PREVIEW: Chapter 1, Page 1 - Spring-Heeled Jack. Copyright - Max Holt
Suddenly aware of a harsh bright light she screwed her eyes up tightly. Unaware of the rest of her body, she slowly and unwillingly,
opened her eyes. She was singularly conscious of a hideous face appearing, inches from her own, unable to distinguish if it belonged
to a man or a woman. It was lying on its side, with greasy, thinning hair straggling over a garish pock marked skin. Her eyes were
drawn inexorably to a huge pustular mass, which bulged from its left cheek. Throbbing and pulsating with poisonous energy, it was
covered with a delicate, transparent membrane. The glaring light delved into every repulsive recess of the craggy face, highlighting
a small black shadow, jerking infrequently, beneath the fetid liquid of the furuncle.
She was aware of a pair of hands
- her hands, above the gargoyle's visage, gripping a gleaming scalpel, with a blade so fine its shadow could have cut a web of steel.
With the realization that she was holding her breath she forced herself to exhale deeply. The knife drew mercilessly close to the
throbbing protuberance. Then with a swift, unhesitating action, the blade sliced the membrane, piercing the outer layer, as swiftly
and as venomously as George slew his dragon.
Instantly, the putrid, transparent liquid exploded unashamedly. The dome-shaped sheath
fell away from the face, and there, in the depression below, was a black, six legged, scarabaeid beetle, its legs flailing as if it
were drowning in the amber ooze. Realizing its freedom had just been granted from its watery prison, the beetle deftly scrambled up
and out of the hollow, ran across the expressionless face, and disappeared.
Gasping for air, she awoke with a sudden, involuntary movement
and a piercing cry. Her nightshirt was wet with perspiration and a pain stabbed her forehead. Dazed for a moment, she quickly recalled
her frightening dream. She fumbled for the bedside light, a sense of desperation and panic overwhelming her...
