Horror
Date Published: February 14, 2014
SOME RIDES SHOULD NEVER BE TAKEN ...
Kyle Evans is a teenager who wants to be somebody. To achieve his goal, Kyle joins a gang called Hell's Bells. While he thinks he's arrived, he only finds danger.
The club is obsessed with finding thrills and taking chances, but Kyle’s unaware that there’s a price to pay. Up for a dare, he accepts a challenge that lands him on the wrong side of the supernatural.
SOME RIDES SHOULD NEVER BE TAKEN ...
Kyle Evans is a teenager who wants to be somebody. To achieve his goal, Kyle joins a gang called Hell's Bells. While he thinks he's arrived, he only finds danger.
The club is obsessed with finding thrills and taking chances, but Kyle’s unaware that there’s a price to pay. Up for a dare, he accepts a challenge that lands him on the wrong side of the supernatural.
Kyle Evans is a teenager who wants to be somebody. To achieve his goal, Kyle joins a gang called Hell's Bells. While he thinks he's arrived, he only finds danger.
The club is obsessed with finding thrills and taking chances, but Kyle’s unaware that there’s a price to pay. Up for a dare, he accepts a challenge that lands him on the wrong side of the supernatural.
Excerpt:
Ky awoke, groggy from last night’s fiasco. Feeling as if he’d been run over by a truck, he’d been plagued by nightmares that had lasted the whole night. The game they’d played with Digger was relived in vivid detail, but Ky’s darkest imagination had rewritten the scene, twisting it like a garrote around a non-compliant neck.
He’d dreamt he was alone and wandering the darkened streets of Spooky Town. On a mission, he was trying to find Digger. As he approached the park, he stayed near the curb. More concerned with the broken glass than any other danger, a gnarled pair of hands reached out from sewers and latched onto his ankles. Whatever lived underground tried to drag him through the grated opening, the howl of that accursed dog sending ripples of fear through his heart.
Although the unearthly sound portended a gruesome death, Kyle tried to fight off the fingers that had gained a firm hold. He kicked the filthy hands away, running into Needle Park to escape. Pairs of luminescent eyes watched him flounder. Some orbs stationed in the sky, others hid behind bushes. They knew he didn’t belong in this part of town, but Ky had no choice. He had to help his father and to do that, he needed to find Digger.
The blue of the derelict’s blanket acted as a grave marker. Finding Digger huddled under it, Ky dangled a bottle of liquor in front of the old man. He didn’t have to prompt him any further. Ky pulled Hans from his jacket pocket. Digger took the weapon into his shaking hands, examining it by the light of the fire. Inappropriate hysteria broke through the vagrant’s mouth, the round of guffaws causing saliva to froth like boiling milk. It dribbled onto the thatch of hair on his chin. The thick mucus threaded its way through the strands entwined with mildew.
The roaring blaze illuminated the disaster, but Ky didn’t want to see. He tried closing his eyes, but he was forced to listen to the damned hound belting out its tune. At least the wailing covered up the frivolity emanating from Digger’s throat.
It was the alcohol producing the erratic behavior. The blue eyes diluted by years of substance abuse scanned the grounds that acted as the stage for this drama. The clusters of trees drooped like moth-eaten fans, their branches shading the larcenous activities. Digger hesitated, his graying head stilling as he whispered in Kyle’s ear.
“Anything happens to me, son, that dog is gonna getcha!”
Kyle pulled back, frightened from the outrageous statement. Digger leveled his eyes and placed the barrel of the gun to his temple.
Crepey lids covered the eyes that had seen it all, but a startling newer pair was painted on top. Like Horus’ eye, these were all seeing and ceaseless in their watch. They drank in Kyle, all the while putting a hex on him that would last until eternity.
Digger’s hand was trembling. Mumbling a prayer, he pulled the trigger, but this time there was no hollow ineffectual click. Instead, a fertile, omnipotent blast shattered Kyle’s ears. As he watched in horror, the single bullet ripped through the old man’s skull, splattering gray matter on the bushes directly behind. Chunks of bone and temporal lobes combined to make a morbid goulash. The flames gave just enough illumination for Kyle to witness the entire fiendish conclusion, but instead of feeling horror, in the dream, all Ky felt was a thrill.
He’d dreamt he was alone and wandering the darkened streets of Spooky Town. On a mission, he was trying to find Digger. As he approached the park, he stayed near the curb. More concerned with the broken glass than any other danger, a gnarled pair of hands reached out from sewers and latched onto his ankles. Whatever lived underground tried to drag him through the grated opening, the howl of that accursed dog sending ripples of fear through his heart.
Although the unearthly sound portended a gruesome death, Kyle tried to fight off the fingers that had gained a firm hold. He kicked the filthy hands away, running into Needle Park to escape. Pairs of luminescent eyes watched him flounder. Some orbs stationed in the sky, others hid behind bushes. They knew he didn’t belong in this part of town, but Ky had no choice. He had to help his father and to do that, he needed to find Digger.
The blue of the derelict’s blanket acted as a grave marker. Finding Digger huddled under it, Ky dangled a bottle of liquor in front of the old man. He didn’t have to prompt him any further. Ky pulled Hans from his jacket pocket. Digger took the weapon into his shaking hands, examining it by the light of the fire. Inappropriate hysteria broke through the vagrant’s mouth, the round of guffaws causing saliva to froth like boiling milk. It dribbled onto the thatch of hair on his chin. The thick mucus threaded its way through the strands entwined with mildew.
The roaring blaze illuminated the disaster, but Ky didn’t want to see. He tried closing his eyes, but he was forced to listen to the damned hound belting out its tune. At least the wailing covered up the frivolity emanating from Digger’s throat.
It was the alcohol producing the erratic behavior. The blue eyes diluted by years of substance abuse scanned the grounds that acted as the stage for this drama. The clusters of trees drooped like moth-eaten fans, their branches shading the larcenous activities. Digger hesitated, his graying head stilling as he whispered in Kyle’s ear.
“Anything happens to me, son, that dog is gonna getcha!”
Kyle pulled back, frightened from the outrageous statement. Digger leveled his eyes and placed the barrel of the gun to his temple.
Crepey lids covered the eyes that had seen it all, but a startling newer pair was painted on top. Like Horus’ eye, these were all seeing and ceaseless in their watch. They drank in Kyle, all the while putting a hex on him that would last until eternity.
Digger’s hand was trembling. Mumbling a prayer, he pulled the trigger, but this time there was no hollow ineffectual click. Instead, a fertile, omnipotent blast shattered Kyle’s ears. As he watched in horror, the single bullet ripped through the old man’s skull, splattering gray matter on the bushes directly behind. Chunks of bone and temporal lobes combined to make a morbid goulash. The flames gave just enough illumination for Kyle to witness the entire fiendish conclusion, but instead of feeling horror, in the dream, all Ky felt was a thrill.
My Review:
This book was definitely interesting. It was like watching a train wreck and not being able to look away. Kyle so desperately wanted to be someone he wasn't. He thought he would do anything to have people fear and respect him. He was wrong.
It starts out as a normal story of a relatively innocent boy joining a gang and gradually escalates into so much more. Next thing you know there's death and destruction everywhere around him.
You'll need to read this book for the outcome, but ill say this, sometimes there is a big price to pay for mistakes made.
Wendy Potocki lives and writes in NYC. If that isn't scary enough, she writes in the genre of horror. She feels creating good horror is an art form. She religiously devotes herself to pursuing it over hill and dale -- and in the crevices of her keyboard.
Named one of the Top Ten "New" Horror Authors by Horror Novel Reviews, she has seven self-published novels. Book trailers for many of her works may be found on her official website http://www.wendypotocki.com/. Her newest frightmare is Thrill. It’s a non-stop chillfest and has been attracting a lot of attention. Her next planned projects are The Witch's Stone, The Virgin, and ZaSo, a Gothic tale of horror. Please subscribe to her mailing list for updates and giveaway information.
http://bicameralwriting.wordpress.com/join-my-mailing-list/
In her spare time, she loves to go for long walks, drink Starbucks Apple Chai Lattes, make devotional offerings to her cat named Persephone and be stilled by the grace, beauty and magic of ballet.
Named one of the Top Ten "New" Horror Authors by Horror Novel Reviews, she has seven self-published novels. Book trailers for many of her works may be found on her official website http://www.wendypotocki.com/. Her newest frightmare is Thrill. It’s a non-stop chillfest and has been attracting a lot of attention. Her next planned projects are The Witch's Stone, The Virgin, and ZaSo, a Gothic tale of horror. Please subscribe to her mailing list for updates and giveaway information.
http://bicameralwriting.wordpress.com/join-my-mailing-list/
In her spare time, she loves to go for long walks, drink Starbucks Apple Chai Lattes, make devotional offerings to her cat named Persephone and be stilled by the grace, beauty and magic of ballet.
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