We here at Virtual Writers, Inc. love to bring you great books and we’re pleased to introduce Angella Graff’s gripping supernatural thriller, The Awakening.
The Awakening is a tale of immortals, ancient gods, and a Detective who doesn’t believe in any of it. Detective Ben Stanford is forced to come face to face with theology, mythos and everything he refused to believe in as his world is turned upside down by Mark, the immortal Gospel writer, who requests the detective’s help in finding his missing companion, Judas Iscariot.
As Ben dives deeper into the world of broken Theology, ancient religions and terrifying Greek gods, he’s forced to come to terms with the world where vast forces struggle in their endless game of power. He must make his way, with the help of companions he doesn’t believe in or trust, to try and stop a potential global disaster.
The city was cold, rain poured down in huge droves, soaking into his hair, his dirty clothes. He felt the cold pavement through his torn shoes as he stumbled across the street to the looming building, shining white against the grey sky.
He’d been walking for years, it felt like, maybe even decades. He was lost, he was alone, and he was searching. He was fading fast, fading into madness, every time someone touched him, stole from him the energy, the very breath of life which kept him moving for century upon century.
The steps to the church were maddeningly tall, but he made every single step with creaking knees and trembling hands. The doors were locked, but for now, that was okay. He slid down to the ground, his back against the wooden door. Above him sat a statue of Mary, her veil over her hair, her soft gaze peering down, and he laughed.
“Oh mother,” he whispered in a tongue no passerby would recognize, a language dead and gone with so many that he loved. “Oh mother, would you look at me now?”
His hair was matted, dirty, and he hadn’t eaten in so long he barely remembered what food tasted like. He’d been alone too long, far too long, and he was starting to feel afraid. There were things watching him, out of the eyes of people, staring, glowing, waiting for him to fall. He heard whispers calling his name, his old name. He could hear them whisper through the night, through the wind, and they reached for him.
He didn’t know if the church would keep him safe. These buildings brought upon the world war and pestilence, greed and murder, never really sanctuary, but his mother was there. His mother stood there, in statue, watching him with kind eyes. He struggled to remember her face, her real face, her real hands holding him as a child when he cried.
“Help me,” he cried up to the alabaster statue, but he received no reply.
He closed his eyes with tears pouring down his cheeks as another gust of wind rushed past him and he heard the call reaching for him, begging him to come with them, begging him to give into the pressing darkness. “Yehuda…”
Chapter One of The Awakening
Chapter Two of The Awakening
Chapter Three of The Awakening
Angella Graff resides in Tucson with her husband Joshua, three children, Christian, Isabella and Adia, and their two cats, Archive (Ivy), and Lasciel. She prefers to spend her days writing, gardening, and reading non-fiction theology theory books. Angella is also an avid, if not fanatic fan of Doctor Who and BBC Sherlock, which tend to dominate her dry, sarcastic humor, a lot of which is apparent in her writing.