 Click on image to enlarge.
|
Metempsychosis [MultiFormat]
eBook by Gene O'Neill
| |
Regular |
|
 |
|
Club |
| You Pay: |
$0.49 |
|
 |
|
$0.42 |
eBook Category: Horror
eBook Description: A penal code patient at an insane asylum reveals an incredulous explanation for the murder of his wife and children ... an explanation that is eventually validated in a surprising way.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Dark Lurkers, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2005
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [168 KB], eReader (PDB) [22 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [8 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [8 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [71 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [79 KB], hiebook (KML) [29 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [32 KB], iSilo (PDB) [7 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [9 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [36 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [15 KB]
Words: 2220 Reading time: 6-8 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

A two-story Victorian mansion was completely engulfed in flames. Just barely visible through the raging fire at an opened second-story window, were three pale faces, their terrified screams piercing the quiet, moonless night. A man on the ground at the top of the circular, bricked driveway was gazing up at the burning structure with an enraptured expression on his sweaty face, completely ignoring the blast furnace heat of the inferno and the frantic pleas for assistance from the trapped faces. As the flames consumed the building and the faces, the man's entranced expression slowly turned to a look of almost childish glee. He laughed hysterically, still oblivious to the blistering heat, apparently not affected in any way by the thick, smoke-filled air now heavy with the increasing sweet/sour stench of roasting human flesh. Adding to the surreal nature of the scene, snowflakes began to fall, as a siren wailed in the distance... I find M Ward, in maximum security. A dimly-lit corridor, painted forest green with a series of closed, lighter-green doors, each door identified by a large white number below an observation window, even numbers on the right, odd numbers on the left--a neat, orderly arrangement. At the far end of the empty corridor, a heavy-set, white-clad psych tech sits directly across from an opened door on the odd-numbered side, leaning his folding chair precariously back into the wall and reading a Playboy, but occasionally glancing across into the brightly-lit room, then back down to his magazine.
|