Fiction Books?

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ok, ok, I will post a preview of the book I am talking about...

The closed eyelids of the old man quivered in his sleep as dark dreams plagued his mind. The man's eyes snapped open, and he sat up as the last of the dark pictures disappeared into the looming blackness of his bedroom. The man massaged his forehead as if he could force the dark dreams to leave his mind forever, but he knew that he couldn't. They had visited him many nights, tormenting him in his sleep. But this time was different. This time the images delivered a final ultimatum.

The elderly man's eyes widened as he recalled what the voices had said to him in his sleep; a warning, a threat. Quickly the man turned on the lamp next to his bed, and began furiously writing on a piece of paper. He had to get out a word before the inevitable came. He would have to leave behind a warning of what was to come. The man's eyes strayed from the paper each time an owl hooted, each time a wolf howled, fear gripped his heart as he waited for what was to come.

The man continued writing, writing what could be his last letter. He had to make it right. The old man finished, hurriedly scrawling his name at the bottom of the scrap of paper with his ballpoint pen. Then, immediately the lights in his house failed. The man leaped to his feet, and hurriedly placed the letter on his nightstand. A cold, mournful howl rose up from the farm somewhere, reaching a high note before warbling, and falling again. The old man had heard this howl on many occasions, but today it sounded much closer than ever before. The howl then rose again, this time closer. Fear gripped the old man's heart as he waited for what was to come. Quietly, he began to pray. Slowly, the door to his home creaked open right before him. Hadn't he locked it? Cold air flowed into the room from the darkness outside like the breath of some enormous monster. Sweat trickled down the man's neck as he watched in utter fear at what was beginning to happen. The barrier between him and all the darkness which existed outside had been breached.

Remember this is only a preview, if this interests you then I will send you the last page of the Prologue.

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This is the ending of the Prologue

'We have come for you.'

"I know," the man answered the voice as his body shivered uncontrollably. "Yer 'friends' delivered the message on time. Yer gonna kill me, aren't ye."

'We will give you one last chance. Submit to us, or die.'

"There are fates worse than death ye know," the man replied as his sweaty hand slowly reached behind him for his axe, even though he knew it wouldn't save him.

'Your futile weapons will not stop us now. The time has come. We will not deal leniently with you any longer. It is time we put an end to your... interference. You know you were never much of an obstacle old man. The master plan will continue as we foresaw, and there is nothing you can ever do about it.'

"One day ye will be stopped."

'Don't bet on it.'

The old man raised his axe above his head as a roar echoed from the darkness which floated just outside his door. Then, there was a dark flash, and the man stumbled backwards as if some force had leaped upon him. He swung the axe around viciously as he screamed in agony and horror. Deep inside, a dark presence attacked the very center of his being, tearing at his everlasting soul. The man's body crashed down on the floor, and he continued crying out, and clawing at the air above him as if he was pushing an attacker away from him. Then, with a final cry, his body ceased its movements, and his head slumped back against the floor. His vacant eyes still held the look of horror they had held before he fell. The old man lay on his back, helpless against what was happening. In a few seconds, his eyes began to darken and fade. Soon he felt his spirit loosen its grip on his body.

Less than a minute later all that was left of the old man was an empty corpse strewn viciously on the ground as if he had been brutally murdered. But the body had no wounds, or held any evidence of a logical reason for the man's death. It was finished.

Now doesn’t that want to make you go out and purchase the book?

Edited by Rev_Richard
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It's the situations and imagery.... they are not healthy, taking up space in the head of someone who regularly uses the Astral Plane....

a slip of concentration and I could play scenes out.... nah, no thank you.....

But I am always hungry for ideas on what others consider GOOD books... I'll quietly wait for further suggestions when you're done with this book... :)

Edited by Brother Michael Sky
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Don't be like that, Rich. There have been many great writers that never made any money from their writing. Some were not even recognized as "great" until long after their deaths. Do not let rejection deter you from doing what you desire. (If I had quit writing music after my first bad review, then I would have never known the "high" one gets from the sound of applause.)

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