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Category:
Horror
Publisher: Champagne Book Group
ISBN-10: 1607026376
Type: Fiction
Pages: 190
Copyright: 10/1/2020
ISBN-13: 9780973726152
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Pray for the light. Pray that you last that long. The Long Hour Before Light is a classic collection of Horror tales, re-mastered by Champagne Book Group
Are you brave enough to enter the Sinister World lurking in the mind of Ronald Scala? If you are, be forewarned. Stay alert. Don’t blink, don’t succumb to your fears and never turn your back. For inside you will find Horror. You will meet a seductive witch who ravishes the unsuspecting, old gods who crave human flesh, and an art gallery whose cursed paintings call out to you. In this nightmare world you will witness punishment doled out from the grave, and terrifying forests where the greenery hungers for blood. Dare to enter. But beware.
Excerpt
Now frantic with fear, he thrashed in the tree’s embrace, but the limbs held him fast. The Old One, for Ethan now knew that’s what stood before him, moved closer. Paralyzed with terror, he watched the ancient god as it slowly swayed and dipped before him, studying him as a hungry bird might study an interesting insect, deliberately but with grave intent. Its rasping breath washed over him with a dryness of the ages and the reek of a crypt. Sinewy fingers, that looked more like knotted twigs than human digits, opened and closed in a randomness that belied human function. And the eyes, the creature’s eyes, stayed intent on Ethan’s, burrowing into him.
Then one knotty hand grasped his, and the being lowered its head. As it did, the bark-skin stretched as the mouth opened, revealing sharpened fangs.
Ethan screamed, then screamed louder as the toothy daggers sank into the flesh and bone of his hand. When the creature lifted its head, three of Ethan’s fingers were cleaved clean. Bones cracked in the jaws of the beast, and Ethan’s blood dribbled from its mouth and down the furrows of its petrified flesh.
Thrashing, he cried out for help, shouted Dumfries’ name, Silvia’s, God’s. No one came to his aid. Two more Old Ones were now upon him. One bit down, then tore a lemon-sized wedge of flesh and muscle from Ethan’s forearm.
As the third bent toward his quaking thigh, Ethan screamed to Dumfries, “Damn you and these demons you worship. Damn you to hell. Damn you…”
He would have liked to say more, condemn Dumfries and the whole tribe to the fires of perdition, but his words were cut short. The last of the Old Ones tore Ethan Hastings’s throat, larynx, and trachea from his body in a single, savage bite.
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