Nick Holleran, private detective, thought he had life figured out. Until the day he died. Holleran woke to the horrifying truth. Hell is Earth, and the demons live among us. Taking the cases others won’t, Holleran is plunged into an investigation that forces him to confront his past.
London, 2113.Racked by riots and ruled by corporations, London has grown to house over twenty-million people. Its limits stretch across the south-west of England.Pollution chokes the skyline, hiding the stratoscrapers of The Mile, London’s exclusive centre, from sight; though its gaudy neon signs penetrate the smog. Corporations rule after the collapse of the mid-2000s. The NHS, under strain from underfunding and the barrage of pandemics, chemical attacks and terrorism, found itself sold off, piece by piece, to the highest bidder. The augmentation companies moved in; buying what they liked. The National Health Bank rose, supplemented by other privatised care centres.
“At last,” Bode cried. “The Fountain of Youth!”
Captain Kenway nodded at his first mate, letting him step forward. They’d sailed for decades before hearing whispers of Bimini, and the fountain’s location.
“Aye,” Kenway said, drawing his flintlock pistol, aiming at the back of Bode’s head. “Everlasting life. A secret I won’t share with anyone.”
The blast echoed through the caves.
Stooping, Kenway cupped his hands and drank from the Fountain of Youth.
The lined, tanned skin on his hands melted as his blood burned, turning Kenway’s bones to ash.
Dust swirled in the air where the Captain once stood.
David Green
David Green is a writer based in Co Galway, Ireland. Growing up between there and Manchester, UK, meant David rarely saw sunlight in his childhood, which has no doubt had an effect on his dark writings. He has been published in places such as Black Hare Press, Nocturnal Sirens, and Eerie River Publishing.
Stop doubting yourself and just try. Seriously, I found a notebook in my attic that I didn’t realise I’d kept. It’s twenty-years old and has scribbles and ramblings detailing many ideas I’ve actually used since without knowing. Some of these concepts had lived in my head for decades, but I never thought I could do it, so I never tried. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been suited when I was younger, but the Gods love a trier, right?
“Why?” Ruby muttered to Nick.
They knelt beside the sleeping Suraz, his raven hair encrusted with filth and grease. Scabs and sores covered the Nephilim’s obsidian skin.
Track marks lined his exposed arms; used needles lay scattered around him.
“We all have vices,” Nick replied with a sigh.
“No,” Ruby whispered, tears in her eyes. “It’s like he wants to die, but he can’t.”
Nick grabbed a blanket and covered the fallen angel.
“He’s seen perfection.” Suraz’s eyelids fluttered as he dreamt a drug-infused dream. “Lived there, then got cast out. Never to return. I’d do anything to forget too.”
David Green
David Green is a writer based in Co Galway, Ireland. Growing up between there and Manchester, UK meant David rarely saw sunlight in his childhood, which has no doubt had an effect on his dark writings. He has been published in places such as Black Hare Press, Nocturnal Sirens, and Eerie River Publishing.
Twitter: @David Green (twitter account does not exist–anny)