The King
of Evil
Josh Stricklin
Genre:
Horror, Occult, Voodoo * Publisher: Silver Leaf Books
Date of
Publication: September 1 * ISBN: 978-1609751753
Number of
pages: 334 * Word Count: 80,000 * Cover Artist: Paul Tynes
Book Description:
After a
horrific accident, graphic artist Jack Simmons and his wife, Cindy, have lost
all sense of a normal life. With their marriage in pieces, their only hope in
setting things back is by starting over. The two pack their lives in boxes and
migrate to the Big Easy. Upon arrival, Jack and Cindy fall into the jobs of
their dreams. The new start they were hoping for seemed to have been waiting
for them in New Orleans, after all. But something followed them. Something
Evil.
Jack is
commissioned to create the artwork for a graphic novel about a voodoo king, The
King of Evil. As Jack works diligently to create a masterpiece, drawing the
images back and forth between paper and his computer, he starts seeing things.
Images of his King appear in the corners of his vision. They spring up just as
Jack falls asleep. Always only inches out of plain sight.
The King
grows more powerful, and soon he unleashes his power on Jack, Cindy, and the
people in their lives. The King slowly destroys everyone around them, showing
the newly rekindled couple what it's like to be evil for evil's sake. Jack and
Cindy will need help from the King's past victims to stop him.
The King
of Evil is a heart-pounding, supernatural thriller. Its vibrant characters and
intense action is certain to keep its audience reading well into the night.
Excerpt:
Prologue
In
the 1940s there was a hospital on the back way out of town where the poor
people had their children. It was far enough out of the way that the city was
only a murmur, and the trees surrounding the building threatened to break in
through the windows. The red brick building was small, and there were only a
few rooms. At the edge of the tall grass where the trees stopped, a chipmunk
stared in wonder at the marvelous brick structure built by man. She had spent a
long day trudging through the swampy Louisiana woods, which was much harder now
that she was carrying a litter. The faraway sky bruised with the arrival of an
oncoming storm.
Bars
guarded the glass, but the chipmunk had no problem watching the commotion
inside. She didn’t see the brownish-orange, diamond-shaped head easing through
the tall grass. She watched as the big people picked up the small people from
tiny beds and walked out of view. Then a big person would return and lay the
small one back in the bed. No one but the chipmunk seemed to notice when the
black smoke rose from the center of the room. None of the people reacted
whatsoever, because only the chipmunk saw the ashy gray person materialize in
the center of the nursery. The head crept closer. The life inside the
chipmunk’s belly stirred. They were hungry, too.
The
gray person stood above the tiny bed with wide eyes fixed on the small person.
He looked back and forth between the one in front of him and the one just to
his right. Then he turned to the one on his right as if suddenly more intrigued
with that one. The chipmunk had no idea what to make of this. She just wanted
food, and there was the feint smell of something sweet coming from that
building. The chipmunk stood on her hind legs. She stopped, tilting her head.
The new person, the one no one else seemed to notice, lifted an arm above his
head. The copperhead sprung forward, sinking its teeth and venom into her back.
The arm descended. As life drained from the chipmunk, the ashy gray person
vanished, and the other people in the building seemed to panic.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Taming
the Monsters
A horror writer’s mind is a
lonely, dark room. It waits at the end of a long, wet tunnel in the cold. The
heavy door to the room creaks and muffles the sounds of scratches and groans
from the other side. Most people avoid that noisy staircase that leads down
into the dark, the one with the blown light bulb.
There are people who do go
down into the dark though.
The door to the lonely, dark
room is eerie and unsettling to look at, and at the right angle it seems to be
covered in an unnerving, dark liquid, but for those who walk the cold
passageway, those who dare to open the heavy door and peek inside, there is
magic. Infinite, beautiful magic. There are toys and trinkets, robes and gowns.
There are pianos and sheets of music. And of course, there are monsters and
madmen.
When a horror writer goes
into the room, he isn’t going to just poke around and leave everything the way
it is. No. A horror writer is looking to bring something back up with him. To
decorate his home with it. He’s fascinated with those trinkets.
People wonder why I write
vulgar, nasty stories, why I write horror. The answer is simple. Because when I
go down the stairway and open the heavy, creaky door to that room, I fall in
love with everything inside. All the creatures and playthings excite me, and I
want to take them all out and display them. I don’t see a room filled with
shadows, and harmful boogeymen. I see a mom-and-pop antique shop of weird lamps
and garden decorations, and knickknacks for my living room. When I go into the
room, I know what children in toy stores feel like. I want to take everything
home.
Unfortunately I can’t bring
everything up at once. So I take it up one at a time. And for a while there was
only one piece of bric-a-brac sitting on the table between us. It’s a dirty
statue of a man in a tee shirt and jeans, wearing a baseball cap. There’s a
logo on the hat that you may even recognize.
By itself, maybe you find it
uninteresting. Maybe you don’t want to look at it. You find it vulgar. And I’m
OK with that. Because now there's a fancy top hat on the table. Maybe you’ll
like that. Maybe you won’t. The pressure isn’t on you to like it. It’s on my to
make it interesting. Loveable. Beautiful. It’s on me to make you want it for
your home.
I’m going to keep going down
to that room anyway, because as I said, I love everything in that room. I’m
decorating my home with the things in there. I saw some flowers down there you
might like. There are a few things in front of them though.
Don’t worry. They won’t die
before you get a chance to see them.
That's one of the challenges
when coming out of the room. Most people don't like what's in the room. That's
why they don't go down there. That's why they lock the door to the basement.
For those people, it doesn't matter what I bring up. They'll refuse to look at
it no matter how shiny it is or how nice and clean it smells. Yes, it came
from a dark room at the end of a tunnel, but that just means it has a darker
story to tell.
Another problem the horror
writer faces is that things in the room, some of them, look like replicas of
famous paintings and cultures. That was a problem with the first thing I
brought up. Once you see a statute of a man, you feel like you've seen them
all. That’s what I love so much about the top hat. It's more than just a hat.
It's a crown for a king. An evil king.
The wonderful thing about
the room is that I can’t get a good look at that back wall—too many chests and
cloaks blocking my view. I have to go. I can hear it calling. It’s louder now.
#feedthemonster
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
About the Author:
Josh
Stricklin is an American author and musician with degrees in English literature
and advertising from the University of Southern Mississippi. His first novel,
Those Who Are Left, is available online and in person. The King of Evil is his
first terrifying novel with Silver Leaf Books. He's currently hard at work
finishing his first series…or more likely reading comic books and wearing a
Seahawks jersey.
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King of Evil
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