Description: Jon Tanner can walk through the dark shadows into a land he calls Shadow Realm. The Catholic Church calls it Purgatory, gateway to hell, limbo of lost souls. Tanner, a loner, must deal with a beautiful dream Walker in the search for her Shadow Walker brother. When Tanner realizes the demons of Shadow Realm are preparing for a war with the real world, he decides to walk into hell itself to end it.
Excerpt: Tanner reached the shadow and pushed with his mind. As he stepped through the darkness, he felt it resisting him, as if he were pressing through a dark, dense fog. He persisted and broke through, emerging into another kind of darkness, an alleyway pale lit by the moon. The shadows clung hungrily to the black cloak he wore like living cobwebs, tattering reluctantly as he pulled away. His features, half hidden by his dark scarf and turned up collar of his black cloak, revealed only his eyes, twin points of intense darkness deeper than the surrounding night set in a stern face hastily carved from pale stone and etched with lines of fatigue. He turned warily toward the shadows from which he had just materialized.
Moments later, a second face appeared, twisted and distorted. It features were barely recognizable beneath fetid folds of corruption but clearly not a human face. Penetrating, enraged eyes glowing blood red stared at Tanner and a long, sinuous black tongue snaked wickedly back and forth between double rows of needlepoint teeth set in a lipless, slavering mouth much too wide for the sallow face. Two vertical fleshy slits above the mouth served as nostrils, the loose flesh quivering obscenely as the hell-spawned creature breathed. It stank of the rot of the grave.
“Almost, Shadow Walker,” Seeker said, his angry words slurred by probing tongue. “Sooner or later my minions will have you. They will feed on your flesh while I consume your soul.” The tongue flicked across the tips of his teeth, leaving a trail of glistening black saliva that accentuated their deadly sharpness. A bony finger bearing wicked, razor sharp claws poked through the shadow and pointed at Tanner. “The shadows are mine.”
About The Author: JE Gurley is a 58-year old retired Atlanta chef now living and writing in Tucson, AZ. He also play guitar and keyboards in local Tucson rock and roll bands. He was born in Corinth, MS but have lived in Memphis, Tn., New Orleans and Venice, Louisiana, Iuka, MS., Atlanta, GA., Stroudsburg, PA and Tucson, AZ. He’s married to Kim and have two cats, Shoes and Elsie.
You can pick this one up from Amazon here: Shadow Walker