For my Friday post, I thought I’d share a little excerpt from my upcoming serial The Devil At The Door. It’s my next novel and is set in Victorian Liverpool.
When Frances Bryant and her family arrive at their new home at number five, Percy Street, she doesn’t feel welcome. Something lurks within the house, trying to catch her at every turn. What Frances discovers will force her to uncover the unforgivable, shattering the life she craves to pieces.
I’m still unpacking from a few days in hilly Devon. At one point, we thought we were lost when on a walk and the experience with a passing van driver definitely gave me some ideas for a horror story. I’ll share that one with you soon!
Excerpt, as promised.
Frances tossed and turned all night, finally waking when she felt tiny, cold splashes on her face. She lay on her back and opened her eyes, looking into the pitch blackness. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness but the ceiling seemed as white as always. The curtains had been left open, letting the moonlight peer in. The shadows seemed longer, darker, more ominous. She looked up again to see a small black circle, widening with every blink. The splashes grew heavier, landing in her eyes and on her lips. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, only to find more to take the place of those that had been smeared. She sat up and reached for the matches in the bedside drawer; she lit the lamp on her bedside table.
While she adjusted the intensity of the flame, the circle on the ceiling above her head was growing wider, losing its shape and spilling into a shadowy pool that began to gush. She felt it trickling down her back, soaking her nightgown. She turned around to look at it. It was blood.
John woke to the sound of his wife screaming in the corner of the room. “Fan! What’s wrong?” he asked, almost shaking her. She pointed to the ceiling.
“Blood. There was so much blood!”
He looked in the direction of where she was pointing and shook his head. The ceiling was white, as were the blankets on the bed. He went over to them and smoothed his hands over the sheets. “They’re dry,” he assured her. She stood up and followed him to the bed. “Come back to bed. You’ve had a bad dream.”
She lay down once more and looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing there.
Hannnnna you’ve fucking done it! This is *chefs kiss*
Cue sinister laughter.