Wednesday, October 2, 2013

A Halloween Hoax- No Shelter From Darkness by Mark D Evans

The following letter was sent in to us by an anonymous source. He/she explains that the letter is a copy of one sent in to a major national paper (for whom the source likely works) by a Mr James Gibson of York. James Gibson claimed the letter was found hidden away in the belongings of his late mother, Mary Gibson, whose maiden name was the Mary Connell of the addressee.
Having all the hallmarks of a simple hoax, the source claims the newspaper had a test done and verified that the age of the paper and ink matched the date of the letter.
An elaborate Halloween Hoax decades in the making or the real deal? You decide.
Incidentally, the source claims this is a copy because the original mysteriously disappeared before the paper could print it.

Beth Wade
14 Moravian Street
Bethnal Green
Mary Connell
25 Dew Avenue
July 2nd, 1942
Dear Mary,
            I’m going to break the rules. You’re the only one who knows about me and I can’t stand writing to you and you to me without acknowledging it.
            That morning we spoke of what I was—what I am—I felt so liberated. For you to disappear literally the very same day that I could be open with you, well, I don’t mean to sound childish, but it simply wasn’t fair. It isn’t fair.
            The truth is, even if there wasn’t a war on, I’m not sure how likely it would be that I’d be able to come visit. My dad, well, he’s become very protective. It’s great in a way, but at the same time it can feel a bit claustrophobic. And I can’t talk to him, at least not like I can talk to you. You’re my best friend, and even though my dad’s supposed to be the expert, I’m sure you would probably understand more about what I’m going through than he ever could.
            I could never tell him so candidly about what it’s like to wake up that one morning every week and know, to feel the need set in. I could certainly never tell him that when that morning comes, I no longer feel only shame and sadness. I could never tell him like I’m telling you now that when that morning arrives, I feel almost giddy. I’m starting to look forward to it, especially now that I’m self-sufficient.
            Oh, of course. You don’t know that yet, do you. You see, Mary, there’s so much that has happened that I’m not allowed to talk about.
            But promise me you’ll read this letter and then burn it.
            I’m no longer given blood, Mary. I hunt for it.
            Please, don’t be alarmed. I hunt only animals and have never even thought of harming a human. Not consciously, at least.
            But it was a comedy of errors at first. I learnt to hunt quickly, and truth be told catching an animal—normally foxes—I’ve never found that hard. It’s the other bit I had difficulty with. I spent hunt after hunt with some animal in my arms, trying to kick itself free while I tried to overcome the repulsion of biting through its fur and into its neck. Finally, when I let my craving grow to overcome that repulsion and I pressed my bared fangs into a fox’s hide, its fur tickled my nose and I sneezed and the fox ran away.
            But now, when I wake up on that morning and I feel that craving somewhere deep inside of me, I smile. I know I’m justified, then, in prowling the park in the black of night, feeling the grass and soil between my toes, balancing on high branches, waiting to pounce and chase down another week’s meal. And there’s no longer hesitation before my fangs sink deep into the neck of whatever beast I’ve caught and drain it dry of it’s warm, metallic blood.
            The nights are most certainly my favourite time, now. The days? They’re getting harder. I have to wear my sunglasses so much these days, and I wonder how long it will be before I can’t [editor’s note: this sentence abruptly stops here.]
            Mary, Dad’s just got home. I have to hide this letter. He’d kill me if I knew I was talking about this to you, let alone put it in a letter.
            Please, please burn this after you’ve read it. You know it’s for your own sake more than it is for mine.
            I miss you.

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No Shelter From Darkness
The Cruentus Saga
Book One
Mark D. Evans

Genre: Paranormal, Horror

Publisher: Booktrope

ISBN: 978-1620151396

Number of pages: 304

Cover Artist: Greg Simanson

Amazon    BN  iTunes

Book Description:

“Her hands began to shake as she looked down wide-eyed at the blood-soaked cotton that covered her.”

London emerges from the Blitz, and every corner of the city bears the scars. In the East End—a corner fairing worse than most—thirteen year-old Beth Wade endures this new way of life with her adoptive family. She also suffers the prejudice against her appearance, an abiding loneliness and now the trials of adolescence. But with this new burden comes a persisting fatigue and an unquenchable thirst that ultimately steals her into unconsciousness . . .

What happens next is the start of something Beth will fear more than the war itself. She begins to change in ways that can’t be explained by her coming-of-age, none more frightening than her need to consume blood. The family who took her in and the former best friend who’s taken refuge in their house can never know. Aware of the danger she poses to everyone around her, Beth has never felt more alone. But someone else knows Beth’s secret . . . someone who understands just how different she really is. He alone can decrypt her past and explain her future. But he’s been sworn to destroy her kind, and as Beth grows ever more dangerous, he’s forced to take sides.

Can Beth keep all of the secrets? Can she trust a man sworn to kill her? And can she stop the vampire within from taking her humanity?

About the Author:

MARK D. EVANS was born near London, England. He graduated university with a degree in something not even remotely connected with writing and went on to become a successful consultant. Then he threw it all away to chase his dream of being an author, via a considerable amount of travelling. Today, his life largely resembles that of a nomad, and he can currently be found typing away in a tiny flat in north London, sustained by coffee.

He is the author of two short stories, one of which made it into a Kindle Top Ten.

His latest work is his debut novel, No Shelter from Darkness, which is the first book in his series, The Cruentus Saga.

Visit Mark online:

Twitter: @TheMarkDEvans

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1 comment:

bn100 said...

Nice letter