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Wet

WET

Copyright © Arno Le Roux 2017.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronically, electrostatic magnetic tape or mechanically; including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author. Although this is a fictional work, both the locations portrayed, the organisations as well as events are factual. The characters and times in the story line are fictional; therefore, all resemblances to actual people present or past are purely coincidental. Should you wish to contact the Author: [email protected]

“The connoisseur does not drink wine, but tastes of its secrets” – Salvador Dali

Synopsis

Paradise. The soul’s ever nostalgic urge to pause a lazy summer Sunday’s orange brush at dusk, aided by a waiting cabernet. As would be a fit pairing with maybe succulent but humble lamb, for some, and that would do. But for Ariel, a bottomless glass of sweetly labelled, matured revengeful Pinot Noir, was right on the nose… And a recent harvest, even better.

Prologue

Scrawny little Ariel dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach as she drowned in the stinging hope that she kept sufficient pressure on her gaping wound. Momentarily oblivious to what would normally be mind-altering pain, and surrendering wholly to the remaining warmth of the final seconds of sunrays, dyed in its awesome reddish-orange, she wished time on hold… Her pale face stared uphill as she attempted countering her pain by forcing a skewish smile…

“White Pinot Noir will would pair well with that… but then, they’re birds, what do they know?” Ariel thought.

Uphill from her, from the drenched barnacle dotted rocks; in the dark damp corner of a dilapidated fishery where neither the blinding morning sun, nor the softer peaceful evening glare ever bothered, a precariously bent over backwards attorney stared up blankly at two overly talkative seagulls on his lap. Seemingly mocking his helpless state, the hungry curious mother bird took the brave leap and positioned herself on his chest. The man’s one leg was interwoven with the leftovers of weather-beaten wooden pallets and a smutty forgotten cargo net that somehow still hugged the eternal stank of fish guts. Taking carefully timed turns, the birds eventually mustered enough will, and pecked at his face then his eyes, unsure whether he’d still waive them away like a few minutes before…”

Griping horror finding its way to your bookshelf and library in April 2017!


Wet

Scrawny little Ariel dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach as she drowned in the stinging hope that she kept sufficient pressure on her gaping wound. Momentarily oblivious to what would normally be mind-altering pain, and surrendering wholly to the remaining warmth of the final seconds of sunrays, dyed in its awesome reddish-orange, she wished time on hold... Her pale face stared uphill as she attempted countering her pain by forcing a skewish smile... "White Pinot Noir will would pair well with that... but then, they're birds, what do they know?" Ariel thought. Gripping horror finding its way to your bookshelf and library in April 2017!

  • ISBN: 9781370225583
  • Author: Arno Le Roux
  • Published: 2017-02-21 15:20:08
  • Words: 414
Wet Wet