Good Morning!
Well here we are, the second weekend in Feb. This is my granddaughter's first dance competition of 2017 so I'll be out and about and therefore may not be online much. So without further ado, here's our guest, Rick McQuiston who is brand new to our blog and his book, a
horror novel,
Eat the World........
Rick McQuiston is a 49-year-old father
of two who loves anything horror-related. He’s had nearly 400 publications so
far, and written five novels, ten anthologies, one book of novellas, and edited
an anthology of Michigan authors.
Rick is also a guest author each year at
Memphis Junior High School.
He’s currently working on his sixth
novel.
More about Rick at:
In picturesque Mackinac a growing army of rats are beginning to seep into the community of tourists.
They seemingly appear out of nowhere, and it is up to ordinary people to gather their courage and battle the hordes.
But there is something more frightening beneath the surface, something that was born from the accumulated depths of Earth's creatures, something that can threaten the entire world.
Excerpt from Eat the
World:
The rodent scurried through the narrow channel. It barely managed to
squeeze its lengthy bulk into the tight aperture, but by inhaling a deep breath
of warm, salty air, it was able to reduce its girth enough to allow it somewhat
comfortable passage. A cursory glance to either side after it cleared the
opening revealed nothing predatory or dangerous.
The rodent then scrambled into the brush.
In its wake was a vicious, gray-green substance that
loosely resembled hydraulic motor oil left in the sun too long. It was thick in
consistency, yet still transparent enough to allow the dozens of tiny organisms
swirling within it to be seen. It bristled with unnatural life.
The small grass snake slithered through the brush.
Its brown, speckled hide gave it perfect camouflage in the wild. It melted into
its surroundings, becoming for all intents and purposes, invisible to both
predator and prey. It was its natural defense mechanism as well as aiding it
with tracking down prey.
The snake's belly convulsed with hunger. It hadn't
eaten in days and was in danger of starving. It scanned the woods for any sign
of movement, anything at all that it could inflict a bite on and swallow whole.
There was no movement whatsoever. Not even a stray
beetle or ant scuttled by. The snake was completely alone in the vast
wilderness of the island. It laid perfectly still, both to conserve energy and
to avoid detection. It sensed that something was watching it from a darkened
crevice nearby. Something bigger than it was and undoubtedly just as hungry.
The snake didn't move a muscle. It hoped that
whatever was hidden in the crevice wouldn't notice it. The strange substance on
the ground bristled beneath its body, but it had more pressing matters to be
concerned about. Flicking its tongue, the snake tasted the air. Far below, the
cold waters of Lake Huron washed up against I-67. Being the only state highway
in the US without motorized vehicles, the pristine ribbon of asphalt circled
the entire island.
The movement caught the snake's attention. It swung
its conical head in the direction of the sound: the dark crevice. Whatever was
watching it had moved. Several quick tongue darts picked up a scent, causing
the snake to recoil back into itself. It could defend itself if need be, but if
its adversary was larger it would quickly opt for retreat. Self-preservation
was perhaps the only instinct that overrode all others, including hunger and
the need to mate. When faced with a threat, survival was paramount.
The snake hissed in a feeble effort to ward off its
potential adversary. It reared up then to display its size. It did not know if
it was larger, or smaller than the other creature, but it was one of the few
weapons it possessed.
The rodent poked its pink snout out of the crevice.
It sniffed a few times, and satisfied that suitable prey was within striking
distance, settled back on its haunches as it prepared to attack.
With a blinding ferocity beyond any member of its
species, the huge, bloated rat launched itself out of the crevice and sucked
down the too-slow grass snake in one violent swallow.
The reptile never had a chance.
With its hunger temporarily sated, the rat lumbered
away into the brush. It left copious amounts of the strange substance behind,
leaving a sickly trail leading into the woods.
The substance squirmed with miniscule life.
******
UGH gives me the creeps but if you're a horror fan, this book might be right up your alley. You can purchase it directly from the publisher, Class Act Books, Amazon or Smashwords.
Hope you enjoyed this week's visitors and you'll join me right here each week for Tuesday Treasures, Thursday Thoughts and Saturday Spotlight.
Until next time, take care and God Bless.
PamT
Linda Nightingale is a native-born South Carolinian who has lived in England and Canada, and now resides in Texas. Before turning to writing, she bred, trained and showed Andalusian horses for thirteen years.
