Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Book Tour Daughter of fallen by Made,ins Wynn (Review & Chapter Reveal)





My Review &Thoughts: Link
Purchase Amazon: Amazon
Goodreads: Link

Daughter of the Fallen Blog Tour

About the Author

Madeline Wynn holds a master's degree in procrastination. When she's not

writing, she can be found ghost hunting, gardening and parading around her

home state of Connecticut with her husband, dog and two kids.

Her latest book is the YA paranormal, Daughter of the Fallen.

For More Information

• Visit Madeline Wynn’s website.

• Connect with Madeline on Facebook and Twitter.

About the Book:

Most sixteen-year olds aren't worried about the fate of their immortal souls.

May Krieg should be.

Typically, honor student May's biggest problems have revolved around her

super-hot arch-rival, Jack. But when a school project takes them ghost-hunting

in a local cemetery, she discovers that an ominous force roams in the darkness

around her.

And it follows her home.

It claws its way into her life, burning messages into her wall and imprinting

them onto her body. Even worse, she can't tell if it's trying to possess her... or

protect her.

May's thoughts soon become actions, causing the target of her anger

severe physical pain and giving her a rush the likes of which she has never

experienced. She quickly realizes that she needs to find a way to reign in this

power before she kills someone. May hates the pleasure it gives her, hates

herself for hurting others, but she can't stop.

As her entire world shatters around her, she is forced to ask what her soul is

worth-- and who would she risk losing her soul to save?

(For readers who enjoy: teen paranormal romance, teen horror, teen romance,

nephilim, demons, YA, YA horror, YA paranormal, YA romance, ghost stories)

For More Information

• Daughter of the Fallen is available at Amazon.

• Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.

• Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.




Title: Daughter of the Fallen

Author: Madeline Wynn

Publisher: Book Baby

Pages: 250

Genre: YA paranormal

Format: Paperback

Purchase at AMAZON

Most sixteen-year olds aren't worried about the fate of their immortal souls.

May Krieg should be.

Typically, honor student May's biggest problems have revolved around her

super-hot arch-rival, Jack. But when a school project takes them ghost-hunting

in a local cemetery, she discovers that an ominous force roams in the darkness

around her.

And it follows her home.

It claws its way into her life, burning messages into her wall and imprinting

them onto her body. Even worse, she can't tell if it's trying to possess her... or

protect her.

May's thoughts soon become actions, causing the target of her anger

severe physical pain and giving her a rush the likes of which she has never

experienced. She quickly realizes that she needs to find a way to reign in this

power before she kills someone. May hates the pleasure it gives her, hates

herself for hurting others, but she can't stop.

As her entire world shatters around her, she is forced to ask what her soul is

worth-- and who would she risk losing her soul to save?

Book Excerpt:


This is New England. And in New England, a town without a good witch

hanging or ghost story just, well, isn’t considered to be a real town. So when I

walk past the iron gate of the cemetery and feel the urge to bolt riding up my

legs like a herd of football players bum-rushing the food counter on taco day, I

set my shoulders and do my best to cowboy up.

 Set between imposing stone walls and punctured by large granite

fists, Hillside Cemetery definitely looks like it deserves its sinister reputation,

making my attempt at bravery rather brief. “This place sucks. Maybe we

should just go.”

“Here, watch your step,” Cay says and holds out his hand to help me

over the uneven cobbles just on the other side of the entry. Once we make it

over the stones, he drops my hand and pulls the recording equipment out of

the duffle.


We’ve been friends ever since kindergarten, when some boy taunted me

for living in a “little troll house.” Cay, the kickball king, told him that it was

actually a gingerbread house, and everybody knows that only fairy princesses

live in gingerbread houses.

He was wrong, of course; it was witches who lived in the gingerbread

houses, a fact I pointed out to him later, but I gave him props for the effort.

We’ve been “Cay and May” ever since, but the whole dating thing still feels...

awkward.

“Is this all from school or is Jack bringing some of his dad’s?” I swipe an

errant curl of hair out of my face and cringe at my surroundings as I reach for

the big videocamera. Why does it have to be so dark? Why can’t people ghost

hunt in the daylight? You can still supposed get sound bites and whatever in

the daytime, right? It’s not like ghosts go anywhere or sleep or, you know,


whatever.

“Well, the big stuff is the professional gear with night vision from

school. And then we have my stuff.” Cay stops in front of a wide tomb, laying

his multiple cameras and his mini video recorder along the top like they are

the most precious things in the world. “Weird that Mr. Dowd put both you and

Jack on my team.”

 “Yeah, weird.” And a nightmare. If it wasn’t for Jack, I’d be ranked

first in our year, and, unlike Jack, if I don’t earn a ton of scholarship money for

college, then I can’t go.

Cay fumbles with the equipment, his breath rising in great grey puffs of

frost, lingering in his dark bob of curls. I shiver.

A BMW pulls up in front of the entry gate, looking sleek and new and out

of place.


I run an unsteady hand through my untamable hair...right...Jack.

He gets out of the car and strides towards us, stepping out into the

camera’s lights: short blond hair, high cheekbones, and a long neck leading

to strong shoulders. Everyone at school, except for me, that is, adores him

because he’s rich, intelligent and supposedly lost his virginity to a Victoria’s

Secret model.

Watching the god-like way he strides across the cemetery, you can

almost believe the hype. He lifts his eyes to meet mine as he nods a greeting.

My heart flips.

Of course, it would be easier to dislike him if he wasn’t so damn... hot. I

shake my head. I hate that about him, too.

“You’re late.” I grab the sound gear from Cay and hand it to him,

eyeing the orange-clad harpy of a girl trailing after him.


“I had to pick up Alicia.” He indicates the thing as he straps on the

professional sound gear. “And respond to your post on the AP History board

about gun control.”

I huff. “You think we should arm everyone with a credit card?”

“What I think is irrelevant, Mason.” Jack’s the only one in the universe

who calls me by my full name. “It’s what the Founding Fathers wanted that

matters.” He holds out his hand to help me navigate my way over a broken

tomb. I ignore it. He smirks, “Or do you not support the Bill Of Rights?”

God, please keep me from throttling him tonight. Cay clears his throat.

“WTF, losers? A graveyard?” Alicia Impestio. Wearing her designer

hoodie unzipped so that she reveals way more skin than she has to, her straight

brown hair is bleached at the tips and held off of her over-tanned face by some

rhinestone-studded catastrophe. I grit my teeth.


“Hey Alicia, glad you could make it.” Cay holds the minicam out

towards her and helps her onto the cobbled path of the graveyard.

“Whatever.” Alicia grabs the mini and swats at Cay’s hand as she

struggles to gain a foothold. A challenging endeavor, I’m sure, for someone

wearing flip-flops in November.

She gives me the once-over, lips curling.

“You really wore that?” She asks, mouth open with disdain.

“Alicia...” Jack’s voice is low, menacing.

“I mean” –she gives me the once-over and sneers- “Aren’t the

Kardashians some of you people? They at least know how to dress. But, then

again, they also know who their daddy is.”

That’s Alicia: hitting where it hurts. I blink through the stinging at my

eyes as my mind races to find something snarky to say...something to...


“Alicia,” Jack snaps. “Stop.”

“Fine, but tell Clay Aiken over there to hurry it. I’m cold.”

Jack makes a motion with his head to indicate that Cay should ignore

her as he adjusts the weight of the portable boom on his back.

“Okay, I’m filming.” I say and catch the low-hanging harvest moon

before panning down to Cay. “In three, two, one...”

“This is Cayden Robison of Chase Hills High Broadcasting reporting on

site at Hillside Cemetery. In 1734, three witches were reportedly hung just up

the road, on the town green and buried, here, in this cemetery, in unmarked

graves.”

“Then, in 1864, three men were arrested for grave digging, and ever

since, people have reported strange things not only here, but especially out

behind the burial grounds, in the woods.” Cay runs his hand along the top of a


worn tombstone.

“Reports of paranormal activity really began to pick up in the past

thirty years.” He pauses, and I pan the camera over to the creepy oak and the

broken bench beneath it, hands a little unsteady. “Some people claim to hear

voices, others see full-body apparitions, but most convincingly, in the 1980s,

some kids back here partying say that they found satanists performing rituals in

the woods. They watched as the group made a make-shift temple of one of the

half-buried barite mines in the woods, and claim that the men actually raised a

demon.”

He stops, looking intently into the lens of my camera. I flex my fingers,

my breath rushed, like I’ve been running.

“Tonight, we’re going to dig for the truth and see if Hillside Cemetery is

actually haunted.” Cays smiles.


Deep breath, May. It’s just a story. Fairytales. There’s no such thing as

demons, or ghosts.

COPY & PASTE FOR FIRST CHAPTER REVEALS:

Title: Daughter of the Fallen

Author: Madeline Wynn

Publisher: Book Baby

Pages: 250

Genre: YA paranormal

Format: Kindle

Purchase at AMAZON

Most sixteen-year olds aren't worried about the fate of their immortal souls.

May Krieg should be.

Typically, honor student May's biggest problems have revolved around her


super-hot arch-rival, Jack. But when a school project takes them ghost-hunting

in a local cemetery, she discovers that an ominous force roams in the darkness

around her.

And it follows her home.

It claws its way into her life, burning messages into her wall and imprinting

them onto her body. Even worse, she can't tell if it's trying to possess her... or

protect her.

May's thoughts soon become actions, causing the target of her anger

severe physical pain and giving her a rush the likes of which she has never

experienced. She quickly realizes that she needs to find a way to reign in this

power before she kills someone. May hates the pleasure it gives her, hates

herself for hurting others, but she can't stop.

As her entire world shatters around her, she is forced to ask what her soul is


worth-- and who would she risk losing her soul to save?

(For readers who enjoy: teen paranormal romance, teen horror, teen romance,

nephilim, demons, YA, YA horror, YA paranormal, YA romance, ghost stories)

First Chapter:

This is New England. And in New England, a town without a good witch

hanging or ghost story just, well, isn’t considered to be a real town. So when I

walk past the iron gate of the cemetery and feel the urge to bolt riding up my

legs like a herd of football players bum-rushing the food counter on taco day, I

set my shoulders and do my best to cowboy up.

 Set between imposing stone walls and punctured by large granite

fists, Hillside Cemetery definitely looks like it deserves its sinister reputation,

making my attempt at bravery rather brief. “This place sucks. Maybe we

should just go.”


“Here, watch your step,” Cay says and holds out his hand to help me

over the uneven cobbles just on the other side of the entry. Once we make it

over the stones, he drops my hand and pulls the recording equipment out of

the duffle.

We’ve been friends ever since kindergarten, when some boy taunted me

for living in a “little troll house.” Cay, the kickball king, told him that it was

actually a gingerbread house, and everybody knows that only fairy princesses

live in gingerbread houses.

He was wrong, of course; it was witches who lived in the gingerbread

houses, a fact I pointed out to him later, but I gave him props for the effort.

We’ve been “Cay and May” ever since, but the whole dating thing still feels...

awkward.

“Is this all from school or is Jack bringing some of his dad’s?” I swipe an


errant curl of hair out of my face and cringe at my surroundings as I reach for

the big videocamera. Why does it have to be so dark? Why can’t people ghost

hunt in the daylight? You can still supposed get sound bites and whatever in

the daytime, right? It’s not like ghosts go anywhere or sleep or, you know,

whatever.

“Well, the big stuff is the professional gear with night vision from

school. And then we have my stuff.” Cay stops in front of a wide tomb, laying

his multiple cameras and his mini video recorder along the top like they are

the most precious things in the world. “Weird that Mr. Dowd put both you and

Jack on my team.”

 “Yeah, weird.” And a nightmare. If it wasn’t for Jack, I’d be ranked

first in our year, and, unlike Jack, if I don’t earn a ton of scholarship money for

college, then I can’t go.


Cay fumbles with the equipment, his breath rising in great grey puffs of

frost, lingering in his dark bob of curls. I shiver.

A BMW pulls up in front of the entry gate, looking sleek and new and out

of place.

I run an unsteady hand through my untamable hair...right...Jack.

He gets out of the car and strides towards us, stepping out into the

camera’s lights: short blond hair, high cheekbones, and a long neck leading

to strong shoulders. Everyone at school, except for me, that is, adores him

because he’s rich, intelligent and supposedly lost his virginity to a Victoria’s

Secret model.

Watching the god-like way he strides across the cemetery, you can

almost believe the hype. He lifts his eyes to meet mine as he nods a greeting.

My heart flips.


Of course, it would be easier to dislike him if he wasn’t so damn... hot. I

shake my head. I hate that about him, too.

“You’re late.” I grab the sound gear from Cay and hand it to him,

eyeing the orange-clad harpy of a girl trailing after him.

“I had to pick up Alicia.” He indicates the thing as he straps on the

professional sound gear. “And respond to your post on the AP History board

about gun control.”

I huff. “You think we should arm everyone with a credit card?”

“What I think is irrelevant, Mason.” Jack’s the only one in the universe

who calls me by my full name. “It’s what the Founding Fathers wanted that

matters.” He holds out his hand to help me navigate my way over a broken

tomb. I ignore it. He smirks, “Or do you not support the Bill Of Rights?”

God, please keep me from throttling him tonight. Cay clears his throat.


“WTF, losers? A graveyard?” Alicia Impestio. Wearing her designer

hoodie unzipped so that she reveals way more skin than she has to, her straight

brown hair is bleached at the tips and held off of her over-tanned face by some

rhinestone-studded catastrophe. I grit my teeth.

“Hey Alicia, glad you could make it.” Cay holds the minicam out

towards her and helps her onto the cobbled path of the graveyard.

“Whatever.” Alicia grabs the mini and swats at Cay’s hand as she

struggles to gain a foothold. A challenging endeavor, I’m sure, for someone

wearing flip-flops in November.

She gives me the once-over, lips curling.

“You really wore that?” She asks, mouth open with disdain.

“Alicia...” Jack’s voice is low, menacing.

“I mean” –she gives me the once-over and sneers- “Aren’t the

Kardashians some of you people? They at least know how to dress. But, then

again, they also know who their daddy is.”

That’s Alicia: hitting where it hurts. I blink through the stinging at my

eyes as my mind races to find something snarky to say...something to...

“Alicia,” Jack snaps. “Stop.”

“Fine, but tell Clay Aiken over there to hurry it. I’m cold.”

Jack makes a motion with his head to indicate that Cay should ignore

her as he adjusts the weight of the portable boom on his back.

“Okay, I’m filming.” I say and catch the low-hanging harvest moon

before panning down to Cay. “In three, two, one...”

“This is Cayden Robison of Chase Hills High Broadcasting reporting on

site at Hillside Cemetery. In 1734, three witches were reportedly hung just up

the road, on the town green and buried, here, in this cemetery, in unmarked


graves.”

“Then, in 1864, three men were arrested for grave digging, and ever

since, people have reported strange things not only here, but especially out

behind the burial grounds, in the woods.” Cay runs his hand along the top of a

worn tombstone.

“Reports of paranormal activity really began to pick up in the past

thirty years.” He pauses, and I pan the camera over to the creepy oak and the

broken bench beneath it, hands a little unsteady. “Some people claim to hear

voices, others see full-body apparitions, but most convincingly, in the 1980s,

some kids back here partying say that they found satanists performing rituals in

the woods. They watched as the group made a make-shift temple of one of the

half-buried barite mines in the woods, and claim that the men actually raised a

demon.”


He stops, looking intently into the lens of my camera. I flex my fingers,

my breath rushed, like I’ve been running.

“Tonight, we’re going to dig for the truth and see if Hillside Cemetery is

actually haunted.” Cays smiles.

Deep breath, May. It’s just a story. Fairytales. There’s no such thing as

demons, or ghosts.

Cay motions with his hand to indicate that the “official” filming has

ended and that now the “ghosthunting” part of the project begins. Why

couldn’t we report on the old tavern, or maybe on one of the farms like

everyone else? I blow onto my fingers to keep them warm before turning off

the main light of the camera and switching to night vision.

A dog barks. I jump. Looking at the shadows clinging to the crooked,

thin stones more cautiously, my heartbeat ticks up. Stupid dog.


Jack, eyeing me with something like concern, takes a step in my

direction.

“So, what exactly are we looking for? Has anybody actually taped any

evidence here?” I ask, trying to put some steel in my voice. Don’t look stupid

in front of Jack, May. He’s not freaked out and you shouldn’t be either.

“Lots of people have caught pictures and stuff... a few good EVPs.” Cay

stops and explains as he snaps a bunch of still shots. “Electronic Voice

Phenomena. Voices of ghosts are usually at such a low frequency that human

ears can’t pick them up, but you can catch them on tape.”

Cay walks, holding out both a still camera and a wand-like mini-recorder

in front of him.

I follow, looking over my shoulder. “Sounds like a bad recording...or

interference.”


Jack laughs soundlessly as we slowly follow Cay’s movements. Is it

wrong to say that I’m happy Jack’s here? I mean, it would be better if it was

someone else, of course....

Cay storms around the tomb and wags his finger at me, dry leaves

crunching beneath his feet. “It’s not interference, jeez May, didn’t you read

those links I sent you?”

No. The whole ghost thing is ridiculous. The trees at the edge of the

cemetery, though, are freakish. Black and dripping with shadows... I

absolutely would have read a link about a barite mine lurking somewhere

beneath those trees.

“This is creepy.” Alicia says, “Jack, we’re going to Eric’s party later,

right?”

Jack glares at her.


“Whatever.” She purses her lips and tosses the minicam on the ground,

“I’m going back to the car.”

Thank you, God.

Cay’s sweet, boyish features twist at Alicia’s defection. “We’ll do some

EVP work, first, OK?” He messes with his digital voice recorder for a minute

before holding the wand-like thing before him. He presses record. “Testing.”

We wait. The frost from our breath hovers around us, filling the

darkness with fog, hiding us from the trees.

Cay looks to me. Then he pushes stop. He plays back the recording and

we hear him say, “Testing.”

Jack shuffles his feet, trying to lower the boom over where Cay is

standing in the least conspicuous manner possible. A strange, cool feeling falls

over me. My teeth clench against it.


“Shhhh, May. Do you feel that?” Cay holds out his arm, listening.

My body tenses. “Feel what?” I ask, angry at myself for my quickening

heartbeat.

“It just dropped like ten degrees. Ghosts need energy to manifest, and

when they’re about to appear, you find a cold spot. Just like this.” He grins.

Swallowing my galloping heartbeat, I refrain from mentioning that it is

always cold in November in Connecticut. But a wall of cold that hits suddenly,

in a graveyard, while trying to talk to the dead...

“Is anybody here with us tonight?” Cay asks, holding the recorder out

before him. “Is there anything you would like to say to us?”

We wait in the silence of the night, Cay with the tiny, handheld voice

recorder and Jack with the pro gear and mic, both recording, both waiting...

The cold sits at the bottom of my stomach like a virus, lying, waiting to


rear up and make me ill. I keep the camera on Cay with shaking hands, black

hair falling in front of my eyes, but I don’t dare swat at them, in case I miss

the shot.

Cay plays the tape back. He waits, holding his breath as we hear his

voice asking the first question, and thankfully only a blank pause before we

hear him ask the second and I relax, shoulders softening, but just then, just as

he moves to turn off the playback, a sound, a groaning, emanates from the

small machine he holds in his hand.

“Go.”

“What the hell was that?” I shriek, jumping in time with Cay and

reaching out to grab at Jack’s shirt.

“It sounds like it’s saying ‘go’, hot damn!” Cay shouts triumphantly.

“We like totally made contact!”


 Jack looks at my hand on his shirt and smiles. I let go. Crap!

“Mason, this ghost hunting stuff is all bull, you know that, right?”

Heart slamming, I hold my feet steady beneath my pounding heart. Bull,

yeah, bull, right, I do know that. I nod at him, breath heavy.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Jack lowers the long wand microphone to his

feet. Arm muscles tensing as he pulls the battery pack off of his back, he plays

back the feedback on the main sound recorder. He fast forwards then hits

play. We hear Cay ask his questions and...I hold my breath...and...and...nothing.

Jack’s right. Nothing groaned. Nothing said “go”.

Thank God.

 “The EVP recorder’s more sensitive.” Cay says incredulously as he

points the EVP recorder at Jack’s set lips. “It’s specially set up to pick up

more sound waves than standard equipment.”


“More sensitive than professional sound gear?” Jack raises his eyebrow

and looks me in the eye. “He pre-recorded it, Mason. He’s faking.”

“Cay?”

“I’m not lying, May, I swear!” He hops around a cracked tombstone and

grabs my hand in his, “Promise.”

“Right.” Jack shrugs off the rest of the soundgear. “Using an

assignment on local history as an excuse to play ghost hunter was a bad idea,

Cay. Faking a ghost sighting or hearing or whatever to impress your girlfriend is

just wrong.”

“We’ve just experienced something supernatural here!” Cay turns to

face Jack, looking wiry standing against Jack’s athletic physique.

“No, we haven’t.” Jack’s eyes meet mine and my heart flounders... not

sure as to what the hell it should be doing. “He’s lying to you, Mason.”


My heart tightens, falls.

“I am not, you dick!” Cay shoves Jack in the chest.

Jack doesn’t push back, he just straightens out and looks to me again,

“Maybe you should ask him what else he’s lying to you about, Mason?”

“May, you’ve known me like your whole life, you know I wouldn’t fake

this.” I look into Cay’s eyes, searching for the truth. He wouldn’t. For one,

he’s not that smart. And he wouldn’t fake something like this. Not on purpose.

Not if it would mean tricking me. Maybe Alicia tampered with this stuff

somehow... And what the hell is Jack implying?

“He wouldn’t lie, Jack.” I look across the field to the blackened woods.

“Not to me. It must be the equipment.”

Jack’s face closes...he’s pissed. “For your sake, I hope that’s true.” He

hands me the sound equipment. “I can wait by the car if you want me to, but I


won’t be part of this.”

“Just go.” Cay demands, getting in Jack’s face.

Jack raises his eyes to mine. My heart amps up. I force my eyes to the

ground. I don’t want him to go. Safety in numbers and all that.

Wait, Jack’s walking away....

 I turn to Cay. “Why is he so sure you’re making this up?”

Cay looks at his feet. “Probably just pissed he’s not in charge of

something for once.”

 “Maybe.” I watch Jack’s form seem to disappear into the trees and

tombs beneath the light of the moon.

“Come on.” He looks over at Jack’s retreating form and says at full

volume, “I’m your boyfriend and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Jack stops, back tight, and Cay sports a defiant grin as he ushers me


closer to the tree line.

After a long moment, Cay clears his throat and talks into the wand-like

EVP machine. “We’re here to talk to you.”

Leaves crunch beneath his feet as he picks his way through the tall

blades of yellowed grass and creeps down towards the woods. I ask, “Wait,

Cay, where are you going?”

He hits ‘record’, ignoring me.

“We want to talk to you.” Cay calls, talking to the dead as he motions

for me to follow him, trampling twisted fronds of dead milkweed as he crosses

the field of graves and approaches the trees.

My heartbeat ticks up even further by the sudden stillness of the trees.

No owls, no wind, even the yippy dogs from the condos have stopped. My feet

stay planted, rooted... I really don’t want to go near those trees. Much less


walk around in them.

“Would you like to say something to us?” He waits for what seems like a

year, then stops recording.

He meets my eyes over the top of the view screen. He pushes ‘play’.

We wait. I feel a trickle of sweat down my chest, sliding over my racing

heart...I swallow the lump in my throat...waiting...

Merciful silence. I let out a breath of relief. Thank God. That first

voice was probably just the wind, or Cay doing something beneath his....

“Go away.” The voice is loud enough to hear, coming from the woods,

and my heart takes a great leap, stomach trembling. Cay’s eyes widen, and

just before I drop the camera and run back to the car, he grabs my arm, and

holds me steady, fear like a giant nail in my chest.... and we hear it again, the

voice, low, dark, barely above a whisper. “Demons.”


Cay shivers with excitement. “Did you hear that? Were you recording?

Did you catch what it was saying? This is like totally amazing!”

“It was crystal clear what it was saying, Cay! And it means we need to

get the hell out of here right now!” My breath leaves short, angry clouds of

frost in the air around me, and I struggle to keep a good shot on anything as I

look into his delighted face.

No way. No way. This is bull. I’m being punked or something, right? He

has to have paid someone to hide in the trees. He didn’t tell me because he

wanted me to look scared on film. He’ll tell me later, we’ll laugh about it

later...

“No way, it means we’re going into the woods! How many times do you

get a chance to possibly catch an inhuman haunting on film! This is like wicked

hot.” Cay hops a thin sapling and walks into the forest.


“Cay, please, let’s just go back to the car. We’ve got more than enough

for our three minute assignment.” I say, voice thin. Please don’t make me go

in there.

Breathe, May, breathe. It’s just trees, dammit. You like trees. I look up

to try and find Cay.

But he’s gone, walking into the misshapen wood, trees bending,

scooping at the ground instead of the sky. I peer into the shadowed forest,

and then back to the graveyard. Dampening my pounding heart, I square my

shoulders and try and think strong, think tough. I can’t let Cay go in there

alone. He’ll trip on a rock or something and get himself killed. I take a deep

breath, hope to God this isn’t a mistake, and take a step into the trees.

The woods are definitely worse than the graveyard. The graveyard has

some sense of form, some light. The woods here are a mess of fallen vines,


thorn bushes and half-broken, half-dead trees and their sickly, barren limbs

above. Holding onto the peeling bark of an old birch tree, I allow my eyes to

adjust to the new degree of darkness.

Having better vision through the lens of the camera than I do with my

own eyes, I raise the camera and slowly make my way through the chaos. I

follow Cay’s movements with the camera, watching his lanky form appear and

reappear onscreen ahead of me, asking more questions of the voice.

There are things here. I feel them, watching, waiting, my skin tingles at

the sensation, as if it has sprouted thousands of tiny, needle-like thorns. The

only sounds in here come from us, which is...well... wrong.

“Ugh! That totally sucks! May, go around, I got caught in this nasty

puddle here. Oh, wow that’s cold.” Cay says, shaking his foot and hopping

around some saplings.


“We should go.” I say. “It’s hard to shoot in here.” My path around the

freezing mud leads me either through a patch of thorny undergrowth or over a

massive downed tree.

 Right, over the tree it is then. I lower the camera and let it dangle

around my neck and use both hands to grab the log and climb up and over.

Landing on the other side, I pull a leaf out of my hair. Wait...why does it feel

like the ground here isn’t frozen? My feet sink...what’s going on? Did I step

into a pile of decaying leaves?

The ground gives beneath my feet and the forest floor rushes up to my

eyes.

A moment of dark free fall and confusion ends with the clarity of

impact. Pain bursts my body. Burning up through my legs, through my lungs,

through thoughts of anything. Anything but the pain...erasing everything.


I can’t breathe. Like a fish on a dock, I fumble as my lungs torturously

pull in raw, slicing clouds of oxygen. Short, excruciating breaths, but I have

to....

“Cay” I call for my friend, somewhere above me, but the sound that

leaves my throat is too low, too guttural to carry.

I’m wallowing, covered in something. Oh crap. Am I in a grave? I can’t

tell; I can’t see anything. My heart is on overdrive. The smell is noxious. I

wipe some of the sludge off my face, only to smear more of it near my eyes. It

clings to my sweater, wet, cold, beneath my filthy coat. The stench, oh God I

can’t see. What is this?

 The only light filters in from a small hole somewhere maybe eight feet

over my head.

Are there bones? What is that smell? Decaying leaves? No, too deep,


and the smell is rancid, like something is dying, or has died, leaving me lying

in a pool of decomposing flesh. Oh please God, tell me I am not in a puddle of

rotting bodily fluids. The noxious fluid clings to me, burning my nostrils as I try

and stop the heaving of my chest and I gag.

 “May! May can you hear me? Are you OK? Oh crap, I like can’t like

believe this, if you can hear me, I am like calling 911, ok? Are you bleeding?”

 “Cay.” I try again, a low moan as my body’s initial numbness turns to

tiny pricks, like millions of biting ants running up and down the length of my

body as my nerves surge back up. I lay on my side, curled up in the mire.

Fighting pain, fighting panic, I look around me. And see nothing. The

dark is absolute. I move my head to look at my quivering, bleeding hands.

They don’t seem to be broken. Okay, this is good. Well, maybe not good, but

I’m not dead, and that’s at least something. Just calm down and think your


way out of this. Check your legs.

My right leg is sore, throbbing, but okay. I move my left foot and waves

of agony reverberate up my leg. I exhale forcefully, trying to exorcise some of

the throbbing so I can focus.

“Cay!” My voice is a low, whiny croak...not enough...not enough...

My eyes adjust, slowly, so slowly. I lean on my aching left hip. My

phone. Open the phone. I pull my cell out of my pocket. Hands trembling, I

flip the phone open. The ambient light I’m counting on fades to black, as if

snuffed. Damn! I just charged the stupid thing this afternoon. It’s so cold, so

dark...

Breathe, just breathe.

“Cayden Robinson. I’m at Hillside. No. My friend, she fell into like

a hole...I don’t know, yes, a hole...no...look, you like have to get her out like


now....” His voice fades.

Breathe in...His voice echoes down to where I lay in a pool of grayish

light. Breathe out....I look around at the walls, and see nothing. Nothing but

darkness. Focus, May! Breathe in....Cay is up there, not too far above you, and

you will be able to call to him in a minute, once your breathing steadies.

Breath out... “Cay!” I call, voice finally unlocking.

 “Oh my God!” He fumbles, kicking debris down into the hole, “May!”

“Just stay calm, OK?” He calls, “The EMTs told me to tell you not to

move because you might have a neck injury or something.”

Not move? Stay calm? Seriously? I feel my cheeks moisten and I stifle a

yowl. Breathe in....

I wish I could see into the dark around me. Then at least I would be

able to know where I am. Sitting in the only light makes me feel like I’m


onstage.

Remembering the light on the camera, I fumble around my surrounding

area, only to finding more mud. Hot dammit!

“I’m going to look around and see if I can find something to help you out

with, OK? Like a stick or something.” Cay calls.

I sit, cold, trying to stay calm. But I feel...something....

I feel it. I am not alone. The tips of my fingers go numb. Something is

here...around...watching....

Cay returns to the edge of the hole and he leans his head over. “I don’t

want you to like, freak out or anything, but I think you’re in the shaft.”

The temperature plummets and my stomach lurches, “What shaft?” I

ask, voice hoarse.

“Like, the shaft, May. I think I just found the entrance over there, it


look like it’s sealed and all.”

My heart flutters. “Cay, are you talking about the mine shaft? The one

the .....”

“Yeah.” Cay murmers. “But don’t panic. Help is totally on its way.”

Asshole! Don’t panic? Is he for real? I’m in the satanist’s shaft and he

tells me not to panic!?!?

Something shuffles in the dark not three feet from where I’m laying. My

heart shifts, “Something just moved, Cay.”

Cay’s head is back in the light. “It’s probably just a mouse, May, relax.”

His voice is tight.

Right, a mouse. But it sounds bigger...

I hear a low-level snarling. Bile dribbles down my throat, burning as it

goes. “Cay, there is something down here.”


The color slowly drains from my cheeks and all feeling rushes to my

core. Growling. Something is here. Growling. Oh God help me. Growling.

My mind frantically searches, wishing I could see anything in the

darkness. My throat tightens and I am barely able to whisper. “Help me.”

 “May, here.” Cay drops a glowstick down the opening, and I watch with

horror as it illuminates a large, growing mass of shadow against the rock of the

wall. No. The shadow is vaguely human in form, and can’t be cast by me. No.

I’m on the wrong side of the light. My blood ices. Please somebody help me.

Move! May, move! I tug at my legs desperately and back away from the

sounds, but it feels like I am surrounded. I have nowhere to go. I have no

escape. The light of the glowstick fades before it hits the floor, swallowed by

the darkness, as if absorbed by this thing, and I hear the sound of the video

camera’s plastic casing being ripped, shredded.


“Cay!” Shrieking, I clamor at the wall behind me, looking for some sort

of grip to try and pull myself out of the mineshaft, hands only finding slick

stone. Then I feel it, hot breath on the back of my neck. “Get me the hell out

of here now! There is something down here and it’s huge!”

“May! Hold on! Help! I’m gonna, I just, like...”

The black is absolute, but I feel it, breath tickling at my skin,

everywhere, nowhere, my fingers scraping at the rock wall, trying to find a

hold, a way out. “Get me out of here! Please! I feel it, it’s everywhere!”

“May! What’s going on? Are you OK? Help! Somebody!” Cay’s screams

are desperate above me as I fall to my knees, the air taking on life a life of its

own as my fingers bleed, clawing against the rock. Can’t think. I hear another

sharp, angry voice somewhere above me. Can’t breathe. I lunge right to try

and avoid touching the mass of darkness to my left, but my head bangs hard

against the rock wall and I can’t keep my eyes open.

It all goes black.



GIVEAWAY

Madeline Wynn is giving away a $50 Amazon Gift Card!

Terms & Conditions:

• By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years

old.

• One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter.

• This giveaway begins November 3 and ends January 31.

• Winner will be contacted via email on Monday, February 2.

• Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!

ENTER TO WIN!

Rafflecopter Code:

<a id="rc-1a49cf61140" class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.

display/1a49cf61140/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>

<script src="/
[Share to Pinterest]

No comments:

Post a Comment