Death Games : (Looking for Sally II)
136 pages
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136 pages
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Description

At the end of a deadly roadtrip, Charlie sets out on a frantic search for her father left for dead, following a trail of breadcrumbs laid by an increasingly vicious demon on the verge of incarnation.
The countdown is on as Sally embarks on a dangerous experiment and the death toll keeps on rising…
A gory, disturbing thriller that takes us deeper and deeper into the darkness of the human psyche.
Readers discretion is advised.

Sujets

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 27 décembre 2021
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9782312087948
Langue Français

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Death Games
Stéphanie Munch
Death Games
( Looking for Sally II )
LES ÉDITIONS DU NET
126, rue du Landy 93400 St Ouen
© Les Éditions du Net, 2021
ISBN : 978-2-312-08794-8
When you know that your time is close at hands
maybe then you’ll begin to understand,
life down here is just a strange illusion









Readers discretion is advised ( Explicit content/violence)
Foreword
I have been a fan of reading & horror stories since I was a young boy, so much so that it has inspired and influenced many of the knives and weapons I’ve made over the years. I’ve been told that I’ve inspired many smiths over the years. Being an inspiration for not one but, two horror stories written by Stephanie was a thrill and an honor. Also, being able to help and advise on a few aspects of the books was quite a lot of fun as well. I hope you enjoy the Sally books as much as I have.
J. Neilson
ABS Master Bladesmith & Forged in Fire Judge
Into the darkness
– Do you believe in God, Charlie ?
Nate’s words were playing in a loop in Charlie’s head, already overwhelmed with crazy, uncontrollable thoughts, as the teenager was walking up the slightly sloping alley to Holy Trinity Church. A scarf was covering her lips and a hood the top of her face, but her fever-bright eyes were browsing the street like those of a hunted animal. Three days. It had taken her three days to get to Poughkeepsie, and sometimes Charlie thought that what kept her standing was also what would eventually kill her.
Her mismatched clothes had been through rain and wind, and her body was tired of walking the streets and hiding at the back of buses to avoid meeting the eyes of adults. Running away had been her only option. Now and then she still could see the three bodies lying on the carpet of her aunt’s living room, the blood splattered on the walls, and she still could feel the dizziness of the shock. It was as if pulling the trigger was like being crushed by a 8000 pounds truck at full speed. That’s it, Charlie , welcome on the dark side . Consciousness had returned to her right after that, along with her freewill. Her muscles had finally reconnected to her brain, but way too slowly, to obey her will alone again. Then Charlie had dropped the weapon and she would always remember the sound the metal made when hitting the ground. Bang .
That’s what he’d been trying to do all along, use her like a puppet. Satisfy his appetite for violence and murder through her hands and spew his hatred of this world out of her mouth. Even in the most remote places she could feel him deep inside her, like a rattlesnake about to uncoil and attack. You lost, Charlie .
She felt dirty, helpless. At dawn she had slipped into the locker room of a deserted gym and stood for long minutes under a hot shower, unable to straighten out her thoughts. Even the hot water on her skin hadn’t solved or washed anything away ; then she had put her soiled clothes back on, her sneakers which were loose as if they had been through hell, and set off again. But where was she heading to, she had no fucking idea.
Charlie’s only option was to run, run away from Boston , from the cops, and even from her mother. She didn’t want to hear from anyone or anything anymore, and she wanted to silence the voice that had irrevocably led her down the still-warm path of their bloody roadtrip. The last step before the end of all things. Yes , she had heard the journalist and these words felt like sharp pointed spikes driven deep into her flesh, so yes, she knew.
Did she believe in their fucking god, the god who took her father away from her ? Not anymore. Never again.
– Come on Charlie, why won’t you answer ?
Her memory was playing games as the silhouette of the church came into view up the street. The shrill howl of the beast and her feet being ripped off the ground as if she was a rag doll. The rage. The pain in her belly. And that haunting rattle music that grew louder as she was getting closer to her goal.
Charlie slightly lifted her hood to take a look at the building in front of her. It was a terrible risk, and she could already feel the shuddering inside. The doors opened almost effortlessly, as if the place had been waiting for her. Her heart clenched and her lips trembled as she walked through the central nave, trying not to look back at the bench where she had seen her father wake up, their last exchange before the creature infected her. See, I came back, Daddy.
Tears began to roll down her cheeks and mouth, leaving a sweet salty taste, and she pulled down her scarf. Just like a perfectly orchestrated play, the priest appeared at the back of the church, rising from the seat he had been sitting on. Their eyes met and he froze, as if the devil himself had just entered. The atmosphere in the church was terribly heavy, and the teenager felt as if a thin film had been set between her and reality, a light veil that darkened everything and dulled even the light through the stained glass windows. The transept was pitch black, and even the crucifix at the back of the church looked as dark as ebony.
Charlie could feel it, and sense the throbbing tension under the priest’s wrist. She could sense it, guess it ; the presence of the beast inside her had sharpened her senses. It was vibrating. Soon the silence would be broken, the sacred would be profaned, and there would be blood and fury. But Charlie needed her answer, she wanted a reason for everything she had been through and the name of whatever had been relentlessly tearing her guts apart since the night she had run away from her aunt’s house, leaving three dead bodies behind. She wanted a direction, a sign, anything. She wouldn’t leave that church without it.
– You’ve come back.
The priest’s voice echoed in the nave, almost monotone, slightly shaky. Charlie knew it, the impulse would soon be too strong to resist. She had to stop the beast from cutting the priest’s belly open straight away, to have a chance to get what she was here for. The rage was growing within like a carnivorous plant, ready to extract itself and spread its fury. Give me a little time, patience.
– You know why.
The man moved slowly forward, forced to stand on the altar to support his carcass, and stopped right in front of her. Exactly, eye to eye. He looked tired, and hesitant.
– You couldn’t save him. But you can save yourself.
– I refuse to believe what they told me.
– Charlie, your father is dead.
That’s what they want, the beast whispered. To make you cry, to take away your courage. Kill him, kill him . The creature was almost dancing in her belly.
– I know you’re lying.
– Look, it’s not too late. You’ve got to find your mother.
– She’s the one who stabbed him and I’ll kill her too.
– Kid, you need help.
– Help ? Where I stand no one can help me anymore.
There was that ominous, almost unbereable tension, and the words refused to come out at first.
– I killed my aunt, I killed two cops. No one will let me live after this.
– You can stay here. He’ll look after you.
Charlie wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, avoiding Father O’Neill’s gaze. His kindness rekindled too many things, a strange and warm feeling. But that was precisely what the creature loathed and sought to destroy. It was like a click.
The moan was coming up her throat like a blazing fire and it was too late anyway. The impulse rose from her toes to the top of her head and was too powerful to resist. Charlie drew the knife from inside her jacket and her arm pounced with a terrible rage on Father O’Neill’s chest. The old man did not react. He did not even move. Not a flinch. As she stood close to his face, she thought she heard a whisper, though the priest’s lips were not moving at all.
– Wait…
The end of the sentence got lost in a cacophony of sounds and chants that emerged in her head like a scene from a horror movie, so deafening that it momentarily confused all her senses.
Then Charlie felt the wide blade dig in and readjusted her grip on the handle to cut all the way down to his lower abdomen, releasing a mix of guts and blood that dripped onto the priestly garb. Not enough , the creature growled. Still it wanted more. Charlie could feel the frustration, but the tears suddenly came back, blocking out her vision, and she pulled herself together. She had to leave, right away, not give them time to find her. In the fog, she withdrew the blade and wrapped it in the priest’s scarf then put it back in her bag. Her hands were trembling, her whole body was shaking. Everything seemed to be slipping away from her.
The song was gone, her father was gone, and she had just murdered a man of the Church. From the depths of her gut, what was left of little Charlie begged her to run.
Coma
Boston , three days earlier.
The sound of the gurney wheels rolled through the hospital hall like thunder.
– He’s going down, he’s lost too much blood.
Agent Harris’ gaze rose lazily to the medical team, who seemed to have lost faith in what they were doing. His head was still aching after the night spent in the field without a break, and the seats in the waiting room didn’t offer the comfort his sore joints required. Go, the chief told him, you’ll see, just a domestic dispute gone bad. Harris slid into a chair, wrapping his arms around his head trying to find a more comfortable position. Now he had to wait for the guy to die, or wake up, and he wasn’t sure which option was the best one.
At the other end of the hallway a little boy was playing and making faces at him between two runs on the slippery floor. His own kids had stopped doing that

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