Weaver of Shadows The Despised

Nathan lives a down-trodden mundane life. He feels he deserves much more. His attitude is made worse by the conditions in which he works. It is not only the work itself, but his employer.Each day Nathan can hear his employer leave his office. Each day he makes the same repetitious and annoying sounds. Nathan cringes as the sounds comes closer and closer to his office door. Each day he presents the same garish appearance at Nathan's open door, the same maddening stare. Each day the sameness eats away at Nathan, until he seriously fears for his sanity.Nathan knows himself to be of above average intelligence. A murder that is what is needed to relieve Nathan's torment. Nathan follows his employer, studies, plots, and plans. Oh, if only all that was plotted and planned so carefully went well, he could put an end to his torment.

From the Inside Flap

The sorrow and grey despair that Nathan felt were matched only by the gloominess of the day. Or, at least he surmised it to be daylight outside. This much he had deduced by the thin slit of yellowish grey light filtering in through what he could only guess was a small window. Unfortunately, the sliver of light creeping in like a ghostly specter did nothing to ease the oppressive darkness that hung over him like a death shroud. Sighing, Nathan pressed his back against the cold stone wall behind him, as he struggled in vain to pierce the darkness with his aching eyes. Nathan dropped his head down into his hands, where he rubbed his forehead, as he reached deep into his memories. He needed answers to the nagging question plaguing him. How did I end up in here? And where was here for that matter? It was far too dark to ascertain the shape of the room or any sounds coming from outside the walls that now held him captive. Has it been days or only hours? he wondered. There was no real way of knowing, since he could not be sure the light trying to steal its way into the room above him, was coming from outside or some other source, designed to fool him into thinking the passage of time had been great. A deep sense of fear and dread filled his thoughts, when once again, Nathan reached up towards the fading light, as if he could somehow grab a hold of it and make it remain just a little longer. A sound coming from across the room was met with a stifled gasp from Nathan. Not sure of its origin, he drew his legs in closer and listened intently to the silence of the room. Was there someone or something in here with me?

From the Back Cover

The dampness of his tomb, as he had come so fondly to call it, was engulfed in an oppressive, suffocating darkness. Nathan was sure that one could only find such a place in the deepest recesses of a tortured mind. It was a place which neither man nor beast would willingly venture. With the deafening silence of the room closing in upon him, Nathan found himself once more wondering how he came to find himself in a place such as this. Wrapping his arms around his legs, Nathan shuddered hard against the images conjured up in his fragile mind, which he was sure would need no more than a nudge to fall into the pits of senility. The images were made worse; he was sure, by his fevered mind playing tricks on him. The sounds, of light quick steps, and tapping and scraping, returned. They seemed to come close, very close, still he could not see it. What can it be? Who or what is in here with me? Only my tormentor knows for sure. Or does he?

About the Author

I have often wondered what they based campfire stories on. Where did they get their ideas for creating the fantasy thriller, horror stories and legends? I wonder how many people other than myself have asked; what if they were not stories at all. Taking this into consideration I have decided to turn my passion for reading and writing about the unknown, the undead, and the mysterious. Some times I try to create stories to explain away my fears. This unfortunately does not always work. Recently I started to write a book based on possessed Victorian, Harlequin and baby dolls. I clearly realized trying to control my fears through writing was not working when I took my Grand Daughters gift of a musical doll I had for her and locked it up in the shed outside. I do this because I love doing it. I love entertaining people and taking them on a journey.

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