Genre: Psychological Thriller - NOT FOR THE FAINT AT HEART
Word Count: 106,066
Price: $AUD25.00 inc post
Available from author: firstname.lastname@example.org
In a life-or-death fight thirteen-year-old Conway kills his father, whose cruel spirit possesses the boy as Stanley gasps his final breath.
Determined to destroy Conway for robbing him of wife Nanette’s affection, Stanley commits his son to a series of gruesome murders, the first being his beloved mother, who also seeks refuge in Conway.
The ensuing battle between Nanette’s goodness and Stanley’s evil drives Conway to the brink of insanity. Invited in by Nanette, each victim’s spirit adds to his torment, forcing Conway to suffer a lifetime of horror as, after each brutal killing, the increasing number of voices whisper…
Stanley loathed the thought of spending a scorching summer day building fences, because it meant working with the son he despised.
In rigid silence they loaded the trailer with redwood straining posts, rolls of barbed wire and tools. Finally Stanley spoke, his economy of words proof of the resentment smouldering in his gut.
“Go get some water...” Dismissing the boy he flicked a hand towards the bungalow. “…and food.”
Using his teeth, Conway nipped a splinter out of his palm and spat it at Stanley’s feet, the squint of an eye revealing his contempt of the man.
“Move boy. I haven’t got all day.”
Stanley glared fiercely at Conway’s back as though trying to spear the boy. Stiff at his sides, his arms were like the handles of massive hammers; his white-knuckled fists their heads. Heads so hard they could pound that little turd into the ground.
Conway put cold meat, bread and canteens in a box with tin mugs, a billycan, tea and sugar, matches and pot of dripping.
Watching the back door, Stanley waited with undisguised impatience. Beside him the tractor’s diesel engine was running noisily.
“C’mon, tit-sucker,” he yelled as Conway emerged. “You’re wasting time.”
Jerking his thumb towards the trailer where Conway would ride, the man swung into the driver’s seat, selected first gear and released the clutch. The tractor chugged off towards the gate.
Conway gnashed his teeth. Stanley always spoke to him like a dog, but he’d never got used to it.
“Wait up. I forgot something.” Conway bolted for the toolshed and returned with a mattock.
Grinning blackly, Stanley pushed on the accelerator pedal, making Conway run to catch up. Throwing the mattock onto the trailer, he sprang onto the tailgate just as the tractor shuddered over the cattle-grid.