We've all experienced it. We've all said it. Some things, we just don't wanna hear. So with that, I'm serving up a chance to win a personalized e-Book of my two-time award-winning horror novel, The Dark.. I'm giving away one e-Book, and I'll personalize it with a special page just for you—you can even tell me what you want it to say. As a bonus, the winner will receive a $5.00 Amazon gift card!
How to enter:
1. Read the excerpt from The Dark (below).
2. Send an email to email@example.com with DWHI as the subject line.
3. In your email, answer the following question:
What are the words that Kelan doesn't want to hear?
Entry deadline: Saturday, March 14, 2020, 11:59 pm EST
I'll announce the winner on (or around) Sunday, March 15, 2020. A big thanks goes out to all entrants, and good luck!
Stuff I need to clarify: (you know, that legal crap)
* Only one e-Book and one $5.00 Amazon gift card will be given away to one winner.
* Only correct answers are eligible to win.
* Only one entry per email address of each entrant is allowed. Duplicate email addresses will be disqualified.
* Only one winner from eligible entrants will be selected as the prize winner in a random drawing.
* Giveaway is open only to countries with valid Amazon online shopping websites.
Excerpt from The Dark:
The boy was there when his father died.
And now, Kelan Lisk was there again.
It was maddening, his soul chained to that same dark dream. No matter how harshly he screamed, how badly he wet the bed, he could never hope to wake himself in time; could never stop what would be. What had been.
“What if it gets out?” the five-year-old said, buckling in. He risked a glance over his shoulder, and his pulse sprinted. His hands grew clammy; the soft hairs on his neck stood on end. Suddenly the front seat wasn’t nearly far enough removed from the cardboard box that sat behind him.
He closed his eyes and wished so hard that his ears popped. When he opened them, one first then the other, the thing was still there—the thing inside the box was still there. At least he hadn’t agreed to carry it to the car. He hadn’t completely lost his mind, even in a dream.
Paul Lisk unzipped his red winter jacket. He turned to his son and handed him that cozy, reassuring smile that always seemed to work. Only when he saw that Kelan had settled did he pull the gray Taurus out of the parking lot of Children’s Hospital.
“Well?” Kelan said, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up. He could still see the box in the corner of his eye.
“Relax, Kay. We’ve got a long drive. It won’t get out.”
The car stopped at a stop sign, that of course had the O spray-painted into a happy-face. It always did.
Paul Lisk pointed. “See? That’s a good omen.”
“‘Omen?’” Kelan echoed, wondering why he had asked yet again. He could scream the reply, and when his father uttered those dreaded words—An omen’s a sign, son, a sign that something’s going to happen—he wondered if it was possible to grab hold of a dream and make things happen the way you wanted. He wanted so not to ask the next question, but he did. Again, he did. “Are there bad omens?”
“Some,” Paul told him. “But not this one.”
Kelan prayed. Prayed that just this once he would wake up in time. The thing was, there was no time. No time.
“Kaaaay,” Paul said. “Remember what we talked about?”
Kelan shrank in his seat. He sighed. “Be a brave soldier.”
He wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. There just wasn’t time. His father would be dead in six hours, and in his dream, it would seem like six minutes.