Blog Tour, Excerpt & Review – The Proctor Hall Horror by Bill Thompson

Time to get some horror books into that TBR for the spooky season!

Thanks to the author and publisher for the free ebook copy in exchange for my honest review

THE PROCTOR HALL HORROR – Bill Thompson (Released October 1st, 2020)

The Bayou Hauntings box set is currently on sale until October 16th! You can check it out here!

Book Description:



Proctor Hall is one of Lafourche Parish’s oldest sugar cane plantations. After Noah murdered his parents and little sister in 1963, he went away to an institution while caretakers maintained the place. Twenty-six years later the man who never spoke returned home. A girl disappears and people believe Noah’s up to his old tricks.

Four college students visit the now-abandoned farmhouse as part of a class project, and they fall victim to whoever – or whatever – still resides within its walls. Famous paranormal investigator Landry Drake conducts a séance there, uncovers long-hidden secrets and learns that the horror of Proctor Hall is still at work.

My Thoughts: 4/5 stars

So despite this being the 7th book in the series for the The Bayou Hauntings, I didn’t feel all too lost. I know that I probably am missing out on some background information, or at least introductions to some of the characters. However, THE PROCTOR HALL HORROR was such a quick and spooky read.

This one pulls you along form the beginning because you just know that something bad is coming – the author keeps you in suspense and anticipation until the very end. The only thing that was so frustrating was how stupid some of the choices were from the characters, but come on, in any kind of horror (books and movies) you have to expect some of it.

Great atmosphere, creepy happenings, spooky vibes, and plenty of suspense made for a really quick read! I definitely want to go back and pick up more from the series and see what else Thompson has in store. Based on other reviews, the rest of the series is just as good!



Wind whipped through the ancient live oaks that hung low over Bayou Lafourche. The sky turned a deep purple as ominous clouds swept over the parish. The weatherman had predicted thunderstorms around four p.m., and his forecast was right on the money. Fat drops fell, slowly
at first, then increasing in speed and intensity until the heavens opened up.

Marguey Slattery poled her pirogue toward the bank. Two hours ago when she put in, the weather had been perfect. Her dad had warned her to be back by three, but she’d lost track of time as she floated past the old plantation homes that fronted the bayou. Now it was too late — she’d have to ride out the storm under one of the massive old oaks.

She dug the pole into the bottom, turning the pirogue to reach a branch and tie off. Marguey wasn’t certain where she was. Some distance from the river stood a house she hadn’t seen before. Even in the gloom, no lights shone in the windows. The house looked abandoned.

Daddy’s gonna be mad. I’m gonna get the lecture of my life. Maybe even a whipping.

Just a few miles from home she might have tried going back, but she couldn’t risk it in the powerful rainstorm.

Better for Daddy to be mad than for me to drown in the bayou.

More drenched by the minute, Marguey sat in the pirogue and pulled her straw hat down low. It did little more than filter the raindrops, but that helped. She looked at the old house again and thought she saw something. Was someone standing on the lawn? She dug out the binoculars she’d brought along for bird-watching, wiped down the lenses, and looked.

She did see someone. A child younger than Marguey in a black dress stood in the yard. There was a hood over her head so she wouldn’t get wet. She raised her hand.

She’s — she’s waving at me! How does she know I’m here, as dark as it is here in these trees? Is someone really there?

Marguey stopped to clear the lenses again and looked. Now the girl stood halfway down the yard, standing between the house and the pirogue.

How did she move that quickly?

Her face was hidden by the hood, but the howling wind made a sound like words. She beckoned to Marguey, and the wind said, “Come play with me.”

This is crazy! She’s out in the pouring rain but doesn’t seem to notice. Who is she? What’s going on?

Marguey shouted, “I can’t come up there. It’s storming!”

The binoculars fell onto the floor of the pirogue. Marguey strained to get them, and when she sat upright again, she cried out. The girl stood on the bank not three feet away, her face dark inside the hood. She — or perhaps the wind — said, “Come play with me.”

Marguey fumbled with the rope, trying to untie it. Being out on the bayou in a storm was a lot less scary than being right here. As she fumbled with the knot, the girl moved again. Now they were close enough to touch each other. A sudden, powerful gust of wind blew the girl’s hood back, and Marguey realized that tying off here had been a huge mistake.

The figure standing in front of her had no head.

The wind spoke. “Don’t leave. I want you to play with me.”

  • Excerpt From: Bill Thompson. “The Proctor Hall Horror

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