The Gods Themselves
I've just published my first novel!
A monk with writer's blog. Death returns from stress leave. A peasant who preaches silently after flying to Heaven. An illiterate knight bears book with a new numeral. An angel who carves statues.
An average day in Medieval France.
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I peered around in the darkness. Neither the light of the stars, nor a streetlight, filled the blank void. I actually hadn’t rolled into the wall; I wasn’t even in bed. I’d hit the back of the couch — the short one.
As Caitlyn''s week of working nights draws to a close, she comes to question her belief that her past decisions have brought her to where she is; is she now too far along the her chosen road to have a choice? Or is it time itself which holds her prisoner in a place she no longer wishes to be.
The lift doors opened onto the tunnel. Like any entrance to hell, it smelt stale. Stale vomit, stale urine. Stale bodies, everywhere. A winter of rain couldn’t cleanse it. Tattered posters clung at odd places to the walls, reminding everyone to be alert, not alarmed. Despite two security guards sharing a smoke, the tunnel remained a perfect place for a murder.
Over the course of just one work shift, Caitlyn discovers it takes but a packet of Twisties, a ghost, and thoughts of a minotaur for her to break free.
Also available on Amazon (kindle or paperback)