INDIE SPOTLIGHT: Emmy Nation: Undercover Suffragette | #Equality #StandUpForWhatYouBelieveIn

Emmy Nation:
Undercover Suffragette

L. Davis Monroe


A fascinating glimpse into often-overlooked aspects of women’s history, Emmy Nation: Undercover Suffragette follows a young typewriter girl as she struggles to survive on her own in 1913 London.

Emmy’s wages are far from sufficient to feed and clothe her properly, so when she’s offered a better-paying job with Scotland Yard she doesn’t hesitate to accept—even though it means spying on the seemingly harmless Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU). She soon meets Edith, a wealthy suffragette, who promises to show Emmy the ropes.

When a man from her past takes over the Scotland Yard task force and questions her loyalty, Emmy accepts a risky mission from the WSPU to prove her value to both sides, only to wind up endangering herself and Edith and wondering for what or whom she’s actually fighting.

Honest, yet hopeful, about the hardships facing women in the early twentieth century, this story honors the human struggle for equality and serves as an ongoing reminder of the importance of standing up for your beliefs.

Available on:


US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil |India | The Netherlands

Amazon Print:

US | UK | Canada | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil |India


81wudiwok9l-_ux250_ABOUT THE AUTHOR – Lia Davis Munro holds a master’s degree with a focus on women’s suffrage theatre and works in theatre and dance in Toronto. She has published articles in the Canadian Theatre Review, Mondo Magazine and Excalibur: York University Newspaper and has worked as a dramaturge, director and producer in the independent theatre scene in Toronto since 2012. Emmy Nation: Undercover Suffragette is her first novel. She is currently writing the second book in The Suffragette Nation series and continues to connect with readers regularly through her blog, Discovering/Writing Life.

FRIDAY FICTION: The Microwave Tower | #FreeFiction

The Microwave Tower

I must have passed the same tower every day for the last thirty years. It stood so tall and yet, it blended so seamlessly into the background. I knew it was there, but it didn’t register as anything other than part of the scenic backdrop to my focussed world. That was until the day it all changed…

Have you ever wondered how technology really works? Up until that day, I had taken it for granted. Sure, I had a working knowledge of airwaves, sound waves, and even microwaves, but did I really know what each of them actually entailed?

The answer to that question is a resounding no. As it turned out, the experts really had no idea either.

It was a Friday. I remember the day clearly; it was the first time in ten years I took a different route to work. I hesitate to think of what would have happened had I not taken that right turn when I did…

I made it to work, a little later than usual, but I was still early. I liked that; having the time to grab a coffee from the tiny kiosk in the lobby before my busy day began. Nothing like a moment to yourself to clear and refocus your head after the hectic grind of traffic. It was at the kiosk that I first heard what had happened.

It’s odd, you know. Hearing the news for the first time. I still find it hard to believe and if I hadn’t seen them with my own eyes, I may not have.

You’re probably wondering what happened and to be honest, I’d love to tell you. The fact of the matter is that I don’t know what happened. That’s not entirely true either; I know what happened, but I don’t know why it happened. No one knows why.

The only thing we do know is that it was the microwave tower.

At 7:23am, the microwave tower sent out a signal or pulse or something that reached outward in a five kilometer radius around itself. Anything within that radius, simply stopped.

They stopped, but they didn’t stop living. They just stopped moving. Everyone and everything froze in the exact place that it had been occupying at the moment of the event.

The vehicles. The vegetation. The people. All stuck in stasis.

At first, emergency responders were afraid to enter the circle, but with their first tentative steps inside the ring, nothing happened to them. They tried to render aid to those who were affected, but there was no help for them.

While technically not dead, they were certainly not alive either. The site has terrified some; so much so that the government attempted to cover them. You see it was impossible to move them; the pulse fused them permanently with the environment.

I remember the first time I passed the circle after it happened. The eerie feeling of utter stillness washed over me and for a moment, as the world around me slowed, I was sure it had happened again. My throat filled with my fear and I vomited onto the steering wheel of my car. Once the moment had passed and I was dropped back into a world full of movement, the waves of relief, tinged with a fair amount of disgust flowed over me.

Many months elapsed before I even had the nerve to drive by again. My heart still exploded into my throat and my stomach crinkled itself into knots; my breakfast, thankfully, stayed on the inside this time.

It was years before I could approach the ring without the security of my car surrounding me. By that time I was an old man, ancient by the standards of my grandchildren. I know why I felt compelled to search out those that had stopped that day, their souls and actions frozen in time, but that didn’t stop me from being afraid to do so.

I stood just outside the barrier that had been erected all around the ring. It wasn’t the type of obstacle that would stand in your way; it was more of a demarcation for people to comprehend that passing into the inner ring could have disastrous effects should the tower decide to malfunction again.

Even as I fought the urge to turn away, my body propelled me forward, through the fence and into the living monument. In silence, it waited. For what, I cannot say with any certainty. The overwhelming emotions of despair and loneliness played along my nerves like a song of pain and nostalgia. It was a heady phenomenon, this mix of emotions that resonated deep into my soul.

As I walked along the sidewalk, I studied the statuesque people as I passed by them. Men, women, and children caught unaware in mid step, in mid swallow, in mid call. If you haven’t seen inside the circle yet, picture the busiest moment on the street that you can remember and capture it for an instant, as if you’ve taken a photograph. That’s the best way to describe it; a photographic moment etched in life-sized stone relief. Every detail down to the last wisp of hair blown awry by an errant gust, petrified against the elements that now assault it.

When I found her, my heart broke again. After I returned home that fateful day so many years ago, I had searched the house for her, hoping that she had never made it to work that day. My cell phone pleas had all gone unanswered and deep down I knew what that meant, despite the fact that I refused to believe it. The empty house was the proof I received.

The second piece of corroborating evidence came in the form of two FBI Special Agents about three months after the event. I had reported my wife as missing and potentially within the ring as the authorities had instructed us to do in the days following the pulse. My heart was heavy making that call, but what else could I have done? I wanted the answer even though I knew it would hurt to hear it. I knew what the truth was, but I still wanted to see it for myself.

That was why I entered the ring so long after the pulse. It had taken me that long to build the nerve to do it, the nerve to see Catherine again.

When I found her, it was like so no time had passed. She had been caught in mid stride, her left hand searching the expanse of her purse for something. She looked as if she might topple, but strangely, her body was balanced on the ball of her right foot. By the laws of physics, there was no way that she should have remained upright, but the pulse had somehow suspended them. I stood for a long time, my eyes gazing upon her beautiful face and my heart breaking because I know that deep inside her body still lived. Scientists who studied the phenomenon had recently let it be known that while time had essentially stopped for those caught up in the pulse, life had not.

Life. It’s such a funny word. Those poor people were not living by the standards that you and I would define, but they were alive. Alive. Such a sad word when taken into context sometimes.

Placing one last kiss on her face, I left the circle from the way that I came; dreading the coming months of loneliness as contemplated my own death. Even in death, we will not be reunited and that is a hard truth to swallow.


And so the circle around the tower remains; a silenced and creepy garden of statuaries that stand in effigy of what can happen, of what did happen.

One thing is for certain, people no longer live within five kilometers of any tower. Anywhere. A lesson has been learned and a wariness of technology born from that moment. The moment that froze time and space in the oddest of ways.

Copyright © 2012 Julianne Snow

A REVIEW FROM MY COMMUTE: ZOO — James Patterson and Michael Ledwidge | #WhenAnimalsAttack

I’ve found lately that I’m getting through audiobooks faster, though my rides to work haven’t been getting longer — it’s an odd phenomena but one I can’t say I’m disliking. One of the recent books I finished was ZOO by James Patterson and Michael Ledwidge.

All over the world, brutal attacks are crippling entire cities. Jackson Oz, a young biologist, watches the escalating events with an increasing sense of dread. When he witnesses a coordinated lion ambush in Africa, the enormity of the violence to come becomes terrifyingly clear.

With the help of ecologist Chloe Tousignant, Oz races to warn world leaders before it’s too late. The attacks are growing in ferocity, cunning, and planning, and soon there will be no place left for humans to hide. With wildly inventive imagination and white-knuckle suspense that rivals Stephen King at his very best, James Patterson’s ZOO is an epic, non-stop thrill-ride from “One of the best of the best.” (TIME)

Okay, I will admit that I tried to watch the show based on this book on CBS when it debuted but just couldn’t get into it. After listening to the audiobook, I’m going to go back and give it another shot. The book was utterly thrilling and I enjoyed each terrifying moment of it. While I’m not someone prone to looking at any situation as the potential for utter catastrophe, the events in ZOO read like they could be possible. That’s scary. Really and truly scary. I highly recommend this book.

Rating: 4.5 stars

INDIE SPOTLIGHT: Viscera | #CollectionofStrangeTales


Jessica B. Bell


Viscera is a collection of short stories full of all the things that make you squirm, cringe, and laugh when you know you shouldn’t. You’ll remember why you’re afraid of the dark and experience an abundance of weird creatures: witches, ancient gods, and all-too-human monsters – the scariest of all.

Indulge your twisted sense of humor with stories about unconventional werewolves and a woman with a frog fetish. Know what it’s like to arrive too late to save an unusual alien abductee, or giggle with sick delight as a woman serves up a special Hasenpfeffer dinner to her pig of a husband.

Settle in for bedtime stories fit for monsters.

Viscera will grab you by the gut and squeeze, making you cry for mercy—or laugh like a fiend!

Available on:


US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil |India | The Netherlands

Amazon Print:

US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil |India | The Netherlands




ABOUT THE AUTHOR – Jessica B. Bell is a writer of strange, dark fiction. She lives in a damp basement and writes her stories on musty old parchment by candlelight. Her keeper, one Helena Hann-Basquiat, brings her moldy scraps of bread and sour wine on occasion, and transposes her mad scribbling into the digital world for the amusement and entertainment of her readers.

She is the author of CHUK, a serialized novel written online from August 2013 to October 2014, currently in the editing process.

She is also currently working on a trilogy of quasi-historical weird fiction the likes of which you’ve never seen.

FRIDAY FICTION: The Itch | #FreeFiction #Horror #Humour

The Itch

It started as an itch.

Just above his appendectomy scar.

A niggle akin to a tickle, then a full-fledged insistence.

Powerless to control the urge, Scott raked his jagged fingernails like scythes over the spot.

The more he scratched, the more persistent the urge became. Like an addict, he continued to collect his epithelials underneath his unkempt nails.

The night was endless with the constant itch in his side. He continued to dig deeper into his flesh, hoping to scrape out the source. Rubbed raw within the first hour, he knew that it would only take longer to heal. Yet, he continued to serve his annoying master. Too lazy to get out of bed to check his corpulent flesh, he resigned himself to the fate of a potential scar. Even in his restless sleep, his fingers sought out the now tender spot of raw skin.


In the morning, Scott awoke feeling groggy and thick-headed after a night spent tossing and turning. Taking his time getting out of bed, he absentmindedly scraped at his side. Feeling a stickiness, he pulled his hand away from his side and tried to focus on the tips of his fingers. Red. Blood? Had he really scratched that hard?

Coming to the full realization that he’d done some damage through the night, he made his way into the bathroom to stand before the mirror over the porcelain sink. Looking at his expansive belly in the reflection, he was aghast at what he saw.

Slowly oozing red blood and a viscous, unctuous clear fluid, the patch on his abdomen was larger than he had first imaged. Had he really scratched a hole in the side of his body? It was incomprehensible to Scott that he could have done this much damage overnight. Something had to be wrong; there must be an explanation…

After placing a quick call to work, he dressed and left for the hospital, silently praying that whatever he’d done to himself could be undone.


Alone in the stark cubicle, replete with pale blue dotted gown that wouldn’t close over his ample ass, Scott sat on the uncomfortable hospital bed, wishing that his side didn’t hurt. The admitting nurse had taken one quick look at his stomach and immediately set him up in a room with the inadequate gown. Upon her exit, she added that the doctor would be with him shortly and promptly shut him off from the hustle and bustle by swinging round the pale green curtain.

Not wanting to admit it, the fear was all that he could think about. What the heck was wrong with him? Scenes from the past few days played over and over in his head. He ran through the multitude of people he’d encountered; his co-workers, the pizza guy, the pretty check-out girl at the supermarket, even the woman he visited once a week to satiate his desires. He raked his mind for clues as he raked his flesh; could one of them have infected him?

The more he thought about it, the more his mind dwelt upon the possibilities.

The more he dwelt on the possibilities, the deeper he scratched.

The only thing that broke his reverie was the middle-aged, balding doctor that pulled back the curtain. He strode in with purpose and a level of cool aloof. Not glancing up from the chart in his hand, he stopped by the edge of the bed.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Harris?”

“Well doc, I have this itch on my side –“

“An itch, Mr. Harris? You came to the ER for an itch?” With that said, he finally looked up, turned and muttered, “You came to the hospital for an itch… You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What?! You’re leaving? You haven’t even seen –“

“Seen what? Some patch of skin that has you scratching? Let me see it then; just be quick about it!”

The doctor turned on him so quickly that Scott didn’t really know how to react. He stupidly fumbled with the side of the gown, trying desperately to pull the corner of it from under his thick thigh. Finally extricating the worn fabric, he lifted the edge to reveal his swollen belly, the rawness of his skin quite apparent.

For a moment, it looked as if the doctor might apologize for his outburst. Instead, he placed the chart on the bed beside Scott and bent forward for a closer look.

Just as quickly, his head jerked back, surprise covering his face. Turning to the small desk, he opened a drawer and pulled out a skinny metal probe about the length of a pen.

“I’m just going to apply a little pressure, Mr. Harris. Nothing to fear, just need to take a better look…” His words trailed off as he advanced the probe at Scott’s stomach.

Scott felt a tiny bit of pressure deep inside his stomach and then a fluttering. It was a strange feeling and one he couldn’t remember ever having experienced before. Not painful, but uncomfortable.

The doctor’s hand retreated almost immediately, searching for something. He found it by the wall next to the desk and promptly threw up into it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the doctor turned to look at him, fear and revulsion painting a picture of horror across his face.

“What is it Doctor? Am I going to die?” The fear in the room was palpable. Scott, afraid for his life; the doctor afraid of his patient.

“You’ll have to wait here a moment, I need a second opinion.” Almost breaking into a run, the doctor left the cramped cubicle, leaving behind the stench of vomit and burnt coffee.

Within moments he had returned, a pretty young blonde haired doctor in tow. She smiled warily at Scott and introduced herself. “Hello, Mr. Harris. I’m Dr. Campbell. Would it be alright if I had a look at your side, please?” She asked with a politeness that almost made up for the way that the other doctor had behaved.

“Sure…” he answered, “Just tell me I’m going be okay and I’ll show you anything.” The comment was a bit off colour, but Scott was a warm blooded male; even in sickness, he’d do what he could to score. Not that she would ever have looked at him, but it never hurt to try…

Bending down, she stared at the spot on his side, intently trying to make out what she was looking at. Her head jerked back up, her hands coming straight up to her face.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What? What is it?”

“See? I told you…”

“But that’s impossible. There’s no way that –“

“No way that what? Could someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Again, Scott felt the stirring within his stomach. Reflexively, he placed his hand on his side and rubbed. Only this time he could feel something else.

Smooth. Hard. Tiny. Square. Plus now there was a definite hole.

“Mr. Harris, you may want to move your hand—”

The pain was excruciating. His fingers were on fire. He brought them up to his face to have a look and was shocked to see what he could only interpret as teeth marks marring the surface. Teeth? Was that what he had felt?

Remembering the tiny bathroom he’d passed on his way to the cubicle, Scott moved faster than he’d ever moved before. With the edges of the gown flapping behind him, he threw the light switch and ripped the fabric across his stomach to get a better look. The sight astounded him.

He had a mouth on the side of his abdomen. A fully formed mouth with teeth, lips and a tongue. Looking more closely, he could see the faint swell that had started to form above the mouth, along with the twin semi-circular arches of coarse black hairs exuding from his skin above that.

Feeling sick, he turned to the doctors who had followed him down the hallway, anguish and confusion written all over his face.

“That’s a mouth right? A fucking mouth on my side?”

“Yes, Mr. Harris. We believe that’s what it is”

“How the fuck did it get there?”

“We have no idea, Mr. Harris. But that could be the least of your problems –“

“The least of my problems? I have a fucking mouth – with teeth – on my stomach. What the fuck could be worse?”

The two doctors shared a glance, “Well, it doesn’t appear that it’s just a mouth –“

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Scott’s world went dark and he crashed to the ground.


Waking up in the hospital was an eerie feeling; part of his brain remembered the horror that had felled him, while the other maintained that it was just a bad dream. Trying to move, Scott realized that he couldn’t. Panicking, he fought to move, believing that he was paralyzed with that thing on his stomach. Turning his head to the left, he saw that a restraint covered his wrist. He strained against it, testing it, knowing that it would be effective regardless of his hope.

Looking to the right, he saw that his other wrist was also locked in a restraint. Recognizing the futility of struggling, he laid he head back down on the pillow. Breathing deeply for a moment, he began to take stock of everything. His left leg hurt, as did his left shoulder. His head was pounding but Scott put that to the fall he knew he had taken. His attention turned to the one thing he had hoped he could avoid.

The mouth. With all of its little white pearlescent teeth.

Shuddering, he strained his head upwards, attempting to see the side of his abdomen. Letting his head fall back down in defeat, he started to cry. Scott had no idea what was going on and it scared him. Had the doctor really stated that there was a face forming on his stomach?

The wait for someone to come felt interminable. Once the doctor arrived, he opened his mouth to talk but no sound came out. The terror of that moment radiated from Scott.

“Mr. Harris, you need to calm down. Getting yourself all worked up isn’t going to help you at all.”

Again, Scott tried to speak; his mouth opening and closing with each attempt. Frustrated, he began to sob.

“Mr. Harris, it will be all right. We have you scheduled for surgery later today. Once we remove the tumor, everything should go back to normal. These types of things happen all the time. One of the unique things about the cells within our body is that they have the ability to develop into any of the body’s structures. It’s simply an anomaly, however unfortunate it may be.” With a reassuring hand on his arm, the doctor gave a small squeeze before leaving the room.

Resigned to accept the fate that odd things sometimes happen, he tried to put his mind at rest. At least the itch was gone. And soon the growth would be as well. Closing his eyes, he thought about the glorious void of sleep, hoping to drift into a world unlike the hell he was currently living.

As he nodded off, a small gravelled voice spoke aloud, “But I’m not a tumor…”

Copyright © 2012 Julianne Snow

A REVIEW FROM MY COMMUTE: Diary — Chuck Palahniuk

So what have I been listening to lately? I’ve been on a bit of a weird fiction kick and Diary by Chuck Palahniuk certainly did not disappoint…

diaryMisty Wilmot has had it. Once a promising young artist, she’s now stuck on an island ruined by tourism, drinking too much and working as a waitress in a hotel. Her husband, a contractor, is in a coma after a suicide attempt, but that doesn’t stop his clients from threatening Misty with lawsuits over a series of vile messages they’ve found on the walls of houses he remodeled.

Suddenly, though, Misty finds her artistic talent returning as she begins a period of compulsive painting. Inspired but confused by this burst of creativity, she soon finds herself a pawn in a larger conspiracy that threatens to cost hundreds of lives. What unfolds is a dark, hilarious story from America’s most inventive nihilist, and Palahniuk’s most impressive work to date.

I really enjoyed this tale from Palahniuk—it was so utterly bizarre but made perfect sense. It was horrorific in a humourously physchological way and I loved each moment of it. Told in diary format, it felt a little odd since it wasn’t completely told from the first person perspective as one might expect but for some reason, against the backdrop of the interconnected story lines, it works. Definitely worth the read if you enjoy a little strange with your horror fiction!

Rating: 4.5 stars

INDIE SPOTLIGHT: North Dark | #DarklyDystopian

North Dark

Lane Kareska


Set in a lonesome and barbarous failed state, North Dark is the story of a lone man traveling by dogsled across a frozen wasteland in pursuit of the fugitive who destroyed his family.

Haunted by predators both physical and spectral, the musher’s journey takes him across a deadened tundra, tortured cities and the remains of civilizations long-lapsed into madness. All the while, his enemy slides in and out of striking distance, always one step ahead, always one act of violence away.

Purchase Links:

Amazon: US | UK | Canada | Germany | France | Italy | Spain | Brazil | Japan | India | Mexico | Australia

Amazon Print

Barnes & Noble



FRIDAY FICTION: Hunt(ed) | #FreeRead


His breath came out like a whisper, passing over his lips louder than he wanted. Sullivan heard it down the hall, the scratch of its nails sharp on the linoleum floor of his office.

He had no idea what it was but once he heard the screams, his instinct was to dive for the cover afforded by his desk. As he hid, his heartbeat quickened, the fear of knowing next to nothing pounding loudly in his chest.

Deep down Sullivan was a coward, but that was okay. He didn’t need to be the hero. In fact, he was happy to hide and hope.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?” The voice was tentative, quiet, almost a whisper but still loud enough to be heard by the creature stalking them.

Sullivan wanted to shush them but didn’t dare risk giving up his location. Instead he squeezed himself into a smaller ball on the cool floor beneath this cheap mass produced desk.

A shrill scream rang out as it pounced, one of his co-workers coming to a horrific end. The sound of it eating reverberating through his body. It was close. Too close.

Sullivan felt the need to move, his body twitching with the pent up fear and nervous energy of its closeness. But he stayed, knowing that movement would attract its attention. But he wasn’t stupid, least of all today.

With his eyes squeezed tightly closed, he heard the huff of its breath as it sniffed out its next meal. It was a quick succession of sounds that made him release his bladder as the shame of it washed over him.

In that moment Sullivan knew it was over. He knew the creature would find him now, especially with a warm, fragrant trail to lead the way.

He smelled it as he felt the warmth of its rank breath on his face. Opening his eyes for the last time, he saw for the first time what had sought him out. It was a thing made of nightmares, evil incarnate in a misshapen form.

Sullivan opened his mouth the scream, but no sound came out. The last sight he saw was the sharp rows of teeth descending over his face. Then thankfully there was only darkness.


It moved away, hunting for its next meal, listening for the sounds of fear, reading the anxious energy in the air, smelling the stale but pungent odour that oozed out of the pores of the frightened.

Copyright © 2015 Julianne Snow

A REVIEW FROM MY COMMUTE: Fangland by John Marks | #Vampires #TelevisionJournalism

It was the cover that drew me into this audiobook at first. That and the title. Fangland

Fangland.jpgAn acclaimed novelist and former 60 Minutes producer grandly reinvents the Dracula epic in the halls of a certain television newsmagazine In the annals of business trips gone horribly wrong, Evangeline Harker’s journey to Romania on behalf of her employer, the popular television newsmagazine The Hour, deserves pride of place. Sent to Transylvania to scout out a possible story on a notorious Eastern European crime boss named Ion Torgu, she has found the true nature of Torgu’s activities to be far more monstrous than anything her young journalist’s mind could have imagined. The fact that her employer clearly won’t get the segment it was hoping for is soon the very least of her concerns. Back in New York, Evangeline’s disappearance causes an uproar at the office and a wave of guilt and recrimination. Then suddenly, several months later, she’s heard from: miraculously, she’s convalescing in a Transylvania monastery, her memory seemingly scrubbed. But then who was sending e-mails through her account to The Hour employees? And what are those great coffin-like boxes of objects delivered to the office in her name from the Old Country? And why does the show’s sound system appear to be infected with some strange virus, an aural bug that coats all recordings in a faint background hiss that sounds like the chanting of…place-names? And what about the rumors that a correspondent has scored an interview with Torgu, here in New York, after all? As a very dark Old World atmosphere deepens in the halls of one of America’s most trusted television programs, its employees are forced to confront a threat beyond their wildest imaginings, a threat that makes gossip about an impending corporate shakeup seem very quaint indeed. Written in the form of diary entries, e-mails, therapy journals, and other artifacts of early-twenty-first-century American professional-class life, compiled as an informal inquest by a very interested party, Fangland manages both to be a genuinely-in fact triumphantly-frightening vampire novel in the grand tradition and a, yes, biting commentary on the way we live and work now.

The story itself was riveting and I found myself not wanting to stop driving. That’s one of the problems with audiobooks, you get so enthralled with what you’re listening to that one more chapter ends up as one more spin around the block.

While it’s heralded as a re-imagining of Stoker’s Dracula set in present day times against the backdrop of post 9/11 New York, it’s truly something standalone and complete. If you like Vampires or are looking for a different read that will entertain you, I totally recommend picking this one up.

Rating: 5 Stars

INDIE SPOTLIGHT: The Somnibus | #Supernatural #Horror

The Somnibus

Craig McGray


Be safe tonight…

After the loss of his parents in a horrific accident, Michael Black is left to put the shattered pieces of his life back together. All is not what it seems though when Michael learns that he has a special ‘gift’. A gift that will put him and everyone he knows in mortal danger. Something evil wants what Michael has and it will stop at nothing to get it, destroying anyone and everything that stands in its way.

Lost in a maze of death and betrayal, this young man with a rare paranormal power finds himself in a fight against a malevolent force hell-bent on revenge.

Available on:

Amazon: US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil |India | The Netherlands


CreateSpace (Print)


CraigMcGray.JPGABOUT THE AUTHOR – Craig McGray lives on the east coast of Florida with his wife and two beautiful daughters. In addition to spending time with his family, he enjoys triathlon and endurance training

Many of his story ideas come to him during those quiet times while running, biking, or swimming.