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📚 First Chapter: The Siren’s Scream by Thomas White #FirstChapter #ChapterOne

The Siren's Scream first chapter

The Siren's Scream

Title: The Siren’s Scream
Author: Thomas White
Publisher: Savvy Books
Pages: 492
Genre: Mystery/Horror

BOOK BLURB

An old mansion sits atop of a cliff, overlooking the ocean, in Santa Cruz, CA. A young realtor, Darcy Wainwright, manages to sell the dilapidated old house to Henry Childs, an obese nebbish who is obsessed with the property. In the backyard is a pool. Not an ordinary pool but a giant tide pool. In the tide pool is a siren with an evil agenda for revenge.

Book Information

Release Date: October 5, 2022

Publisher: Savvy Books

Soft Cover: ISBN: ‎ 978-1088067819; 480 pages; $21.14

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3TEz7kx

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-sirens-scream-thomas-white/1142494493?ean=9781088067819

Purchase your copy at the author’s website: https://thomas-white-author.com/

Chapter 1

Sausalito, CA – Present Day

Henry Childs led a life of total inconsequence. He had no friends, no hobbies, no guilty pleasures. He had spent his thirty-eight years in the space behind his mother’s aggression, lacking the courage to reach for anything more than this pitiless world deigned to dish to him.

Edith Childs screamed at Henry from the other room, “Henry, I’m bored. I want to go for a drive.”

Henry’s face scrunched in disdain, and the folds in his ample neck turned red. There was no denying her, not that he had ever had the backbone to attempt anything so drastic. Henry Childs had spent his thirty-eight years in the space behind his mother’s aggression, lacking the courage to reach for anything more than this pitiless world deigned to dish to him.

With a stoic exhale, he paused his video game, gulped down his cinnamon roll, lifted his considerable bulk out of the comfort of his reclining chair, and began the routine that would eventually get his mother from her bedroom to her wheelchair and into the car.

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He grabbed her yellow sweater to be sure that she would stay warm.

“Henry, I’m not a child. I know if I’m cold or not.”

He held up the cardigan and attempted to help her into it.

“I can dress myself, thank you.”

Then there was the transfer from her sitting chair to her wheelchair.

“For goodness sakes, Henry, you would think this was the first time you’ve ever done this. Move the chair closer. I’m not an acrobat.”

…the parade out to the porch.

“Henry, don’t scrape the wall. You’re always so careless. We have gouges up and down the whole hallway.”

…down the ramp.

“Don’t go so fast. Are you trying to launch me into outer space?”

…across the walkway toward the car.

“Do you have to hit every bump on the walk? Wait, go back, I think you missed one.”

…then finally into the car.

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“Be careful of my head. I don’t want to lose what sense I have left.”

By the time the car door was closed, with his disintegrating mother safely ensconced inside, Henry had sweat running down his forehead and was breathing hard. His double chins were dripping from each crevice, and his shirt was beginning to stain from the accumulating moisture. He dropped her chair into the trunk, wiped his brow on his sleeve, and embraced his final moments of silence before he opened the door and plopped behind the steering wheel of his Nissan Murano.

“Which direction should we go today?” Henry asked, his gravelly voice too crusty for the confines of the car.

“Clear your throat before you speak, Henry.” Edith admonished. After brief consideration, she said, “South. Along PCH.”

He backed out of the driveway and headed for the Pacific Coast Highway.

“Be careful about the bushes, Henry.”

Henry Childs had never lived on his own except for the three months before his father died. Even in college, while taking computer science classes, he was quite content to stay in his room and leave only to go to class. When he was twenty-six, his father had arranged a job at a computer start- up company, and Edith had forced him into taking a small apartment a few miles from their old house. He had hated it.

He hated being alone and away from the security of his old room and had quickly fallen into a routine of getting up, going to work, and heading back to the apartment with several orders of take-out. She probably would have made him stay in that apartment had his father not passed away when he did.

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“Henry!” Edith screeched, shattering the silence, “don’t let that guy do that. These drivers they’re always cutting you off. Your father used to do the same thing, and it drove me crazy. Why would he let them cut him off? I never understood.”

Henry sighed. Henry had never seen his father lose his temper behind the wheel. As a matter of fact, Henry could not remember his father ever raising his voice. Dead over ten years, Henry still missed him every day. Roland Childs had always been the shoulder Henry would seek out when he had been made fun of by the other kids at school, when a bully had thrown him to the ground, or when his mother had dismissed him without consideration. Where Edith was aggressive and rude, Roland was gentle and polite. For the millionth time, he wondered why he had ever married his mother.

Roland Childs had been a successful attorney, a loving father, and a faithful husband. While arguing a case in front of a judge one afternoon, he simply stopped talking and dropped to the floor. Henry’s world collapsed with his father. There was no solace now for the fat little kid with the ugly voice. Nowhere for him to turn for kindness or encouragement. He was trapped between loneliness and his mother. Yet, he remained his mother’s son, and upon the death of his father, he moved back into the big house once and for all.

When his father died, Henry had been working on an algorithm that would eventually help connect a server to a remote device. His contribution to the algorithm had vested him in the company, and when he finally cashed out ten years later, he found himself a very wealthy man… who lived with his mother… and drove a Nissan Murano.

Still heading south on PCH, they approached the beach community of Santa Cruz, a cozy burg nestled on the coast thirty miles south of San Francisco. As they entered the city limits, Henry stopped at a red light. Looking up ahead and to his right, he saw a strange cloud formation gathering atop one of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. It appeared to hover, not moving with the ocean breezes or adhering to natural laws. It roiled within its confines and seemed to be attempting to form into some sort of shape. He began to feel a tingle on his inner thighs as they rubbed together under the steering wheel. There was a restlessness building in his heart beating beneath the mounds of flesh resting on his chest.

The sound of car horns pulled him out of his daze, and seeing as the light had turned green, he drove forward through town. Stopping at the next light, he saw the cloud had grown closer and was shifting into what looked like a woman’s face. It glided toward him in a menacing fashion. It cast no shadow, and no one in the other cars or on the street showed any indication that they noticed. The face turned toward him, and the mouth moved, “Henry, come to me.”

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Henry’s eyes popped wide, and his jaw dropped. His breath was coming in short bursts, yet it seemed that he wasn’t inhaling at all. He turned to his mother, expecting to have to explain why a cloud was talking to him, but she had nodded off in one of her ‘eye-resting’ moments. He turned back to the cloud and heard her words again, “Come to me.” An aura of purpose cascaded around him. He was helpless to disobey this calling. Without consulting his mother, he changed lanes abruptly and prepared to turn toward this vision.

“What are you doing, Henry? Where are you going?” Edith said, starting out of her little nap.

Henry made up a story, unsure of the origin of the inspiration. “I’ve heard about a place that’s not far from here. I’ve always wanted you to see it.”

Edith flinched at the sound of his voice, as she always did, but a small smile appeared on her face. “Henry, do you have a surprise for me?”

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Henry said, “Why yes, that’s exactly it. Let me show you a surprise.”

He took a right and then a left, and the Nissan began a climb up a very steep hill. The cloud still hung in front of his car, and her eyes followed him, unwilling to let him go. Henry alternated between watching the road and the cloud. It had defined its form and, without question, resembled a face. It had stopped moving and now hung impatient; over what, Henry couldn’t tell.

At the summit, he paused and, without prompting, turned toward the cloud. He was being pulled, following an edict he felt in his gut. He coasted to a stop in front of an old, rusted gate. In front of the gate was a weathered realty sign that indicated this property was available.

Popping the gearshift into park, he lifted his considerable bulk out of the car and waddled to the gate. In rusted, corroded letters, the name ‘Thornton’ was spelled out across the two sides of the twisted, metal entrance. Using his weight as leverage, he pushed it open, and as it swung toward the house, the ancient hinges squealed out a warning that went unheeded.

Pouring himself back into the car, he drove past the stone turrets that stood sentry over this property and glided into the driveway.

“Henry, where are we? Do we know these people? What in the world are you doing?” Edith harped.

Henry stopped the car directly in front of the house. It was a mansion. A stunning mansion that sat deserted on the top of a robust bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Old age had won its share of battles over this grand palace, but Henry saw past the peeled paint and the rotted portico. This house was to be his home; he knew it. He knew it the way a child returning from summer camp knows the peaceful serenity of his own bed.

About the Author

Thomas White

Thomas White began his career as an actor. Several years later he found himself as an Artistic Director for a theatre in Southern California and the winner of several Drama-Logue and Critics awards for directing. As Tom’s career grew, he directed and co-produced the world tour of “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Coming Out Of Their Shells”. The show toured for over two years, was translated into seven different languages and seen by over a million children. Tom served as President and Creative Director for Maiden Lane Entertainment for 24 years and worked on many large-scale corporate event productions that included Harley Davidson, Microsoft, Medtronic Diabetes, and dozens of others. The Siren’s Scream is Tom’s second novel that follows up Justice Rules which was nominated as a finalist in the Pacific Northwest Writers Association 2010 Literary contest.

Tom’s latest book is the mystery/horror, The Siren’s Scream.

Visit his website at www.thomas-white-author.com or connect with him at Twitter and Facebook.

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