by TONY TREMBLAy
Tony Tremblay makes the second of three stops at Ginger Nuts of Horror to celebrate the launch of of his new novel The Moore House . Tony has written three articles about his real life experiences with the supernatural, they are not fiction, these are not stories, these a Trio of Tangible Terror.
I work for a plastics company based in New England. Though my title is Vice President of Manufacturing, I also handle almost of the outside sales for the company. Part of these duties include visiting customers. This second essay on how the supernatural has intersected with my life revolves around one of those customer visits. If you’ve ever gone bowling either here in the U.S., Europe, or in many other countries, chances are the company I work for made those gutters that you try like hell to keep your bowling ball out of. For kids and challenged adults, we also developed a bumper system that prevents a bowling ball from going into those score stealing gutters. Our customer for these bowling products was based in upstate New York (U.S.A.), and I was obliged to visit them four times a year. Aside from the five and a half hour ride, I didn’t mind calling on them. I enjoyed their company, and many of their employees wound up as close friends to my wife and me. It was on one of those visits to this bowling company when a supernatural event occurred that saved my life. It was in the middle of winter when I planned my visit to the bowling products headquarters. My contact, I’ll call him Ken, was excited that I was coming up, and he planned a fun, special event for me. He was going to take me out snowmobiling. Upstate New York is rural, there are not a lot of things to do up there in the winter except for ice-fishing and snowmobiling. I am a city-boy, and the prospect of hanging onto someone else’s back in - 20 degree F (-29 C) temperatures on a machine that was so loud you could go deaf without ear protection was not my idea of a fun time. Also, I had a bad feeling about it. I remember a fog enveloping my head when he told me about the idea, though I couldn’t say what caused it. But, the customer is always right, so I agreed to go along with him on his fun, special event. Before we went snowmobiling, we did have to do some business. We had prototyped a new gutter system that was installed in his area and Ken wanted us to go to the bowling alley and inspect it. The bowling alley closed at 9:30 p.m., and we could go out on the lanes from 9:45 to 10:00 to see how the system was holding up. After that visit, we would go out and hit the snowy plains. Over a phone call the day before, we agreed to go to dinner at 8:00, and then we would shoot over to the bowling alley. He added that I was fortunate. It had been snowing for days in upstate, New York and there were several feet of fresh snow on the ground for snowmobiling. Ken wasn’t kidding. As I drove north, the snow had been plowed so high on each side of the roads it was like driving through blinding white tunnels. When I arrived at my hotel, I was exhausted from the drive and a nap was called for. Ken called my room an hour later, waking me up. We agreed to travel separately to the restaurant, and from there we would go in one vehicle to the bowling alley. I was feeling good, refreshed, and I got dressed and met him at the restaurant. Everything was fine when we sat down to eat. We made small talk and joked around. When he brought up the visit to the bowling alley and snowmobiling, my head clouded up again. I remember feeling sick while he went on, and the feeling got worse. My stomach hurt, I was dizzy, and I thought I was going to throw up. When our food came, I barely touched it. Ken noticed this and when he asked me about it, he stopped short. He said my face was completely white. I told Ken that I was feeling ill, very ill, and that I didn’t think I could last much longer. He understood and we called the bowling alley to postpone the inspection until the next morning, and of course he cancelled our snowmobiling trip. We left the restaurant, and I went back to the hotel. He mentioned he would call my room around 8:00 a.m. and we could make plans from there. Arriving at the hotel, I felt better. Much better. I remember wondering what that sickness was all about. Relaxing, I read a book and finally got to sleep sometime around 11:00 that night. I slept soundly, until 8:00 a.m., when the phone rang. It was Ken, calling me as he had promised. When I answered, I could tell something was off by the sound of his voice. “Tony,” he said, his voice very low, “how are you feeling?” “I actually feel well,” I replied. “I don’t know what happened to me. You don’t sound good though, is everything okay?” “Last night,” he said, his voice even lower and catching, “ten minutes before ten o’clock, the roof of the bowling alley collapsed. The place is destroyed. We would have been on those lanes, inspecting the gutters if we went there like we had planned to.” I was stunned. Taking it in, I didn’t say anything. After a moment, I asked, “Was anyone hurt?” “No. They were closing up and at the entrance door when it happened, all the damage was on the lanes. Tony, the place is completely wrecked. We would have been killed if we were there.” Then Ken said what I was thinking. “You saved our lives last night. If you weren’t sick, we would have been crushed to death.” We were both quiet for a moment, then we agreed to meet for breakfast. Both of us didn’t say much while we ate, but we did talk about what happened. After breakfast, I told him that I was going back home. He understood, and wished me safe travels. On the way, I thought long and hard about the whole incident. I realized that once again whatever physic ability I may have, played a part in this. Only this time, it saved my life. 
Tony Tremblay is the writer of numerous short stories that have been published in various horror anthologies, horror magazines, and webzines under his pen name, T T Zuma. Tremblay has also worked as a reviewer of horror fiction for Cemetery Dance Magazine and Horror World. In addition to his print work, Tremblay is the host of That Taco Society Presents, a cable T. V. show (also available on You Tube) that features discussions on horror as well as guest interviews with horror authors. The author lives in New Hampshire. The Moore House is released next month by Haverhill House Publishing, but in the meantime make sure to to check out Tony's other books by clicking here
With The Moore House, Tony Tremblay (author of The Seeds of Nightmares) takes us on a terrifying journey. Three excommunicated nuns, Nora, Agnes, and Celeste, join a paranormal unit sanctioned by the Catholic Church, in the hopes for redemption in God’s eyes. As empaths, their jobs are to verify reports of demonic possession, and when their boss, Father MacLeod, is persuaded to investigate a house in a small New Hampshire town, the three women are chosen to assess these claims. Goffstown police files detail numerous extraordinary occurrences at the Moore House, including seven gruesome, unsolved killings. For this reason, the three empaths are instructed not to enter the dwelling, but to employ their abilities while circling outside the house. Nora, Agnes, and Celeste proclaim it free of supernatural forces, but they are wrong…dead wrong.
The three women discover their presence is part of a larger plan. The Moore House is not only possessed, but it soon possesses them, forcing them to relive the sins that had resulted in their excommunications. Their belief in God and redemption dissolving, they becomes pawns in a demonic scheme, a means to an end, in which Father MacLeod is their only hope. But Father MacLeod has made his own deal with the devil, and the devil is ready to collect. The Moore House, a novel described as Ghost Story meets The exorcist, will posses you as well. 
PARASITE LIFE BY VICTORIA DALPEComments are closed.
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