Touching the Awesome!

“Whispers in the Neon”
In the heart of a decaying city, where shadows twist and the streets breathe with desperation, a mysterious woman moves through the night. Guided by eerie whispers and an insatiable hunger she doesn’t fully understand, her path crosses with a man who hides a monstrous secret of his own. What begins as a cat-and-mouse game of power and control unravels into something far darker—an ancient force stirring beneath the surface.

This is a tale of predators and prey, where the line between the two is blurred and the true nature of fear waits in the shadows.

Are you ready to see what the whispers reveal?

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Opening excerpt:

The city was alive, breathing in short, metallic gasps. It pulsed beneath the slick veneer of rain-slicked streets and the whispered promises of neon. Shadows leaned heavy against brick and glass, moving in sync with the cacophony of sirens, the low rumble of late-night engines, and the hiss of steam curling from sewer grates, the sigh of an ancient beast. She watched it all, her sharp eyes reflecting fragments of neon, her smile faint and inscrutable—a mask of warmth that revealed nothing.

It had been a strange night, and the strangeness clung to her skin, damp and heavy with the chill of rain. She tasted it in the air, sharp and metallic; a secret bleeding out into the gutters. Outside the club on 12th street, a confrontation had fizzled out, a wet fuse sputtering in the dark—an angry drunk lunging, only to falter, his bravado collapsing into mumbled apologies. “Sorry, lady. I—I don’t know what came over me.” Later, at the bus stop, another had grabbed her wrist, his grip reeking of whiskey and desperation. She had held his gaze, unblinking, until his fingers fell away and he staggered back, his face pale and tight with something he couldn’t name.

The encounters left her restless, each one stirring something just beneath the surface, an itch that refused to be soothed. She paused mid-step, her head tilting slightly, listening to something just out of reach. The whispers came then, faint and fleeting, barely distinguishable from the hiss of rain against the pavement. There. Go there. They were soft at first, but insistent, tugging at her thoughts, threads pulled tight.

Her lips parted to argue, but the whispers pressed on, airy and strange, skipping through her mind, a needle catching on warped vinyl. The stairwell. You’ll find what you need.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, a response she couldn’t place. It wasn’t joy or agreement, but something caught between curiosity and resignation. The city whispered too, its secrets curling on tendrils of smoke and exhaust, wrapping around her, a shroud tightening with each step. The glow of its lights smeared across the wet streets, feverish and unstable, shimmering just enough to make her doubt their solidity.

She turned sharply on her heel, the click of her boots slicing through the rain-drenched air. Her movements were deliberate yet guided by something outside herself, the whispering thread pulling her onward. The parking garage loomed ahead, its squat concrete form silent and foreboding. And yet… it felt right. The whispers quieted as she approached, holding their breath, waiting.

Her heart quickened—not from fear, but from the odd certainty that the whispers were right. Something waited for her here. Something she needed.

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