Black Bayou

Marigold La Roux had a perfectly average existence… until the night her parents tried to murder her.Barely escaping with her life should have been the end of Marigold’s living nightmare. Unfortunately, it was just the beginning. Her entire world starts shattering. She moves to New Orleans to stay with her only living relative, her aunt Delilah. She believes the bustle of Bourbon Street will help her get a fresh start, but strange things start happening to Marigold at the La Roux estate. Ghostly voices whisper in her ear, sharp knives scrape against her door, and something in the darkness lashes out, leaving deep claw marks on her back.Hoping to understand her torment, she starts delving into her family’s past and is shocked and appalled by what she discovers. She begins to understand why locals shudder at the mere mention of La Roux house. The attacks against her grow more vicious, ravaging not only her body, but also her mind.Desperate to end her suffering, Marigold teams up with Louis, an occult enthusiast, who hopes his knowledge of the paranormal can help end her family curse once and for all. But, the dark forces of evil are relentless and their twisted hold runs deep in her blood. They will stop at nothing to get what they want: her life.Revised and re-edited April 2017

From the Inside Flap

"Shhh, baby. It's okay. It's okay. Mommy's here." A thousand memories sprung forth upon hearing those words. It was the same words spoken when she had scraped her knees, fallen out of a tree, and even when she had her heart broken for the first time. Now, they were uttered as her father wrapped his hands around her neck. She thrashed against her parents but it did little good. Strong fingers crushed her throat, constricting her breath until her face swelled with blood and her lungs screamed for air. Her feet kicked uselessly over the floor. She didn't have the strength to lift her arms. The world shook and bled, reduced to splotches of darkness with no meaning. Her mother's fingers loosened on her arms but she still felt weighted down. Tender fingers stroked her hair. The ones around her neck trembled with force. There was a sudden crash. A powerful, deafening crack. A dozen voices screaming at once. Her mother hissed words she couldn't understand. Her father yelled back. She couldn't breathe. Colors started to dull as her father's face loomed into her vision. His hands left her neck but she could barely breathe. There was more shouting. Her mother slammed the door shut. "I'm so sorry," the small blade of a pair of nail scissors pressed against her throat. Dug in until blood oozed out to meet it. His tears scorched her skin as he pressed a trembling kiss to her forehead. "We can't leave you behind. Don't be afraid. It's better this way." The door burst open. She saw guns, heard that ear-splitting sound, and her mother's scream. Over her father's shoulder, she watched her mother slide down the wall, leaving a trail of smeared blood. "Daddy loves you." Agony streaked across her neck as he drew the blade, pushing down as hard as he could. It sliced through skin and flesh and released a wave of blood that gushed on the floor. It cut deep and suddenly her desperate need was met with a rush of air. It filled her lungs so fiercely that her back arched. . Two more shorts and her father fell by her side, his blood seeping out of a hole in his chest, mingling with her own. Police swarmed the room; phantoms dressed in black. Each inhale whistled through her severed throat. Only a little passed through but it was enough to last her to the next intake. Police pressed the bleach-stained towel to her throat. She watched as her father saw her take another breath. Watched the terror swarm in his eyes until death dulled them. It felt like she was floating. The pain was easing. She blinked and saw it; a shadow that clung to her father's back. It inched up over his shoulder, watching her. The police pulled at her as they struggled to stem the tide that flowed from her neck. The shadow grew. It clawed over her father like a solid, bottomless mass. She couldn't move. Fingers like talons, as thin as bones, reached for her. They felt like ice as they covered her face and swallowed the world.

About the Author

Growing up in the endless summer of Australia, Sara Clancy was always fascinated with the macabre. It gave her an opportunity to satisfy her cravings for all things spooky and strange, and indulge in a world of mystery. Currently living near a beach she never visits, she enjoys writing horror, spending most of her pay checks on books, and devotes a great deal of time and energy to fictional characters. She also enjoys talking through movies, but understands that's a private indulgence.

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