The Color of Evil Blog Tour: excerpt and giveaway
Category: Thriller/Suspense/Horror/YA
Date: March 9, 2012
Available in Print and Kindle: 252 pages
Tad McGreevy has a power that he has never revealed, not even to his life-long best friend, Stevie Scranton. When Tad looks at others, he sees colors. These auras tell Tad whether a person is good orevil. At night, Tad dreams about the evil-doers, reliving their crimes in horrifyingly vivid detail.
But Tad doesn’t know if the evil acts he witnesses in his nightmares are happening now, are already over, or are going to occur in the future. He has no control over the horrifying visions. He has been told (by his parents) never to speak of his power. All Tad knows is that he wants to protect those he loves. And he wants the bad dreams to stop.
At Tad’s eighth birthday party (April 1, 1995) in Cedar Falls, Iowa, the clown his parents hire to entertain Tad’s third-grade classmates is one of the bad people. Pogo, the Killer Clown (aka Michael Clay) is a serial killer. So begins 53 nights of terror as Tad relives Pogo’s crime, awakens screaming, and recites the terrifying details to his disbelieving family. The situation becomes so dire that Tad is hospitalized in a private institution under the care of a psychiatrist–who also does not believe the small boy’s stories.
And then the police arrest Pogo, the Killer Clown.
Flash forward to the beginning of Tad’s junior year in high school, 8 years later. Tad is 16 and recovered from the spring of his third-grade year. When Michael Clay was caught and imprisoned, the crime spree ended and so did Tad’s bad dreams.
Until now, in the year of our Lord 2003, when evil once again stalks the land.
This is a terrifying, intense story of the dark people and places that lurk just beneath the surface of seemingly normal small-town America. As one reviewer says, “Wilson nails the darkness beneath the surface of small-town Midwestern life with an intense story based on fact.”
Tad must wage a silent war against those who would harm the ones he loves. A battle to the death.
An excerpt from The Color of Evil:
Chapter 53
November 2, 2003
Near Midnight: Harvest Home Subdivision
To set the scene, it is a point where Michael Clay, the evil serial killer, is about to take the innocent young girl (Jenny SanGiovanni) captive, sneaking in through the basement of her house.
There it was again: a rustling sound. Jenny walked to the window and pulled the drapes aside to see if she could see anything.
She had begged Cynthia to stay overnight with her, but Cynthia and her mom hadn’t seen eye-to-eye on very many things over the past ten years. Cynthia just wanted to go back to her own apartment and sleep in her own bed. Frank was over at Buddy’s, as usual. Andrea had said she was dropping off some papers in the Heights for one of her rentals. That had been a good three hours ago. It didn’t surprise Jenny that her mother wasn’t back, because she had said that, after she dropped off the paperwork for the Jimenez family and made sure the plumbing issues had been properly attended to, she was going to White’s Funeral Home to “make some arrangements.”
She didn’t ask Jenny to go with her. Jenny was thankful for that, at least. She didn’t want to go with her mother on this errand.
If there was one place on the planet that gave her the creeps, it was a funeral home. She couldn’t imagine herself married to a mortician or actually being a mortician. She had read once that the comedian Whoopie Goldberg, before she was Whoopie and had a normal name like Karen Johnson, used to do the make-up and hair for dead people in a funeral home. She couldn’t imagine touching the corpse, the cold dead body on a routine basis. The corpses of strangers. It sounded like a book title. She shivered as she culred up in the Lazy Boy She knew it was a childish, squeamish thing. It was just something she knew about herself. Another of her failings in life, of which, according to her mother, she had plenty. That was why she wasn’t sure she wanted any part of nursing, either. Ick.
With my luck, my patients will all die and become corpses immediately, she thought ruefully. The two things I hate most: patients and corpses In the two places I want to avoid most: hospitals and mortuaries. It’s true that I like to help people who are hurting, but what if they die? Patient to corpse. Two horrible status reports.
Jenny shook her head to clear it of images of dead bodies on tables having God-knows-what done to them to prepare them for their visitation. She thought of the old TV series “Six Feet Under.” She shuddered. It seemed so barbaric to her. She definitely needed to get up the courage to tell her mother that the nursing thing had been a passing phase. Right now, she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do less than work in a hospital. Unless, that is, it were to work in a mortuary.
Her mother was probably touring Green’s Funeral Home right now with Mr. Green, selecting a casket for Greg, deciding what sort of service to hold. It was creepy as hell. Jenny wanted no part of it. She was not afraid to stay home alone, normally, but the recent violence in the woods near the prison had spooked everyone. There were people locking their doors at night who had never locked a door in their lives in Harvest Homes Subdivision. She wondered if the Chandlers’ doors were all locked up tight as a drum. She thought that Charlie Chandler was probably pretty busy, what with the bodies turning up right and left in the woods. That would mean that Cassie and Belinda might be home alone, too. If she needed anything, she could always call them or walk to their house, but, she thought I’m sure I’ll be fine. I just need to calm down.
Jenny had not heard the news about Cassie’s corpse being discovered in a ditch or Belinda’s near-escape from almost certain death. The SanGiovannis had left the hospital before that particular bit of gruesome news broke, and Jenny had been watching taped episodes of her favorite shows on their TiVO since then.
When she pulled the curtains aside to look out, Cassie could see that the wind had picked up in the nearby fields and the slight rustling noise she was hearing were the dry, sere harvested corn stalks, standing forlornly together like a crowd awaiting a speech. They reminded her of an IMAX documentary she had seen called “Journey to Mecca.”
The documentary showed thousands of pilgrims to Mecca making their journey to the holy place and then circling the stone altar in a sort of arena. Some kissed a black stone that was supposedly the cornerstone laid by Mohammad, himself. The cornstalks in the darkness looked like weary pilgrims. Their fruit had been harvested over a month ago. Now all that was left were dry husks, rotting in the field. The rustling sound was the wind amongst the dead or dying leaves.
Jenny thought she heard a louder, sharper sound. It was a noise like glass shattering. It was probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Or it might be one of their cats.
They had 5 indoor-outdoor cats: Merrill, Pierce, Fenner, Smith and Beane. Smith, in particular, was as clumsy as any cat she had ever owned. He loved to come in the house and leap to the ledge above the refrigerator-freezer and then into the cupboards that housed cushions for their patio furniture. Half the time, Smith made the leap and failed to reach the ledge because of his immense girth. He had been an adorable tiny black-and-white kitten when they first got him, but he was either eating too many groundhogs in the fields behind their house or eating too much cat food in their basement, where they kept the cat’s bowls.
The cats’ bowls. I’ll bet that’s it. One of the cats has knocked over its heavy glass bowl. Maybe Smith even managed to break it, as clumsy as he is.
Jenny settled back into her chair in the family room and flipped the TVO device to “list” to see what she could watch while she was waiting for her mom to return. There was an unwatched episode of Jon Stewart’s “Daily Show” that looked interesting. She queued it up.
November 2, 2003
Near Midnight: Harvest Home Subdivision
To set the scene, it is a point where Michael Clay, the evil serial killer, is about to take the innocent young girl (Jenny SanGiovanni) captive, sneaking in through the basement of her house.
There it was again: a rustling sound. Jenny walked to the window and pulled the drapes aside to see if she could see anything.
She had begged Cynthia to stay overnight with her, but Cynthia and her mom hadn’t seen eye-to-eye on very many things over the past ten years. Cynthia just wanted to go back to her own apartment and sleep in her own bed. Frank was over at Buddy’s, as usual. Andrea had said she was dropping off some papers in the Heights for one of her rentals. That had been a good three hours ago. It didn’t surprise Jenny that her mother wasn’t back, because she had said that, after she dropped off the paperwork for the Jimenez family and made sure the plumbing issues had been properly attended to, she was going to White’s Funeral Home to “make some arrangements.”
She didn’t ask Jenny to go with her. Jenny was thankful for that, at least. She didn’t want to go with her mother on this errand.
If there was one place on the planet that gave her the creeps, it was a funeral home. She couldn’t imagine herself married to a mortician or actually being a mortician. She had read once that the comedian Whoopie Goldberg, before she was Whoopie and had a normal name like Karen Johnson, used to do the make-up and hair for dead people in a funeral home. She couldn’t imagine touching the corpse, the cold dead body on a routine basis. The corpses of strangers. It sounded like a book title. She shivered as she culred up in the Lazy Boy She knew it was a childish, squeamish thing. It was just something she knew about herself. Another of her failings in life, of which, according to her mother, she had plenty. That was why she wasn’t sure she wanted any part of nursing, either. Ick.
With my luck, my patients will all die and become corpses immediately, she thought ruefully. The two things I hate most: patients and corpses In the two places I want to avoid most: hospitals and mortuaries. It’s true that I like to help people who are hurting, but what if they die? Patient to corpse. Two horrible status reports.
Jenny shook her head to clear it of images of dead bodies on tables having God-knows-what done to them to prepare them for their visitation. She thought of the old TV series “Six Feet Under.” She shuddered. It seemed so barbaric to her. She definitely needed to get up the courage to tell her mother that the nursing thing had been a passing phase. Right now, she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do less than work in a hospital. Unless, that is, it were to work in a mortuary.
Her mother was probably touring Green’s Funeral Home right now with Mr. Green, selecting a casket for Greg, deciding what sort of service to hold. It was creepy as hell. Jenny wanted no part of it. She was not afraid to stay home alone, normally, but the recent violence in the woods near the prison had spooked everyone. There were people locking their doors at night who had never locked a door in their lives in Harvest Homes Subdivision. She wondered if the Chandlers’ doors were all locked up tight as a drum. She thought that Charlie Chandler was probably pretty busy, what with the bodies turning up right and left in the woods. That would mean that Cassie and Belinda might be home alone, too. If she needed anything, she could always call them or walk to their house, but, she thought I’m sure I’ll be fine. I just need to calm down.
Jenny had not heard the news about Cassie’s corpse being discovered in a ditch or Belinda’s near-escape from almost certain death. The SanGiovannis had left the hospital before that particular bit of gruesome news broke, and Jenny had been watching taped episodes of her favorite shows on their TiVO since then.
When she pulled the curtains aside to look out, Cassie could see that the wind had picked up in the nearby fields and the slight rustling noise she was hearing were the dry, sere harvested corn stalks, standing forlornly together like a crowd awaiting a speech. They reminded her of an IMAX documentary she had seen called “Journey to Mecca.”
The documentary showed thousands of pilgrims to Mecca making their journey to the holy place and then circling the stone altar in a sort of arena. Some kissed a black stone that was supposedly the cornerstone laid by Mohammad, himself. The cornstalks in the darkness looked like weary pilgrims. Their fruit had been harvested over a month ago. Now all that was left were dry husks, rotting in the field. The rustling sound was the wind amongst the dead or dying leaves.
Jenny thought she heard a louder, sharper sound. It was a noise like glass shattering. It was probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Or it might be one of their cats.
They had 5 indoor-outdoor cats: Merrill, Pierce, Fenner, Smith and Beane. Smith, in particular, was as clumsy as any cat she had ever owned. He loved to come in the house and leap to the ledge above the refrigerator-freezer and then into the cupboards that housed cushions for their patio furniture. Half the time, Smith made the leap and failed to reach the ledge because of his immense girth. He had been an adorable tiny black-and-white kitten when they first got him, but he was either eating too many groundhogs in the fields behind their house or eating too much cat food in their basement, where they kept the cat’s bowls.
The cats’ bowls. I’ll bet that’s it. One of the cats has knocked over its heavy glass bowl. Maybe Smith even managed to break it, as clumsy as he is.
Jenny settled back into her chair in the family room and flipped the TVO device to “list” to see what she could watch while she was waiting for her mom to return. There was an unwatched episode of Jon Stewart’s “Daily Show” that looked interesting. She queued it up.
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| Connie’s Website |
About the author: Connie (Corcoran) Wilson (MS + 30) graduated from the University of Iowa and Western Illinois University, with additional study at Northern Illinois, the University of California at Berkeley and the University of Chicago. She taught writing at six Iowa/Illinois colleges and has written for five newspapers and seven blogs, including Associated Content (now owned by Yahoo) which named her its 2008 Content Producer of the Year . She is an active, voting member of HWA (Horror Writers Association).
Her stories and interviews with writers like David Morrell, Joe Hill, Kurt Vonnegut, Frederik Pohl and Anne Perry have appeared online and in numerous journals. Her work has won prizes from “Whim’s Place Flash Fiction,” “Writer’s Digest” (Screenplay) and she will have 12 books out by the end of the year. Connie reviewed film and books for the Quad City Times (Davenport, Iowa) for 12 years and wrote humor columns and conducted interviews for the (Moline, Illinois) Daily Dispatch and now blogs for 7 blogs, including television reviews and political reporting for Yahoo.
Connie lives in East Moline, Illinois with husband Craig and cat Lucy, and in Chicago, Illinois, where her son, Scott and daughter-in-law Jessica and their two-year-old twins Elise and Ava reside. Her daughter, Stacey, recently graduated from Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee, as a Music Business graduate.
Giveaway
The author is offering one reader one copy of The Color of Evil in the choice of paper or Kindle. Those living outside the U.S. will receive the Kindle version. To enter, simply leave a comment along with your email address. This giveaway will end at midnight on Friday, July 6.
Our winner is Mewoxbark! Congratulations!
Our winner is Mewoxbark! Congratulations!
Thanks so much for taking part in the tour!
ReplyDeleteSounds like a great book! John Wayne Gacy was a terrifyingly facinating individual. I'd love a copy.
ReplyDeleteE-mail: arhaning0@frostburg.edu
Looks like an interesting horror read. Definitely need to put it on my to-read list.
ReplyDeleteknotty1tink@yahoo.com
It looks like a scary story.
ReplyDeletemce1011 AT aol DOT com
Looks interesting and scary!
ReplyDeletefelecia@twinoaksfl.org