Bad Waters Run Deep by Joe Talon EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Joe Talon
- Language: English
- Genre: Occult Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
THE LIGHT GLINTED OFF THE church windows, looking like shards of
diamond bright feathers. I wiped the sweat off my brow. My back cracked
the moment I straightened, and I glared at my nemesis.
“This is your fault,” I said, pointing a gloved and sweaty finger at him.
Ghost grinned at me with his pink tongue long and wet, the heat
affecting him as it did the rest of the moor. I shook my head. Again, I
picked up the large mallet to bang the post into the drought burdened soil
near the wall which separated the farm’s garden from the graveyard. We’d
never needed a fence between Stoke Pero farm and the church, but the latest
addition to the family liked the deer and ponies too much. Keeping Ghost
safe proved even more difficult than keeping Heather safe.
With her first year at college almost over, we’d be celebrating
somewhere nice, or that was my plan. I heard the rumble of her bike
coming from the top road and banged the post into the ground with renewed
vigour. We wanted to leave Ghost in the garden without having to tie up the
enormous lump. He’d ripped out the first post I’d tied him to the moment
Heather left the farm. That was before the beast grew to the size of a pony.
Now, we needed a fence strong enough to do battle with his enthusiastic
love.
I knew how he felt.
The post shuddered under the weight of my blows and the cracked soil.
My muscles ached, the pain making my mind drift into the zone I’d created
when I had to overcome physical discomfort for a mission. I smacked down
once more, and the soil turned from brittle lumps to a soupy mush of mud.
“What the…” No water main crossed this part of the garden. I’d
checked. Had I found some hidden spring?
The hole filled quickly and with it came the scent of rotten bodies.
Gagging, I backed off.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Heather called out. I didn’t know if she spoke to me or
the dog—we often found ourselves interchangeable.
I turned to yell at her to keep the dog away, shocked by the discovery of
the foul water. The drought was hitting Exmoor with brutal efficiency,
killing off the weak and old at an alarming rate. We’d found too many wild
animals suffering this year. Is that why this water smelt so bad? Were
bodies trapped somewhere diverting a water source?
Heather climbed off her beloved Dixie. We’d traded in the original bike
for a Suzuki 400 Bandit. Bright red and with just enough guts for me to
know she could keep up with traffic and not be pushed off the road.
“Don’t bring the dog—” I glanced back at the hole smothering a gasp.
The stake stood in dry soil. Summer air, hot and heavy, clean and smelling
of the moor, rushed back. Making sure to hide my shock, I smiled as
Heather came over. She greeted the dog, and offered me a kiss.
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