Author: Angie

Inside the Asylum A Kathy Ryan Novel #2 by Mary SanGiovanni Genre: Supernatural Horror Pub Date: 5/7/19

From “master of cosmic horror” (Library Journal) Mary SanGiovanni, comes the latest terrifying novel featuring occult specialist Kathy Ryan . . . A mind is a terrible thing to destroy . . . Kathy has been hired to assess the threat of patient Henry Banks, an inmate at the Connecticut-Newlyn Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the same hospital where her brother is housed. Her employers believe that Henry has the ability to open doors to other dimensions with his mind—making him one of the most dangerous men in modern history. Because unbeknownst to Kathy, her clients are affiliated with certain government organizations that investigate people like Henry—and the potential to weaponize such abilities. What Kathy comes to understand in interviewing Henry, and in her unavoidable run-ins with her brother, is that Henry can indeed use his mind to create “Tulpas”—worlds, people, and creatures so vivid they come to actual life. But now they want life outside of Henry. And they’ll stop at nothing to complete their emancipation. It’s up to Kathy—with her brother’s help—to stop them, and if possible, to save Henry before the Tulpas take him over—and everything else around him. Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo * Kensington

Behind the Door A Kathy Ryan Novel #1

Occult specialist Kathy Ryan returns in this thrilling novel of paranormal horror from Mary SanGiovanni, the author of Chills . . . Some doors should never be opened . . . In the rural town of Zarepath, deep in the woods on the border of New Jersey and Pennsylvania, stands the Door. No one knows where it came from, and no one knows where it leads. For generations, folks have come to the Door seeking solace or forgiveness. They deliver a handwritten letter asking for some emotional burden to be lifted, sealed with a mixture of wax and their own blood, and slide it beneath the Door. Three days later, their wish is answered—for better or worse. Kari is a single mother, grieving over the suicide of her teenage daughter. She made a terrible mistake, asking the powers beyond the Door to erase the memories of her lost child. And when she opened the Door to retrieve her letter, she unleashed every sin, secret, and spirit ever trapped on the other side. Now, it falls to occultist Kathy Ryan to seal the door before Zarepath becomes hell on earth . . . Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo * Kensington

Mary SanGiovanni is the author of the Bram Stoker nominated novel The Hollower, its sequels Found You and The Triumvirate, Thrall, Chaos, Savage Woods, Chills—which introduced occult security consultant Kathy Ryan—as well as the novellas For Emmy, Possessing Amy, and The Fading Place , as well as numerous short stories. She has been writing fiction for over a decade, has a masters in writing popular fiction from Seton Hill University, and is a member of The Authors Guild, Penn Writers, and International Thriller Writers. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Chapter 1
March twenty-seventh marked three years since Henry Banks had woken up from the coma. He kept
track in a day planner, with new calendar refills for subsequent years, by drawing a symbol he had been
taught by his friends in the upper right hand corner of each day’s page. Other than therapy sessions, he
had no real appointments anymore, but Henry jotted down notes about the day’s events, things he
learned or discovered, and each night before bed, he drew that symbol of his far-reaching goals.
Journaling, even Henry’s odd version of it, was encouraged and allowed to continue as a means of
reconnecting with one’s self and feelings. His was more of an odd, disjointed grimoire of his mind, but
that seemed to be okay, too. He never forgot, not even during the trial when his mind was…elsewhere.
On days he couldn’t get to the planner, Maisie made sure that at least the days were marked. It was
important to him. He never forgot, so neither did she.
Every day that passed reminded him that he was drifting farther and farther from the rest of humanity,
so Henry didn’t think the three-year anniversary was cause for celebration. Dr. Pam Ulster did, though,
or at least convincingly pretended to. Every year prior, she had suggested Henry do something nice for
himself to commemorate his “return to the world.” The irony was not lost on him. He didn’t see how he
was supposed to do much of anything since the orderlies, who were not big on celebrations, watched
him like hawks. Even if he wanted to, what could he really give himself in his current situation? A walk in
the sunshine around the hospital grounds? An extra muffin with breakfast? Anything else—anything
worthwhile—would be noticed and probably taken away.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d come back from the dead. He’d just come back from…somewhere else.
Henry figured other people would have had reason to celebrate March twenty-seventh if he’d died
instead of coming out of that coma. Maybe that should have happened, but it didn’t. Maisie, Orrin,
Edgar, and the Others made sure of that. They’d come out of Ayteilu and saved him. Or maybe they
were right, and he had saved them.
The police and the lawyers and the doctors told him he’d done something bad to the teenagers in his
basement right before the coma. He couldn’t remember much about that. He was pretty sure he hadn’t
been the one who’d done it, but it was his fault all the same. He’d seen those teenagers before; they
hung around outside the Dollar Tree and said mean things to him from behind the safety of their
cigarette smoke clouds when he went to shop there. The girl was pretty, but she was sharp where she
should have been soft, like something made of glass or porcelain, something whose temper could
shatter her into a thousand jagged, deadly pieces. The three guys were mostly messy mops of hair, black
trench coats, and jeans. Their faces didn’t matter to him. Their fists did, and their words; they often
threatened the former with the latter. Henry wasn’t even sure if they’d had eyes, but he imagined that if
they did, those eyes were cold.
They made fun of the holes in his t-shirts and the way he walked and the scar on his shaved head. They
made fun of the burn marks on the back of his shoulder and neck and the way he growled at them
instead of using words. Still, they had always been an away-problem, an outside-the-house problem, like
savage dogs on leashes. They were tethered to the Dollar Tree, and if he could make it past them to his
car and then to his home, he would be safe.

Then it turned out that they weren’t on leashes. They could move anywhere they wanted. And they had
chosen to break into his house, his safe space. They’d brought baseball bats and knives. The Viper and
the Others had come simply to protect him.
Sometimes, Henry thought he should have started keeping count in his planner on that night.
Dr. Ulster had asked him once during a session why he bothered to maintain such meticulous records of
the past three years if he honestly believed everything in his life had fallen apart since the coma. Why
approach the planner as a constant reminder of his deterioration, then? Why not just put the past
behind him and focus on getting better?
Henry had told her then the truth about the Others, just like he had told the police when they found
what was left of the four teenagers in his basement. He told them about Ayteilu and its tendency to
swallow up reality. He’d told them about Maisie and Orrin and Edgar and all the Others. He’d even told
them about the Viper. Maisie said that was okay. The problem was, he couldn’t show the police or Dr.
Ulster, so they hadn’t believed. He couldn’t make it all happen on command, not back then. But he was
learning, and over the last 1,095 days, he was steadily growing better at it. What he didn’t tell anyone
was that in three days’ time, as set forth by Edgar’s prediction, he’d have complete control in
summoning the Others at will and opening the way to Ayteilu. The Others hadn’t wanted him to share
that part with anyone else.
Henry peered through the gloom of his bedroom. His cot was against the wall across from the door,
which of course was locked now that it was lights out. On the far side of the room was the door to his
simple bathroom—one sink, one toilet, both gleaming white—and next to that door was a small closet
in which hung his hospital-issued clothes, soft and harmless. No zipper teeth or sharp metal claws there,
not even buttons or laces. Beneath the clothes, like obedient lapdogs curled up on the closet floor for
the night, were a pair of loafers and a pair of slippers. Against the back wall near where the head of his
cot lay was a small, barred window. The orderlies could open it sometimes to air the room out but they
had keys to do that and were allowed to reach through the bars. That night, his window was closed but
Henry didn’t mind. He just liked having one, and from his, he could see the parking lot. Some people
liked seeing the neat, tight little lawns that constituted the hospital grounds, but he preferred the
parking lot. It reminded him that there was still a real world out there, with normal people who had jobs
and houses and pets, and that those people could actually leave hospitals and move freely through it.
He got up from the cot and shuffled over to the window. The moon was mostly hidden behind clouds,
but in the lot below, the arc-sodium lights illuminated patches of asphalt in a soft melon color. Shadows
skirted those halos of glow, darting quickly from one spot to another in the dark. It wasn’t their shape so
much as their movement that Henry caught, but it was soothing all the same to see they were down
there. Probably it was Maisie who had sent them. She was thoughtful like that. Maisie always knew
when he was sad or angry or just feeling drained.
That night, Henry was exhausted. The geliophobia had been particularly bad all day. He had shouldered
the burden of many crippling mental conditions since early childhood, but the one that garnered the
least sympathy and understanding was his fear of people laughing at him. Decades of laughter, pressed
between the pages of his memories, always found a way to resurface, to grow fat and loud again in his

thoughts and even in his ears. When he was stressed or tired, he could hear a chorus of guffaws and
giggles, tittering and peals from people who should have kept their damn mouths shut.
The laughter echoed in the back of his thoughts, jarring and ugly like the squawking of angry hawks, and
he tried to put it out. Bad things happened in the dark when he couldn’t, and he didn’t have the strength
to make the bad things go away. Not tonight. His limbs felt heavy and his eyes were dry and burning. He
shuffled back to the cot and climbed beneath the blanket.

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Western Song by Leigh Podgorski Genre: Contemporary Western Romance

Readers’ Favorite Book Award Winner Bronze 2018. Contemporary Western Love Story about a bull riding rancher and his deceased best buddy’s Thai immigrant mail order bride. As she discovers the power of freedom, he discovers he’s lost his heart. When Weston Beaudurant’s buddy, rodeo clown Cody Goode is killed in a rodeo accident — gored by the maniacal bull Baby Face that Weston is riding, Weston is consumed with guilt. The day after the accident, while going through Cod’s papers, lawyer Wynona Vasquez discovers that he had been secretly engaged to a Thai immigrant who is arriving by train that evening. Elected by unanimous decision to be the welcoming committee, Weston arrives at the train station prepared for anything but the lovely forlorn creature he finds waiting in the rain. Though appearing waif-like, Song Phan-Rang is anything but fragile. Her mettle quickly rises to the surface in her determination to remain in Y-oh-ming. Forced together by their circumstances, Weston and Song are explosive. Used to solitude, Weston is driven crazy by the obliging Song. But as Song shows her prowess not only as a housekeeper and cook, but as a rider and rancher as well, Weston discovers that against his best efforts (and damned if he’ll ever admit it) — he’s falling in love. Goodreads * Amazon

For a limited time, you can get the Tales From the Big Country Anthology for only 99cents!!Tales from the Big Country is a wild west thrill ride with 13 full length Western stories brought to you by USA Today, Wall Street Journal and Amazon best-selling authors! **Only .99 cents!!**Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo

Leigh Podgorski’s stage plays have been produced in Los Angeles, New York City and regionally. She had the privilege of interviewing Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross for her one-act play Windstorm, which was presented as part of the annual festival CelebrateWomen that Leigh also co-produced. We Are Still Here, the story of Cahuilla Indian elder Katherine Siva Saubel, was premiered at the Gene Autry Western Heritage Museum as part of CelebrateWomen 2000. The play has been presented throughout Southern California at college campuses, Universities, and Indian Reservations and Casinos. In addition to her plays, Leigh has penned several original award-winning screenplays and several of her monologues have been published through Meriwether Publishing, Ltd.. Leigh produced her first documentary, We Are Still Here, based on the play in 2007, which she also wrote and directed. The film has screened at the. American Indian Film Festival, Sherman Indian Film Festival, Cal State San Marcos Native American Film Festival, and the Talking Stick Film Festival. Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads

By the time they bedded the horses at the corral, Song was shivering uncontrollably. The
last half mile walk to the ranch house felt more like ten. He’d wrapped her in some blankets from
the bunk house, but nothing was penetrating; she was chilled to the bone.
At the Snowy Moon ranch house, Weston helped her inside to the Great Room, settling
her on the long leather couch. He laid a fire, and once lit, its warmth filled the room. He gathered
the throw blankets that were tossed about the room and towels from the side bathroom.
“We have to get you out of your wet clothes,” he told her. Kneeling before her, he gently
removed the blankets and his sheepskin jacket . She was still shivering so hard her teeth were
chattering.
“I’m okay, Weston.”
“Okay, huh?” He slipped her sweatshirt off over her head. “Maybe okay for a penguin.”
She smiled, though her smile jumped crookedly with the clattering of her teeth. “That was pretty
crazy. What you did.”
“During the war, My Uncle Thieu lost everything in Vietnam. He had to sell his farm and
move away. Thieu, my grandmother Hai Yen. He made some money on that sale, but did not
make what it was worth because the people who bought his farm knew they could cheat him.
When he got to Thailand, everybody had to work very hard to build everything up again. But
especially Hai Yen because Thieu always told her it was her fault they had to leave.”
Weston took hold of her delicate hands, grasping them between his own and gently
rubbing them to warm them. “Why?”
“My mother was nguoi My con gai, half white; she was the daughter of Hai Yen and an
American soldier.”
“What did that have to do with having to leave?”
“Nothing. It was the war that drove them out. But Thieu used the birth of my mother to
demean and shame my grandmother. He was a very shrewd man. Because of her shame, my
grandmother could not work hard enough for Thieu.”
“Did you work, too?”
“Oh, yes. From the time I was very small. Thieu taught me everything about farming.
This is where I learned, for example, that each thing, every animal is very, very precious.”
Weston picked up a towel and began drying her hair. “You’re still shivering.”
“It is nothing. It will stop soon.”
He rose, walked to the bar and poured some Turkey 101. He brought the glass back and
handed it to her. “Remember, sip slowly.”
She took the glass and sipped. “It is much better the second time.”
“Don’t you go gettin’ too used to that stuff.” He sat back down next to her. “That
soldier…your…grandfather….he was from here.”
“Yes.”
“From Wyoming.”
“Yes.”
“That was the name I saw. Gustafson. Homer Gustafson.”
Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. “I do not know…if he even is still alive…my
grandmother is no longer living….and if he is…if he would have any desire to see me…”
“You’re trembling. Your clothes are soaked.” He reached for her flannel shirt to unbutton
it, then, stopped himself, realizing what he was about to do. “I guess you can take care of …”
Suddenly, he stopped. Her eyes, her enchanting almond-shaped eyes now glistening with
tears held his. His hand rested lightly on the front of her flannel shirt, lying softly between her
small firm rounded breasts. His desire for her, a desire he had pushed away time and again rose
with the power of the wild horses he trained. “Song…” He whispered her name, his voice ragged
with longing.
She reached for him, her cool elegant fingers running across his face and up into his dark
hair.
He could hold back no longer. He pulled her towards him, kissing her soft pliant lips,
their kiss building, their arms wrapping around each other until they tumbled backwards onto the
sofa.
Song cried out softly and the hunger and the want in her cry fueled his desire for her to a
fevered pitch. He kissed her again, more deeply, as if he would fill himself with her, as if he
would fill all the months of loneliness, all the months he had gone without her with just one kiss.
He reached for the buttons again, she helping him, as eager as he to shed what lay
between them, both working with a rising urgency until they lay together on the sofa before the
roaring fire encircled in each other’s arms, finally, in each other’s arms where they would stay
the night through as the wind continued to moan and thrash and the rain and hail continued to
drum and they continued to make love in perfect syncopation with both the storm outside and the
newly awakened storms within them.

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In essence a love story, “A Life Singular” is a seven-part contemporary fiction serial. The books’ themes are triumph over mental illness, the choices we make between right and wrong, and how one affects the other over the relentless passage of time. Sales proceeds go to two Australian non-profit organisations assisting young people with their education: EdConnect Australia and The Smith Family.Dealing with some of the more complex social justice issues of our age, the universal theme of love and our fascination for celebrity spirit the reader behind the scenes of a superstar family who are plunged into grief, proving that there are always many sides to a story we see in the media. The important events in our public lives are always overshadowed by the backstory’s real truth.

A Life Singular A Life Singular Series Book 1 by Lorraine Pestell Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction

First in Epic 7-part Serial: Love and Loss, Celebrity and Secrets

The Endless Pursuit of Love and Wisdom

What do you do when you lose the one who gave your life meaning? You write about it. You tell the world how amazing it is to love and be loved by someone so special, what love helps you achieve and how it makes you stronger. Jeff Diamond had built a life of influence, adulation and wealth by making the right choices for the right reasons. He lived by the law of reciprocity, a lesson learned on the streets as a teenager with nothing but an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Plagued by the scars of a violent childhood, he created his vision and fought for it. And once he no longer needed to fight for himself, he fought for others. Yet when Jeff’s dream girl was taken from him and their children by the ignorant act of a jealous misfit from his own home town, the millionnaire realised just how far he had come. Why had he succeeded when so many like him fail? It wasn’t complicated. The secret lay in the endless pursuit of love and wisdom; life’s two magic ingredients. Now Lynn was gone, he resolved to use his remaining days to account for their life in a way that would inspire young people to make his type of choice rather than García’s. Then after their story was written, he would be free to go after her, to begin the whole incredible journey over again. Everyone has a life singular: one; unique; extraordinary. Goodreads * Amazon

A Life Found A Life Singular Series Book 2

Writing an autobiography on behalf of someone else presented Jeff with an interesting dilemma. Did he make assumptions about what Lynn would have included, or should he restrict her contribution to direct quotes from her letters and diaries? He had their kids to protect, and her parents… As he worked through the huge amount of material available in the press about their life as it had taken shape, interlacing it with highly personal stories, the widower crafted chapter after chapter of memories, both happy and heartbreaking. If this was to be a true account of their partnership, he owed it to the memory of his beautiful best friend to cover so much more than what was already on public record. When it came to adding his own reminiscences of those early months, about meeting someone he already knew intimately, Jeff had no difficulty in recalling every single, vivid moment. Entire conversations came back to him, sometimes word for word, rushing through his fingers and into the computer. Photographs prompted him too, as did the treasured possessions that surrounded him, like the old leather jacket he had received on his twentieth birthday. Lynn had left him shortly after that, just like she had left him now. The pull of being together again was unrelenting, but Jeff hung on to the dream that their life singular would one day resume. Once their story had been told. Goodreads * Amazon

A Life Entwined A Life Singular Series Book 3

Writing an autobiography on behalf of someone else presented Jeff with an interesting dilemma. Did he make assumptions about what Lynn would have included, or should he restrict her contribution to direct quotes from her letters and diaries? He had their kids to protect, and her parents. Fame and fortune beckoned. Jeff Diamond was a success, whatever that meant. Fans followed him everywhere, reporters and photographers hid around every corner and journalists recorded his many indiscretions. A whole different world to the downtrodden streets of Sydney’s south-west, where vices were satisfied by using people to one’s best advantage. The star had more money than he could spend, his opinion suddenly counted, and the opportunities to feed his ever-hungry mind were plentiful. Yet the demons continued to torment him, no longer protected by the guardian angel who had been spirited away as soon as her family found out who Jeff Diamond was and where he had come from. Suddenly the ambitious businessman and philanthropist found himself in the fight of his life. He would win Lynn’s heart by showing her father he was worthy, and by convincing his dream girl that they had something worth fighting for. Would she risk throwing her privileged lifestyle away for a man whose public persona depended on alcohol, drugs and a string of pretty girls? Jeff had nothing to lose. The trappings of his new life held little significance until the soul-mates were reunited. This was where their life singular really began. Up until this point, there had only been playtime. Now they must step up and take responsibility. It was up to them. Goodreads * Amazon

A Life Lived A Life Singular Series Book 4

So this was it! Lynn and Jeff, two celebrities driven to change the world together, had grasped their life singular with both hands and were not about to let go. They had the Midas touch, gifted through the virtues of reciprocity and a deepening understanding of right versus wrong. The prospect of turning two into four, mirroring the black jetstone ring that lived on the handsome man’s right hand, filled the couple with excitement. Never in his wildest dreams had the no-good street kid imagined himself as a father. His own had given him nothing. So much less than nothing, in fact. Should Jeff settle that score? Was it worth disturbing the paradise they had planned, where their well-established careers showed no sign of slowing down and their hard work yielded so much for so many? Surfacing past wrongs and holding people to account for setting them right were part and parcel of letting go, his dream girl had insisted. And who was he to argue? She had been right all along. As the book’s extraordinary chapters continued to document the achievements of their life singular, the solitary author cried and smiled in equal measure through the arrival of a small boy with blond, curly hair and the sultry gipsy girl who could see inside his soul from the moment she was born. Lynn had given him two new friends who must now be steered through their young lives, learning their own lessons about the endless pursuit of love and wisdom. Goodreads * Amazon

A Life Tested A Life Singular Series Book 5

The world was an enormous place; full of good and evil, beauty and ugliness, wonder and despair. Sometimes all seemed lost, returning from the latest round of negotiations and attempting to balance the surreal career of a chart-topping musician with the demands of an advocate for those discarded by mainstream society. With every problem the Diamonds worked to solve, a new one would be right around the corner. All was not lost, however. Unity and liberty, the twin spirits living in two perfect beings waiting for him at home, were all Jeff needed to spur him on. They would one day inherit the world which he and his beautiful best friend were intent on changing for the better, along with the millions of others who wrote to the couple every day, seeking ever more of their energy, time and money. The tired author kept reverting to the theme of reciprocity. We should never take more than we give. If only they could convince enough people of their byword… It was right that the struggle should never end. What would he do if it did? There was no room for self-satisfied fat cats in their life singular. What sort of example might that set for those who must follow? Lynn had departed, the children were growing stronger now, and the widower heard the clock ticking night after night after night. Still with so many amazing experiences to recount, the lost boy knew his dream girl couldn’t wait forever. He was grateful for this opportunity to set the record straight, but gratitude could only take him so far. Goodreads * Amazon

A Life Loved A Life Singular Series Book 6

Lynn Dyson and Jeff Diamond had become the celebrity couple with the Midas touch. With their son showing every sign of fulfilling his sporting destiny and a teenaged daughter who was already driven to right the world’s wrongs, they were showered with accolades and adoration from every corner of the globe. How had this nobody from the wrong side of the tracks got so lucky? With his dream girl by his side every step of the way, the superstar’s multi-faceted career knew no bounds. Politicians clamoured for photo-opportunities, the press hung on his every word and the success of their business empire funnelled millions of dollars into worthy causes. No wonder they had been an assassination target! Jeff’s autobiography foretold this omen with twenty-twenty hindsight, his open wounds smarting with each obvious opulent and outspoken occasion. “The higher you climb, the harder you fall.” This tedious cliché rang true for the father as he captured his teenagers’ many exploits for posterity. He and Lynn had dared to scale enormous heights, paying the ultimate price far too soon. Had it all been worth it? The book held these secrets, painstakingly transcribed by a man who couldn’t wait to find out what was to come. Whether taken from his lover’s journals, the children’s memories or the cataclysm of poetry pouring from his lonely heart, the months leading up to his next challenge had legitimised every decision the forever couple had ever made. He only hoped the same good fortune would hold true in the next lifetime. Goodreads * Amazon

A Life After A Life Singular Series Book 7

“Their Handbook For Life Was Complete. Not A Cast-Iron Guarantee, But A Good Start For Anyone Looking For Answers. The Rest Was Up To Its Readers To Make Their Own Life Singular. Jeff Diamond Sealed The Envelope On His Manuscript, Content That He Had Fully Accounted For The Life That Had Brought Him To Where He Was Today. Alone. Lynn Would Be Pleased With The Way Their Autobiography Had Turned Out, Complete With A Carefully Selected Set Of Photographs And Proof-Read From Cover To Cover By Their Gorgeous Daughter. It was now time to finish things off properly, and that began by acknowledging the mate who had stood by Jeff for almost thirty years. Gerry Blake had been his squash partner, his manager, his drinking buddy and his best man through the whole incredible journey, in so many ways his alter-ego. He was now getting married for the first time at forty-seven years old, no doubt spooked by what had happened to his old friend. The thankful billionnaire and the ghost living inside his heart were determined to give Gerry and his new wife the very best send-off, before continuing on their own quest for reunion. Would they find a way to be together again? And how would the kids know to keep telling their singular story? Book 7 in the series is twinned with “Le Roi se meurt (The King is Dead)” by Eugène Ionesco. Available December 2019.” Add to Goodreads

Lorraine Pestell was born in London and has had a successful IT career in the UK, US, Europe, Singapore, and more recently Australia. Lorraine is a life-long sufferer of Clinical Depression and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. She began using writing as therapy, attempting to find her place in the world. “A Life Singular” soon developed into an epic family saga, with the first book published in 2013. She currently resides in Central Victoria with her rescued Belgian Shepherd, Nikki. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

A Life Found – book 2
The student raised himself up and settled onto his haunches, gazing at the stunning vision with
whom he had been transported to paradise just moments ago. She looked raw, like a real woman,
and it shocked him, because for the first time he realised what Bart and Marianna Dyson must see.
He was stealing the little girl from their daughter, day by day and night by night. Her blonde hair
was strewn over the candy-striped pillowcase, the garish tones of which he had failed to register
until now, and her nipples and navel had left impressions in the sheer fabric, now damp from the
heat of fevered hands and endless kisses. This embodiment of female perfection was not likely to
vanish from his mind without a trace, no matter which way he looked at life.
‘Thanks for not drinking so much tonight,’ Lynn interrupted his rêverie. ‘I hope it was worth it.’
Jeff exhaled through his nose, looking around for the blankets, which had fallen off the end of the
bed during their furious activity. ‘You’re welcome. It was worth it. More than worth it, if you force
me to admit it.’
The young woman giggled, and with relief, her boyfriend sensed the girl returning in the nick of
time.
‘I did it because you care enough to make it special,’ he continued, ‘and not just because I want it
to be special.’
‘I know,’ the teenager smiled, stifling a yawn.
‘Good. I hoped you would.’
Lynn shuffled across the bed, planting a kiss on her lover’s forehead with her deep crimson,
swollen lips, before wrapping the silk robe around her and disappearing into the passageway to visit
the bathroom.
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ Jeff said to a door which was latched abruptly to stop a blast of icy air from
cooling down their private hothouse.
With his hands levered against the frame of the skylight, the boy from Canley Vale wiped a smear
of steam from the glass and stared through tearful eyes at a night that was much darker in the
countryside than in the city. And also much darker for him and his beautiful starlet than for their
friends on the other side of the wall. The end of the line was imminent for them too, he guessed,
although it appeared that their long relationship had had its day. The same could not possibly be
said for the one that could exude such rapturous fervour as had been evident in this very room.
The door opened and closed behind him, and he turned to see Lynn return and hop into bed,
shivering and chattering her teeth in fun. Her arms beckoned for him to return and warm her up,
which was a duty he was only too happy to fulfill.
‘You can put your pee-jays on,’ the human heater smiled, being dragged under the covers most
forcefully.
‘I might.’
‘You looked exquisite tonight, like forbidden fruit. The most beautiful woman in the world, if
you’ll forgive me for repeating myself.’
‘Thank you,’ she kissed him, beginning to weep from a combination of tiredness and
despondency.
Her boyfriend shrugged, cradling her head under his chin and rolling onto his back to hide his
own tears. ‘Thank you. Don’t cry, angel.’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘Makes two of us. I just want to love you, that’s all. Nothing else.’
‘I know, Jeff. I’m sorry.’

The couple fell asleep to the sound of the bed on the other side of the wall rocking on its casters.
The amused student went to thump hard on the plaster, only to have his wrist snared and dragged
back under the blankets by his pyjama-clad partner. They had no idea how long their next-door
neighbours’ noisy session had lasted, because their next waking memory was Jeff fighting for breath,
springing bolt upright and straining to grab hold of an invisible being in front of him.
The dream had begun pleasantly enough, as if the twenty-year-old hadn’t yet fallen asleep in
Suzanne’s upstairs spare room. He was walking back from the bathroom carrying two glasses of
water when he noticed the door of their bedroom had been closed since he left, and he froze at the
sound of loud voices coming from within.
Gripped by fear, more for her boyfriend’s embarrassment, should their hosts hear him yelling
expletives and the huge gasps of breath which would shake the very foundations of this lowly
cottage, Lynn tried to wake him up before the full force of his nightmare took hold. Still deep in the
unconscious however, Jeff grappled with the two full glasses, cursing as most of their contents
spilled onto the floor in his frantic effort to open the door. Inside, now drenched with sweat and still
unaware of Lynn’s attempts to rouse him, he came face-to-face with a livid Bart Dyson, who was
attempting to drag his daughter out of the bedroom, through some previously undiscovered door
which the young man swore had not been there earlier.
His defenceless lover’s screams ripped through the street kid’s psyche, at once wanting to block
the sound with his hands over his ears while lashing out at the Australian hero, whose commands
were bloodthirsty and meeting fierce resistance from the young woman. Somehow his dreaming
feet wouldn’t move, now glued to the floorboards of his second-floor flat in Canley Vale.
‘How the fuck did you get in here?’ he shouted at the top of his voice.
Jeff reeled back, feeling a hand grab round his shoulders and then another slap across his face.
‘Wake up!’ the celebrity hissed in his ear, smothering his mouth as best she could. ‘Wake up,
Jeff. You’re dreaming! You don’t want to wake Gerry.’
Six-feet-four-inches of solid muscle swung around, ripping the sleeve of her pyjama top clear of
the shoulder seam and drawing clawlike fingernails across the teenager’s upper arm. She yelped,
temporarily disoriented, before standing up on the mattress and pushing hard down on her
boyfriend’s shoulders until finally he crumbled into the dishevelled bedding, biting at the hand which
continued to block his airway.
‘Jeff, stop!’ the determined woman shouted. ‘Stop, for God’s sake. It’s me! Lynn! You’re hurting
me.’
Staring eyes almost burst free of their sockets, and the rasping sound of air being pumped from
already empty lungs vibrated against the sixteen-year-old’s chest. Her tormented soul-mate was
finally coming out of the wilderness and returning to the servants’ quarters, and she described the
scene thus to the disintegrating fighter in an effort to calm him down. Hurriedly recomposing their
evening’s entertainment with her silk negligée, to keep the commentary flowing, Lynn rocked her
lover back and forth until his faculties returned.
The girl of his dreams was softly crying when Jeff finally woke up and realised where he was; her
warmly-clad figure reclining just as he had last seen her, shortly before they had fallen asleep. They
both sat still in each other’s arms, anxiously waiting for the others to knock on their door or give
some other clue that the nocturnal interruption had disturbed them.
‘Are you OK?’ the drenched man asked, first seeing his companion rubbing her arm and then the
torn armhole of her pyjama jacket. ‘Did I do that?’
Lynn nodded, swiftly covering three parallel lines of reddening scratches. ‘It’s nothing. I didn’t
expect you to wheel round so fast. Your nails are sharp!’
She was smiling at her wayward lover, who failed to see the funny side of anything at this precise
moment. Thankfully though, there were no signs of life from the room next door, and he broke

away and let himself out of the room with the intentions of splashing some water on his face and
reclaiming some equilibrium.
Jesus! These violent dreams were spiralling more and more out of control. Bart Dyson had
somehow found his way to the Stones Road, and Lynn had taken his sister’s place. Whatever was
going on with his messed-up head now? Not content with reconstituting real events from his
childhood, his twisted mental state now sought to further pollute his scant hours of repose by
feeding off his current agonies too.
Climbing back into bed, Jeff found his long-suffering, sympathetic beauty attired aptly in the
costume of an angel, hands outstretched and eyes watery. The sheen of the white fabric had been
nearly washed out by the perspiration of their earlier passions, which lent even heavier weight to
the strung-out addict’s need to enjoy her in it again. His hard penis penetrated with next to no
foreplay, and he gasped in indebted pleasure to find her more than ready to receive him, both sets
of hands gripping each other’s hips insistently as they moved together to combined orgasms.
The quenched inamorati collapsed together onto the bed, their mood enlightened by another full
dose of hormones and endorphins so violently unleashed. They laughed at how soundly their
friends must be sleeping, presumably as a result of full-bodied red wine and the sugary dessert
which Suzanne had served. Lynn reached over the side of the mattress to pull up her pyjamas,
holding them up in front of her man’s eyes to check that he had no objection to her clothing herself
in them again.
He shrugged, knowing he was in absolutely no position to bargain against her warmth and
doggedly refusing to tell the gorgeous creature about the latest extraneous journey on which his
mind had taken him. What good would it do to share it? She didn’t need the image of her own
father manhandling her like a pimp prising her out of the hands of a penniless customer. He was
learning, at least, the young man realised. He would maintain the status quo and make the best of a
bad situation.
‘What do you want for your birthday?’ he turned the tables instead.
His girlfriend chuckled, caught by surprise. ‘My birthday? That’s ages away. I want to celebrate
it with you, two weeks early.’
‘Thanks,’ the student gathered his flannelette-encased girlfriend up in his arms. ‘Hmm… Not
quite the same effect, this, huh? I want to celebrate it with you on the day.’
Lynn giggled, squirming in his tight hold. ‘I know. But we can’t. We should go to sleep.’
‘I love you so much,’ Jeff lifted his head and kissed her forehead.
Exhaling deeply, she flexed her neck backwards until their mouths met. ‘I love you too. That’s
what I want for my birthday.’
Her boyfriend sniffed, pulling the sheet up to their necks to block the cold air’s path. ‘You can
have that on your birthday, and on every other day, before and after.’
‘Thanks, Jeff. I accept,’ she replied. ‘You know the soul-mates thing that we were talking about a
few weeks ago?’
‘Yes,’ the young man flashed his eyebrows to signal a dangerous diversion.
His lover laughed again. ‘Shut up. Do you think it’s always two? Is it possible to be more than
two?’
‘What are you talking about? I hope not. I don’t want to share you.’
‘No?’ she tested him gently, determined to fall asleep on a light note. ‘I thought men always
wanted to have sex with more than one woman.’
Jeff’s mouth smothered her playful grin, refusing to let it go for several seconds. Finally,
breathing heavily, he answered in typical, romantic fashion, making Lynn’s heart soar.
‘That’s mating bodies, angel, not mating souls. Change the subject, huh?’

The sleepy schoolgirl smiled and kissed the end of his nose, snuggling into his radiating body. ‘I
really hope you don’t have another nightmare.’
‘Are you going to wake me up if I do?’
The sportswoman rolled over, reminded of her scratches. ‘I hope I don’t have to.’
‘I hope you don’t either, but I expect you will.’
The pair lay on their backs, touching at the shoulder, hip and calf, in the position they had
adopted as their own. Both felt silently and perfectly connected, despite the clouds suspended
above, and drowsiness was soon upon them. Neither wanted to drift apart, either physically or
emotionally.
‘Your biceps are twitching,’ the sixteen-year-old murmured, running her fingers along his strong
arm.
‘Yeah. They do that. So do my legs,’ he replied, coughing his vocal chords into action. ‘That’s
why I go running in the middle of the night, because when I’m in bed, it’s as if I’m running anyway.
When I’m really tired, especially.’
Lynn leaned across and planted a kiss on his shoulder. ‘Wow. That’s awful. No wonder you can’t
relax.’
‘Tell me about it!’
‘Have you thought any more about meditation?’
Jeff sighed, giving a low chuckle. ‘I’ve thought about it but I can’t empty my mind. It’s too active.
Just won’t stop.’
‘Go and see someone who can teach you,’ the sportswoman suggested.
‘A yogi?’
‘Yeah. Guru, yogi… I’m not sure.’
The skeptic chuckled. ‘Yogi Bear, more like. Jellystone Park must have a whole area devoted to
the Kama Sutra. Drugs work well…’
His humorous aversion tactics weren’t working, judging by the expression on his dream girl’s
face. Not wishing to be psychoanalysed any further, the student rolled leftwards and swung his legs
out of bed, deciding to diffuse the atmosphere by visiting the bathroom instead.
‘Put the light on,’ his girlfriend urged. ‘You’ll fall down the stairs. I don’t mind.’
‘No, it’s OK. Don’t need it. I can see in the dark pretty well these days.’
‘Go on! You don’t have to be that selfless.’
Pausing in the doorway, Jeff gave a cruel laugh, taking the caring woman by surprise. ‘I’m not.
I’m being selfish, Lynn. Purely selfish. It kills me to turn the light on and find out what time it is.
Kills me.’
The door bobbed against the catch but didn’t close, thankfully. Tears pricked at the corners of
the young woman’s eyes as she prepared to leave the comfort of the bedclothes and reopen it for
her troubled man’s return, relieved that she didn’t need to. This decaying relationship was as
anguished as it was passionate, lately spiked with equal parts bitterness and tenderness. She knew
they would both feel completely drained in the morning, but only she was likely to suffer anyone’s
wrath when her performance at training delivered less than one hundred percent.
Jeff’s hand found the wall in the dark, his eyes having become accustomed to the fluorescent
light in Suzanne’s bathroom, and felt his way back to the guest bedroom. He could see a slither of
light coming through the door, and smiled to himself, imagining Lynn to have upended or hidden
Suzanne’s clock. Sure enough, when he crept back into bed as quietly as he could, knowing how
tired Lynn must be, he saw the luminous red digits of the electric radio-alarm had been planted face-
down on the bedside table.

His compassionate lover was not asleep however, and turned to greet him, looking thoroughly
consumed and contented. At least he scored one out of two, he joked in passing, commenting on
how appealing the sight was. He received a sharp slap on the shoulder for his trouble.
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ the sixteen-year-old rued, gazing at the ceiling.
‘I know. D’you want me to drive you home?’
‘No.’
The dreamer kissed her forehead, settling down under the blankets. ‘Good. I love you so much.’
‘I love you too.’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ he dared, after a long pause.
‘No, I know,’ she sighed. ‘I don’t want me to go either.’

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