#BlogTour #ZooloosBookTours @zooloo2008 / #Excerpt : The Shadow Man #TheShadowMan – Mark Brownless @markbrownless @SpellboundBks #SpellboundBooks

– ‘The Magic of Wor(l)ds’ blog is a hobby, reviews and other bookish stuff on this site are done for free. –

The Shadow Man blog tour poster

Today I’m on the ‘The Shadow Man’ blogtour, organized by Zooloo’s Book Tours.
To promote this book I have an excerpt, but before I let you read it first some ‘basic’ information.

About the Author :

Mark Brownless Author PhotoMark Brownless lives and works in Carmarthen, West Wales, UK. He has been putting ideas on paper for some years now but only when the idea for THE HAND OF AN ANGEL came to him in the autumn of 2015 did he know he might be able to write a book. Mark likes to write about ordinary people being placed in extraordinary circumstances, is fascinated by unexplained phenomena, and enjoys merging thriller, science fiction and horror.
Mark’s new novel, The Shadow Man is a terrifying horror thriller imagining what would happen if you found out the memories of your childhood were untrue, and that something sinister was lurking behind the facade of your life. Could you face what had happened back then? Could you face The Shadow Man.
Mark is also fascinated by myths and legends such as those of Robin Hood and King Arthur. This has culminated in the release of his short story series, Locksley, a Robin Hood story.

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Synopsis :

The Shadow ManWhat if the memories of your childhood were a lie?
One Dream was all it took and all the memories of thirty years before started to flood back.
Not the idyllic coming of age summer down by the lake that they remembered.
But dreams of death and of fear and of the burnings.
Dreams of the Shadow Man.
Will they finally face what had happened to them that summer?
Can they finally confront him once and for all?

The Shadow Man is the terrifying and utterly spine tingling new horror from the author of The Hand of Angel , perfect for fans of Alex North , CJ Tudor and Stephen Chbosky.

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Excerpt :

The lounge was twilight dark as the dirty blinds stayed permanently closed. It was stuffy and damp-smelling, and almost… something else. Like the smell of despair. On the table in the corner was an old chunky laptop and a pile of books – mainly horror fiction. I excused myself to go and use the bathroom.
I walked down the hallway, shocked at the memories it brought back from thirty years before, with the brown wood veneer cladding, the fake wood skirting boards and faded tatty pictures on the walls. I glanced into Janey’s parents’ room and it looked like it hadn’t been touched – as if the bed had been made by her mum on the day she died and had been left alone since. Janey hadn’t moved rooms. Her door was open, too, and I paused, looking in. I could hear the others talking in the sitting room. Janey’s bedroom was chaotic, with clothes and sheets of paper scattered around the floor, the curtains drawn creating shadows everywhere. She had a battered Star Wars mobile above her chest of drawers and a globe lamp that had clearly had an accident at one point because most of Europe was missing, the bulb shining out harshly through the Northern Hemisphere. Hundreds of overlapping newspaper cut-outs and pictures were pinned like a collage to a large noticeboard on the back wall, like some seventies police investigation. A black trilby hung on the corner of the cork board, a black scarf draped over it. The globe lamp did little to cut through the gloom, but I could see a small table in front, on it was a papier-mâché model of a landscape, which I couldn’t quite place. I glanced over my shoulder and saw no one in the hall. The others were still talking in the lounge. I walked into the room to get a closer look, stepping over Janey’s underwear and dinner dishes, the shiny disc in the centre was suddenly the lake and there were the trees around it and the grassy banks, exactly as I remembered them, exactly as they’d been in the dream. It was a poor, childish model but it hit me like a punch in the face. I was transported there, standing on the bank looking out across the water, the warm wind in my hair and the happy shouts and screams of my friends forming the soundtrack. Then the screams and shouts sounded less content, and more like they were afraid.
There were dolls in the basin of the lake.
She’s nearly fifty and she’s playing with dolls?
Janey had made a doll for each of us. There was her own of course, with her burns and her leg – that must’ve taken some adapting. There was Katie with her freckles and her wild auburn hair – the freckles looked drawn on, with eyeliner, maybe. This was too weird. Clara’s avatar was there with Sal’s and so was mine. Fuck it was creepy. I left the room quickly before I was caught snooping around, and re-joined the others after doing what I needed to do.
‘So what’s going on, Janey?’ I said. ‘Why’d you start dreaming again? Why now?’
‘Yeah, has anything happened round here?’ Katie asked.
‘Nothing ever happens around here.’ Janey smiled slightly for the first time since we’d arrived. She could almost look pretty when she did, almost lost the haunted expression she always seemed to carry. The smile lifted her face. It lifted half of her face, that is. The whorled discoloured scarring on the other side barely shifted. So her almost-pretty smile was a sneer.
‘Yeah, but does it, though?’ I knew I had to push her to get anywhere, always had to. With a delicate touch you could actually have an open conversation.
‘I don’t think so. I don’t hear anything. I… I don’t go out,’ the right side of her face flushed. ‘Or see anyone.’ She looked like a frightened little girl now.
‘But don’t you get any gossip?’
Janey shook her head. ‘The only direct interaction I have is with the Tesco delivery driver each week. And the Amazon guy, of course.’
‘Christ.’ I looked across at the table. ‘You got wi-fi?’
‘Yes of course, I’m a recluse, not Amish. There’s my laptop.’ Janey went across to her small desk in the corner of the room and opened her computer. She booted up Google and looked at me for direction. Nothing changes. I asked her to call up the local paper, The Enquirer.
‘Someone’s burned to death. There’s your answer, kiddo, right there.’ I read from the article. ‘Louise Jordan was found in her bedroom, burned beyond recognition, leaving only her foot, forearms and half her head intact, the rest burnt to ash. There was no sign of an intruder, or of arson, so initial conclusions are that Ms Jordan died accidentally. The forensic fire team concluded that there was no evidence of an accelerant, no trigger in the form of a cigarette or spark, so they have listed the cause as unknown’.’
‘Spontaneous human combustion?’ asked Katie, quietly.

The Magic of Wor(l)ds

3 gedachtes over “#BlogTour #ZooloosBookTours @zooloo2008 / #Excerpt : The Shadow Man #TheShadowMan – Mark Brownless @markbrownless @SpellboundBks #SpellboundBooks

  1. Pingback: #AndThatsAWrap – #TheShadowMan @MarkBrownless @SpellBoundBks #BlogTour #ZooloosBookTours – ✮ Zooloo's Book Diary ✮

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