I’m thrilled to be featuring my Fey Sister, Adele Marie Park today who has just released her newest labor of love – Wolfe Manor. Adele is magical and writes in the fantasy/dark fantasy/horror genres. You will find her darker stories in several anthologies.
Meet the Author:
Fantasy and horror writer, Adele Marie Park originally hails from the Orkney islands. Rousay is a small, but archaeological important island, dubbed “The Egypt of The North.” The oral tradition of passing down stories fired the young Adele’s imagination with tales of trolls, faeries, sea monsters, witches, ghosts, and seals who could change into humans. The landscape of the island fascinated her as moorland hills swept down through green fields to the shores of secluded beaches, where black volcanic rocks might be a troll or a sleeping giant.
Reading the Hobbit at an early age inspired her and in her teens she turned to
Stephen King, James Herbert, Anne Rice and Storm Constantine to appease a mind hungry to delve into the paranormal. Throughout her life she never gave up writing but it was an ongoing medical condition which forced her to give up work that began her passion to publish her writing for others to read.
Genres may come and go, but Adele’s writing encompasses a solidity which does not change; the overcoming of obstacles in one’s life, love, death, grief and pain all infused with those supernatural elements that one sees out the corner of the eye or feels when one is alone in the house at night and a floorboard creaks.
Once she lived a normal life, a good, boring life, but a safe one…
Abandoned as a baby on the steps of Wolfe Manor, Fianna was raised with love,
secure inside its walls. Now her bubble of safety is about to burst. Can she save
the home and school which once cocooned her when old fears overwhelm?
Facing students at the start of a new term is frightening enough without
nightmares resurfacing which terrify Fianna.
She may have a degree in teaching but will this skill help her?
The return of old friends sends Fianna spiralling down the rabbit hole of her past.
Wolfe Manor may call her to be what she was born to be, but can she find out in
time to save it from an evil only she can defeat? Or if she fails and Wolfe Manor
falls, what happens when the evil faces humanity unchallenged?
Chapter One – Fianna
Once she lived a normal life, a good boring life but a safe one …
Suffocating blackness, slithered deep into every nerve in her body. The only sound
was the beating of her heart, its rhythm mesmerised her as if she were a shaman in a trance, rendered her helpless against the fear which crawled over her skin leaving goose bumps in its wake. Sweat broke out in response to the song of terror. Pearls of moisture beaded on her forehead.. Paralysed, in the blackness of a nightmare, she waited.
Once she lived a normal life, a good boring life but a safe one. Now that life receded faster every night. The pressure on her body grew. She faced death; his tattered yellow breath as ancient as the tombs of Egypt, brushed over her skin. Her mind wanted to give in, her body fought a battle for every breath. An edge of darkness obscured her vision. Her mind whispered,
Float free, away from pain.
No. She would live.
A warrior rose inside her. Buried deep it tore through her blood and challenged the deathly force holding her. A moment held between them before the suffocating darkness receded, a growl echoed around the room. In its absence breath flooded in and left her panting as if she were a dog on a hot day. Movement came back to her limbs and her body jack-knifed upright. She paced the floor of her bedroom, turning on every light for protection from the darkness that was alive and wanted her dead. Passing by the full length mirror she stopped in shock as her reflection mimicked who she had once been.
A corpse-white face, with soot smudged under her eyes. Hollow pockets under high cheekbones, her mouth was a pale pink line. She touched her face. Her fingers were skeletal, the skin hanging on them like needless dressing.
She couldn’t survive without help. Someone would find her body, soulless and
desiccated. The white cotton sheets, her shroud.
“No, no,” she mumbled and fell to her knees. She rocked back and forth repeating
the word like a war cry. As she pushed her hands through her wavy black hair, she
raised her head.
“I have to tell someone,” she said.
To connect with Adele, and learn more about her work visit these sites:
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