Dread

Have you ever gone days with no water? Weeks? Have you ever spent the night with a dead man?

A heinous nightmare. Frank bolts up in bed. Except he’s not in bed. His head slams into what feels like ten-million tons of solid rock. He rolls right, then left, only to be foiled by more rock. Like a stone coffin. What is this place? How did he get here? Maybe the dream was real, and this is the nightmare. His heart slams with panic as he stares into the darkness.

Something has happened. Something terrifying. But the harder he strains to recall the event, the deeper it retreats into the labyrinth of his mind.

A stalker in his dreams. Horror when he wakes. A passage. A password. A vanishing snake. What does any of it mean, if anything?

No light. No water, no memory. And he's out of time. He must remember. If he wants to live. His amnesia is fading, but so is his hope. And perhaps his sanity.

© 2020 Jeff Wade (Hljóðbók): 9781987119343

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Hljóðbók: 10 mars 2020