The Dollmaker

Site is now Static

2007-11-14T21:35:00.000-06:00

I'm shutting down this blog now that my next thriller release, The Devil's Footprints, will be out soon. For more information, please visit my website, my blog, and/or my Myspace site.

Duran Duran meets The Dollmaker

2007-04-22T11:43:00.000-06:00

photo of the week...

2007-03-23T08:41:00.000-06:00

Devil Doll

photo credit and design: Steven Amann

One of the entries in the Creepy Doll contest I'm running on my website.

new trailer...

2007-03-23T08:40:00.000-06:00

You can watch a new trailer for The Dollmaker here.

what is the deal with dolls...

2007-03-08T17:00:00.000-06:00

The Abandoned

A film producer who was adopted as a baby and sent to America, returns to her native Russia and the family farm. Once there, strange things begin to happen including the disappearance of her guide, the manifestation of ghosts (including her own!) and the appearance of another man who has been drawn to the farm for the same reasons. Written by Tim Hayes

Dead Silence

There is an old ghost story in the sleepy town of Ravens Fair about Mary Shaw, a ventriloquist who went mad. Accused of the murder of a young boy, she was hunted down by vengeful townspeople who cut out her tongue and killed her. They buried her along with her "children," a hand-made collection of vaudeville dolls.
Since that time, Ravens Fair has been plagued by death. The ghastly dolls from Mary Shaw's collection have gone missing from the grave and reappeared over the decades. In the dead of night--wherever they are glimpsed--families are found gruesomely murdered...with their tongues torn out.

The Sleeping Doll

Deaver's most frightening villain to date, Pell is a master of control, who mesmerizes, seduces, and exploits people for his own murderous ends. To track down Pell before he destroys more lives, Kathryn Dance must enlist the help of people from the killer's past: the three women who lived under his sadistic sway in the cult he once headed, as well as the young girl known as The Sleeping Doll, the only survivor of her family's slaughter at Pell's hand.

photo of the week...

2007-02-15T14:18:00.000-06:00

They wait. They watch. They take...

Sleep with the light on.

doll gardens...

2007-02-07T19:19:00.000-06:00

The trees in the woods out back of our house are already starting to bud, which is cool because I don't really like barren limbs. I'm not a cold weather person. I'm like the tree frogs in Bermuda. If the temperature drops below sixty, I stop whistling.

Soon it'll be time to head off to the nursury to get new bedding plants. The courtyard is a mess, and I can't wait get it cleaned up and see some flowers again!

the book...

2007-02-05T22:32:00.000-06:00

Only three weeks until The Dollmaker hits the bookstores, and I'm getting very excited (and nervous) about my thriller debut. I'm hoping it does well because this is exactly the kind of book I love to write--dark, creepy, and disturbing.

The most daunting aspect of book publication these days is all the self-promotion an author is expected to do. I'm pretty much a hermit. Days go by that I don't leave the house. So needless to say I'm not looking forward to the public speaking engagements and book signings, but I am enjoying a lot of the online promotion I've been doing. I've started a plog on Amazon and I've joined MySpace, which is awesome. I've heard a lot of people complain about MySpace, but I love it and the potential for networking is mind-boggling. I've met some of the coolest people there, including bands like Breathe (I use their song The Laughing Dolls on this blog and they are amazing. Please check out their website and their MySpace.

If you're already on MySpace, please drop by and add me as a friend. Feel free to leave a comment or send me an email. Communication is always welcome and answered.

photo of the week...

2007-02-04T01:03:00.000-06:00

Creepy and Life-like

photo credit: tomato power

creepy doll costume...

2007-02-04T00:48:00.000-06:00

From EC Costumes:
Need a really creepy costume? Our Creepy Doll womens costume will do the trick! A great value. Costume includes dress and Creepy Mask. Holes in top front of mask allow you to pull your own hair through to give a true doll-hair effect.

photo of the week...

2007-01-30T15:10:00.000-06:00

"Sometimes it can be really hard to drag yourself out of the coffin in the evening! Somebody give this doll some coffee!!!"

photo and caption: welovethedark

ugly art dolls...

2007-01-21T11:43:00.000-06:00

Ugly Art Dolls by Ugly Shyla

Featured here a baby doll head necklace ($15.00).

photo of the week...

2007-01-19T10:57:00.000-06:00

"I Would Invite You In But, Well, There's Been Some ... Unpleasantness."

photo credit: welovethedark

genie for sale on ebay...

2007-01-17T22:42:00.000-06:00

As her eyes gaze upon you from your screen...

You shall know the powers of the red moon that she releases....

they want to play with you...

2007-01-16T16:42:00.000-06:00

Dolls (1987)

"Ya know, I can remember every toy I had as a kid. "
"And they remember you, Ralph. Toys are very loyal, and that is a fact."

A group of travelers spend the night in the mansion of an elderly couple who are dollmakers. However, one of the travelers' children discovers that the dolls the couple makes are actually humans that the couple has miniaturized and turned into tools for their evil plans.

sinister dolls...

2007-01-16T16:31:00.000-06:00

See Chad Savage's one of a kind, hand-made little dead dolls here...

"They lived. They died. They were raised from the grave.

Sinister Dolls were once ordinary dolls.

Each one belonged to a child, for better or worse. Perhaps it was loved by the child, perhaps it was left, dusty and forgotten, under the bed. The doll lived its life, regardless of its status in the child's affections, and it eventually came to its inevitable end.

The doll died.

Every doll dies its own death, in its own way. Most are simply outgrown. Some become too dirty or too ugly. Some get deformed or damaged. But die they do, and when they die, they are buried in the Thrift Store Cemetery.

That's where Chad Savage goes grave robbing.

Dead dolls are unearthed from their second-hand tombs and brought back to the Sinister Studio for revivification. They are embalmed with black gesso, then brought back to life with careful and thoughtful hand-painting. Each doll has its own story, so each doll gets its own face. A hand-stitched costume is the crowning touch, and voila!

A Sinister Doll is born."

living dead dolls...

2007-01-14T22:16:00.000-06:00

A very interesting website where dolls come with death certificates and the dollmakers are called morticians.

photo of the week...

2007-01-12T16:00:00.000-06:00

"Excavated Porcelain Doll Head"

Photo credit: Godzuki

beware of the dollmaker...

2007-01-12T15:55:00.000-06:00

Everyone should have a "Beware of the Dollmaker" hoodie.

photo of the week...

2007-01-06T02:58:00.000-06:00

"Waiting to be Dolls"

photo credit: cisley

the inspiration...

2007-01-06T02:55:00.000-06:00

“There's something else I saw that night in the museum. Cathy had a habit of wearing an earring in her right ear. She had the lobe of her right ear only pierced for that. But that's there, too. How could he see that in a photograph? How can he make it so real unless...”

“What?”

“Unless it is Cathy.”

Those lines of dialogue are from the 1953 horror movie classic “House of Wax” starring the incomparable Vincent Price. It’s been years since I saw that film, but the scene where the heroine first spots her murdered friend’s face on the wax figure of Joan of Arc still gives me chills. The discovery of a tiny piercing in the figure’s right ear lobe—the clue that eventually unravels a dark and dastardly obsession—would later become the inspiration for my first thriller, The Dollmaker.

Fast forward twenty-five years, and a friend gives me a ‘twin’ catalog. Send them a photograph and an artist will create a doll in your child’s likeness. There was nothing dastardly about the catalog or the business. The images inside were perfectly lovely. Beautiful children posed with look-alike dolls. And yet I found myself creeped out every time I looked at that catalog. I knew there was a story in there somewhere, so I tucked those images away in the back of my mind, along with the scene from “House of Wax”.

It was still several years before the idea took hold, but when it did, a scene came to me as vividly as if I were watching a movie. A woman walking down the street stops in front of a collectibles shop window. Inside, seated at a tiny table set for tea, is a doll that is the spitting image of her missing daughter. The likeness was uncanny...right down to a tiny birthmark painted on the doll’s left arm.

“That doll,” Claire said hoarsely. She couldn’t look away from it.

“The one at the little table?”

“Charlotte, it’s her.”

“You mean the one you want to get Lucille?”

“Don’t you see it?”

“For God’s sake, see what?”

“That doll looks just like Ruby.”

And so begins the journey.

the dollmaker soundtrack...

2007-01-03T23:41:00.000-06:00

The Dollmaker soundtrack is now available as an iMix from Itunes.

the doll...

2007-01-03T12:14:00.000-06:00

"Dead But Dreaming"
Fields of the Nephilim

photo credit: flickr

The doll is sold to a French Quarter collectibles shop.

The doll was getting to him. She was so lifelike that anyone glancing through the shop window might mistake her for a pretty little blond-headed girl.

But up close, the eyes gave her away. They looked like pieces of turquoise. Travis McSwain had never seen real eyes that color.

He didn’t like staring at her for too long because his mind kept playing tricks on him. Earlier, when he’d packed her up to bring her into the city, he could have sworn those glass eyes followed his every move. Gave him the chills so bad he’d had half a mind to chuck her in the swamp. But he needed the money and so here he was.

The shopkeeper glanced up from her inspection. “She’s stunning. Absolutely breathtaking. If you’ll just give me a few more minutes we can discuss your payment terms.”

“Take your time,” Travis muttered, but he wished to hell the woman would hurry up. The sooner he got rid of the doll the sooner he’d breathe a lot easier.

Something about that porcelain face creeped him out a little. It was almost as if Travis had seen her before, in a dream maybe, but he didn’t see how that was possible. She was one of a kind.

madeline...

2007-01-03T12:11:00.000-06:00

"At the Gates of Silent Memory"
Fields of the Nephilim

She waits for him...

Travis slowed his steps. She was the same woman he’d seen earlier on Bourbon Street.

Their gazes connected as he approached and a shiver slid up his spine. She had the palest face he’d ever laid eyes on. He knew he’d never seen her before tonight, but there was something eerily familiar about her features. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

She smiled and the skin at the back of his neck crawled. Who the hell was she?

Spooked by that smile, Travis decided to keep on walking, but as he passed her by, she said in a low voice, “Can I trouble you for a light?”

Not exactly an original line, but curiosity got the better of him and he reached in his pocket for a lighter. Turning, he shielded the flame with his cupped hand as she lifted a cigarette to her lips. They were nice lips. Not too full, not too thin. It was only when she smiled that something seemed off about her mouth.

She took a pull and slowly exhaled the smoke, then handed the cigarette to Travis. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it, but when he took a drag, she didn’t seem to mind.

“So what are you doing out here all by your lonesome?” he asked.

“Killing time.”

“Kind of dangerous to be out here alone. Nothing but freaks in the Quarter.”

She smiled. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

dave's return...

2007-01-03T12:08:00.000-06:00

"Renaissance" Virgin Black

photo credit: alexey Sergeev

Dave returns to New Orleans...

Twilight always fell anxiously over the Big Easy, especially when it rained. That’s when the ghosts came out. A wisp of steam rising from the wet pavement. The murmur of voices from a hidden courtyard. Something dark and stealthy moving in the shadows, and suddenly you were reminded of a past that wouldn’t stay buried.

New Orleans was like that. A city of memories, Dave Creasy always called it. A city of secrets and whispers and the kind of regret that could eat you up inside. Like the wrong woman, it got in a man’s blood, destroyed the soul, made you feel alive and dead at the same time. And on a hot, rainy night--when the ghosts came out--it could be the loneliest place on earth.

Welcome back, a voice whispered in Dave’s head as he lifted his face, eyes closed, and listened to the rustle of rain through the white oleanders that drooped over a crumbling brick wall along St. Peter.

It was strange how the city could still seduce him. He’d been born and raised in New Orleans, and like everyone else he knew, there’d been a time when he couldn’t wait to get out. Now he couldn’t seem to stay away. The ghosts wouldn’t let him.

looking for maddy...

2007-01-03T12:05:00.000-06:00

"Sleepless"
Voice Industrie

Modern Doll by Phillipe Faraut

"I know you're in there..."

Everything was fine. The party would go off without a hitch. All he had to do was close his eyes and remember Maddy’s face.

He sighed. If only it were that simple. But even with the old photograph he’d squirreled away years ago, he’d always had a difficult time reconstructing her winsome features.

Not that he wasn’t talented enough. He was quite gifted, in fact, and he’d learned from a master. But for the Maddy doll and for the others in his private collection, each and every detail had to be perfect. Such meticulousness could be maddening without a live model, but he wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up. For Maddy’s sake, he had to keep trying. He owed her that much.

Closing his eyes, he waited for the shivering to pass, and then wielding the sculptor’s knife as precisely as a scalpel, he set to work remolding the delicate features one sliver at a time until the lovely little face seemed to take on a life of its own.

“You’re in there,” he whispered. “I can feel you...”

claire's sorrow...

2007-01-03T12:02:00.000-06:00

"Alone in a Crowd"
Covenant of Thorns

photo credit: chat in the hat

Claire still sees Ruby in every crowd...

The dark clouds piling up over the Gulf of Mexico brought an early twilight to the city, but Claire Doucett barely noticed the sporadic raindrops that splashed against her cotton blouse as she hurried along the sidewalk. Her gaze was fastened on a group of teenage girls in front of her, and as they stopped to admire something in a shop window, she paused, too, her heart beating a painful staccato inside her chest. Their backs were to her, but when the one in the middle turned just so...dear God, she looked like Ruby.

At least the way Claire imagined her daughter would look at fourteen. The way she appeared in the age-progressed photo created by a forensic artist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited children.

She would be tall like her dad, but with Claire’s thin stature and her Grandmother Lucille’s golden ringlets.The girl in front of her shook her head and her blond curls swung against her narrow back. She wore shorts and flip-flops and her legs were long and tanned and gorgeous. Her laughter drifted back to Claire, sending a fine chill along her spine, and her heart started to beat even harder.

There was something so sweet and innocent and familiar about that sound.

claire's discovery...

2007-01-03T11:58:00.000-06:00

"The Gates of Heaven"
The New York Room
photo credit: x99elledge

The doll in the window looks exactly like Ruby...

...but Claire barely heard her. Mignon’s Collectibles was just across the street, and her gaze was fixed on the doll in the front window. Attired in a pink ruffled dress and black patent leather Mary Janes, she was seated at a tiny table decorated with a miniature tea set.

The doll’s face was so cleverly sculpted and painted that Claire had to stare for several moments before convincing herself that she wasn’t seeing a beautiful child seated at the table.

A child who looked exactly like Ruby.

Claire’s heart started to race as she stared at the doll. She tried to tell herself that the sighting of the teenager earlier had triggered her imagination. Ruby was already on her mind.

But the golden hair. That sweet smile. The little ruffled dress...

She put a trembling hand to her mouth.

a strange party...

2007-01-03T11:56:00.000-06:00

"The Drama of the Wicked"
Vision Bleak

Photo credit: The Lawton Doll Company

Dressed in their finest...

Dressed in their finest, they were seated around a small, rectangular table, one at the end and two on either side of her. At the far end of the table, the sixth chair stood empty. For now.

The Dollmaker had set the table with Maddy’s best tea set and he’d made her favorite cake with strawberry icing. Her presents were piled on either side of her chair, as if waiting for tiny fingers to rip off the colorful bows and tear away the tissue paper.

claire's dream...

2007-01-03T11:53:00.000-06:00

"The Host of Seraphim"
Dead Can Dance

Photo credit: Alexey Sergeev

Claire dreams about Ruby...

A door appeared in front of her and she heard Ruby sobbing inside the room. Slowly, Claire’s hand reached for the knob. When she drew back the door, a shaft of sunlight spilled into the darkened room. A little girl sat at a small table, her head buried in her arms. Claire called out her daughter’s name and the child lifted her head. But it wasn’t Ruby. It was the little girl from the news.

Claire started toward her, but Alex’s voice said from behind her, “She’s dead, Claire. Leave her be.”

She turned to search for him in the narrow alley, but he was hidden in the shadows. And then when he stepped into the light, she saw that it was Dave. His lips moved, but he made no sound at all. When he realized that she didn’t understand him, he lifted a hand and pointed behind her. Claire turned slowly back to the door. The little girl was gone and in her place was the golden-haired doll from the shop window.

Clare glanced over her shoulder at Dave. He reached out to her now, as if to stop her, but she shook her head and walked through the door.

She glided across the room and picked up the doll. The porcelain felt warm and soft in her arms, like human flesh, but when the doll slipped from her grasp and hit the stone floor, the fragile face shattered into a million pieces.

a macabre display...

2007-01-03T11:50:00.000-06:00

"Doll House"
Switchblade Symphony

Photo credit: Oscar Garcia

A grotesque tableau of doll heads...

Even with light spilling in, the back of the shop was dim and shadowy and it took Claire’s eyes a moment to adjust. Then she took a step inside and glanced around. The space was apparently used as a storage area and workroom. One side was equipped with a sink, microwave and an old Frigidaire, and on the other side, shelves were crammed with cardboard boxes and packing materials.

And scattered across the surface of a work table, a grotesque tableau of doll heads, torsos, and a pile of glass eyes.

The mangled dolls were creepy and unnerving in the gloomy light, and when the door closed behind Claire, she jumped in spite of herself.

The room was cold. Someone had turned down the thermostat, and at first the frigid temperature was a relief from the relentless heat outside. But as Claire lingered just inside the door, she had to rub her hands up and down her arms to ward off a chill.

Crystal beads covered the entrance to the shop, and the strands tinkled softly in the air that flowed from a nearby vent.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Claire called as she moved nervously toward the beads. “I’ve been waiting outside for your shop to open. Your sign says ten. It’s after that now.”

No one was there. Whoever she’d spotted earlier must have stepped out for a few minutes and left the door unlocked. If they came back and found Claire there, she could be in big trouble for trespassing. But now that she was finally inside, it would take more than the prospect of jail to deter her from searching for that doll.

the doll cemetery...

2007-01-03T11:47:00.000-06:00

"Leda's Secret"
Die Form

Photo credit: Alexey Sergeev

Nothing to worry about...

Mist settled over the bayou as Matthew guided his pirogue through the cattails and lily pads that grew thick against the bank. Night had fallen and the half-submerged cypress trees were black against the starlit sky. A bullfrog croaked nearby and he could see the gleam of beady eyes in the darkness, the twinkle of lightning bugs through the bushes. His oars dipped rhythmically in the water as he moved deeper into the swamp.

Rounding a sharp bend, he saw a light on the water up ahead. His pulse quickened as his gaze dropped to the bundle at his feet, and he saw that the blanket had shifted, exposing a tiny, pale hand in the moonlight.

Careful.

His very presence in the swamp at this hour could arouse suspicions, and if anyone saw what he had in his boat, let alone if they followed him to his destination...

the journey ends...

2007-01-03T11:45:00.000-06:00

"Last Exit for the Lost"
Fields of the Nephilim

Photo credit: Dollworks