Heartbreaker (38 page)
Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Julie-Morrigan/268149469877246
Blog: http://gonebadonlinestories.blogspot.com/
Also by Julie Morrigan:
Gone Bad: Tales About Bad People Doing Bad Things
This short story collection features a rare cast of characters: flawed, foul-mouthed, misguided and downtrodden, all of whom might be said to have, in one way or another, ‘gone bad’. This is strong stuff, no holds barred and no punches pulled. You wouldn’t want to be sharing the last bus home with these people!
Gone Bad has the distinctive flavour of north east England and gathers together 18 titles, mixing ‘flash fiction’ pieces with longer reads. Within the pages you can meet a murderous little boy, a psychotic Scouse backing singer, and a wannabe crime fiction writer with a penchant for hands-on research. Add to that a dishonest lottery winner, predatory girlfriend, long-suffering private detective and would-be rapist and you’re starting to get the lie of the land.
Gone Bad is this prize-winning UK writer’s first collection of short stories
Praise for Gone Bad:
This was a terrific read. Highly recommended to any crime, drama, or thriller fans. (Smashwords)
Julie Morrigan is a rare find, tight smart prose used to tell dark, wildly entertaining tales of the darker side of the street. I WANT MORE. (GoodReads)
Judging from this collection, it's safe to say that from the dark and gritty depths of urban noir a new queen has risen. (GoodReads)
Also by Julie Morrigan:
An abducted child.
A family destroyed by grief and guilt.
A man of God.
When 12-year-old Tina Snowdon and her little sister Annie gratefully accept a lift from a helpful stranger, she has no way of knowing that only one of them will make it home.
As Tina’s life is torn apart by pain and recrimination, the only evidence the police have points to George Cotter, a pillar of the local church. But as the investigation continues, it seems that perhaps a deeper and more disturbing truth may lie behind little Annie’s abduction …
Praise for Convictions:
The following are all taken from reviews that can be read in full on Amazon/Goodreads:
‘Convictions’ by Julie Morrigan is a pulse-pounding thriller with its feet on the ground and its big heart peeking out from under its ragged, bloody sleeve.
If you are looking for an honest to goodness thriller with a human touch that'll have you on the edge of your proverbial seat to the final page, Convictions will leave you breathless.
Convictions is compelling, page-turning stuff, but with a strong emotional core and a dynamic cast of characters.
Julie Morrigan’s second collection of short fiction
The Writing on the Wall
will be published in October 2011. As well as the novelette from which the collection takes its name, there will be a further seven stories, each one unsettling, unnerving or perhaps just unusual. Here’s a sample:
Shadow Man
‘It’s a sleeping disorder.’
‘What?’
‘That thing that’s been happening. You know, your shadow man thing. It’s a sleeping disorder.’
Jenny gave Michael a blank look. ‘It happened again last night,’ she said. ‘It didn’t feel like a sleeping disorder.’
‘Describe it.’
‘It was about two in the morning. I was wide awake, but the only thing I could move was my eyes. I was lying on my side and I knew there was someone behind me. Someone evil. I ... I could sense him.’
The fear had been intense. Jenny strained to move her body, desperate to see who — or what — it was that stood behind her. She sensed a brooding presence, eyes watching her as she lay in bed, paralysed and terrified, able only to blink. There was a tall mirror on the wall at the foot of the bed. If she could just tip her head a little, the light from the bedside lamp should show her who, what, was there. Assuming it had a reflection. She struggled and fought, all to no avail. She sensed movement, detected a shifting of the air, felt a hand stroke her hair where it lay fanned out over her pillow, a dark stain on virgin snow.
Unable even to blink now, goggle-eyed with fear, she stared at the wall opposite while her hair was stroked by the shadow man, her heart leaping in her ribcage, thudding in her ears.
No matter what it was, no matter how terrifying, knowing could not be worse than this. She mustered all her strength for one last effort, willed her body to move, roared as she fought against the paralysis, the fear, the not knowing.
Suddenly, as if someone had flicked a switch, her body was once more under her control. It responded immediately and she flew out of bed, landing on the floor with a thump.
No one was there. No dark, menacing figure stood at her bedside, looking down at her with dead eyes and a black heart.
Stunned, Jenny had taken a minute to collect herself, then got to her feet. She turned on all the lights as she went through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea; ordinary tea, not the special blend Michael the pharmacist had given her to help her sleep when she had complained to him of insomnia. She ought to be fine now. It had never before happened more than once in one night.
‘It’s called “sleep paralysis”,’ Michael was saying. ‘I’ve been reading about it, it’s well-documented. Google it, you’ll see.’
‘Maybe.’ Jenny wasn’t convinced.
‘Honestly, Jen, there’s nothing to fear. We all experience sleep paralysis, it’s just that most people don’t know because we don’t wake up. You do, that’s why it’s scary.’
‘What about the shadow man?’
‘All in your mind. It’s all part of it.’
That night, Jenny made herself a cup of Michael’s special tea. ‘Just one cup per night,’ he’d instructed. ‘About an hour before bedtime.’ She smiled. She had looked up sleep paralysis on the web and it was exactly as he had described. He was so kind, helping her to understand her problem, taking away the fear. She would invite him round and cook him dinner, she decided. Very, very soon. She went to bed, drifted off to sleep, his face in her mind’s eye.
At about two in the morning, Jenny awoke. Once again, she was paralysed, her eyes the only thing she was able to move. She felt panic start to rise and fought to quell it. She chanted silently:
Nothing to fear, nothing to fear ...
She breathed deeply, calming herself, grateful to Michael for what he had told her.
A shadow slid across the tall mirror as the dark figure behind her moved towards her bed. Jenny sensed movement, detected a shifting of the air, felt a hand stroke her hair where it lay across her pillow. She closed her eyes and pictured Michael’s face, kept on chanting:
nothing to fear
. It was sleep paralysis, it was normal, the shadow man wasn’t real.
Michael loved the silky feel of Jenny’s hair. He breathed in deeply as if he were trying to inhale her, then crept out of her flat as silently as he had entered, aware that the effects of his special blend of tea would quickly wear off.
Soon
, he was thinking to himself.
Very, very soon
.
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