Early Beta Reader Comments
Whisper Island is currently in Pre-Order status and due for release soon.
“I’m instantly hooked and absorbed by the characters. Can’t wait to read more…” Fiona Adams
“Wow! Whisper Island woke me up!” Ben Marshall
“Escapism in every sense of the word.” D H Reid
Prologue – Ella
An icy whisper threads through the wind. It chills me to the bone. A lifetime spent looking over my shoulder, waiting to be caught.
Each breath tightens my chest as my fingers fumble, eager to button my coat over my dress. It’s a feeble attempt to ward off the inevitable. It pales compared to the fear clawing at my conscience. The thick fabric hugs my trembling body, but the cold is no excuse. I shiver at the consequences of my stupidity.
Life has dark corners, doesn’t it? But what happens when one of those corners becomes a perpetual abyss in your mind and heart, refusing to release its grip? How do you ask your lungs to breathe and your heart to beat when guilt, like a ruthless predator, gnaws at your very soul?
We lied to the police and then wove a tapestry of lies for each other. Lies upon lies stalk me in the dead of night. During daylight hours Kirsten’s face materializes on the bus, in the supermarket queue, near the work printer, and at the watercooler. She demands a confession. Kirsten hounds me to expose the truth. Confess and she will release me.
We all lied.
Eighteen years have slipped away, the age once heralded as adulthood is a mirage. Now over thirty, and I’m still ensnared in the past. The dread of exposure threatens to unravel the carefully spun threads of our deceit. Regret consumes me. I should never have agreed with them. Why did I? Why did the others? It was so naive, but now I know it will never ever go away. I will be dead with the whisper of Kirsten’s name on my lips.
In a cruel twist, I never had daughters. A stillbirth followed the birth of my youngest son—a stark reminder of the price paid for Kirsten’s death.
A blanket of suffocating fog envelops me. Fear lurks in every gust of wind, changing the shape of my anxiety. It’s my terror of being caught.
I used to deflect blame, convinced it wasn’t my fault. Who’s guilty then? The others? I was there. I witnessed everything. Relentless truth emerges from the shadows with my silence on that fateful day, frozen in time, a dark burden. A culpability shaping the contours of my very existence.
We should’ve spoken out. We could’ve stopped him. I should have taken Kirsten’s hand and led her away, taken her home, safely away from the wild, rushing current of the dark river.
I just watched. Frozen in time. Did nothing. Said nothing.