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Damned Rite: MELT the novel - synopsis

 

Set in the real-world backdrop of a struggling West Yorkshire council estate, faith shaken priest Fionn Malloy and his friend Ben Hunter, the gentle giant of the town's allotment programme, struggle to come to terms with gang violence, drug trafficking and prostitution. To compound their horrors, young women are now going missing; there's a serial-killer at large, preying on the city . When an angel breaks into their inner consciousnesses both Fionn and Ben, in their own ways, begin to act. But with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, a consequence that must also be dealt with.

 

Melt is a darkly humorous supernatural horror tale. Think -  The Dark Knight meets Lady Macbeth, then they both jump into bed with The Joker.  Miscreants beware - heads will roll.

 

Teaser

www.youtube.com/watch?v=giOpIpP8x5s

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpts:

 

'Fionn gazed out across the green to the sprawl of house-lights that rose in their organized clutter up the hillside, to finally meet Saint Luke’s Church, a Gothic monument perched on top of it all, like the great goddess of all buildings appraising her humble subjects. It felt sad, looking up at his home of ten years now, knowing her days were numbered, that soon the moonlight would shine through a void left vacant of her eerie silhouette.'

 

'Mumpy was called Mumpy—Mumps for short—on account of the big bulbous neck he’d grown through puberty. He’d tried to subvert it loads of times to other, cooler nicknames—a year or so back, after a two-stretch in Y.O.s, it’d been third person references to “The Cutter” whilst openly brandishing his trusty blade—but no one was buying that. Mumpy stuck like a dog turd in a trainer-tread.'

 

 

'The bed was smoldering and would soon be alight. What remained of his vision strained to focus through rippling rivers of scorched air.'

 

'Prayer is but dust with no breeze to lift it. It is with this pen I do swear to protect her I adore from the onslaught of the aggressors, with my life. Yet even as I sit and write this, my oath to her, the words glare back at me in derision. For truly, it is my own presence about her I must reckon with. This war in me is fiercer than those that rage across the battlefields of hell. I fear that before I flee this wretched world for the pit of Hades, I will pay the devil for a taste of my angel.'

 

 

Media Suite:

 

 

 

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