The House on Soldier Street (Hagatha's Parlor Book 1)

A Punk Band, A Haunted House, and a Night They’ll Never Escape

October 30, 1984. The Kreeps of Mayhem—four scrappy punks chasing their first break—take a stranger’s offer of shelter in a storm. The house on Soldier Street seems like salvation. But behind its plywood windows and eerie silence lies something far worse than a cold night in their broken-down van.

As the storm rages outside, something monstrous stirs within. Shadows twist. Ceilings creak. The walls seem alive. One by one, the bandmates vanish—claimed by a force that doesn’t want visitors. It wants victims. And someone is watching.

The House on Soldier Street is the first chilling entry in Mister Bad’s Hagatha’s Parlor series—a bloody homage to '80s horror with the teeth of Goosebumps and the grit of grindhouse. Fast-paced, gruesome, and darkly nostalgic, this is horror for grown-up thrill-seekers who like their scares spiked with punk.

Get locked in. Stay up late.

Start reading The House on Soldier Street—if you dare.

Excerpt from the book

October 30, 1984

“Tonight’s temperature will be forty-eight degrees with a one hundred percent chance of thunderstorms. The front should move in tonight around eight o’clock and could be severe at times. But on the positive side, the storm will be out of here for Halloween and it will be sunny with a high of fifty-four. Halloween night will be cooler with temperatures in the low thirties, so all of you kids had better dress warm tomorrow night and don’t let any goblins get you. Today’s weather forecast was brought to you by Grandma’s Condoms … I mean Condiments.”

Robin reached over and turned off the radio to the 1971 Volkswagen van which filled the interior with a tired quiet. Robin sat rigid in the passenger’s seat with her arms crossed beneath her large bosom staring out at the featureless landscape by the interstate. Her long, straight brown hair moved slightly as a small current of wind veered in through the door window because of its inability to roll all the way up.

Frank was driving and could feel her icy disposition without even looking at her. He stared ahead at the interstate filled with cars going to only God knows where, but surmised that they were probably having a better commute than he was experiencing right now.

His eyes glanced into his rearview mirror where he saw Roger sprawled out in the backseat with his long skinny frame sitting uncomfortably among the band instruments and suitcases. His face was covered in a beard and moustache with a pair of dark sunglasses perched on his nose. Beside him was Mia’s much smaller stature, who bared a striking resemblance to Audery Hepburn. Empty gazes were splashed across their faces, appearing as if they’d rather be anywhere else than in this van.

They all sat in silence, heading down the interstate in a van painted yellow and white, which looked like a hot dog that had been out in the rain for a week.

Finally, Frank couldn’t take their silence anymore and began his interrogation.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong,” Robin stated angrily, almost as if she was accusing him of something sinister.

“I can’t know what’s wrong unless you tell me,” pleaded Frank.

“How much longer until we get there?” asked a frustrated Robin.

“If we keep going, it’ll be seven more hours,” said Frank in a cautious tone, as if he knew his answer might cause a mutiny among his fellow bandmates.

He was right.

“Seven hours?” moaned Roger as he threw his hands up into the air where they collided with the van ceiling and caused him to hurt his right thumb, to which his cure for it was to shake it, then hold it with his left hand while he asked the question the others were thinking, “Why in the world didn’t you book these shows closer together?”

“I booked ’em as they came in,” Frank explained. “You all should be happy we have some gigs right now.”

“The traveling is killing me!” Robin yelled as she stared ahead.

“This is band life,” said Frank in annoyance. “This is how it’s done. We’re paying our dues. Every band that has ever started has gone through this. We’re not the first ones. And I might add that we’ve been on the road for a month now and we’ve been paid for every show.”