Good morning, everyone. What a truly wonderful weekend I had. Friday, Kevin and I headed to downtown Mobile for our last Spirits of the Southern Dead Haunted History Tour.
 
I completely admit, I would not do this without my supportive husband and sometimes co-writer, Kevin Bullock by my side. He not only keeps me from getting lost (in my own city, imagine that) but he keeps us all safe. Thank you, sweetheart for being such a good sport. It’s not every husband that can lace his wife up in an antebellum gown and load her hoop skirt in the SUV. The struggle was real but we fumbled through it and all three tours were a success. I not once fell and showed my pants. Hoo-rah!
 
Thank you also to my faithful ground crew, the Moonlight Society. A thankless job hanging out with me on these adventures but I am also happy to see you all. Thank you, Josie, Lori, Donna, Connie, Keri and Monica all our poor fellas that kindly tagged along. You guys make my job so much fun. It’s not actually a job, more of a spooky hobby.
 
Thank you to the guys at the Crescent Theater, Zeke especially for taking my phone call and agreeing to my hairbrained idea. We’ll be back with an investigation for you sir! What a jolly, yet spooky venue. We’d barely made it into the auditorium before our devices were going off. We’ll be back for more!
 
I saved my last thank you for the elegant Mr. Middlebrooks, a concierge at the Battle House Hotel. He kindly guided us through the Crystal Ballroom and regaled us with stories of troubled romances and lonely ghosts. At ninety-two years young, Mr. Middlebrooks is a Mobile treasure. I am currently working on an article about Mr. Middlebrooks, as a kind of getting to know you for all Mobilians. This gentleman should be celebrated for his love for this city and his amazing knowledge of its history.
 
To all the fans that attended and all those inquired, thank you for coming out and hearing my stories. Walking through the haunted streets of Mobile with you this year was a sheer joy. I count myself lucky to have had experienced it with you.
 
To all the ghosts, yes you. I see you.
 
We’ll be back.
 
I promise.
 
All my love,
Monica Leigh Bullock
 
 

The Dog Days of Summer arrive quietly, yet unmistakably. They roll in with the heavy heat that makes the air shimmer, the chorus of cicadas that drowns out your thoughts, and the kind of stillness that dares you to move any faster than a slow stroll. Down South, these days feel eternal—long afternoons stretching into fiery sunsets, and nights buzzing with heat lightning and crickets.

But there’s a charm to these days, one rooted deep in Southern tradition and memory.

For Southerners, surviving August means leaning into the heat with old-fashioned remedies. There’s the bottle of Coke with peanuts poured right inside, the fizz dancing against the salty crunch. A plate of lemon cookies waiting on the kitchen counter, sweet and tart in equal measure. Mason jars filled to the brim with iced tea—some sweet enough to make your teeth ache, others brewed strong and dark as river water—sweat beads rolling down the glass as it sits on a porch rail.

Blue jean shorts, worn soft and thin, cling to your legs in the heat. Bare feet find the coolest patches of grass while screen doors slam rhythmically as kids race in and out of the house. In the South, the Dog Days are sticky, messy, and a little magical.

The Dog Days of Summer are also when small-town movie theaters fill with families seeking refuge from the sweltering heat. Stepping into that cool, air-conditioned darkness feels like entering another world.

For many, the Dog Days will forever be tied to the thrill of those summer blockbusters--Jaws snapping its way across the big screen, Smokey and the Bandit burning rubber across the South, or Star Wars transporting audiences galaxies away. While the pavement outside practically sizzled, inside you could forget the sweat and lose yourself in spectacle.

Ask any Southerner, and they’ll tell you the Dog Days come with their own soundtrack. Cicadas scream from dawn until dusk. Crickets take over the night shift, joined by the croak of frogs and the hum of a box fan. Radios drift across neighborhoods—country classics, gospel hymns, or a preacher’s voice on Sunday morning.

And if you’ve ever tried to sleep with the windows open during August, you know that soundscape never really stops. It’s constant, alive, and somehow comforting.

The Dog Days also teach patience. It’s too hot to rush, too heavy to hustle. Instead, Southerners embrace the slow. There’s wisdom in rocking gently on a porch swing while watching the world turn golden. There’s meaning in catching lightning bugs with cousins until the sun sinks below the horizon. There’s joy in a lazy afternoon nap with nothing but a box fan and a tall glass of tea to keep you company.

The phrase “Dog Days of Summer” actually traces back to ancient Rome. They believed the season’s extreme heat was tied to Sirius, the Dog Star, rising in the sky. In the South, the phrase stuck, not because of the star, but because of the unmistakable swelter that comes every year.

It’s a time of endurance, but also of tradition—when we gather, remember, and savor what’s simple.

As the Dog Days drag on, many Southerners start dreaming of fall—cooler nights, football games, and the first whiff of pumpkin spice. But there’s a bittersweetness too. Because for all the sweat and cicadas, there’s something unforgettable about these hot, heavy days. They remind us of being young and barefoot, of lemonade stands and swimming holes, of the South at its most alive.

The Dog Days of Summer might be exhausting, but they’re also a reminder to slow down, to savor, and to live fully—even in the heat.

✨ What about you? Do you have a Dog Days tradition—whether it’s a favorite treat, a memory, or a movie that takes you back? Share it—I’d love to hear how you survive the South’s hottest days.

Hey there, my haunted friends! It’s Monica, your resident Queen of Southern Gothic, here to share a little about my Gulf Coast Paranormal series and the eerie journey it’s taken me on. If you’ve ever felt the chill of a Gulf Coast night or heard whispers in the Spanish moss, you know this stretch of the South holds secrets—and I’ve loved every minute of exploring them through my books.

When I started writing Gulf Coast Paranormal, I wanted to dive deep into the supernatural heart of the Gulf Coast, from Mobile’s historic haunts to the lonesome beaches of Dauphin Island. The series follows a team of investigators—Midas, Sierra, Sara, Josh, and Peter—who face more than just restless spirits. In The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road, they meet Cassidy, a young artist with a strange gift, and uncover a malevolent entity at the abandoned Oak Grove Plantation. It’s a story that’s close to my heart because it lets me blend my love for history, mystery, and the paranormal into one thrilling ride.

Writing this series has been like stepping into my own ghost-hunting adventures. I’ve explored real haunted spots, like St. Vincent DePaul Cemetery in New Orleans with my friend Victoria, and wandered historic Southern homes with my pal Nicole, hoping to catch some spooky vibes. Those experiences taught me that the ghosts of the South aren’t just echoes—they’re storytellers. They linger in the creak of an old porch, the flicker of a lantern, or the scent of magnolias on a moonlit night. They’re tied to the land, to the history of slavery, war, and lost love that saturates the Gulf Coast.

One thing I’ve learned is that Southern ghosts don’t mess around. They’re not just here to haunt—they want to be heard. In Gulf Coast Paranormal, I give them a voice through characters like Cassidy, whose gift lets her see beyond the veil, much like Carrie Jo’s dream-catching in my Seven Sisters series. These unique abilities help my characters—and me—dig into the past, uncovering tragedies that refuse to stay buried. I’ve also learned that the scariest entities aren’t always ghosts. Sometimes, it’s the darkness tied to a place, like Kali Oka Road, that’ll make your skin crawl.

The Gulf Coast has taught me to listen—to the wind, to the shadows, to the stories that refuse to fade. Writing this series lets me share that magic with you, whether it’s through a chilling investigation or a quiet moment where the team realizes they’re not alone. So, if you’re ready to explore the haunted South with me, grab a copy of The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road (it’s on Freebooksy right now!) and join the hunt. Let’s uncover the ghosts of the Gulf Coast together—I promise they have plenty to say.
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What’s your favorite Southern ghost story? Drop it in the comments on my site or tag me on X @AuthorMLBullock. I can’t wait to hear what haunts you!