Michael Goldcraft, writer

Goblins are mythical creatures. However, a great deal of mythology is designed to make living mortals more comfortable. If there is mythology about something within the Unknown Province, then that’s good. Mythology means it can’t be real. Right? Wrong! Here’s the catch. If something exists within the Province, and the Province is real, well then, that something is real too. And, the fact is…the Province is very real!

Goblins are grotesque, greedy, phantoms. They have existed within the UP ever since humans set foot, or were placed, upon this planet. The question is not whether goblins exist. Instead, there are two more important questions. The first is: Where do they come from? Note that I say do and not did. They continue to occur each day. The second question is: What are they?

Goblins come from the human population. They are dead people: phantom souls at the cross roads of ethereal life. These creatures straddle the fence. They are in the midst of negotiations with the essential powers of good and evil. They struggle to cut a deal with the devil or to make amends with the highest life force. A goblin’s acts and deeds while within the Unknown Province will ultimately define its destiny.

If a living mortal vacillates between right and wrong throughout life; if the person does good and then evil time and again; then which pathway should he or she take after death? The universe is confused, the jury is still out, and more evidence is needed. And so, this poor, wretched soul passes beyond the gossamer vale and wakes up as a goblin within the Province to stare in awe as all humanity passes by. Sometimes, the not-so-subtle powers of darkness provide a gentle shove, or a hard push, toward destiny. Within the Province, the playing field is very often not level.

Therefore, dear reader, listen carefully if you want to avoid the fate of a goblin existence. To become a goblin is to know misery, madness, and even murder. The stench of a goblin body is not attractive. The face and form of such a beast is a burden to the owner. Much can be learned of goblin life – and even how to avoid it – by understanding the case history of one. I refer to that quintessential example of goblin-hood: Walter Harold Ishmael Prescott Malone. Walter was the well-known Manhattan businessman who became “The Goblin of Central Park.”

I invite you to enter Walter’s world by reading the short story below.

Best wishes, Michael Goldcraft

From Amazon: The Goblin of Central Park

Life and death: both are complex. Nothing is simple on mortal earth or within the Unknown Province. So here, dear readers/possible skeptics, I address the subject of frozen phantoms. Admittedly, there are very few of these specters inhabiting the province. Sadly, they are a surprised and unhappy lot.

When a body is cryogenically frozen, it remains alive! That is the whole point of cryonics; it is preservation of a living human (or other animal) at temperatures so low as to sustain life without nourishment. The metabolic rate is so reduced that ‘frozen life’ is possible for an almost unlimited length of time.

Usually, human subjects request cryopreservation when faced with a life-threatening disease for which there is currently no cure. These individuals see their only hope for survival resting some time in the distant future when a cure will be discovered. However, others – as they age – simply want to live forever; they seek eternal life through cryonics. And some misguided individuals might attempt to take an unwilling loved one with them!

Cryogenic preservation is not common. The temperature of the body must be reduced to approximately −180 °C (-292 °F or 93.15 K).

For laymen, we can best envision a condition 292 degrees below freezing!

However, this condition must be accomplished in such a manner that there is no rupture of human cells, a tricky process at best. Furthermore, cryogenic preservation of humans is not reversible at this time. The technology to reversing a cryogenically-preserved human lies far in the future, as does the cure for the patient’s disease.

Currently, less than 300 people have undergone cryopreservation since cryonics was first proposed in 1962. And funding to maintain the cryogenic state must be perpetually at hand through a government agency, or via a hefty endowment from the subject or his trust. This huge sum of money must be awarded to the preservation facility. Once preserved, the subject places ultimate faith in those who will forever maintain his frozen state. But as I’ve said, very few humans are documented to be under cryopreservation. Unless…

Could there be – unknown to the rest of us – some nefarious use of cryopreservation by rogue scientists for purely economic, experimental, or evil purposes? Could these factories of “frozen hope” exist? If so, are they promoting, here or abroad, false hope to wealthy, but desperate, dupes? Anything, I suppose, is possible.

Certainly, this subject is a realm of fiction offering diverse and diabolical plots. Science does not directly embrace the existence of a human spirit or soul because they have no “a posteriori” or empirical evidence to support such. Thus, some scientists could completely disregard — or take a very cavalier attitude toward – the fate that a human spirit might encounter after cryogenic preservation.

If science and corrupt corporations see profit in preservation, such a motivation could lead to a situation similar to the one found in my short story below.

I suggest you keep the furnace turned on, and the comforter pulled snuggly up around you, as you enter my mysterious world of very cold crime.

This little tale, “The Phantom of Hemlocke Hill,” is available from Amazon.

Best wishes, Michael Goldcraft

How diverse is “evil?”  Could a collection of horror tales be combined to create a genuinely eclectic mix?  Could each story be a unique little nugget of terror because of its setting, plot, and eccentric characters?  I believed so, and that was my aim in writing and assembling the scary short stories that became Thirteen Tales of Eclectic Evil.

I started with the word “eclectic.” The word has an elegant sound, tripping off your tongue.

Mr. Webster – a favorite writer of mine – says it means:
to select, pick out, to choose. 1) selecting from various systems, doctrines, or sources; 2) composed of materials gathered from various sources, systems, etc. Noun: a person who uses eclectic methods in philosophy, science or art.

As a writer, I tried to be the person he defined.

Thirteen Tales, an Amazon e-book, is just 250 pages long, but within its covers I hope you’ll find entertainment that will whisk you away from the realities and responsibilities we all face, if even for just an hour or so. With that objective in mind, let me tell you a little about these tales I created.

Do you believe in reincarnation? That’s alright, neither do I. But an old, tough business tycoon, Whip Malone, experienced something like it when his hang-glider hit a horse, and he became The Goblin of Central Park. And reincarnation became reality in my time-warp tale The Predictable Return of Peter Renskill set both in the late 18th century and present day.

Have you ever wanted to see life from another person’s point of view? Well my protagonist, Melody Brighton, did. And that’s why she agreed to participate in Dr. Dangerfield’s First IS Transplant. Melody entered a man’s body and was disgusted by what she found. Be careful when you wish to be someone else. It’s one thing to walk a mile in their shoes, quite another to be trapped in their body. Experimental research? No thanks!

Ira Carson was a nice guy, retired, happy, and sailing the Caribbean with his beautiful wife. Unfortunately, on a glorious day with fair winds, Ira found evil on the high seas. That’s why he was desperately seeking Any Port in a Storm.

Jack Slack was a mediocre Florida writer with big dreams. He just needed a catalyst to jump-start his career and keep his New York publisher happy. Jack found that catalyst, oddly, in an ancient warlock. The Wannabe from Hungary is a humorous story about black magic gone bad because it’s been given to the wrong writer. Never trust a roach on a white carpet!

Young Jonathan Wagoner was rapidly on his way up within the fast-paced world of Washington, D.C. But Wicked Weasel Wagoner went down…way down! When it comes to power politics, one should always be careful of “ships that pass in the night.”

Bob Harper was a great guy, a good friend, and a heck of a fisherman. He just wanted to make his buddy happy. So they took a little fishing trip in the Gulf of Mexico and ended up Catching Hell. Danger glides silent and deep and a wicked wind spawns an angry sea. Bob Harper got all wrapped up in a quarter ton of trouble! Maybe he just needed a bigger boat.

It was just an old volume in a musty New York bookstore, but it was such a find! Annie P. Parker couldn’t resist. She bought the book…and began to read. And that’s when The Peregrine Man took over her life. Sometimes, you just can’t afford to fall asleep.

Those of you who’ve read my Darke Lyfe Trilogy won’t be surprised that I introduce my primary villain, the rogue vampyre Harrison Van Gilter, within this collection. It’s just a brief snippet plucked from his long life. The story documents Harrison’s first prey. Set in Black Notting, England in 1776, when he was just thirteen, Harrison tells the tale himself. He selected it from his own perverse collection locked away within Van Gilter’s Vault.

No collection of eclectic evil would be complete without a good ghost story. And Elaine Martin gets guidance from a “loving” ghost that helps her find The Courage to Kill.

I’ve tried my best to “creep you out” with my tale concerning The Mothman Messages. Inspired by the true story and the film – The Mothman Prophecies – which made even the hair on the back of my neck stand up, the mothman tale was pure pleasure to write. I hope you enjoy reading it while you’re all alone at night. Lights on…please!

Within an aircraft at 36,000 feet, cruising 600 miles an hour, a very special passenger gains genuine social perspective when he feels The Gun at His Head. All I can say about this close encounter is that we are not alone…and they are not pleased!

Finally, there’s my tale entitled The Phantom of Hemlocke Hill. It’s a sort of syfy, mystery, what-happened and who-did-it tale. Some people sense unearthly things and envision the future. And sometimes the future is dark and justice is icy cold. Spirits wander when they are unhappy…even when their mortal bodies aren’t dead!

Thirteen Tales of Eclectic Evil is a small buffet of chilling, mysterious, and sometimes even humorous, escape entertainment. If it takes you away for just a little while, I’ll be happy.

Best wishes, Michael Goldcraft