What if the memories of your childhood were a lie?
One Dream was all it took and all the memories of thirty years before started to flood back.
Not the idyllic coming of age summer down by the lake that they remembered. But dreams of death and of fear and of the burnings.
Dreams of the Shadow Man.
Will they finally face what had happened to them that summer?
Can they finally confront him once and for all?
Now – Funny Things
THEY’RE FUNNY THINGS, childhood memories.
You remember a house as huge when it’s an average size, or a long cycle ride that’s just around the corner. Maybe it’s because you were smaller when the memories were formed, and so, as a grown-up, you’re just, well, bigger. But that doesn’t explain why you always remember childhood summers as long and hot. They weren’t. They weren’t any different to now. You just edit out the rain.
I couldn’t remember anything about the summer of 1985, when I was fifteen, apart from watching Live Aid in a static caravan, and my uncle calling Sting, Stink, and me pleading to be able to stay up to watch the American bit. And watching Alien for the first time – on the telly – and how I nearly shat myself when the beast had a sudden close-up with that extendable jaw. And shielding a little kid called Scott from a ram that had escaped from a nearby field and getting butted really hard in the thighs.
That was all. Nothing else in the tank. Until last week, when I had the dream again. It was a dream I hadn’t thought about for thirty years, and then it just appeared. Like that, for no reason. The day after the email. But nothing happens without a reason, and now things are starting to come back.
Like us out on our bikes all summer long, marauding around the villages and the countryside, getting into ‘bother’ as my mum used to call it. Like skinny-dipping at the lake – our lake. Like being free – like the feeling that we could do anything, and nothing could stop us.
Except something did.
And as I had the dream, the dream of us singing the nursery rhyme – the scariest fucking nursery rhyme that’s passed my lips – I had this thought, this image in my head, of a body. I had the idea that something had started again. Something I had no recollection of. Something that had happened before.
And I knew that I had to go back. To Janey.
You just can’t trust ’em
Thank you, Mark Brownless and Zooloo’s Book Tours
About the author
Mark Brownless lives and works in Carmarthen, West Wales, UK. He has been putting ideas on paper for some years now but only when the idea for THE HAND OF AN ANGEL came to him in the autumn of 2015 did he know he might be able to write a book. Mark likes to write about ordinary people being placed in extraordinary circumstances, is fascinated by unexplained phenomena, and enjoys merging thriller, science fiction and horror.
Mark’s new novel, The Shadow Man is a terrifying horror thriller imagining what would happen if you found out the memories of your childhood were untrue, and that something sinister was lurking behind the facade of your life. Could you face what had happened back then? Could you face The Shadow Man.
Mark is also fascinated by myths and legends such as those of Robin Hood and King Arthur. This has culminated in the release of his short story series, Locksley, a Robin Hood story.
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shadow-Man-things-better-forgotten-ebook/dp/B096FT35KZ/ref=sr_1_1?crid=35WQ22DILUA9S&dchild=1&keywords=the+shadow+man+mark+brownless&qid=1622787944&sprefix=the+shadow+man+mark%2Cdigital-text%2C177&sr=8-1