t was supposed to be a fresh start. A place for Steve & Melody Samson to begin their new life together away from the noise and crime of the city. However, their new home – an idyllic cottage nestled deep within the dense solitude of Oakwell forest-has a disturbing history, hidden for generations by the locals. There is evil in Hope House, and the cursed forest that surrounds it. Evil that has awakened after lying dormant for decades, and has terrifying plans for the young couple.
Once you hear the whispers, it may already be too late.
The whisper series is my best selling title. Whisper has sold over 20,000 copies alone,topping the charts in both the UK and US on amazon in the overall horror categories. Sales have remained strong since with interest in movie nd television adaptations of the book and it's to sequels (echoes 2014) and Voices (2015). I now want to expand the book's reach into foreign markets and opening the title to a whole new audience.
THE DOG HAD BEEN barking for over two hours.
Donovan kicked at his covers and pulled the pillow
over his head, but still he could hear it. He threw the
pillow across the bedroom and glanced at the clock.
He would need to be up in around three hours, and
the little sleep he had managed had been disturbed by
the incessant barking. The rage bubbled and stirred
within, a feeling which both frightened and
exhilarated him. For so long it had remained dormant,
but on occasion, it would make itself known and he
knew well enough that when that happened, it would
need to be satisfied.
He climbed out of bed and walked to the closet,
pushing past his array of cheap business suits to the
hanger at the back, and took the clothing from it to
the bed. Faded jeans, white t-shirt, dark grey hoodie,
black gloves. He laid them out carefully, and his heart
rate increased, beautifully complimenting the giddy
butterfly feeling in his stomach. He dressed slowly,
allowing the rage to bubble and build and swell. It
always went this way.
Still the dog barked, a monotonous yap yap yap,
but it no longer concerned Donovan, because the rage
was now in control. Once dressed, he walked to the
window and looked out into next door’s garden. There
it was, the scruffy terrier that had kept him from his
sleep, barking at the house and pleading for its
owners to open the door. He wondered how they—the
Parsons—could sleep through such noise, and why
they didn’t just let the animal in, but whatever the
reason, it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Paolo Santini
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Author review: Fantastic to work with and incredibly professional. Outstanding quality of work too. Highly recommended translator! |
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Leonel Santos Pereira
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Germán Merino Melgosa
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Author review: Fantastic to work with and incredibly professional. Outstanding quality of work too. Highly recommended translator! |
