Ok so I guessd it was time to show off somethings of the book I have been working on. I'll blog the prologue here now as the first part-- it's quite long. You can read it if you want, but I'd love for you all to read it and see what you think and most importantly can you understand it!!! I'll post the second part soon, just about the same length as this one is.
PROLOGUE:
It was the first day of the first month; Anthony Burwell was driving aimlessly, escaping the house in Wisconsin to his reluctance. Unbeknownst to him he was going to arrive at a motel three hours later, there he would find his wife of two years and in that little town of Massachusetts, he would buy a house with his wife and forget the ordeal he had endured helplessly in the beautiful house he would have called home. A home where he would have started a family, with a wife, two kids and a dog. But his plans were cut, when a formidable foe stood in his way, but that was all in the past now to Anthony until a horrible accident had forced him to remember the events in Wisconsin.
Standing over the white, glistening marble coffin was tough for him to deal with, although he pulled through with the help of his family and friends. Michelle was cold, her face not completely covered by the embalmers make-up. Her bruises were still fixed behind her jaws. Anthony flinched when he saw the discoloured purple.
Hours after the beautiful ceremony the pastor had held, Anthony turned to whisky by the roaring fire. The hot and spicy liquor soothed his mind but burned his throat. He sat alone, without the children he and Michelle had planned to conceive a little while after their marriage and the dog his children would have begged to be allowed to have.
Anthony convulsed with pain, aching in his side. He thought of the horrible and sick moments of his wife's death. The way the man with the black stained wrist had gripped her, and tightened her neck into a brace, like a vice. Bile arose from Anthony's throat as he heard the crushing of her neck again. Anthony wasn't a shy man or a loud man. He got involved in something only if he had to. Getting involved in the supernatural was a path he was ready to take. The internet was a main resource, telling Anthony everything he needed to know about because he knew that his wife's death wasn't just caused by a murderous man, and also with his small experience of the supernatural in Wisconsin he was gripped into believing a ghost or some type had killed Michelle. He hadn't known why, but had the horrible memories to prove how.
At the moment he searched 'The Supernatural' into a search engine on the internet. A series of names and addresses on websites popped up. Anthony wrote vigorously on a piece of scrap. "Jason Smith, 8 Harkway Drive, Maine. Wonderful," He announced, relishing the impending comments Mr Smith had on Anthony's so-thought unreal occurrences.
Anthony hadn't realised that his life was going to change. He hadn't realised what he was getting into, and he hadn't realised where his life would take him from now on, as he stepped into his car and commenced his drive to Maine.
Jason Smith sat on his couch flickering through the channels on his olden TV. Around him on his walls, clung unusual designs from Africa, Greece and Romania. All these tapestries were woven images of mythical creatures from the different world cultures. Greek gods and goddesses, African warriors and the ****cal Romanian vampires. Even though these still and haunting pictures felt like second nature to Jason, they were unlikely to be realistic to the rest of his normal neighbourhood who hadn't messed around with either voodoo or practised seeing the future like he claimed he had every once in a while- he called them epiphanies, and claimed he only received them along with life altering changes.
There were three raping knocks on his door. The knocks were loud, determined and ravenous; just the knocks that a certain Anthony Burwell would create. The incessant knocks ended quickly when Jason opened the door. Before his green eyes stood Anthony, looking brutal, upset with everything and intent on some purpose that he needed to attempt. His eyes widened as he asked, "Jason Smith?" Jason nodded. "Could I come in?"Jason seemed perturbed by the fact that this lunatic was coming close to knocking his door down with the vehement rapes. Jason breathed with resentment and gave Anthony a face to match his breathing. He jerked the door closed but the words that came to him on the other side made him hesitate, open the door and ask, "What did you say?" his eyebrows lifted. "Supernatural. I need your help on the supernatural," he muttered quick, hopeful for some reply, anything at all. "I found your website"-- he pulled a scrunched piece of paper out of his pocket and fluttered it in Jason's eyes. Jason pulled his long, greasy and tattered hair behind his tons of ear piercings and said, "Come on in." Anthony stepped in. The vibrant red colours on the walls made his back shudder and the books of ancient creatures and demons made his knees wobble. He didn't understand everything he was putting himself into but he knew he had to… for Michelle.
He sat down on the mouldy looking couch- a spring popped up his thigh. "Now, what is it you need help with? I charge fifteen dollars an hour. Its standard, don't complain," snapped Jason seating himself throwing his rainbow coloured over himself, switching the TV off. "That's fine-"he threw two twenties on the coffee table which was laden with mugs and bowls with remaining stale cereal in them. "—I need you to help me. My wife was killed and I think it was a demon- or something to that effect. I have met ghosts in the past and they have proven to be a hassle also so I think her death wasn't just by an ordinary man because I saw them—the black marks on his wrists. I did some research but guessed this wasn't your ordinary supernatural until I found your site, it said you knew anything and everything about demons. You described his hands and eyes exactly like what I saw," said Anthony, his muscles jittering at the thought of the horrible… creature. The rude supernatural-dude passed Anthony without saying a word. He crossed over his murky carpet floor to a bookshelf. Returning, he grasped a green leather book which said: MODERNISED DEMONS: VIPERS. Anthony noticed that it was written by; JASON SMITH. "This book with explain everything."
Anthony became thrilled at Jason's knowledge and relished the thoughts of the revenge he would blast at the creature that killed his wife with slow suffering. Jason stifled a hand up, stopping his burst of ecstasy and said, "Although, I think we should get in touch with your wife." Antony's heart stopped. All blood drained away from his face, it became pallid and sullen. Get in touch with my wife? He thought. Anger started to augment through his system, all organs starting again from the shock of what Jason admitted. That anger was thwarted at Jason. Anthony felt it was atrocious to even wake the dead by the patter of feet by their graveside how awful was it to talk to them? He never deemed it true that you could communicate with the dead but after recent ordeals he considered it a good possibility. "I don't agree with this, but if it's what needs to be done, I'll do it." he straightened up in his chair. "How do we get started?"
Jason curled forward in his chair and drew a long box from the shelf that was abundance with everything from books to boxes and other ornaments that looked incredibly strange. The box he lifted and dropped on the coffee table was old and torn at the sides. On the front it said: OUIJA BORD. "This stuff works?" Anthony's voice was curious but full of eagerness to press on. He hadn't cared if it didn't work or not, he needed some reassurance as to getting started.
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Please tell me what you think, if you thought at all :L!
Next blog after second part of this... I think I'll do will have something to do with books... I love books :D Maybe my favourites, I dunno but hang around soon for it anyway if you're interested!