War is not the only threat.
1941. The world is consumed by war and conflict. For Stanley Grand and Hazel Johnson, their paths meet purely by accident. After another night of German raids, London is in tatters and Stanley, freshly returns from the front line in France, finds himself haunted by his early return. Seeking time alone he stumbles across an ancient crypt buried beneath Westminster Abbey. When their paths cross, neither could expect to be accused of burglary and implicated in a street-criminal's murder.
Without warning the unlikely duo are dragged into a world of secret church covens and an aristocrat who seeks to unearth something that would threaten the world more than the war. With no choice, Stanley and Hazel must come together and face an unspeakable creatur forgotten from history, the Iceman.
Discover the world fo Dark Curses and the secrets that remain hidden from all but those who would seek to protect humanity.
Hybrid author, screenwriter and mad-man! A passion for escaping into adventure and using an autism brain to create stories to steal you into my imagination!
I was inspired to write this being a fan of the old-style adventure/horror films like The Mummy and Indiana Jones. That being said I wanted to use something we hadn't seen before.
Considering all of the veritable curses that exist in the world I wanted to avoid repeating what we've all seen and read before. During my research I found so many intriguing elements (some of which I've saved for later books) but the Iceman caught my attention.
There's a lot of artistic licence in this but I remained obsessed with filling in the gaps with my imagination for what is a very real part of human history. While this isn't a specific story about the infamous Iceman, everything about it is inspired by the chance discovery of a human body in 1991.
Book Excerpt
Dark Curses: Iceman
Deep in the heart of what would become known as modern Italy, a solitary figure appeared in the fog of dancing snowflakes. A man dressed in sewn leather clothes staggered through the storm. His bear-pelt hat threatened to whip from his head in the wind, and the pieces of hide he had fashioned into a coat kept as much of him as warm as possible. Nursing his right hand, the man staggered across the soft snow and inspected the bloodstained cloth wrapped around his palm.
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