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Thursday, July 9, 2009

Excerpt - Forgotten Children by Michael Davis

Here are a few excerpts from my novel FORGOTTEN CHILDREN. It was nominated as the best romantic suspense of 2008 by two sites and the best novel of 2008 by the publisher. You can read all reviews and excerpts at Davisstories.com

Big Mike

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the Year, 2008

BLURB
Life in the small rural town of Lawton, VA is everything you can imagine: wonderful people, beautiful vistas, and a peaceful environment to raise your family, except for one thing. The greed and vanity of a few men has exacted a heavy toll on the community, and those whose lives have been forever affected have no idea. No one knows, except Sara. In her subconscious mind, the nightmares that invade her sleep show the confusing truth and feed her fears. But she never verbalizes the haunting images to her husband. Until the true sinister nature of the clandestine EW operation is revealed and the couple is forced to struggle for their lives.


EXCERPT 1
From outside the fence, Sara watched the children frolicking in the playground. She walked toward the entry and pushed, but the gate wouldn’t budge. It was her fault, she had waited too long. The hinges were rusted with neglect and age, frozen solid. She pressed with all her weight, but it was hopeless. She kicked at the fence again and again until finally it moved enough for her to squeeze onto the yard. She moved toward the merry-go-round and stopped. Something was different inside her. She reached down and rubbed the swelling in her abdomen. Finally it was there, what she wanted for so long, and she smiled.
With her hands resting on the bulge, she watched the children twirl on the merry-go-round. She was absorbed in their beautiful young faces, but there was something strange. As the children circled, they began to change. The laughter disappeared. Their tight skin and beaming faces morphed with each rotation, until they became wrinkled and old, the eyes pressed outward, the hair vanished, replaced by vein-tracked scalps.
Sara lurched away, looked down at her stomach, and then back at the wrinkled shells of bone and flesh where the children had played. She tried to call out, but there was no sound. She scanned the playground for help, but no one was there. The children were left alone to wither and die, forgotten by everyone, and she could do nothing but scream for them in silence.
Sara was jolted awake by the alarm clock. She stared at the ceiling and watched the vision of the playground flash like a beacon, warning of something. But what? Was it just a terrible dream? She turned off the alarm and sat up. It took several minutes to wash the images from her mind. She reached over and stroked her husband’s arm. “Time to get up.”
Mark grumbled as he rose, locked in a post slumber daze. Sara watched him, thinking about the dream. It was the same nightmare she’d encountered before. She opened her mouth to tell him, to share her confusion, the disturbing images, but stopped. It was just a dream, no sense upsetting him. Mark scratched his butt with both hands and shuffled to the shower.
In the dim morning light, she stared out the window and tried again to force out the visions that echoed in her thoughts. Damn it, stop this silliness. It’s just a dream, my imagination working overtime.
She stood up and headed for the kitchen. “I need a big cup of coffee.”

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