In this round-up we have two exclusive excerpts from horror-thrillers. First up is Neil Gibson's graphic novel Twisted Dark Vol. 5, followed by Vaughn Entwistle's The Angel of Highgate. Also: five new images from Await Further Instructions.
Twisted Dark Volume Five: "Twisted Dark is a series of interconnected psychological thrillers, perfect for fans of twist endings and comics that reveal more on the second reading. Each story stands alone, but the more you read, the more connections you see between the characters. There are over 100 characters that appear more than once and one of the joys of reading is when you spot a reference that you know others will have missed. A rotating team of talented artists draw the stories, with each style offering something new."
Twisted Dark Vol. 5 will be released by TPub Comics in February. To read the first half of Twisted Dark Volume 1, visit: http://goo.gl/Zo3n1o
To read our exclusive excerpt from Twisted Dark Vol. 5, click the cover below:
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The Angel of Highgate: "Lord Geoffrey Thraxton is notorious in Victorian society—a Byronesque rake with a reputation as the “wickedest man in London.” But on a fog-shrouded morning in Highgate Cemetery, Thraxton encounters a spectral wraith that stirs his morbid fascination with death and the supernatural. After surviving a pistol duel, Thraxton boasts his contempt for death and insults the attending physician. It is a mistake he will regret, for Silas Garrette is a deranged sociopath and chloroform-addict whose mind was broken on the battlefields of Crimea. When Thraxton falls in love with a mysterious woman who haunts Highgate Cemetery by night, he unwittingly provides the murderous doctor with the perfect means to punish a man with no fear of death."
The Angel of Highgate is now available from Titan Books. To learn more, visit:
The Angel of Highgate by Vaughn Entwistle
An Excerpt
The road from Highgate Village wound in a ponderous uphill climb to where the cemetery had been built. By the time the Hackney cab reached the top, the horse was steaming with sweat, the bit between its teeth dripping white foam.
In the cab, the friends sprawled in their seats, heads lolling. Algernon was out to the world, mouth open and snoring. Thraxton rested his head on the window frame and gazed out as the cab jogged along, his eyes opening and closing as he fought sleep. From this elevation, it was possible to see over the cemetery’s low wall with its spiked railings. Between the twisted silhouettes of tree limbs, the tops of gravestones showed sepulchral white in the moon that darted through ghostly gray clouds.
Suddenly, Thraxton stiffened, his eyes opening wide as he was jolted wide awake by something he saw. He struggled to sit upright in his seat and began furiously banging on the ceiling with his walking stick. “Driver! Stop! Stop, I say!”
The cab jerked to a halt, shaking Algernon awake. “What? Are we home?” he asked, dopily.
“Did you see it?” Thraxton said.
“See it? See what?”
“A wraith! A spirit. Moving through the gravestones.” Algernon groaned. An incipient migraine throbbed behind his eyes and he massaged both temples with his fingertips. “Geoffrey, it’s the opium. You’re still dreaming, man.”
Thraxton scanned the cemetery, peering intently. “No, I saw it. A dark wraith. At first I thought it was a shadow. But then it broke free of the earth and floated over the ground without touching.” He fixed his friend with a manic gaze. “It was a ghost, Algy. A spirit!”
Without another word, Thraxton flung open the door and jumped down. The astonished driver watched open-mouthed as one of his passengers sprinted across the road, coat tails flapping, leaped up onto the cemetery wall, and vaulted athletically over the railings in a single bound.
Algernon stumbled out of the cab a moment later. “Geoffrey!” he shouted after. “What the devil!” But Thraxton had vanished. Algernon started after him but paused a moment to yell back to the driver. “Wait here!”
“Sir?” asked the puzzled driver.
“Wait! Just… wait!”
Algernon ran to the cemetery wall. He easily clambered up onto the lower half of the wall but paused as he puzzled how best to climb over the railings. They were cruelly spiked and wicked sharp. Visions of imminent impalement and serious trauma to the masculine parts of his anatomy flashed through his mind as he threw a leg over the railings and cautiously, gingerly, and with leg muscles trembling, eased himself over.
When he hit the ground on the far side and looked about he was faced with nothing but darkness and the ominous shadows of tilting gravestones. Just then the moon sailed out from beneath a dense black cloud, flooding the roiling fog with a diffuse light that illuminated the cemetery grounds. In its supernal glow, he glimpsed a madman in the far distance, running pell-mell through the gravestones.
Thraxton.
“Geoffrey!” Algernon yelled, taking to his heels in pursuit. “Geoffrey!”
“Wot’s that?” Fowler said, rising from a crouch. He snapped the shields shut on his Bullseye lantern and looked about frantically, his dark eyes wide and pooled with the night. Oblivious, Snudge drove his shovel into the dirt and heaved another spadeful onto the growing heap.
“Snudge!” Fowler hissed. “Shut up! Crynge, douse that light!”
All three mobsmen froze, listening.
Minutes passed. Nothing but the thin hiss of wind in the treetops.
Finally, Fowler let out his breath. “Right. It’s nuffink. Get on with it, Snudge.”
The moon plunged into a dense wall of cloud, snuffing out its light. The few visible stars were the only illumination. By now Thraxton’s eyes were beginning to adjust. He could make out the sepulchral white shapes of gravestones, the irregular, crouching masses of trees. He heard a twig snap and watched as a swatch of darkness tore loose from the fabric of night and floated across the cemetery.
The dark wraith.
The sight of it set Thraxton’s scalp prickling. Torn between fear and fascination, he followed silently, heart pounding. The wraith left the pathway and glided on a diagonal course through the gravestones. In the darkness, it was difficult to follow and Thraxton had to stop several times as he lost sight of the specter. Then suddenly he found himself almost on top of it as the wraith stopped before a solitary grave. As he watched, it seemed to get smaller—a spirit descending into its grave? Thraxton took another step and a dry twig snapped under his foot with the crack of a pistol shot. At the sound, the wraith sprang up full-sized again and glided away. Thraxton gave chase, stumbling blindly over stone curbs and tussocks of grass.
The wraith reached the main path and glided toward the massive pharaonic arch that formed the entrance to the Egyptian Avenue, a dark and umbrous tunnel. Thraxton knew that if the wraith passed inside he could no longer follow it. Surprisingly, the wraith stopped just outside and seemed to wait for him. Thraxton approached slowly, fearful of making the spirit bolt away again and a little fearful for himself.
Up close the wraith took the shape of a small woman wearing a black lace dress with a cape and deeply cowled bonnet which seemed to contain a black nothingness. It seemed aware of his presence, for the cowl followed his every movement as he cautiously approached. He decided to address it directly. “Dark spirit, stay,” Thraxton urged. “I mean you no harm. I wish only to speak with you. You hold the secrets of death, which I would learn. Speak… if you can.”
The spectral form remained silent, although its attention remained fixed upon him. Thraxton took a half step forward and it darted away. Thraxton gave chase, without really understanding what he meant to do if he actually caught it, or if it were possible to lay hands on something as immaterial as a spirit. The wraith weaved a zigzag path through the gravestones, seeming to waft effortlessly along as he blundered behind. When he was within an arm span Thraxton reached out and almost touched it, but then the toe of his boot slammed into a low grave marker, sprawling him full length. When he scrambled to his feet and looked about, it was nowhere to be seen. Once again, the dark wraith had vanished.
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Await Further Instructions: Press Release: "The producers of recently-wrapped sci-fi thriller AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS, directed by Johnny Kevorkian, have released more images and announced the participation of Red Rock Entertainment and Premiere Picture (John Carpenter's 'The Ward'), who have climbed on board as key investors as the film goes into post-production.
Producer Jack Tarling said today: “As we enter post production, we're thrilled to be joined by executive producers Red Rock Entertainment and Premiere Picture who will provide completion funding. Both have fantastic records of backing strong genre cinema and this new support is further testament to the bold and disturbing new vision that Johnny Kevorkian has brought to the screen”.
Red Rock Entertainment CEO Gary Collins added: "This is our fourth collaboration with the producers of Await Further Instructions, who are really pushing the bar for independent film in the UK."
Recently shot at GSP Studios in York, the story revolves around the Milgram family, who have gathered to celebrate Christmas, only to find a mysterious black substance has surrounded their house. Something monumental is clearly happening right outside their door, but what exactly - an industrial accident, a terrorist attack, nuclear war? Descending into terrified arguments, they turn on the television, desperate for any information. On screen, a message glows ominously: "Stay Indoors and Await Further Instructions”.
Produced by Jack Tarling of Shudder Films and Alan Latham of GSP Studios and directed by Johnny Kevorkian (The Disappeared) from a screenplay by Gavin Williams, the cast includes David Bradley (Games of Thrones), Sam Gittins (The Smoke), Holly Weston (Howl), Kris Saddler (The Hour), Neerja Naik (Hackney’s Finest), Abigail Cruttenden (Theory of Everything) and Grant Masters (Silent Witness). Key crew members include Annika Summerson (DOP), Niina Topp (Production Designer), Dan Martin (Special Effects) and Ben Louden (VFX)."
Tamika hails from North Beach, Maryland, a tiny town inches from the Chesapeake Bay.She knew she wanted to be an actor after reciting a soliloquy by Sojourner Truth in front of her entire fifth grade class. Since then, she's appeared in over 20 film and television projects. In addition to acting, Tamika is the Indie Spotlight manager for Daily Dead, where she brings readers news on independent horror projects every weekend.
The first horror film Tamika watched was Child's Play. Being eight years old at the time, she remembers being so scared when Chucky came to life that she projectile vomited. It's tough for her to choose only one movie as her favorite horror film, so she picked two: Nosferatu and The Stepford Wives (1975).
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