''This probably isn't what people are expecting from me,'' he says. He is beckoning me inside - C'mon, c'mon,'' he growls happily - to show me the hundreds of canvases he has spent the last five years painting for children. Today, however, Barker doesn't want to talk about any of that. He has branched out into toys and video games and Halloween costumes. Two films based on his work - ''Hellraiser,'' which he directed, and the urban fable ''Candyman'' - have each spawned multiple (and increasingly awful) sequels.

That voice, which betrays only a hint of Barker's blue-collar upbringing in postwar Liverpool, is a terrific instrument for talking about his long career as a man with a knack for, as he puts it, ''scaring the bejesus out of people.'' Since 1984, Barker has published 18 books of horror and baroque fantasy fiction that, while rarely winning over critics, have typically sold hundreds of thousands of copies. ''I start to sound like Carol Channing.'' It's a Tom Waits-meets-Wolfman Jack rasp that makes it sound as if he's dredging his consonants from the bottom of a tar pit. But when he cracks open the door to one of his Beverly Hills houses - Barker owns three of them, all in a row, all with wide-angle views over Century City - and croaks, ''Welcome to the inside of my head,'' I can't help it: I get a little creeped-out anyway.Ĭlive Barker may have the spookiest voice in Los Angeles. With his trimmed goatee and twin hoop earrings he looks like a pirate who is settling into middle age after years of successful plundering. At 50, he is tanned and buff and amiable - his big vices are cigars and endless cups of strong tea.

Abarat barker