Whispers from Angels (eBook)

Ellen J. Cooney (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
824 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
9798317810566 (ISBN)

Infos

Are their dreams trying to tell them something? Rayni Jameson, a recent college grad, simmers with bitter anger towards her mother, Zanna, whose lies and evasions about the past-especially who Rayni's father is-have long infuriated her. Home in Montana for a visit and craving answers, she determines to find the truth on her own. When a friend invites her to come live in Tiburon-not far from San Francisco, where her mother's past lay-it seems like fate. Little does she know that the pursuit could be dangerous. Fate also seems to intervene when she meets Nick MacKenzie, whose mother, Angeline, may hold the keys to the past. Yet Nick warns her away from Angeline, saying she is unstable and possibly dangerous. Back home in Montana, Zanna becomes frantic-desperate to stop her daughter from being drawn into the darkness she herself once escaped. She returns to the San Francisco Bay Area, where she is befriended by a group of people who ostensibly meet to study religion. They seem normal, caring even... But then strange things begin to happen... Almost supernatural things... Zanna learns they are all having dreams similar to her own. But do those dreams carry messages? Are they really being urged toward some unknown, possibly terrifying event, as some suspect? Tensions grow until one fateful night they are all forced to confront and suspend their realities in a desperate attempt to save a life. Meanwhile, watching from the shadows, are two mysterious figures-Pierre and Mrs. Jannes-whose motives are hidden, but whose influence may decide everything.

Ellen J. Cooney graduated from Sonoma State University with a degree in Creative Writing, and several writing awards under her belt. Having initially put her love of writing on a backburner so that she could focus on family, Ellen is excited to get back into the creative process with the publication of her debut novel. Ellen currently lives in Petaluma, CA with her husband where she spends her free time working on her next books.

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IS IT DESTINY? Or are they just troubled human beings whose secrets and misunderstandings are leading them into a nightmare of their own making... Twenty-five years ago a nameless young woman watches from across the street as a fire rages through her attic apartment. Someone wants her dead. Defiant, she vows to fight back by any means possible. Fast forward to present day, where Rayni Jameson, a recent college graduate in AZ, simmers with bitter anger towards her mother, Zanna, whose lies and evasions about the past especially who Rayni's father is have long infuriated her. When an invitation comes out of the blue to move to the Bay Area in Northern California the very place her mother once lived she decides to do something about it. At the same time, in another Bay Area town, the MacKenzies have their own troubles: Mac shields a secret from his grown son Nick and struggles with how and when to tell him the truth, completely unaware that his bitter, schizophrenic ex-wife Angeline is scheming to control all their destinies in a terrifying way. And then there is "e;The group"e;: a cast of zany characters who ostensibly meet to study religion. Their meetings are mostly social, a way to escape their individual problems and worries. But then strange things begin to happen . Almost supernatural things Meanwhile, Zanna becomes frantic and desperate to stop her daughter from being drawn into the darkness she herself once escaped, she returns to San Francisco, where she is befriended by "e;the group."e; They seem normal, caring even But then strange things begin to happen Almost supernatural things Worse yet, they are having dreams similar to her own. But do those dreams actually carry messages? And are they really being urged toward some unknown, possibly horrendous event, as some suspect? Or is it just their imaginations Meanwhile, watching from the shadows, are two mysterious figures Pierre and Mrs. Jannes whose motives are hidden, but whose influence may well decide everything.

Textauszug

Prologue One

“It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind, That you, alone and unguarded,

commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself.

And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait awhile

unheeded at the gate of the blessed.”

—Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Twenty-five years in the Past . . .

She left the dark chaos of the dream suddenly, without warning, but it was only to enter a new kind of darkness, a darkness born of silence, a still void where no walls rose and no rivers ran, a place where emptiness stretched into eternity and life was without form—and she was at once both relieved and frightened. Relieved that she need not complete the recurrent nightmare that would leave her sobbing and depressed for days. Frightened that she was someplace far worse. But where . . .? ‘Focus, darling,’ came her mother’s sudden whisper. ‘Focus.’ But no sound penetrated the heavy silence; no light pierced the void. There was only the vacuous darkness. Thick, and oppressive. Seconds passed, minutes, hours perhaps. She could not tell, for time was without concept here. Yet something was about to happen, something of which she was an integral part. She could feel it, closing in.

‘Breathe very deep, sweetheart, that’s my girl. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Mama’s here. Again, deep breath.’

Her mother. Here to help. Because suddenly she was a small child again.

‘That’s right. Just follow my voice.’

But something was out there . . . something strange and cloud-like and amorphous . . . yet seeking, expanding . . . taking on proportion . . . taking on shape . . . until it was no longer obscure, no longer a mass without form, but a shadowy silhouette of something large and dark and turreted . . .

. . . hovering there in the darkness . . . waiting . . .

‘Please, darling. None of it’s real—it’s just pictures in your head. You can leave anytime.’ Not real, she told herself. Just pictures.

‘Yes. Remember what I taught you—you must. Come now. Work your way out of the dream.’

But a movement caught her attention. Up high, beneath the eaves of the shadowy edifice . . . a fog . . . a misty whirling. And she watched in dreamlike wonder as from those swirling mists a filmy, hypnopompic image emerged . . . and then another and another and another. Strange, ghostlike creatures floating silkily toward her, dancing and swaying, beckoning with transparent arms. ‘Come with us. Join us. Let us be one.’

Pulling her. Filling her with longing.

‘No, darling, concentrate.’ ‘Pictures? Just pictures?’ ‘Yes, that’s right. But you must leave now. Leave while there is still time.’

But how graceful they were, how inviting. ‘End your sorrow,’ they seemed to say. ‘End your pain.’

‘No—don’t listen, darling. You mustn’t. You’re needed in the world. You have a destiny to fulfill. It’s why you were spared.’

And she looked at the creatures with great sadness, for at that moment she wanted nothing more than to go with them—to be a part of them. To no longer be alone. But she couldn’t. She was just a little girl and had to do what her mother asked.

‘Go away,’ she told them softly. ‘Please. I want to, but I can’t come with you.’

But still the gossamer arms beckoned: ‘Come with us. Join us. Let us be one.’

‘No. I— I can’t.’ She wished they would just leave her alone. She had no choice in this. She had to remain behind, no matter how sad she was . . .. Didn’t she?

Yes. Her mother had said so. She was needed in the world—to do something. But why? Why did she have to be the one to stay behind? It wasn’t fair! Didn’t her family want her there? The creatures did. They wanted her.

Overwhelmed by the familiar pain of loneliness, hot tears filled her eyes, tears enmeshed in a mass of confused emotions—and for the first time, she felt a spark of anger.

‘No, do not fall to anger, darling. Remember the love in our family and take heart from that. You will join us soon enough. For now, though, you must fight them. They are trying to trick you into staying in this realm, but you must not give in. Feel our love instead and let it guide you back. And remember, it is your dream—not theirs. You are the one in control, but you must act quickly!’

‘Okay, Mama—I’ll try.’ And summoning all her courage, the girl pushed her small hand out into the darkness and spoke harshly to the creatures: ‘Stop! I told you! I can’t go!’ And as if on command, and to her surprise, the filmy images drew back and became still. All save for one. Their leader—who swayed quietly in the dark mists watching her.

‘W-who are you?’ she asked, her earlier bravado vanishing as quickly as it had come. ‘Do I know you?’ But no answer came. Only silence. The creature floated closer.

‘Please s-stop—you have to g-go back.’ But the creature ignored her quiet plea and floated closer, and then closer yet, growing ever larger as it came. And she saw that it wore a mask—an angelic mask, white, with flecks of gold. A mask of mysterious beauty. And drawn to it, she took a step forward.

‘Yes,’ the creature whispered. ‘Come to me.’ And a long, shadowy arm beckoned, and she took another step. ‘That’s right. Come. You will no longer be alone.’

But something strange was happening; the creature’s visage was changing . . . and it got larger and darker . . . and then darker and darker yet . . . until it was no longer diaphanous and filmy, no longer transparent, but solid and black as night. And she gasped as huge raven-colored wings appeared on its back, the forcefulness of them creating strong ripples of motion in the air.

‘Do not be afraid,’ it said. ‘I am here to help you. I can take away your sadness and pain.’

But she was afraid and her fear paralyzed her—and yet—even then, a small part of her felt mesmerized by its dark beauty.

‘No, darling! Don’t look at it!’

But powerful wings stirred the air, commanding her attention. And maybe . . . maybe it did want to help her . . ..

‘No! Close your eyes!’ her mother commanded. ‘It’s evil—you must not look upon it!’

But she could not move, could not look away. And sensing its victory, the dark angel laughed and ripped off its mask and began to move toward her. And yet it was then, in seeing it unmasked, that young as she was, she finally understood what her mother had been trying to tell her: That it had not come to bring her joy or end her pain and sorrow. It had come to take her; to trap her forever in its web of evil. And the evil was everywhere. She could see it clearly now.

‘M-mama—?’

‘I’m here, darling. I will always be here for you. Just follow my voice—and remember, he’s only in your head! You can still dispel him, and you must! Do not let him entrap you. Remember what I taught you.’

‘It’s p-pictures. Just pictures . . . inside my mind . . . I can make him go away . . .’

‘Yes, darling—that’s right. It’s a dream, but you must leave it! There is danger in lingering.’

‘I’m scared, Mama.’ The dark angel was nearly upon her.

‘Do not doubt! You are much stronger than you know! Start now!’

‘Okay, Mama.’

The girl fell to her knees, and wrapping her thin arms around her small torso, quickly closed her eyes and began to rock. The right words didn’t come at first but that was okay; she only needed to close her mind to the vision, her mother had said so. And she was strong—her mother had said that too. The rocking wasn’t important either, but it made her feel better.

And the words came: ‘Go back,’ she began. ‘P-please go back. Go back to whatever . . .’ What was the word?! Wellspring—that was it. ‘Go back to whatever wellspring of my mind you have sprung from! You aren’t real! I know you’re not real!’

‘That’s it, darling. Keep going . . .’

She took...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 29.10.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-13: 9798317810566 / 9798317810566