Lenore Lee wants nothing more than to make new friends in her new town of Whitby, Yorkshire, and to forget about the disturbing dreams that hold her captive at night. But what she discovers in Whitby, might be even more disturbing than the dreams. Dreams which may hold the key to her survival in the hidden world of the Supernatural.
Genre: FICTION / GothicKindle
Paperback Amazon Kindle - 263,762 (USA) has ranked in top ten of metaphysical fiction top 10 multiple times. 494,088 (UK) has ranked in metaphysical fiction top 10 multiple times.
Prologue Whitby - England's Capital of Goths and hopefully one place I won't, for once, be classified as weird…Weird me, never? Okay, who on Earth was I kidding? I thought I saw ghosts for goodness sake. I constantly have dreams and daydreams of specific events happening, that then happen just as I've pictured it. I creep myself out some times. As I lay in bed asleep, the visions happened again. It was the same one I had three nights previous. I see a dim lit shore on the coastline. I hear a man's laughter. I see the girl again. The poor thing is terrified; her blue eyes wide, the fear filling ever fiber of her. A dark figure reaches for her, brushes her face with his hand. “Please...don't... Not again,” she pleaded. The girl trembled as he leaned in toward her. He laughed again. She then froze. It wasn't just her being still. Nothing about her moved. The girl was petrified and couldn't move at all. She had become a living statue, Couldn't move, Couldn't plead, and couldn’t scream. The fear was so stale I could taste it, I felt sick with it. There was nothing I could do. This dream had happened before; I’ve already seen it happen. I couldn't stop it. I was helpless. The vision smacked into me again. I saw the man move his face nearer and nearer. I was now in her body. I felt what she felt, her helplessness, and her memories of how he'd touch her every night, her pleading him 'NO'. He wouldn't stop. He'd never stop. I felt him touch her/my body and unable to do anything about it. I was out the scene again. The poor girl was only about twelve yrs old, a child, innocent, till he took everything from her. Her mind was like a tidal wave of pain. It washed over me and the dark figure. “They will never believe you,” he whispered. Her mind cried out. It was unbearable. It filled my every pore. It happened again, she dropped to the floor. She was dead.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Maddalena Sabbatini and Marco Graziosi
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Author review: Excellent communication, met the deadline, dedicated and professional. A pleasure to work with. Many thanks. |
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Anabela Sousa
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Author review: Professional and polite. Kept me updated along the way. Great communication. |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Anais Ariadna Capetanopulos Galán
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Author review: Beautiful layout, excellent time keeping, polite correspondence. Lovely edit. |
