About Me

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I am a writer of all things supernatural, and some things not. In September '08 I decided I wanted to pursue my dream of becoming a writer. Since then I have gotten a Diploma in Creative Writing from Kilroys College in Dublin. I struggled to find a home for my stories until August 2010. Since then I've had around 70 stories accepted for publication from small presses such as; Pill Hill Press, Wicked East Press, and Static Movement. My first collection of short stories "Strings" is currently on sale, and my short novel Love's Curse is set for release late May 2015. I am determined to continue with achieving my dream and hopefully entertain you while I do. Thank you everyone, and I hope you enjoy my work.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

The Midnight Chill Podcast on Soundcloud and Youtube

Hey guys,

Sorry I've been MIA for a long time, but I'm back again and this time I've brought with me my brand new podcast. Every Tuesday I will be bringing you one of my stories in audio form. The Podcast will be available on soundcloud at https://soundcloud.com/themidnightchill and also on Youtube at https://www.youtube.com/user/dubhdara

I hope you guys will give it a listen, and maybe even a like or subscription. And don't forget to let me know your thoughts.

This is just my way of promoting my work. I've never been the best at facebook, twitter or instagram but I think with this I can reach a wider audience.

But anyway, without further ado, here is episode 5 of The Midnight Chill. You can find the others either in the links or the button above.

So sit back, relax and enjoy The Midnight Chill.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Brand New STRINGS!!!

I'm delighted to announce that as of May 19th 2015 Strings is once again on sale.

It has been upgraded with a brand new cover, and the interior is now professional standard!

But why not see for yourselves...:)

Here are the links where you can buy your copy, and please leave a review once you have experienced all the pleasures(or horrors) Strings has to offer...:)

Amazon US
Amazon UK

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Read Me a Story Blog Hop

Hi everyone, and thank you for coming to my little corner of the web!

I'd like to share with you the first part of my short story "Red Alert" from my first book "STRINGS".
Strings is a collection of horror short stories,and was only published there last month.

Red Alert

Gerald sat at the bar while his wife was off socialising with other men. That was all that seemed to happen nowadays. They would go out to dinner, then on to a bar where she’d grab the drink he’d paid for and saunter off to mingle. He hated that, he felt like he was being used. He knew he was being used.
Fifteen years of marriage and it was as if he was no more than another acquaintance for her to bump into when they are out. She spent more time talking to other men, flirting with other men, than looking him in the eye. These days she barely looked at him at all.
The downward slope of their marriage had started three weeks ago, right after he’d been fired. It had been a high-end job, with a salary of over a hundred grand a year. The company had blamed it on the recession, but Gerald knew they had wanted him out for ages.
Since then his wife had acted like he was nothing to her. Though she spent all his money on clothes, makeovers, lunch dates, anything that didn’t require her to work, she still looked down her nose at him because he no longer had a job. Putting a limit on her credit card a week ago was unacceptable in her eyes.
Gerald knew what she was doing with those other men right now. She was fishing to see who had the biggest wallet. She had been the last three or four nights they were out. After fifteen years with the gold-digging whore he could read every shallow thought in her head. But then again, he’d known from that first night with her. She was no deeper than one of her overly-expensive drinks.
He knew she hated stubble, but he didn’t care. After so many years of shaving every day, he was happy to let a little shadow shine through. That was unacceptable; her man had to be clean shaven and dressed to perfection at all times.
Gerald had had enough of it. Tonight he sat with his five o’clock shadow, a pair of loose jeans, and a faded shirt with the top buttons open. He actually felt good for a change, relaxed. Maybe this was what he’d been missing, locked up in that office, slaving for a wife who was more like a stranger than a companion. He felt like he was being reborn, one day at a time.
Laughter flooded the room. Gerald looked over his shoulder recognising that laugh. His wife stood surrounded by three admirers. Her hand was resting on the shoulder of one man with a casual but intentful gesture. His hand was on her lower back, caressing the new satin dress she’d insisted on buying today before they could go out. The hand was slowly sliding south. Gerald knew she would do nothing to stop it. After all, that would defeat the purpose of that stupid laugh.
He signalled to the bartender. A new glass was placed in front of him, as was the way in this place. He couldn’t remember a time when the same glass was used twice without being washed. It was typical of the places she dragged him to. Thinking about it now, in all their married days, she’d always chosen where they went. But yet, there was one good thing about this place; outside.
Outside the bar there were seats and tables where you could just lay back and watch the night fall on the ocean.
Gerald got up, sank his remaining whiskey and lifted the fresh glass. He walked toward the exit. Through the tinted-glass wall he could already see where he would sit, a little armchair accompanied by a table where he could rest his glass while he watched the tide coming in as dusk descended.
He didn’t look around to see if she was watching him leave, he knew she wasn’t, and he didn’t care. The relief of not caring was one of the new additions to his life over the last week or so.
Gerald opened the door and the salt air smashed into his face. He took a deep breath and made his way to the seat he’d spied through the window. The sun would be setting in less than half an hour and already the sky was beginning to burn. This is more like it. Smiling, he looked out over the horizon and sank into the seat.
He was noticing things he never had before. Tiny droplets of water touched his skin. He was sure they were from the waves, though the beach was at least five hundred yards away. Then there were the cries of seagulls; something he hadn’t heard in a long time. Those things, made this moment that little bit more special.
Someone sat down on the seat next to him, but he kept his gaze on the ocean.
A soft female voice spoke. “Beautiful sunset isn’t it?”
Gerald turned to face the woman beside him. She smiled and he found himself smiling back. “It is.,” he said.  
He could feel the power behind her eyes trapping his gaze, and he welcomed it. He could not look away.
“Tell me,” her eyes seemed to zone in on his as she leaned slightly toward him. “Why are you out here on your own, when your wife is in there clearly getting ready to fuck one of those men?” Her eyes burned intensely.
“Because I don’t care, at this stage of my life, my wife is nothing more than a word, a title.”
“Ah,” she said, shifting her gaze to the ocean, her smile never faltering. “So, at this stage of your life what is it you want?”
Gerald watched her as he reached for the glass. The brown liquid eased down his throat and he thought for a moment. “Simplicity.”
“A wise choice,” she replied, “but that’s easier said than done.”
“Maybe this time last month I would have believed you, but not now. Now, everything is simple.” Gerald looked back to the ocean and the setting sun that had burned up the sky above it.
“I admire your spirit. I haven’t seen one like it in an eternity.”
Gerald said nothing, but he was happy. For the first time in years, he could truly say that. And the conversation with this woman made him feel even better. He raised the glass to his lips again.
The woman leaned over and grabbed his free hand.
“Here’s a little gift for you.” She put something on his palm, folded his fingers over it and held his fist closed. Her touch was gentle and felt good. “If you want to get rid of your wife, to make things simple, take this when you are alone together.”
“What is it?”
“It’s called Red Alert. It can be used only once. Use it wisely.”
Gerald looked down and was about to open his hand when he realised he was alone. He looked around to see where she had gone, but there was no sign of her. Confused, he unfolded his fingers to see what she had given him. It was a small vial containing some sort of red liquid. He had no idea what it was, other than the name she’d told him, Red Alert.
Deciding that he’d get no answers right now, he put the vial in his pocket and rolled the remaining whiskey in his mouth as the burning sky began to turn black.

I hope you enjoyed it, and if you'd like to read the rest, Strings is available on Amazon US and Amazon UK

Thanks again for taking the time to read my work, and I hope you enjoyed it.


Sunday, August 3, 2014

So come August 20th, 2014. Nocturnal Press Publications will be publishing my first collection of short stories, Strings.

It consists of 33 of my finest stories from early 2009 till late 2011.

This has been a real looooong time in the making for me, and I'm delighted to be in the home stretch. After having such back luck with this collection early on, it now feels like a huge weight is being lifted off my shoulders. I can't wait to have the printed copy in my hands!!!!

It'll be available for pre-order soon from the publishers website: http://www.npuniverse.com/books/strings/


Friday, May 3, 2013

Another Blog Hop...

Once again I have been tagged to do a Blog Hop by the wonderfully talented Miss Emma Ennis, Author of Red Wine and Words. A fantastic collection of short stories, and it's on sale now over at Amazon.co.uk Click the link above and go grab yourself a copy!

What are you working on right now?
Right now I am finishing up my second collection of short stories. (I know... I know... The first one isn't even out yet, but that's not my fault! If it had of been released last year when it was supposed to, then this would be the perfect time to get another ready. But I've learned that if you wait around for people to do something for you, you never get anything done. You never progress!)
So yeah, second collection, and I'm really excited about it. How much I have grown as a writer in the last few years is reflected in this book.
I'm also working on a Novella in the background, but I'm not going to say too much about that just yet..:)

What experiences have influenced you?
As I mentioned above, the experience of waiting, wishing, willing, and hoping, for my first collection to be published has taught me a lot. At the beginning when it was accepted I fell away from writing because I was excited for it to come out, then it didn't, and still hasn't. The despair you feel waiting for it to happen, been told it was gonna happen, and then it doesn't, really takes it's toll on you. I've learned though that once it's out of your hands you have to let go of it, (no matter how hard it is) and move on to the next story. Always move on! It keeps you from loosing focus of your dream when others don't even know they are destroying it...

How does it differ from other works in its genre?
Does one collection really differ from another? Of course they do, but that's only in the way the stories are told. It's my Voice that makes it different. It's me, it's how I tell and create stories that makes my book differ from others. It may be good, it may be terrible, but it's me, and that's what makes it different.

Why do you write what you do?
When I think back to my childhood I remember being told loads of ghost stories. As an adolescent my brother got me hooked on Stephen King, and I read as many of his books as I could get my hands on. So basically I've been around Horror my whole life, and I love it. Books, films, games, you name it, anything goes. :)

How does your writing process work?
Basically I get an idea in my head and go with it. Unless I have this vast idea, I won't sit down and plan it out. I just write, I suppose I write as a reader. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, or a bad thing, but that's how I do it.

What is the hardest part about writing?
Keeping motivated, as I said above. Also, staying focused and committed to writing everyday. Some days you just get lazy and that will roll on to the next, and the next, and before you know it you're at the end of the month and way behind on your word target...

What would you like to try as a writer that you haven't yet?
A Novel.
This is the one thing that has eluded me so far. I've had attempts at writing ones but I seem to loose focus and move on to something else. I have a novel attempt from four or five years ago sitting at 33,000 words. I've one I started last year sitting at 25,000 words, and another at 15,000, but somehow I just can't stay with it long enough to finish it, yet.
My stories are getting longer though. They are turning into Novelettes and Novellas, where as before they would have ended up somewhere between 1,000 and 4,000 words. So maybe it's just progress, and to be honest, it's probably working out better this way.

Who are the authors you most admire?
Stephen King, James Herbert, Neil Gaiman, are the guys I've been reading for years. I recently got into reading George R.R. Martin, and I love his A Song of Ice and Fire series.
An up and coming Author I really admire is, Ray Cluley. I found Ray's work in the pages of Black Static and I've loved them all. Ray is the future of Horror! Yes, you heard it here first!

Who are new authors to watch out for?
Ray Cluley - Seriously, check this guy out! You'll love him.
Emma Ennis - Her collection is brilliant, and she has more in store for us!
Thom Erb - Thom's Novella, Tones of Home is amazing, and will be released real soon.
Charles Day - The future master of YA Horror.
Brady Allen - Another master of the craft. Go check out his awesome collection.
Mark Taylor - My publishing brother! You'll love his collection when it comes out.

What scares you?
In terms of Horror, reading/writing/watching... Well then that would be possession. That shit creeps me out!! I don't shy away from it by any means, but it does give me a wave of goosebumps...


That's enough from me for one day, but next week I pass the buck to a few good friends of mine. Don't forget to check them out and see what answers they come up with.

Thom Erb
Charles Day

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

Hey everyone... I've been asked by my good friend and fellow author Thomas A. Erb to participate in The Next Big Thing Blog Hop. Last week he answered the questions I will be answering below, so make sure you head on over and read all about the cool new Retro Zombie Novella he's working on.

These questions are focused on a Novel or Novella, but as I'm still working on my Novel, I'm going to bend the rules slightly and talk about my upcoming collection of short stories.

1. What is the working title of your book?

2. Where did the idea come from for the book?
 Well the idea came to put a collection together when I saw the submission call at Wicked East Press for Single Author Collections. I already had a good few stories published and then I realized I had almost enough to fill a book and it really just took off from there.

3. What genre does your book fall under?
 Horror, although one or two may easily fall into Dark Fantasy.

4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
 Wow, now this is a pretty tough question...
But I suppose someone like Kate Beckinsale as Sophie, in, A Hikers Life. Chris Hemsworth could be a good, Akuya, and I think Jason Statham would be great as Argharna Rendall, in, Fighting the Curse.

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
 Invisible Strings hold and bind us all together, but what happens when the strings of reality get worn down, frayed, or even snap..? Contained within are such tales that will make you pray those strings are never broken.

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
 Wicked East Press will be publishing this book.

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
Well the first published story was Kumari, that was written June 2009, and the last story that went into the collection was, Till Death Do Us Part, August 2011... So a little over two years.

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
 Possibly in the line of Neil Gaiman's or Stephen King's collections of stories.

9. Who or What inspired you to write this book?
 Family and friends kept me going at the start, but then when I got into the rhythm of writing regularly it was very easy to stay motivated. Also, my love for writing, and with an imagination that runs wild it's hard not to stay inspired.

10. What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?
Well with 33 tales, there's something for everyone. We have Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts, Weddings, Spiders, Fairies, Games of Poker and Pool, Delicious Halloween Pies, Zombies, Isolation, Lost, Love, and Many Creatures Not From This World...
All Contained Under One Roof!!

To finish off The Next Big Thing Blog Hop, I introduce you to three fantastic writers.

Emma Ennis
Mark Taylor
Brady Allen

Make sure to check them out, and remember.. Next week, 12th December.. They will answer all the above questions... I can't wait!!

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Story: Christmas Eve and the Little Girl

Christmas Eve and the Little Girl
by Darren Gallagher

“I’m going to bed honey, you coming?” Sarah asked walking into the living room.
   “Not just yet. I want to finish this first.” Malcolm tilted the glass of brown liquid toward her, the glow of the fire making it lighter than normal.
   “Okay, well I’m going on up. The kids will be up at the crack of dawn to see what Santa has left them, and I want a good sleep before that.” Sarah smiled and kissed him before walking away.
   “I’ll not be long.”
   Malcolm loved this time of year; he always had ever since he was a little kid. The warm fire blazing as the snow fell outside, making the cold winter air non-existent. The Christmas tree decorated and twinkling with loads of different coloured lights, but most of all was the time he got to spend with his family. Christmas always made everyone happy and it created the warmest memories.
   Malcolm rested the glass on his lap and then glanced out the window. The snow was still falling but he now had a better view over the countryside as a pale moon light somehow managed to break through the thick snow clouds. Malcolm figured they were thinning and it would stop snowing soon.
   Lights from the room glazed over the window spoiling his view so he reached around and turned off the lamp that was beside him and then switched off the TV. Only the tree lights and dancing flames flickered around the room and on the window now. He didn’t mind that however, he knew these precious moments were ones to be savoured.
   As he raised the glass to his lips again he saw something moving along the road at the bottom of his garden. At this distance he could just see the colour, a small red blob slowly drifting through the snow. Malcolm got up of the seat and went to the window; he wanted to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the fire.
   When he got there he could see that it was a person, a tiny person no bigger than a child. A thought struck him with terror, Why would a child be out there alone on such a night?
   As he focused more intensely on it, he noticed something large was moving directly behind the red figure. It was completely white and had blended into the snowy backdrop. It was too big and far too long to be another person. Malcolm couldn't quite make out what it was but he knew for certain that he wasn’t imagining it.
   The thought of a child wandering alone out there in this weather struck him again. His paternal instinct kicked in and he set the glass down on the windowsill and ran to get his coat and boots.
   As soon as he opened the front door, cold air blasted against him and he wanted to shut it again. Malcolm resisted and pulled his coat tighter around his neck and set off down the garden as fast as he could in the fresh snow. It was difficult getting any kind of momentum and he felt stupid for running through the garden instead of down the gravelled drive.
   He was half way now however and he could see that it was a little girl. She was wearing a red coat and matching trousers, while a white bobble on her hat broke up the redness of her clothes. Her scarf fluttered away from her neck by the strong wind that had pushed against him since he left the house.
   She was leading a huge white horse by the bridle and it walked in perfect compliance behind her. Malcolm couldn’t believe his eyes, the horse was at least three times her height, and its head alone was the same size as her.  Malcolm knew if at any point it wanted to get away that those powerful legs would trample the girl to death with one slight movement. Yet it walked beside her in a docile, yet sullen mood, like it had been reprimanded for doing something wrong.
   There was nothing else on the horse except for the bridle. Its whiteness was broken only by the slight creamy tinge in its mane and tail. Malcolm had now reached the fence at the bottom of the garden and he could see its powerful muscles move with every step it took.
   “Little girl?” He called out as snow was blown into his face.
She was about ten feet away from him, walking in the opposite direction. There was no response from her, or any acknowledgement that she’d even heard him.
   “Little girl,” he called again, climbing over the fence. “What are you doing out here?”
   Again, no response.
   Malcolm ran down the road after her and slowed when he was just behind her. “Hey, little girl. What are you doing out here all alone?” He said reaching forward and grabbing her shoulder, turning her around slowly as he hunched down to meet her at eye level. It was only then that he’d realised his mistake. This was no little girl.
   The thing that he was now staring at had skin like really old leather, clumped and wrinkly, and was a deep greenish-brown. Its eyes were glowing bands of deep orange with black vertical slits, and its nose rose into a point when it hissed at Malcolm.
   Fear froze him, but he knew he needed to get away. Before he even had a chance to move a clawed hand came toward his face and cut four deep gashes into the side of his right cheek. Malcolm screamed and jumped up. As he turned to run the other hand slashed at his left thigh. It cut through the muscles and severed the tendons along with his femoral artery.
   The pain sent shock waves through his body, causing him to stop breathing for a slight second until his body slammed off the ground. Malcolm tried to scurry away but with the blood flowing out of his body and the immense pain he was too weak and could only watch as the little girl – the little demon, came walking toward him.
   It walked right up between his legs and stood up on his hips. It snarled down at him with its hands raised ready to pounce. Malcolm could see the razor sharp claws through his fading vision and was waiting for the strike; it came instantly.
   Both sets of claws slashed through his coat and tore his stomach to shreds. Malcolm attempted to roar out but nothing came from his throat, it wouldn’t even allow him to breathe.
   Darkness crawled in from the corner of his eyes and he no longer felt any pain as the cold winter pulled the heat from his body.
   The creature he’d mistaken for a little girl turned and stepped off him and went back to the horse which was still standing in the same place, totally submissive. It grabbed hold of the bridle leaving a smear of dark red blood on its white coat and pulled it forward.
   They walked away leaving Malcolm lying on the ground. His life force seeping from his body as the snowflakes began to bury him, and the only evidence to his murder...
   A bloody set of children’s footprints, walking away.