Extract from Tom O’Kell and The Papanuk – free download available on Amazon

‘My Lord,’ the first warrior beseeched. ‘Our brother is blinded by Kalamon arrow. Please, Lord. Please restore his sight. Make him whole again.’ They threw the injured warrior at the feet of the Papanuk. The warrior groaned in pain and grew weak at the loss of blood dripping from his blinded eye.

The Papanuk bent forward and kneeled by the side of the warrior writhing in pain. He moved the warrior’s hand away from his blood filled eye socket and placed both of his broad hands over the vicious wound. He looked to the skies, closed his dark eyes and prayed to the Great Spirit. The crowd hushed, anxious faces too scared to breathe. The injured brave squirmed and whimpered in agony. The Papanuk held his head firmly, his arms trembling, his swarthy face grimaced in deep conversation with the Great Spirit above. The body of the brave stopped thrashing and lay motionless as if dead. The crowd gasped, believing their brother to have passed over to his resting place in the OtherWorld. The Papanuk removed his large hands from the bloodied eye. The warrior blinked hard, his eye and sight restored. A broad smile spread across his glistening face seeing the Papanuk and his brothers smiling down at him. The crowd cheered and whooped, waving and singing, honoured to be witness to another miracle of the Papanuk.

‘Are there any other wounded braves?’ the Papanuk asked.

The brave who had just had his sight restored rose from the ground and replied, ‘Only my warrior brother, Pinchanka, but his wounds were too deep and he has passed over to the Spirit World, my Lord.’

The Papanuk broke his distant thoughts, looked solemnly at the young brave and pointed to the end of the seated riders in the distance. ‘Go find your brother, Pinchanka. He only sleeps. His wounds are healed.’ Screams of shock and surprise filtered down the line of warriors. The figure of a young brave ran down the line. He fell sobbing at the feet of the Papanuk. ‘My Lord. My Lord,’ he wept. Slowly he raised his head, his brown eyes filled with love and devotion to the Papanuk. The Papanuk touched the crown of the young brave’s head and spoke, ‘Your faith and devotion in me restored your life. Rise now. You have many more battles to fight before the Kalamon are vanquished.’

Extract from Tom O’Kell and The Papanuk – free download available on Amazon

Agatha stirred. She opened her sleepy eyes to see the large flaming bonfire shooting sparks and flames high into the air, watched in the distance by the huge monstrous face of Kinta-Ketzel, spewing lava and fire. On the boulder, to her side, stood the crazy Witch Doctor, adorned with a crown of needle sharp bones, but her nightmare vision became even more scary when her eyes settled on the spooky monster shouting threats from a dark red face that reminded Agatha of the gruesome gargoyles looking down from the eaves of her Pater’s Church, St. Basil’s.

‘I’m in Hell,’ she sobbed. ‘Wock music weally is the Devil’s work. I pway I was gwanted absolution before I awwived here.’

A mop of blonde hair bobbed up in front of Agatha. She blinked hard. ‘Ben? Anaemic Ben? Have you been listening to wock music too?’

‘Wock….Rock music?’ Ben was used to Agatha’s speech impediment from his early years attending Sunday School at St. Basil’s. ‘We’re here to save you.’

‘Save me!’ gasped Agatha. ‘You mean…You mean I still have a chance of wedemption fwom an eternal life spent here in Hell?….Are you….Are you an angel now, Ben?’

Ben assumed Agatha’s ordeal had affected her mind. ‘No I’m not an angel, Agatha,’ he grinned. ‘I’m here with Mick to rescue you.’ He pointed over to Mad Mick who had dragged Zinbada down from his perch of safety and held his head tightly in a strong arm lock. Agatha glanced over at the giant beast trying to rip the head of Zinbada from his shoulders.

‘Aaaarrrggghhh!’ she shrieked. ‘It’s Satan Himself!’

‘No, Agatha,’ Ben laughed. ‘It’s Mick. Mad Mick. He’s my blood-brother.’

‘You’ve….You’ve drank blood with Him?’ Agatha stared in fear at Ben’s white face, thinking he had had the blood drained from his body and was now a vampire. She noticed the marks on Ben’s neck from his struggle with the Kalamon cannibal. ‘Are…….Are you a…….. vampire, Ben?’

‘A vampire??’ Agatha really had flipped. Ben decided it would be better to just cut Agatha free rather than try to reason with her while she was in this delicate frame of mind. Zinbada had felt a sudden urge to drop the sacrificial dagger while Mad Mick was relieving him of oxygen. Ben picked the silver dagger up and returned to Agatha. He struggled cutting through the thick twine tying Agatha to the tall totem pole.

‘Soon….cut….you….’

‘Cut me??…Cut me??’ screamed Agatha

‘…out….of…these…ropes,’ Ben finished the sentence and smiled over at Agatha, but Agatha had fainted again. Ben shook his head and sighed. Meanwhile, Zinbada had passed out in Mad Mick’s embrace. Mick dropped the Witch Doctor and hurried over to help Ben finish unravelling Agatha from the totem pole.

‘What’s happened to Agatha?’ Mick asked.

Ben circled his index finger against the side of his head. ‘Cuckoo! Cuckoo!’

TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK – FREE EBOOK DOWNLOAD ON AMAZON

Download Tom O’Kell & The Papanuk for free at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VA3W522     This offer is for 5 days only – all comments welcome but please make them constructive – Thank You.

This is the 3rd book in the TOM O’KELL series and finds the children in a mysterious dimension of Native American culture full of adventure, horror, quirky humour and sadness.

During a day by the seaside, Tom, Emily and Jake find a message in a bottle saying:-

Tom come quickly – You are needed.

Along with their friends, Mad Mick, Anaemic Ben and Agatha Sparrow, the Vicar’s daughter, they soon find themselves in a dimension of Native American culture where only two tribes remain. The peace loving Chicuan Nation and the wicked cannibal tribe of the Kalamon, worshippers to their dark God – Kinta-Ketzel.

The Great Magician, the Papanuk, lives amongst the Chicuan and has done since the beginning of time, healing the sick, exorcising demons and bringing the dead back to life. The Papanuk sees a vision of Armageddon coming to the Chicuan on the night of The Two Moons Kissing. A night when the crazy Kalamon plan to resurrect their evil skeletal ancestors for a final battle of slaughter against the Chicuan

Can Tom and his friends win this latest battle with the Devil, in his quest for Eternal Infinity, or will the Devil prove victorious? This isn’t a tale for the faint-hearted. Check under your bed before you go to sleep, we don’t want some dark demon dragging you down into bowels of Hell. Do we?

Extract from TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK

Henrietta Benjamin cocked her head to one side, like a blackbird eyeing a morning worm, ‘Was it your cat?’ she piped.

‘I don’t have a cat….I…er… I must have accidentally scratched myself.’

‘Hmmm,’ Henrietta didn’t seem convinced and returned to her original topic, ‘Benjamin? Is he here? We are going visiting his grandmother – my mother you know – although you’d never guess – she looks nothing like me – except for the nose that is – all the family have noses – except for my Great Aunt Dorcas – she hasn’t got a nose – well, she has got a nose but not the Benjamin nose – she broke it when she walked into a lamp post – blind as a bat she is without her glasses – smashed it flat – don’t know how she smells – well, actually she smells quite repulsive – bromhidrosis – problem with her sweat glands -’

‘Lucy saw her chance, ‘Benjamin you say. Yes he’s here,’ Lucy blurted the words out and then panted hard, almost as hard as if she had just run a marathon and wondered how this strange creature used her nervous energy to suck the life force from her. Lucy stepped back and beckoned Henrietta Benjamin into the hallway. Henrietta smiled weakly and entered, ‘You want to get that seen to,’ she pointed to the scratches on Lucy’s cheek, ‘Could go septic – your cheek could fall off – happened to my Great Grandfather Septimus – during the Boer War it was – just a scratch on his leg – next thing his leg fell off – well that’s the story my Father used to tell us – don’t know if it’s true or not though – Daddy did have a tendency to exaggerate at times – I remember him telling us about his cousin Algernon, once removed – he took an elephant up the Khyber Pass – ‘

‘They’re playing in Tom’s room,’ Lucy gasped, pointed up the stairway, fell against the wall and sighed with exhaustion.

Henrietta sidled nervously past Lucy, twitching an anxious smile and stepped cautiously onto the stairway. She turned around smiling meekly at Lucy. Lucy pointed up the stairs again, determined to repel this human life force extractor ‘It’s the first door on the right.’

Extract from TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK

Images of skeleton warriors, devilish demons and phantom ghouls swirled around Tom’s mind against an inky black darkness coating his senses. Gruesome spectres and bent old hags cackled threats and curses. Floating behind, in this dark nothingness of horror, Tom saw Mayakula with his arms wrapped around the body of Kamushka, the Mountain Lion, twirling and spiralling in a slow motion escape from the pack of leathery winged demons chasing them. Far to his side, the Papanuk tumbled and turned, quickly pursued by an army of vampires and gossamer winged Narcons, the large sabre toothed fairies from Hell. Sinister images and insane laughter whirled round and round Tom’s consciousness, twisting and squeezing the fear rushing through his imagination. The darkness intensified, ghostly fingers pinched and nipped at his body, even though he didn’t have one. Tom was just an invisible entity of thoughts and senses snared in this dark nightmare swarming around him.

Below he saw a small speck of dust then another and another, spiralling, swarming. He moved closer to inspect these minute flecks only to be amazed to discover that they weren’t specks of dust at all, they were in fact miniature versions of himself. There were millions and millions of tiny Tom O’Kells swirling together, twirling like a giant corkscrew trying to bore a way out of this all consuming blackness, its darkness and morbid dread pressing on all sides like a giant vice slowly squeezing the last dregs of hope and life out of his existence.

Tom’s consciousness followed the swirling mass twisting and twirling faster and faster, leading him away from the macabre phantoms and fiendish demons frantically clawing empty space and screaming blood chilling curses, in their efforts to shackle his soul to a life of eternal damnation.

In the distance Tom could see a faint glow spinning hypnotically, drawing the throng of tiny bodies towards its epicentre. Nearer and nearer loomed the swirling mass until Tom could see that it was a gigantic galaxy, billions of stars and celestial bodies slowly revolving, roaring, turning, funnelling the swarm and his consciousness into its depths, surrounding him in knowledge and  thoughts from an infinite intelligence. Suddenly Tom whooshed through the twisting bending vortex of energy travelling at speeds he didn’t know existed, filling his mind with a complete understanding of life and death and rebirth. Tom’s consciousness pulsated through the huge throng of identical clones, hitting them with a gigantic shockwave that crushed and merged the tiny replica atoms into one.

Tom thudded onto the grassy earth.

Extract from TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK

The children lay still in the bottom of the Eagle’s nest, cosy and warm in the thick layers of feathery down. Mad Mick murmured restlessly, stuck his wrinkled thumb back into his mouth and comforted himself back to sleep, gripping Anaemic Ben tightly into his chest like an old battered teddy bear. Agatha lightly snored, grabbed Ben’s chin towards her and mumbled dramatically, ‘Alas poor Yowick! I knew him, Howatio,’ She then cracked her neck, sighed contentedly and buried her head deeper into the feathery nest.

Eagle looked down warmly at the young chicks in his care, reluctant to wake them up from their sound slumber but the day was dawning and the sky was clear. Better to make tracks before the dark entities spun another dark storm cloud around the towering tor.

‘Ahem…’ Eagle coughed gently. The children didn’t stir, ‘Ahem…Ahem,’ he tried again – Nothing. Not a movement. Eagle huffed – nothing else for it – ‘WAKEY!!! WAKEY!! RISE AND SHINE!!’ he bawled.

‘W-What? Eh?’ Mad Mick threw Ben to the other side of the nest and jumped to his feet. Ben bounced off the twigs and wooden stalks weaved into the side of the nest and landed on top of Agatha.

‘Waaaarrggghhh!’ she squealed, blinking her owl eyes rapidly, frantically searching for her spectacles in the feathers like a prize in a lucky dip tub at one of Pater’s Church Fairs. Small downy feathers stuck to her lips and covered her hair, ‘Ah-choo! Ah-choo!’ she sneezed, spattering Ben’s face in a fine spray.

‘Uurrrgghh!’ Ben groaned, wiping his arm across his wet face.

‘Found them!’ Agatha exclaimed and perched the round wire glasses up her nose. Two large eyes peered questioningly into Ben’s white face. ‘Oh!’ Agatha huffed, ‘It’s you Benjamin. I thought you were a blood sucking vampire – Not that you look like one,’ she quickly added.

‘Good morning ma bonnie lads and lass,’ Eagle stooped his large head into the nest.

‘Eagle!’ Agatha shrieked, ‘I’d almost forgotten. You will have to forgive me, Eagle, ‘ she smiled apologetically, ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Like a log,’ Eagle replied, ‘I woke up with splinters all over ma body.’

Ben and Agatha chuckled. Mad Mick’s brain hadn’t woken up yet so he just grunted not wanting to be left out of whatever it was they all found amusing.

 
 

Extract from TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK

Tom and Mayakula gazed in awe at the mysterious red mist pouring out of the tunnel mouth, drifting above the tunnel entrance. The cloud grew in density and shape, darkening into a deep scarlet hue almost the colour of thick congealed blood. The mist from the tunnel thinned until the last fine wisps hung from the billowing cloud like scarlet tentacles.

A huge dark shape began to form within the folds of the cloud. The image sharpened into a tall backed chair on which was seated a creature with cloven hooves, its two thick legs covered in dark shaggy fur. The muscular torso and arms were covered in dark brown leathery skin. Fiendish red eyes glowered from the head of a bearded goat on top of which sprouted two large horns that spiralled down either side of its wicked face. In one of its sharp claws it held a dark wand topped with the shape of a downward pointing pentagram. The other claw held the head of a hissing serpent, its long body curled around the creature’s arm.

Tom and Mayakula gasped in horror as the image intensified and they staggered back in fear of the Beast. Kamushka crouched low to the ground, its furry belly almost rubbing the earth. A low guttural roar echoed from its large mouth, sharp canines and incisors bared ready to attack.

The dark scarlet cloud moved towards Tom and stopped above him. The Devil glared down contemptuously enjoying the fear swirling around Tom’s wide blue eyes.

‘Ha – ha – ha’ The Devil cackled, ‘Tom we meet again,’ He paused, grinning scornfully at the shivering bodies of Tom and Mayakula. Only Kamushka offered any disregard for His superiority.

‘Did you enjoy meeting your Father?’ He smirked, ‘His two friends leave a lot to be desired though – don’t you think?’ The Devil tossed his head back roaring with mocking laughter.

‘Well boy?…. Too scared to talk?’ His tone became threatening.

Mayakula moved closer to Tom and wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder trying his best to quell the fear trembling through his body, although his own body was shivering too.

‘Tom turned to Mayakula, ‘Is – Is this another illusion?’ he asked, his eyes wide in horror.

Mayakula took a deep breath to steady his nerves, ‘No – No, this is no illusion,’ He exhaled fearfully and looked up at the Beast, ‘This is the Devil Himself.’

Extract from TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK

Ash grey spectres poured menacingly from the rocky wall, surrounding them in a gigantic game of ring a-ring o’ roses. The innocent rhyme relating to the bubonic plague that meant certain death. A very apt analogy because these ghouls certainly didn’t anticipate anyone leaving this game alive. The sinister fiends held hands and twirled in a macabre dance of black magic and devilment spinning round the three horror stricken comrades rapidly going dizzy at the crazy manic faces whizzing around them, howling threats and spitting curses of a gruesome death.

‘Be brave, my boy,’ Myayakula’s voice tremored. He held Tom tightly by his side, shielding Tom’s eyes from the nightmare whirling around them. Suddenly the hellish spectres ceased their dance. They stilled their screaming ululations. They glowered menacingly at Mayakula and the Mountain Lion, but their look of hatred was fixed mainly on Tom. It was Tom they were after. Mayakula and Kamushka were just the supporting acts. They moved slowly, creeping nearer and nearer, ghostly grey arms outstretched, clasping, clawing, clutching. Creep – creep – creep. Silently, menacingly. Cackling wickedly now that Tom was in touching distance. Theirs for the taking. Theirs for their Lord and Master – Satan Himself. Their insane laughter and sickening curses rang through Tom’s mind, filling this thoughts with scenes from Hell and eternal punishment. Tom screamed and wept and if this was to be his last day in whatever reality he was in, he was determined he would end his life thinking about his Dad and his Mum and the love they shared, and the more he thought of his parents and the love they gave him, the less he heard the deranged demons’ crazy laughter or their terrifying threats and insults. The longer he held the image of his parents in his mind, the lighter the atmosphere became. Tom’s pounding heart eased, his breathing calmed.

‘Well done, my child,’ Mayakula spoke softly, ‘You have strong medicine within your soul.’

Tom dared to open his clenched eyes. The whirling ghosts had departed, the last shadowy shapes slinking back into the dark rock wall. Tom heaved a deep sigh and stroked Kamushka’s large furry head for comfort.

‘Phew!’ Tom wheezed and looked up into Mayakula’s kind weary eyes.

Mayakula blew hard and smiled, the strain showing on his lips, ‘It is time to leave this World. We need to return home. The Dark Powers will try again if we linger…Come.’

They turned in the direction of the tunnel they had travelled through only this time something was blocking their entrance to the tunnel.

Extract from TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK

Completing the smudging ritual, Mayakula next picked up a light tanned deerskin medicine bag, containing herbs, minerals and amulets to ward off evil Spirits, and placed the pouch around Tom’s neck by a thin leather strap.

‘That is all the protection I can give you but you carry the greatest protection here, within yourself,’ Mayakula tapped Tom’s chest.

‘W-what do you mean?’ Tom asked.

‘The love you carry for your Father deep in your heart. That is powerful medicine, very powerful.’

Tom sighed deeply and pushed against the emotions swirling in his mind, causing his blue eyes to sparkle with a thin veil of tears.

‘Now,’ Mayakula spoke sternly, picking up his drum and beater, ‘We go!’

Boom – boom – boom – boom – boom – boom – boom – boom

Misty shadows rose from the ground, encircling the inside walls of the tepee. Dark and light spectres swirled around the tepee, and around the bodies of Mayakula and Tom, stroking their faces, vying for their minds and souls. Mayakula bravely ignored their attentions, focusing instead on the loud steady drumbeat and the safety of his young companion.

Boom – boom – boom – boom – boom – boom – boom – boom

Streams of sweat trickled down the faces of Mayakula and Tom, images of demons and devils and phantom warriors spun around their heads. A low undulating howl mixed with the pounding drumbeat, taunting their senses, confusing their reality and dreams. Slowly, very slowly, the walls of the tepee melted away, replaced by a consuming veil of darkness, pulsating to the light of a million tiny stars. Tom felt his body drifting through an infinite dreamworld where neither space nor time nor any of humankind’s worries existed. He saw a gigantic portrait of Mayakula gazing up above. With a wrinkled twisted forefinger, Mayakula silently beckoned Tom forward. Without thinking, Tom effortlessly glided over to the Shaman, although he didn’t appear to have a body with which to move in. Tom was just an existence of infinite consciousness and thoughts. Suddenly, Tom’s consciousness funnelled through the darkness at the speed of light and Tom found himself stood next to Mayakula in a dark rocky cavern, dimly lit with a yellow glow permeating along the cold rock wall from a procession of flaming torches hanging in hewn recesses. An expression of relief fell from Mayakula’s strained lips, ‘I thought I had lost you to the dark Spirits. They have much power.’

A low whistle blew from Tom’s lips. He breathed deeply, calming his jangling nerves, trying to quell the questions hurtling through his troubled mind. What evil lay in wait within this creepy chamber? What form would these dark powers take? Which tunnel, branching from this cavern would lead Tom to his Dad? Tom’s nerves didn’t get much rest. A low rumbling guttural growl echoed from one of the dark tunnels leading away from the rocky chamber.

 
 

Extract from TOM O’KELL & THE PAPANUK

Agatha tangled her head deeper into the folds of Mad Mick’s T-shirt, praying for her Saviour to deliver her from Evil. He appeared to be engaged elsewhere. Mick sighed heavily, trying desperately to hide the terrified little boy that dwelt inside his ogre’s body. He had only just fulfilled his dream of finding someone to belong to and now his dream was about to end in the most horrific nightmarish ending imaginable.

“Come here bruv,’ Mick put his huge arm around Ben’s frail shoulders and gently pulled Ben towards him, ‘Hide your face. I’ll scare ‘em away for yer,’ Mick smiled down into the dark rimmed eyes of Ben’s porcelain white face. Ben felt assured by Mad Mick’s scowling smile. A smile that could match the sinister grimace of any of Hell’s demonic fiends. He was sure the Kalamon would melt away from Mad Mick’s pout. He snuggled into Mick’s damp T-shirt, damp with Agatha’s tears and sniffles. Ben put his skinny arm over Agatha, more of a gesture than protection, to comfort the shaking girl before they met their brutal end.

Zinbada turned to his devilish tribe and beat the air with his creepy baton, as though conducting an orchestra of the macabre seated in Hell’s pit. His tribe beat the ground with their spears and staffs, keeping time with their Chief’s metronomic pulse. Saliva drooled down the sides of their hungry mouths as their minds reminded them of the sweet taste of the flesh of terrified children. Zinbada quickened the tempo, thrashing the gruesome stick wildly above his shaking head, whipping his tribe of cannibals up into a bloodthirsty frenzy. The white painted skeletons on the dark bodies of the savages danced faster and faster, spun and writhed in torment to the instructions of the evil manipulator pulling their strings. Zinbada stopped abruptly. The shrunken head beater fell from his grasp and bounced sharply on the dry earth. He pulled hard on the crown of needle sharp bones circling his head and screamed in ecstasy at the agonising pain stinging his skull. Thin fingers of blood caressed his wicked face, soothing his agony and torture. Zinbada sneered in appreciation and held his arms up to the heavens in thanks. He smiled wickedly at the sight of the Two Moons slowly creeping nearer and nearer to each other. Nearer to the night when their dead ancestors would be awakened from their sleep and resurrected back to life to wreak slaughter and death on the Chicuan. Bulging, bloodshot eyes watched excitedly behind painted skulls, eager to harvest the sweet tender flesh of the children sitting patiently, trembling in anticipation and fear.

The fiendish Witch Doctor savoured the heightened suspense, enraptured by both his warriors lust for blood and the scent of terror emanating from the petrified children. He absorbed the atmosphere of horror, bathed in its nauseous stench of fear, and then unleashed his screaming warriors to gather the children as an offering to please Kinta-Ketzel’s hunger for human sacrifice.

The mass of cannibals lunged forward, some tripping and stumbling, others pushed intentionally to be trampled and killed under the stampede of feet and bodies. The Kalamon wouldn’t overlook their sacrifice. They would drag the dead bodies back to camp, along with the children. There would be extra meat for the tribe tonight. Their bellies would be full. Kinta-Ketzel would be appeased.