Sorrow’s Point

Not All Exorcists are Equal….One is Marked.

When defrocked ex-priest, Jimmy Holiday, agrees to help an old friend with his sick daughter, he doesn’t expect the horrors that await him. Blackmoor, his friend’s new residence, rests upon the outskirts of the town of Sorrow’s Point. The mansion’s history of magic, mayhem, and death makes it almost a living thing – a haunted mansion straight out of a Stephen King novel. Jimmy must decide if the young girl, Lucy, is only ill, or if the haunting of the house and her apparent possession are real.

After the house appears to affect him as well with colors of magic dancing before his eyes, rooms warded by a witch, and a ring of power in his voice, Jimmy is met by a transient who tells him he has “the Mark”. Whatever being “marked” means, Jimmy doesn’t care. All he wants to do is help Lucy. But, helping Lucy means performing an exorcism.

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An Excerpt from Sorrow’s Point

Jones crept around the side of the massive home. He looked this way and that like they taught him in the academy. This was the first time something serious had gone on in Sorrow’s Point. He set his jaw, bound and determined to do the best damn job he could.

The sheriff’s footprints pressed into the tall grass, making it easy for him to know where to look. They led him to the back of the house and stopped as soon as they reached the stone patio. Something smelled sour-sweet. Flies would be swarming along soon. He walked up the steps and across to the door. The smell grew stronger, but he didn’t notice anything else out of the ordinary. Suddenly, his foot slid and he almost fell. His eyes drifted to the patio. A pile of puke almost the same color as the stone coated the bottom of his shoe. “Great.”

Backing up a step, he wiped his shoe on the stone as best he could. Then, sidestepped the puddle and peered in the window. Black was there, sitting at a butcher block table, facing the window. His dark hair stood up from his head in all directions. Eyebrows arched like the Devil’s own. The deep red blood covered him, almost from head to toe. He took another bite out of the small human leg he held in his large hands, grinding his teeth through the raw flesh.

“Oh shit.” Jones shook, unable to release his death grip on the windowsill. Then, the world shifted.

Blam!

Jones peered down the smoking barrel of his gun, following the path through the broken window. He hadn’t meant for the gun to go off. He didn’t even remember reaching for his weapon. Black’s chin slumped against his chest, the back of his head gone. Bits of gray matter stuck to the wall behind him. Black’s fingers relaxed. The leg fell to the floor.

Danielle DeVor

Named one of the Examiner’s 2014 Women in Horror: 93 Horror Authors you Need to Read Right Now, Danielle DeVor has been spinning the spider webs, or rather, the keyboard for more frights and oddities. She spent her early years fantasizing about vampires and watching “Salem’s Lot” way too many times. When not writing and reading about weird things, you will find her hanging out at the nearest coffee shop, enjoying a mocha frappuccino. Visit her at http://danielledevor.wordpress.com