Is it possible to infect a place with evil? Are some atrocities so awful that the land itself becomes contaminated? And what would happened if you found yourself trapped in such a place?
What begins with a car crash on an ancient bridge ends with the ultimate sacrifice. Follow the survivors of a horrific accident as they try to understand their fates and find rescue. A rescue that should have already come.
Tom and Sophie Sumner have been married for ten years. They won't make it to eleven. Infidelity and neglect have torn their relationship apart and they part ways today. Sophie is going home to the village she grew up in. Cottontree. If there's any chance of Tom persuading her to give their marriage one last chance, it's now.
But Cottontree is a place with a much darker past than anybody knows, and the Sumners are about to have much bigger problems than their marriage.
Reached Top 10 Horror Novels upon release on Amazon. Iain Rob Wright is a several time bestseller in Horror.
Father Cotton clutched the bible against his chest and spat fury beneath his fluttering cowl. A wind picked up and carried a fine mist across the river, but it would not affect his focus. "The Lord sees your sin, creature, and denies you entry to paradise. What have you say? Speak now, or forever hold your peace."
"I am innocent, I swear it," cried the fiend, Emily Tanner, fighting the Hessian ropes binding her to the oak's broad trunk. The ancient tree had been healthy and strong just one week ago, but now it withered and listed precariously over the river. "I have done nothing! Where is my husband? Jonathan, where are you, my love?"
The village tailor emerged from the crowd, bleary-eyed and holding Martha Hamleigh in his arms. The grieving mother sobbed and made a sound akin to a wounded lamb. Her long brown hair mingled with Jonathan's and created an unruly nest. "I am here, Emily," he said. "As much as I wish it were not so."
Emily's face lit up at the sight of her spouse, but Father Cotton saw it for what it was—a perverse replica of human emotion—and it sickened him. Her voice was thick with mock-innocence as she spoke. "My love, help me!" she begged. Her golden hair framed her face in a picture of naïve innocence. "Tell them I am not what they say. I would never hurt a child. Nev-"
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
|
Italian
|
Already translated.
Translated by Eric Cominetto
|
|
Portuguese
|
Translation in progress.
Translated by Rodolpho Padovani
|
|
Spanish
|
Already translated.
Translated by Bastian Marchant
|
