Saddleworth Vampires to be seen in the area again
Today sees Angela Blyth’s book, Brass Neck being published and on sale. It is the third in her series of Saddleworth Vampire books.
We’re pleased to bring you words from the local writer Angela Blyth. Angela has kindly offered us snippets of work from her Saddleworth Vampire series of books that have been very popular since the publication of her first edition, Sticky Valves, which we hope you will enjoy reading regularly.
Angela Blythe is an Author, who was born in Stoke-on-Trent, England. She now lives high up in the beautiful wild moors of Saddleworth, Manchester and has done for over 20 yrs. Like many people here, she loves the countryside, the scenery and playing in a brass band. She spends time with my husband, children, my friends and her 7 cats. Her hobbies are writing, watching horror films and cooking.
The following is an excerpt from Angela’s first book ‘Sticky Valves’ (contains graphic content that may upset the feint hearted):
He needed to run and run fast. He didn’t know in what direction or for how long, but he needed to run.
They say that in times of emergency the body sometimes allows people to do acts of superhuman strength and he hoped that it was going to be true for him. After ten days locked in a cellar with no food and barely any water, he wasn’t in the best condition to be doing this and if he was truthful he never was much for athletic activity but he needed to run as fast and as far as possible. His feet were sore, his shins cut by branches and shrubs, but he had to put this all out of his mind. That thing would be on his trail soon if he wasn’t already behind him and, if he was caught, he was in no doubt that he would be dead this time.
Why the hell had this happened to him? What had he done to deserve this? Just a night out with the lads, a few too many beers and he woke up in that cellar.
The noises in that house…the coppery smell of blood and rotten things. Hours and hours in the dark and then…then…he would come down, and just spend hours watching him. Walking round and round him in the dark. He didn’t attack, or speak, or touch him. And there were no breathing sounds, only sounds of dry lips being licked with a rasping tongue. Then he would go, silently, up the stairs. And shortly after the noises would start again. Women, men, children. Muffled voices, laughing. Screaming. Heavy noises on the floorboards above him. His laughing. Then silence.
The predator was enjoying the chase. This particle of meat, of sustenance intrigued him. He didn’t know why, but it gave him immense pleasure to smell the fear of this man. To taunt him in the dark, then observe him. With a watering mouth he would go down to the cellar, and watch him getting thinner and thinner. He never was a fan of fatty blood. This game, this exercise will give it the flavour of adrenaline and oh, how he loved that. Did this man really think he had escaped? No one got the better of him. If he escaped it was what he had planned.
The hunter was thrilled to have discovered this wonderful area. These particular villages. Isolated, northern settlements, whether on the moors, or nestled in valleys, were bathed in fresh air, warm sunshine and cool rain. The people, mainly interbreeding with the other villagers, had produced the sweetest meat, the most exquisite blood he had ever tasted. He would herd them like cows. Some would be breeders. Most would be feeders. Gone were the times he would have to feed on dirty tasteless humans.
The monster continued to track the man. Sometimes he would be behind him. Sometimes in front. This was so easy. He had decided he was going to slit the man behind the knees, one at a time.
The man ran on, his lungs burned. He was going to get away. There was no sign of his captor. He thought he saw a light to his left through the trees. It was a distance away, but it looked like car headlights. He must be near a road. He had done it. He was going to get away. He strove on, dug deep and ran even faster.
Angela’s website and details about her series can be seen here – Angela Blyth
Author: Jude Gidney - Editor
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