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    Ice Scream
    Ice Scream
    Ice Scream
    Ebook21 pages17 minutes

    Ice Scream

    By Harvey Stanbrough

    ()

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    About this ebook

    CAUTION: Ice Scream is a tale of sheer terror and horror. It's the first chapter of my current WIP, a novel about a serial killer. It contains necessarily harsh mental images. That being said, here's the professional skinny: A young woman wakes confused and alone from a nightmare. Or is she waking INTO a nightmare?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStoneThread Publishing
    Release dateNov 5, 2016
    ISBN9781370641215
    Ice Scream
    Author

    Harvey Stanbrough

    Harvey Stanbrough is an award-winning writer and poet. He’s fond of saying he was born in New Mexico, seasoned in Texas, and baked in Arizona. After 21 years in the US Marine Corps, he managed to sneak up on a BA degree at Eastern New Mexico University in Portales in 1996. Because he is unable to do otherwise, he splits his writing personality among four personas: Gervasio Arrancado writes magic realism; Nicolas Z “Nick” Porter writes spare, descriptive, Hemingway-style fiction; and Eric Stringer writes the fiction of an unapologetic neurotic. Harvey writes whatever they leave to him. You can see their full bios at HEStanbrough.com.

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      Book preview

      Ice Scream - Harvey Stanbrough

      Ice Scream

      Harvey Stanbrough

      the Smashwords Edition of

      a FrostProof808 publication

      an imprint of StoneThread Publishing

      To give the reader more of a sample, the front matter appears at the end.

      Ice Scream

      Susan Jordan jerked awake, naked and frantic and chilled. Her eyes were wide, her breath caught in her throat. But she was dizzy. Groggy. Like dreaming of being in a dream.

      She found her breath, and in it, relief. A nightmare. It was a nightmare. Only a nightmare.

      And it was vibrant. As she left the IGA, she looked over her shoulder. She smiled and said I will to Mrs. Johnson on Register 3.

      There were only the two registers out front, but Mr. Minister, the new manager, called the paper-fed calculator in his office Register 1. An odd man, Mr. Minister, at least according to whispered gossip from Mrs. Johnson on Register 3.

      Transferred in three weeks ago, she said, from somewhere down south. Omaha maybe, or Oskalusa—something like that. I seem to be here all the time, she said, and laughed. Then she said, But I’ve seen him only once myself. She shook her head. Very odd.

      Mrs. Johnson was sweet, everybody’s mother. With her husband lifted up by God a year ago and her own kids grown and gone long before—a daughter to New York and

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