When in my late-twenties, working as a solicitor (a type of lawyer), I already knew that I didn’t want to follow the career path that wound away from me like some slimy serpent towards a dark tunnel labelled ‘Your Life’, echoing with the anguished cries of regret and unfulfilled dreams.
My thirties arrived and with them came the resolve to do something about it. I’d already made a couple of false starts at writing a novel. Now I rolled my sleeves up, sat down in front of our shiny new home computer and began to write in earnest.
This is the result – my first completed novel.
When war ends, terror begins.
A fist fight that reverberates down the years. A family devastated by war. A flight from despair.
John Andrews leaves industrial Newcastle for a remote village in post-war Cornwall. A village of reclusive inhabitants, where the birds don’t sing. A village haunted by its past that intrudes upon the present.
He falls in love, but it is overshadowed by a series of increasingly terrifying events. He encounters members of a tragic family, sees his maternal grandfather, meets his older brother; not so remarkable, perhaps, except that all are dead.
Events spiral out of control and John is forced to battle to save what remains of his family, his first love, his very sanity. Not to mention his life.
The Village of Lost Souls is hungry to claim more…