to her and then back up for a split second.

A warning? Was something on the other side of the attic?

Or right behind her?

The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. She didn’t want to look away from Cal, but she was terrified of not knowing what he was staring at. Fear flooded her eyes with tears.

"Please Cal…" she pleaded, knowing it was useless. Knowing her friend - no, she liked him much more than that - was under the control of something...

The light went out.

Cal shrieked a split second before she did.

The warbled version of the wedding march blared from the darkness.

Without thinking, Hannah jerked around, aiming her flashlight into the black.

A woman was there. Her wedding dress was covered in blood and gore. Behind her veil, there were dark hollows where her eyes, nose, and mouth should have been. Clutched in one hand was a pair of long bladed scissors.

Hannah realized she wasn’t standing. She was floating.

The young teenager felt the urine’s heat release between her legs. She lost all strength. The flashlight fell from her useless hand, and she fell from the ladder.

Even as she dropped, she watched as the ladder folded close in a blur. The attic hatch slammed shut as she hit the floor. She grunted with the impact, air whooshing from her lungs. On her feet in a flash, she stumbled down the stairs on unfeeling legs, yelling at the top of her lungs.

She crossed the foyer and dodged through the library, the stench of cooking flesh as thick as a barbeque cook-off. She didn’t even feel her feet touch the kitchen tile. Flashlight beams struck her as she dashed down the short hall toward the servant’s entrance.

"What the-" Monty started but a moment later Hannah was out the open door, arms flailing as she jerked her bike off the ground and frantically started away. She never stopped screaming.

No one waited for Jake as he slammed the door shut and snapped the lock into place. He was the last to start riding.

"Wait for me!" he yelled, pedaling like his life depended on it.

Half the fiery sun had disappeared into the horizon as the group escaped from the shadow of the Silas mansion. If anyone would have looked back, they might have gotten a glimpse of a figure in the small attic window. Their imaginations would have made it the ghost of the Butcher Bride, but the reality was the friend they’d deserted.