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Excerpt for Daniel Black’s Last Book by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Daniel Black’s Last Book



Let me introduce myself, my name is Daniel Black, at least that is my pen name, the name I write under. I have been a writer all my life; it is all I ever wanted to be for as long as I can remember. Other kids wanted to be astronauts, rocks stars or footballers but for me, it has always been the same. Originally I started as a journalist, writing freelance for a number of newspapers and magazines before more recently fulfilling my lifelong ambition of writing novels.

The last six months I have been working, or should I say, struggling on my third novel. I have no plot, no character and no idea in where I am going with it. Writers block has grabbed me by the bollocks, chewed them up and is enjoying the meal with an immense appetite. My previous two books had had moderate success but my agent keeps screaming out it’s lacking something. We need more sales, we need more revenue. As much as I love Jonathon my agent, sometimes I just want to punch him. However, in fairness he may have a point, and this time I am determined to write a book that has all the qualities of a best seller. The main character in my last book was a little flat and lacking depth. Although the reviews weren’t bad I’m not so sure the reader really believed in the character. To create a truly interesting character the writer himself must believe. And it was there it fell down, rushing the book through for publication. This time it will be different. The first draft is well overdue but I am determined not to sign it off until I am totally satisfied that it is my best work and comfortable with the whole story. For last two weeks I have been working on the character of Paul, he has been thrown in the bin a few times but there is something about him that draws me back. He’s tall, dark and handsome. He’s fair haired short and spotty, I just can’t get it right. Somethings missing that I just can’t place and then, as my mind drifts in some reverie, I gaze through the window, that looks out onto the street and boring back through the glass there he stands as real as the day is long. Paul 6ft 3 inches tall, brown short hair with eyes that pierce through your very soul as they fix their stare on you. The veins on his neck stand out exaggerated by his muscular physique and a smile that can beguile. Paul’s aura exudes control with effortless charm. Bang, I got it, I can see him, I can feel him; the main character for my next book has arrived.

Fitting Paul into the plot has never been so easy and as his character grows in strength with the story itself becoming autonomous as if Paul was writing it himself. Paul effortlessly carves his character with a sinister edge and evil dark force. His charm becomes a weapon for enticing unsuspecting souls into his worship sacrifice.


Paul, from a wealthy background cut off from his inheritance following a falling out with his father over a row of jealousy and wealth and never being able to better him. He takes to darker worlds and committed himself to take all at whatever cost.

‘You can have anything you want,’ Paul sat listening to the old man he had taken lodgings with following the family break up. ‘Anything you want. But be aware only Satan can deliver this,’ Paul angry and wanting all. With all his pent up anger accepts the consequences in that moment in time seemed a small sacrifice.


Jane, his first victim the neglected wife whose husband has become so tied up in his work, he meets and seduces at her daughter’s 18th birthday party. Jane has no defence to Paul’s charms at the party and within an hour of meeting she finds herself in the bed where she has made love to her husband many times before. She lies back naked inviting Paul readily. Never has she felt such pleasure than when Paul enters her. The ecstatic feeling engulfs her whole body, as her fingers claw chunks of the bedsheets she screams out in pleasure, as Paul thrusts himself inside her. Opening her eyes feeling a change in sensation, staring down at her are his devil like eyes that display no soul, his mouth foaming white saliva at the edges drips like a rabid dog. And with that final view of this world Paul’s mouth opens revealing sharp discoloured yellow browned fanged teeth as he bites into her throat pulling at her as a wild dog savages its prey.

Inside Paul’s body was pumping with adrenalin. A transformation was beginning to take place, passing the mirror Paul’s reflection produces a man standing proud, powerful, destined for wealth beyond his wildest dreams. All he has to do is to continue to prove his loyalty by finding more souls to sacrifice.


This is a first, how easy Paul’s character rolls through the story and now halfway through; it was as if the book was writing itself. I can now visualise Paul sat in the room with me guiding my fingers with the words as I type. I was beginning to believe this is the book I had been waiting for. This is the one that will put my name in the hall of fame along with other great writers of my time.


Paul’s eyes lock on the two girls in the centre of the dance floor. Oblivious to the beat of the music as it vibrates the room, his stare fixed and unshaken. The girls, in their early twenties, leave the floor and head towards the bar together both simultaneously feeling the presence of eyes upon them. Before they realise who or where this feeling is coming from they are accepting drinks from Paul. Linda takes her glass and smiles back at Paul returning a seductive look. This is going to be an easy conquest Paul thinks to himself as he considers the alcohol infused mirth of the girls whilst his mind’s eye visually constructs his plan.


Opening the fridge door in his kitchen and taking the bottle of chilled white wine he pours three glasses. Taking a moment to feel the coldness of the water as it falls down the outside of the glass onto his fingers, he hands the wine to the Lucy and Linda. Absorbing every moment as if it was in slow motion he sits in the armchair opposite and observes the drunkenness of his prey. Paul smiles at the girls who in return giggle back as Lucy runs her hands through Linda’s hair pulling her face towards hers and opening her mouth slides her tongue inside Linda’s mouth. Paul takes a slow and thoughtful drink of wine whilst enjoying the show. He then places the glass on the table that sits beside the armchair. He stands up and moves towards the girls.


The dawn light shines through onto the bed where Paul lies in the middle of Lucy and Linda’s naked bodies. The bed sodden with blood and Paul’s mouth still red and wet. Paul stands up and moves to the end of the bed and looks at his victims and smiles but then feels a pain in his stomach and realises his work is not complete. He looks at the girls young, yet not pure. For total power he knows he must take a virgin as a sacrifice for Satan.

He remembers Jane’s daughter who had recently celebrated her 18th birthday and how that night Jane spoke of her daughter and how innocent she was and how she would be shocked if she found them. He was sure she would be perfect.


Paul knocked at the door and within a minute Isabelle opened the door with a grey drawn face. Looking deep into her eyes he was convinced she was the perfect sacrifice.

‘I came to pay my condolences. I knew your mother only briefly. She was a very kind lady.’ Isabelle invites Paul into the living room and sits on the sofa and thanks Paul for coming and at the same time offers him a drink.

‘Thank you but let me get it,’ Paul rises from the leather armchair and walks to the drinks cabinet behind the sofa where Isabelle sits and pours himself a Whisky. ‘A fine drink your father has,’ and walking back picks up a letter opener from the desk in the corner of the room and before Isabelle can look around plunges it with such force into the back or her head it protrudes through the front of her forehead. Paul walks back calmly placing the letter opener on the desk.

I look down and see the blood still wet on the letter opener blotting the pages of my third novel. And there on the sofa in my office lays my daughter Christine motionless her eyes sorrowful, hauntingly dead with her stare fixed on me …..


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