A Free Book?! Yes, I Have One of Those for You!

Starting tomorrow, June 12-13th, Emissary of the Devil: Testimony of the Damned will be FREE on Amazon Kindle! It’s for one day only, so if you’ve been wanting to check it out, tomorrow is the day to do so! Here is the link for easy access to it! If you do read my book, please leave your review! I’d sure appreciate it! Thank you! 🙂

 

 

Advertisements

The Secret Life of Death: An Unedited Excerpt!

This is an unedited excerpt from my newest book, The Secret Life of Death: The Reaper. I’m aware of how much editing it needs. That was part of what I was doing with it today. I was trying to read the book again to see what has to be done. That being said, I’ve done absolutely nothing to edit it because, well, I got tied up reading it. I made some notes on things that need to be addressed. I was more concerned with the story flowing than the editing errors.

Anyway, I thought I’d share it!

r2

 

Prologue

Katie Foster.

Her name was still on my lips as I looked below to the trodden down city of Detroit from my perch atop One Detroit Center. She had been everything to me: My best friend, my love, my life. I thought everything about her had been wonderful, right down to the way she would sometimes let out a little hum while she slept.

I pushed her beautiful blonde hair and smile from my mind and took an unneeded deep breath as my target came into view. My inhuman eyesight zeroed in on a smartly dressed balding man with a slightly soft midsection, and the brunette on his arm, both laughing like lovers often do. I shook my head in disgust at them and stepped off the ledge and let gravity pull me towards them, the speed of the fall pulling the unnecessary air from my lungs, the wind whipping through my shaggy black hair.

I landed behind them soundlessly and rose from my bended knee and glided into the backseat of the man’s Mercedes without a soul noticing me. I watched as the brunette, his young and very attractive secretary, placed her hand suggestively on his thigh. A nerve near his eye twitched and he licked his lips in anticipation as he pushed the pedal down hard and the expensive luxury sedan lurched forward in excitement.

The man drove well out of the city and I leaned back in my seat and listened as his secretary giggled and continued rubbing his thigh, her hands roaming dangerously close to the point of no return. I rolled my eyes as she leaned in and began planting gentle kisses on his neck. A bead of sweat appeared on his shiny head and his breathing picked up as his eyes flicked hungrily to her taking in the shape of her breasts and full lips.

I shook my head and looked away as I waited for the perfect opportunity to carry out my work. I allowed my mind to drift back to Katie, and I closed my eyes as I breathed in deeply remembering her sweet scent. Remembering her lies, her eyes when I caught her with him, the way they flashed not in regret at being with him, but in regret at being caught. I remembered the flash of headlights, my hand bearing down hard on the throttle of my motorcycle as I pushed it harder, eager to meet Death. I remembered the pain, all of it, right down to the last breath that I didn’t bother to struggle taking.

The car suddenly lurched to a stop causing me to snap my attention back to the occupants. We had pulled down a forgotten side road lined with trees that were bathed in their brilliant fall colors and the man eagerly leaned over and began kissing his secretary, his hands pushing her already too short black skirt up higher on her creamy thighs. I clenched my fists furiously as I noticed a flyer in the backseat at my feet for a dance recital for his young daughter. Sacrificing the trust of the ones who loved him for a quick, easy piece of ass.

Just like Katie.

I plunged my hand through the back of his seat without a moment of hesitation and curled my fist around his beating heart. I felt it stutter within my hand and I watched as the look of shock crossed his eyes as he clutched at his heart attack. His secretary screamed and grasped at him, her voice shrill from her cries. I squeezed tighter and he wheezed out closing his eyes one final time.

I pulled my hand from his chest and tried to ignore the high-pitched screams coming from his secretary as she clawed at him in fright. I chuckled when his dead body fell forward and pinned her to her leather seat, her red lipstick smeared across her face, her eyes frantic and terrified. I looked over and rolled my eyes as the man suddenly appeared beside me in the backseat, his brow furrowed in confusion as he stared mutely at his dead body.

“Come on. I don’t have all day to sit here and listen to her scream,” I grumbled, flicking my thumb in her direction.

“Am I dead?” the man asked, staring dumbly at his slumped over body in the front seat.

“What do you think?” I muttered.

“I can’t be dead! I have my daughter’s recital, and it’s my wife’s and my anniversary next week-,”

“Oh please!” I spat at him. I slid through the car door and the man immediately appeared at my side and dropped to his knees begging me to listen to him.

“Please! I can’t be dead!” he pleaded, his eyes misting over in tears.

“Like any of it matters,” I kicked him away from me. “You were cheating on your wife with your secretary. I doubt you gave a shit about your anniversary or your daughter’s recital.”

“I made a mistake! I can change! I promise! Just give me another chance! Please, God!” he begged breathlessly, grabbing frantically at my legs.

“I don’t give second chances. You had it all and you blew it. There’s nothing I can do about it so get off your knees and stop praying at me. I’m not your God, and even if I were, I’d still not give you another chance based on the things I just witnessed.” I snarled disgustedly at his quivering, begging form.

“My wife. She-she’s going to find out about Becky. Please! I don’t want to be remembered like that! I made a horrible mistake!”

“Sorry. Can’t help you,” I turned away from him as he pounded his fists into the cold ground and wept. I pulled a small black device called a scythe from my pocket and hit a button on the side.

“Jobs done. Come get him. He’s driving me nuts,” I growled into the small mic.

I was greeted with a deep chuckle, and I rolled my eyes. Figured that Louie would be hauling today.

“What’s wrong, Asher? Bad day?” Louie’s voice came from the Other Side.

“Just get here,” I sighed as I heard Louie laugh again and click his box off.

He was on the way which meant I’d be free of the balding man-child in front of me soon.

 

“What will happen to me?” the man at my feet asked in defeat, his gray eyes flicking up to me in fear, the question reminding me of a time not long ago.

“I’m only a Reaper. I don’t deal with tossing people into the lake or letting them through the gates,” I answered dryly, looking down at his tear streaked face.

“You’re Death,” he whispered as a statement, not a question. I nodded once and looked past him as Louie appeared through a swirling vortex of color.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Louie asked nonchalantly, looking from me to the man at my feet. It wasn’t unusual to have a soul kneeling in front of me begging me for more time.

“It’s going,” I drawled, bored. I looked over as I heard sirens approaching. Becky must have called for help.

“You lead such an exciting afterlife, Asher. What do you think?” Louie asked looking down at the shaking man again.

“He won’t give me another chance,” the man whispered sadly, his hands trembling. I shook my head in disbelief at Louie who chuckled again, his white blonde hair falling across his angelic face.

“What makes you think you deserve one?” Louie inquired, looking over to where Becky now stood, her long brown hair spilling messily over her shoulders, her eyes red from crying. The paramedics had removed the man’s body from the car and were attempting CPR on him.

“I have a family,” the man said sadly through a choked sob.

“A family you seemed to have forgotten about as you stuck your tongue down young Becky’s throat,” I pointed out. The man opened and closed his mouth several times before answering.

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake?” the man wept, his voice wavering.

“Yeah, Asher! Haven’t you ever made a mistake?” Louie echoed innocently, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“Take him and get the hell out of here,” I grumbled, knowing exactly what Louie was getting at. Louie grinned at me and lifted the man to his feet in one fluid motion.

“Come on. We better go. No sense in pissing Death off even more. Hate to see him go on a killing spree,” Louie joked, his eyes shining with mischief. He really enjoyed irritating me. He reached over and gave my arm a soft punch.

“Call me if you need me,” he grinned, and with a motion of his hand, the vortex grew larger and began to dance with the brilliant light from Beyond. He pushed the man through and gave me a cheery wave as he disappeared to the Other Side.

I turned as they faded away and stared as the paramedics put the man’s body in a bag and began loading him into the ambulance. A golden leaf fell to my feet, and I shook my head sadly.

“Quia ego consumam cunctas incipit,”I whispered turning my back on the ambulance as the paramedics closed the door.

Life isn’t hard. Being Death, now that’s hard.

 

You can check out my website for more in-depth information on my books:

https://kgreuss.wixsite.com/booksfrombeyond

My Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/kgreuss

Support my Thunderclap!

https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/58218-emissary-of-the-devil-series?locale=en

Want to purchase a book? Check out Amazon for Emissary of the Devil: Testimony of the Damned and The Chronicles of Winterset: Oracle! Both are available now!

 

I Need Your Help!

I need support getting my Thunderclap going! All you have to do is click the link, give your support (it’s not money), and I’ll be forever grateful!

I’m working on getting Brax’s story out there. It’s so hard! I barely have the time to wash my hair let alone market and promote my books. Every little bit of help I can get takes me miles from where I’m currently sitting!

The link is posted below 🙂 Thanks!

https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/58218-emissary-of-the-devil-series?locale=en

This Might Be Heartbreak. . . or Writer’s Block.

I’ve been working on For Ever, the newest book in my lineup. I haven’t come up with a series name. I’m working on it. Mostly. I seem to be having an issue coming up with the words describing how I currently feel. Now, one may think this is a non-issue. Like, why does it matter how she feels? Just write the damn book, lady!

gh

Well, it matters because I tend to write based on my feelings. My experiences. The relationship between the two. Lately, there has been an angry black cloud of death around me. It seems to circle me, drowning me, dragging my spirit down (no pun intended). In my line of work, tragedy isn’t unheard of. It’s the devil in the detail, really. The dying have started to stack up, their names, their faces, haunting me. For Ever is a story I started writing based on my experiences with death. Dying. The dead.

I grew up seeing things others couldn’t. Even now as an adult, I still see the shadows move, the flashes of light, feel the air change when they’re nearby. I wanted to write a story that sort of showcased that. I wanted the reader, the audience, to feel what I feel, to experience what I experience. I cannot provide the terror, the increased heart rate, the sweat, or the tears I’ve experienced. I want to. The words are stuck. I see them in my head, but there seems to be a disconnect between my brain and my hands. I can’t help but wonder if it’s my heart that blocks the path.

In the past month, I’ve lost both family and friends to the inevitable outcome of life. It doesn’t matter if they’re people I know. That’s not the point. The point is, it’s out there. It’s lurking behind a smile, an innocent drive to the store, a visit to a doctor, a night of peaceful sleep.

I’m talking about death. In moderation, I can handle it. Lately, ugh. Too much, too fast! To hold the hand of the dying, to promise them happiness despite pain and anguish, is a difficult task. To look into their eyes and know–know–I can’t help them despite the agonizing pull in my chest to make everything “OK” can completely wreck a good day. On a bad day, it’s the tragedy that makes me curl into a ball and wish I had a choice in being born. Maybe I did. I don’t know since I can’t remember anything before the age of five. The idea that we are all faced with an end is unsettling. I’m trying to channel that fear, that sadness, into For Ever. I’m failing miserably. I can’t get the faces out of my head. I can’t get the sounds of their voices out of my head. I can’t get the laughter, the cries, the whispers, the pleading out of my head. And trust me. When they’re able to plead for more time, they do. They always do.

Because in reality, no one wants to die. We will claw our way out of unconsciousness if it means one more sweet minute of an agonizing life–one that is riddled with disease, with depression, with despair–one where we can rake in just one more shaky, painful breath.

And it’s heartbreaking.

And it’s the knot in my head, the one that stops the flow of thoughts. I’ve been able to write a few scenes in For Ever that are based on my own experiences with the dead, with death and dying, and with the fear and despair that come with it. However, I don’t feel like I’m doing it justice.

For that reason, I’m putting For Ever away for a few days. I’m going to be concentrating on working on Oddworld, a series about a dragon-shifter prince. It’s not coming to me as easily either, but it’s working a lot better than For Ever.

green eyes

I hate trying to write during writer’s block. It’s the worst. The desire is there, but the words are stuck on some weird neuron-synapse-backwater road in my head.

My seven-year-old son said something interesting to me the other day. He said, “Mom, what if being alive is just a dream and when you die, you’re actually waking up? And that’s where you’re really living.” He’s insightful for someone so young. He has a point though. Maybe he’s right. We won’t ever know until the moment of darkness, of silence, of goodbye, comes.

Maybe then we wake up and really live.

Until then, I’ll be over here fighting a battle with my brain as I try to bleed thoughts into MS Word.

Want to read what I’ve released? Check out Emissary of the Devil, the story of a demon working his way through the ranks of Hell until he meets a part-angel that’s heaven-bent on saving his tarnished soul. It’s available on Amazon right now.

Check out The Chronicles of Winterset: Oracle, the story of a seventeen-year-old girl who is suddenly able to create and handle fire with her bare hands. She thinks she’s going crazy until she meets Calix Night, a guy who just might have all the answers. Oracle is available on Amazon now!

When the Lost Have a Voice: An UNEDITED excerpt from my next book!

 

 

This is an UNEDITED excerpt from my next series called For Ever. Want to keep up to date on all my weird-doings? Follow me (just not home)!

twitter.com/kgreuss

facebook.com/kgreuss

https://kgreuss.wixsite.com/booksfrombeyond

 

gh

 

 

            “She doesn’t know!”

            “They’ll come for her, and then she’ll help!”

            “Ever, I’m stuck in your closet! Come let me out!”

            “She’s lying, Ever! Come help me! I’m under your bed! If you don’t help me, I’ll grab your feet the next time you stand too close!”

            “Stop it!” I shouted, covering my ears and losing my balance. I fell to the floor with a heavy thump, the air escaping my lungs leaving me gasping painfully.

“Ever?” Nina burst into my room and ran to my side. “Oh my God! What do I do? Should I call your mom?”

“Give me my pain pills,” I groaned out, my ribs aching, my ankle and arm screaming at me, the voices getting louder, the voices only I seemed to be able to hear. I covered my ears and rocked back and forth on the floor, tears streaming down my face.

“Exactly like her father! The pills won’t silence us forever!”

            “The alcohol might,” another voice added miserably. “It worked for him!”

            “Shit,” I groaned, grabbing the bottle from Nina’s hand and downing two of the pills without bothering to ask for a glass of water. Nina stared wide-eyed at me.

“Ever—those are really strong. Do you think you should have taken two of them?” She sounded worried, her blue eyes wavering.

“Water, please,” I croaked out, ignoring her worries. A pill felt like it was stuck in my throat. Nina grabbed a bottle of water from my nightstand and handed it to me. I drank down half of it, breathless, before passing it back to her. She helped me to sit up, and I almost leaned against my bed until I remembered what the voice had said about being under it.

I got to my feet with her help, the voices starting to fade away, and I wiped at my sweating brow.

“Nina, can you bring my pillow and blanket out to the living room? I think I’ll sleep out there tonight.” My voice shook as I tried to rake in oxygen.

“Sure,” she nodded moving to the edge of my bed and grabbing my pillow. I let out a scream as a blackened hand reached out from beneath my bed and swiped at her bare legs, its nails broken and jagged, blood covering what wasn’t already black with decay. It went right through her without her batting a lash.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her face displaying how worried she was. “Ever! What’s wrong?”

“I-I gotta get out of here. I-I can’t-,” I stumbled backward, catching myself on the edge of my dresser. A set of dark eyes peered out at me from beneath the bed, a growl emanating from its twisted, bleeding lips.

“Ever, wait!” Nina rushed at me and steadied me as I faltered back a step, my gaze locked with the being peering out at me from under my bed. Clearly, she couldn’t hear the voices or see the creature glaring at me, something that made me feel even crazier if that were possible.

“I’ll wait for you,” it hissed before backing away to the shadows beneath the bed—the very place I knew was home to more than just that monster.

“G-get me out of here, Nina,” I choked out. Nina did as I commanded, steering me to the doorway of my bedroom but not before I noticed my closet door creak open and a hand reach around the door jam, its fingernails tapping as if letting me know it too would wait.

 

For Ever will be available Fall 2017!

 

Want to read more of my work? Emissary of the Devil is available now by clicking this link:

 

The Chronicles of Winterset can be found by clicking this link:

Another Excerpt?

This is an UNEDITED excerpt from my upcoming book, For Ever. You can find more information on all (well, almost all!) my books and me here:

kgreuss.wixsite.com/booksfrombeyond

Follow me on Facebook here:

http://www.facebook.com/kgreuss

Follow me on Twitter here:

http://www.twitter.com/kgreuss

Or purchase my books on Amazon here:

 

Or here:

Prologue

For Ever by K.G. Reuss

I was born different.

I always knew there was something not necessarily normal about me. How many children can peer into the shadows and watch as they swirled and formed creatures that could prowl through a dimly-lit bedroom at three in the morning? How many children can say they’ve had a conversation with someone that no one else can see—someone that is as real as the air they breathe—someone with whom Death has touched and then forgotten about? How many children can say that the monsters in their closets and under their beds aren’t a figment of their imaginations, that the shaking of their bed in the middle of the night is more than just an old house settling, that it’s actually something from the Other Side?

And the voices. They were everywhere, like hands reaching out to pull at me, to claw at my crumbling psyche. They whispered, they pleaded, they screamed for me to notice them. And I did. God help me, I did. It wasn’t until I was twelve that I was able to force them away. I learned to block them out until they were a distant echo before finally giving way to silence. Sweet silence. And blindness. I got so good at blocking things out that even the shadows and people I could see that no one else could, disappeared, melding once again into simple darkness, the footsteps, growls, and rasping breaths fading away. More silence.

I thought the silence was beautiful. Comforting. Normal.

It was years before everything that I had worked so hard to put behind me suddenly hit me, smothered me, became me.

            And it all started with a kiss before it ended with me dying on the black pavement—pavement that was still wet from the storm that had passed through only an hour before, but now even wetter because of the blood that pooled around my dying body, Rosewood Cemetery a blurry outline in the distance.

And him. The shadow I’d always seen flitting through my room in the dead of night, his lava-red eyes staring down at me, warning me of things to come. Of things I didn’t ask for, things I didn’t want. Things that were simply meant to be because I was different. Because I was not normal. Because he was not normal.

And because there are things some of us are just meant to face, with or without the silence, with or without the fight, the breath, the life. Some of us are destined to die young, to join the ranks of those we feared, to accept what is and what can never be.

Normal.

I can never be it because I never was it. I am simply different. I am Special.

I am the silence, soft and sweet. But I’m also the storm.  The creature in the shadows. The voice in the dark.

The one they fear.

If you don’t know me, be grateful, for I am not there for you. If you do know me, I’m sorry.

Mostly.

For all the things I feared, I have become, and I shall do my duty justly.