SHATTERED by Patrick Royal

SHATTERED by Patrick Royal

Mind Shadows: Book 1

The only thing that multi-published, award winning horror author, Tom Elliot, wanted was to move to the country for a change of scenery and relaxation, to a quiet part of southern Illinois. It seemed he'd picked out a wonderful spot, miles away from the closest neighbor and even further away from civilization.

Tom couldn't write to save his soul. Weird thoughts trampled through his head and left him wondering if he'd made a mistake moving from Chicago. Could it have been that he ripped himself from his element, like his best friend, Michael Gully, had predicted? That he couldn't answer yet.

Words came and flowed like wildfire, but at what price? Tom's imagination was getting the best of him and running rampant. The very characters that he created tormented him, driving him mad where he couldn't distinguish fiction from reality.

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Excerpt:

Copyright © 2013 Patrick Royal

All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.

A moan drifted from the next room and teased Tom’s ear. Stopping to listen, he struggled to figure out what he’d heard. He stepped slowly into the living room. A woman stood with her back toward him. His heart thudded fast.

The woman moaned. Her long-fitted skirt hugged her hips, and a pleated white shirt. On the floor by her feet lay droplets of blood.

Tom peeped around the woman’s body and caught a glance of her face. “Lady, who are you? Why are you in my house?” he asked and widened his eyes.

Tom still faced the woman’s back, and she wept a bit harder. “You should know why I’m here,” she said in a soft but shaky voice. She turned around, faced him, and quickly threw her arms out in front of her. Blood trickled and dripped onto the floor from deep slits across both wrists. In her hand she held a yellow hair ribbon.

Tom’s jaw dropped open and he stumbled back, widening his view. “Oh my God. Wha…?”

The woman stepped closer to him and held her arms out with her wounds still dripping blood. Her body projected forward, as if traveling in flash.

“You did this! You killed my daughter, and you made me what you see.” She shoved her bloody wrists toward Tom.

“No, no. You’ve made a mistake,” Tom screamed and backed away from her. He clung to the wall with his legs weakening and his hands trembling.

The woman stood and laughed hysterically.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re not real. You’re not real,” he screamed. Opening his eyes, the woman had disappeared, the room once again silent. Tom sank to his knees, sat on the floor, and leaned against the wall with a blank stare.

Not long after the sun rose high in the sky, Tom’s nerves finally calmed. He called Michael, and it ended similar to the other times he called him for some well needed answers. His friend proved unable to offer any help. Hanging up, Tom sat at his desk more confused than ever. Am I losing my mind like Michael fears? He chuckled over his friend’s reaction when he told him that he planned to take a small break from writing. He had to admit that it even sounded strange to hear himself say it. Maybe, he was losing it. He had never really been scared of anything. Michael was the one that had always been scared and had nightmares over things that bothered him. What bothered him now was that he loved where he lived, but he hated the idea of being so far away from Michael. He had grown used to driving over to his house and discussing life’s little problems, and vice versa.

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SHATTERED by Ericka Scott

SHATTERED by Ericka Scott

Do you really know the people you love?

Karen Ferguson has it all. She's on the verge of graduating, has an enormous trust fund, and she's newly married to a gorgeous man. Life is wonderful until a letter arrives for her husband Tony: His mother has died and he's inherited a run-down but beautiful country house.

Karen expected Tony to be upset. He wasn't. In fact, Tony's curious reaction to his mother's death bothers Karen so much that she goes in search of answers. Once she unearths the first clues at the farmhouse, she begins to wish she'd left well enough alone. But it's too late, and what she discovers will forever change the way Karen looks at life, at men, and especially at her husband...

Available in ebook and print.

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Excerpt:
We slept in Tony’s old bedroom. After making love, I dropped off to sleep almost immediately. Around three o’clock in the morning, I woke up alone. Where was Tony? Perhaps in the bathroom. When twenty minutes had passed, I went in search of him. He was nowhere in the house, but when I looked out the window, I could see a light on in the garage.

Poor guy must have been looking for the box of his mom’s stuff. I really needed to go help him find it. I’d had the workers put some of the furniture out in the garage, and they had probably buried the box. I pulled on my robe and found my way downstairs.

Buster whined from his dog run, and I paused to pat his head. Hopefully Tony would warm up to the pooch and I could let him run free tomorrow.

Through the half-open garage door, I could see Tony. He was picking up things and throwing them. I jumped at the sound of glass shattering. He bent down and picked up an object. I recognized it as the answering machine. It was an old one that used a cassette tape to record the messages. As I watched, he tried to pry the flap open with his fingers, but it was jammed shut. In a fury, he heaved the machine against the wall. It dropped, unopened. To my dismay, he dropped his head into his hands, and I saw his shoulders shake. He was crying. I started forward and then stopped. He hated any show of emotion, especially tears. He’d never forgive me if he knew I’d seen him cry. He wouldn’t believe that it made me love him more and not less. So I turned and crept back to the house, leaving him alone with his grief.

Poor Tony.

Had he ever called his mother? He had to be haunted by the thought that she was lying there, alone and dying, perhaps listening to someone leave a message and unable to tell them she needed help. Tears prickled the inside of my lids.

A dark shadow fell over me. Tony. I was glad I had my eyes closed.

His weight shifted the bed as he crawled in beside me. I hoped he couldn’t tell from my breathing that I was only pretending to be asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about that answering machine. Would unscrewing the bottom of the unit expose the tape? After Tony had thrown it against the wall, it wouldn’t matter if I ruined the machine by taking it apart.

It seemed like hours, but finally Tony’s breathing evened out. I slipped out of bed. It only took a minute to find the screwdriver in the kitchen drawer where I’d put a few tools. I turned on the light in the garage and went to work on the answering machine.

I was right. There were six or seven screws, but once they were loosened, the whole machine came apart in my hands. The tape slipped to the floor, and I bent to retrieve it, resisting the urge to pump my fist in the air in victory. My delight was short-lived, for suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

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