Résultats de "David Boyer" dans Toutes les catégories

With the mystery - and murder of Kyra Talbot - finally solved, Derrick and Linda are finally free to live happily ever after.

Now full grown and a successful horror writer, Brian Davis - better known as Derrick Dark - is working on a new book when his whole world is turned upside down by the news that Kyra Talbot's killer may still be on the loose.

Luther and Jenny are happy in their new home and marriage until Luther begins hearing voices again. Jenny thinks he is imagining things until he finds the corpse of a young girl floating in his favorite fishing spot.

Most folks around town thought Lester Talbot was just a lonely, bitter old man who drank too much and talked to ghosts. But he was much more than that, much more. He had a power, a gift, to not only help others in need as if by magic, but to see into the past and future as well.

Luther Biggs was born in Pearl City, Indiana, a small, run-down community of ramshackle houses and derelict trailers nestled in between the town levee and the Wabash River basin. His mother, Lula, once sold Luther to a woman who'd brought him back, claiming he wasn't even smart enough to pull a plow or bait a fish hook. What nobody knew was Luther Biggs was smarter than people gave him credit for. He had special talents. Like being able to communicate with the dead.

A meeting of the minds is held at Derrick's place, with Lester, Lincoln, Luther, and Jenny in attendance. Before the night is over, Derrick realizes with terrifying clarity that Kyra Talbot's killer has still been on the loose all along - and it is a member of the local community that nobody would have ever suspected.

Endings are easy. New beginnings are hard. It all seems like a life time ago now. Then again, when you’ve spent half of your life chasing ghosts, you tend to lose track of time in the sense that most of us experience it. That, along with having been a career alcoholic, tends to cloud a person’s mind just a tad bit after so many lost years go by like a blur. So says the author of this riveting memoir, who spent 25 years of his life as an alcoholic. Now sober since 2007, he provides the reader with a nightmarish vision into the mind of a man who, once a normal, average teenager, quickly turned into a chronic alcoholic to escape the loneliness of his sad home life - and looking for love in all the wrong places.

Jacob Enright's dead men stayed dead. But their memories did not. The nightmares persisted. They always did. Knowing it was a dream did nothing to lessen its horror. Gambling, drinking, whoring, and killing. It had become like second nature to the ex-lawman turned vigilante. Wanda Blackfoot had loved Jacob for as long as she could remember, but now Wanda didn't know who she was anymore, or more precisely, she didn't know what she was, without Jacob by her side acting as her touchstone.

The autumn wind of an Indiana night blows across the cemetery. It plays a malevolent, whistling tune through the trees of the cemetery as Peter Baker stands motionless, surveying the soft, brown earth that holds his beloved wife, Veronica. Tears well up in his eyes as he gazes down upon the inscription on her gravestone. He comes here a lot now, reminiscing over all the good times he had with Veronica, and their private conversations. An aspiring poet, something she wrote for him still haunts his dreams at night.

Deep in the heartland of Indiana, this maximum-security penitentiary held some of the most vicious criminals known to the United States. One of them was Sampson Faith, a psychopathic genius who was master of mind control. Sampson was not only a master of mind control, but he was also a fluent out-of-body traveler. He was only 38, but seven years in prison made him look much older. He had murdered 14 teenagers in numerous ways seven years before in a small Indiana farm town. He was what doctors called a missionary killer.

I think almost everyone has had a first true love or a bad case of puppy love - or a case of “infatuation” as my mother would have called it - but regardless of the extent of these feelings, it still leaves you pretty messed up for a while. I have had several “infatuations” in my day, one of them being a beautiful young woman named Terri, whom I still think about from time to time. As a matter of fact, more often than not, I think about her at least 30 seconds of each day.

I have assembled a vast collection of my favorite stories from my Growing Up in Vincennes series of books, volumes one through five, for this audiobook, dedicated to my mother, who always encouraged me to become a writer.

All of the stories in this audiobook are important to me. All of them stem from my own personal memories and life experiences growing up here in Vincennes. Whether good or bad memories it doesn't matter; they were all a big part part of my life growing up here, and none of them are any less important than the next one. What I've found to be really interesting - and even a bit flattering at times, too - was the fact that I've always managed to spark a happy memory for my listeners within my first three volumes.

Marvin was sitting on the hood of his car on the edge of town, watching the sun come up over the horizon. He closed his eyes and tried hard to remember the last time he felt even remotely human–or at least what would pass for human–but, as always, he came up empty.

Ray Striker was a Gulf War veteran turned street vigilante who guarded his own neighborhood like it was his own family. But too many years chasing ghosts and taking the law into his own hands now made it impossible to chase his own inner demons away.

The grand re-opening of the saloon was the biggest event the Gulch had seen in 20 years–the last biggest event in memory being the local Radio Shack carrying cell phones and the only used car dealership in the county now selling cars and trucks that weren't manufactured in the 1970s.

Had serial killer Henry Lee Lucas turned to God in his last moments, for redemption? Had he really loved Frieda "Becky" Powell? We may never really know the truth.

Even small towns can harbor big secrets. Jake Collins, the former Deputy Sheriff in Deadman's Gulch, Texas, knows this all too well.

When the ghastly thing opened its mouth, Alan could have sworn he could smell the overwhelming odor of death itself, coming from deep inside it's rotting guts.

Whether it be a police officer or fireman or hospital employee or retail workers or mail carriers or the nice guy next door who helps you feed your kids or lets you borrow his lawn mower, there are so many heroes, often times right under our nose, that we don't even seem to notice exist.