Author: Jeffrey LeBlanc

Horror is in my blood and in my bones! It's what we enjoy and what we live to for. I've taken my experiences and travels throughout Louisiana and remote places around the world to create novels and short stories of horror and the macabre. Many of the stories are original creations to sink your teeth into. But be warned. My characters bite back. Currently we have written four books and have four working drafts of horror novels and short story collections. Many, many more will follow. Titles: **The Devil of Black Bayou **Wings of the Seraph **Wolves, Wings, & Other Things **Shadows...Ghosts of the Moonlight Working Drafts: **Mary Wept (Homage to "The Exorcist", "William Wilson", and "The Shrine") **Lightning Bug **Wolf of Bluff Mountain **The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Again, welcome to our website! We hope you enjoy!
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“Where’s…the…blood?!
The music—especially that fiery jazz, the cries of laughter, and the aroma of cloves and cayenne kicking up spicy foods, have kept the blood flowing in New Orleans for hundreds of years. For hundreds of years, the blood—the Life, has flowed down the mighty Mississippi into the dark rues, and alleys of the Quarter. And…on more than one occasion, in the city that never sleeps, a fool or the foolhardy has perished.”—Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Devil of Black Bayou (Comedic Short)

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“Where’s…the…blood?
The music—especially that fiery jazz, the cries of laughter, and the smell of cloves and cayenne emanating from spicy foods, have kept the blood flowing in New Orleans for hundreds of years. For hundreds of years, Life has flowed down the mighty Mississippi into the dark rues, and alleys of the Quarter. And…on more than one occasion, in the city that never sleeps, a fool or the foolhardy has perished.”—Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Devil of Black Bayou (Comedic Short)

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“There was a deep soft thundering in his ears, a rosy dazzlement in his eyes. Somehow the hut appeared to expand, to change luminously about him. He hardly recognized its squalid furnishings, its litter of baleful oddments, on which a torrid splendor was shed by the black candles, tipped with ruddy fire, that towered and swelled gigantically into the softgloom His blood burned as with the throbbing flame of the candles.”—Clark Ashton Smith (Mother of Toads)

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“I’m starting my journey across the waves of time! The blood is my time machine and my portal to the dimensions beyond. I see my loving, raven-haired wife. She is bathed in the foam of sea spray and blood. Lightning flashes around us in arcs of blistering white. Lightning etches around us in emerald green, A final blast paints us in a shade of deep blue. In the moments, between light and darkness, giant pinchers have grasped Marie’s flesh pulling her below! A glowing mauve pool of slime remains. A single hand floats above the sea and then submerges into depths below.

I float back to the present lashing out at the night air. I wrestle with imaginary phantoms who lurk back into that accursed moment in time when my wife was lost to me. I curse and send a glass breaking roar as I fight the ghost of an oozing leviathan who dissipates into mist.”
–Jeffrey LeBlanc (The Devil of Black Bayou Special Edition)

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“As you know, most of us, dreaming, are, at the back of our consciousness, aware that we are dreaming. No matter how horrible the dream may become, we know that it is a dream, and thus insanity or possible death is staved off. But in this particular dream, there is no such knowledge. I tell you it is so vivid, so complete in every detail, that I wonder sometimes if that is not my real existence and this a dream! But no; for then I should have been dead years ago.”–Robert E. Howard (The Dream Snake)