Thursday, September 15, 2016

Ian K. Sylus

Today's Promo Thursday is all about Nightmare Child 
a horror/Thriller by Ian K. Sylus 

Nightmare Child
Ian K. Sylus

Genre: Horror, Thriller
Publisher: Ian K. Sylus (June 30, 2016)
Print Length: 165 pages
Publication Date: June 30, 2016



Stare down the physical representation of everything your terror calls home. Celeste St. Clare awakes beneath a tightrope, gazing upon the fragmented world around her. The only clairvoyance through a sea of beasts and psyche-shattering realizations is a man in a ruined suit, claiming to have control over the landscape before her. Nightmare Child delves deep into the uncharted mind, ripping through the emotions and enigma that we call 'being human'.


Celeste put her feet into the casket, and lowered herself down with her arms. She was a mere few feet above the podium, and let go to plant a landing. As she stared upwards, the cutout of a casket in the sky began to dissipate. It was just her and Rift now, unaware as to the layer of sin this place possibly concealed. She wasn’t provided with much detail, then again that may have been a bit of her own doing.

The luscious grass was an even watercolor look, every blade painted the same. The scenery all around was a massive graveyard, well-maintained and peaceful, the way it should be. There were seven chairs in each of the seven rows, all of them had a paper name plate on the seat. Every name plate was empty. Who would have come to her mother’s funeral? That, she didn’t know.

The large oak tree cast shade over a section of the seating arrangement, and there were flower baskets and decorations in vases. They were presented on a table, and smack dab in the middle of them were a dozen long-stem black roses. They appeared wilted, but still had some time left in them. A photograph of her mother was blown up on a large display, only the missing elements were… startling.

There was a perfect image of what she should have been, a moment in her prime. It was a photo that Celeste remembered well. She could vividly recall it in her mind. Why was it that there was no face on the display? Skin, but no face—like it had been wiped away. In that exact moment, she could hear the distant wind come to a stop, and the scent of everything around her died.

The scenery became cracked, and void of animation. Eight panels fell flat, all landing on the outside. It was like leaving a reenactment, coming back to reality. Everything just broke away, as if an enigma had been unraveled. The green grass resisted to sway. It was like it all turned to crumpled paper and ceased to be magical. This was what she thought her mother’s funeral to be, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t anything like this. Celeste awoke covered in bruises in the backseat of the family truck, and upon inquiry, was told the funeral was wonderful.

The area behind the once-real panels of landscape was like a big boiler room. The red lights were dim and shined off the machinery. The only white light was looming over her mother’s casket. It rested next to the bizarre photograph draped in a white cloth. As she neared it, she could hear arguing—only this time, it wasn’t her father. Mr. Rope and Grim were shouting above, on the citadel, and somehow she could hear them.

Author Bio

I began writing when I was five-years-old, and from that point on, it became my passion. I've married a lovely woman, had three amazing boys by her; all that's left to do is write a bestseller. I mean, how hard can that be, right?


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