They whisper about “nature versus nurture,” don’t they? A pointless debate. Are monsters born, or are they made? I can’t speak for the others, but for me, the answer is simple: I’ve always been this way. Empathy? A foreign concept. Emotion? A weakness I do not possess. My purpose is singular, my desire pure: to inflict pain.
My work began in Boston, a proving ground for my particular art. However, a change in circumstances led me to New York, with its endless supply of vibrant, naive youth. They are my chosen medium. At each scene, I leave my mark, a tribute to my craft. Two simple Polaroid photographs: one capturing the fleeting spark of life, the other, the stark, beautiful emptiness of its absence.
Then, he appeared. A rival artist in my new city. His methods are crude, reveling in ritualistic mutilation, feeding on the fear he creates. A different kind of predator, but a predator nonetheless.
Now, a new dynamic has emerged. I’ve begun to work in his hunting grounds, and he, in mine. The authorities scramble, asking themselves the wrong questions. Are we competing? Communicating? They fail to grasp the exquisite simplicity of it all.
***
I had the pleasure of working with Alistair Hayward as his alpha reader on “How The Games Began”, I even received a mention in his acknowledgement section, and let me tell you horror readers, this is not one you will want to pass up. Keep in mind this is a sequel to “The Games We Play”. It’s raw, real, and visceral! It’s will take you inside the mind of a serial killer with a first point of view. It’s also extreme horror with just about every trigger warning you can imagine. It will shock you to your core!
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 4/5
If you would like to pick up your own copy on Amazon click Here
Page Turning Thrills 