Aaron Gehrig's Blog - Posts Tagged "aryn-bats"
Book Launch
Coming to Amazon, Goodreads and Kindle Unlimited tomorrow.
"The Coroner's daughter."
In the quiet, tree-lined streets of Calgary, Samantha Marie Cadence was a name that carried weight, spoken with admiration by teachers, with pride by her parents, and with a knowing nod by neighbors who saw her as the golden child of a respected family. At sixteen, she was a prodigy, her brilliance outshining the auburn fire in her hair, her gothic dresses trailing whispers of elegance down Stephen Avenue. Daughter of Dr. Samuel Cadence, the city’s esteemed forensic pathologist, she was already certified, already stepping into the shadow of her father’s world of scalpels and secrets. To the outside eye, she was flawless: an honor student, poised, untouchable, her freckled smile a beacon of promise. But beneath the surface, something darker bloomed. It had taken root long ago, in the rich soil of her grandfather’s Chestermere garden, where the scent of tomatoes mingled with blood, and a six-year-old girl first glimpsed the thrill of death. Guided by Terrance Oswald Cadence, a retired police officer whose kindly facade hid a cruel precision, Samantha learned lessons no child should know. In the cool shadows of a hidden cellar, she traded innocence for a knife’s edge, her small hands steady as they carved a path to a truth she could never unlearn. What began as a secret ritual, shared over steaming bowls of pasta and forbidden flavors, became a bond, a legacy, a hunger that grew with her.
At sixteen, Samantha stands at a crossroads. By day, she navigates her father’s morgue with clinical grace, her mind a steel trap of logic and ambition. By night, the lessons of her grandfather whisper to her, pulling at something primal, something insatiable. As Calgary’s streets grow restless with whispers of missing souls and unexplained wounds, Samantha’s mask of perfection begins to slip. The girl who once buried a cat with tenderness now holds secrets that could unravel her world, or set it ablaze. In a city that sees only her brilliance, the truth lies hidden: Samantha Marie Cadence is no ordinary prodigy, and the darkness within her is only beginning to stir.
Written in the style of a novelist interviewing Papa and Samantha from a penitentiary after they were convicted. Lydia tells their story as the serial killers recount theirs.
I'm proud of this one.
This one also ties together, 2 other saga's of mine.
Grey Kong and Bah Bah Blacksheep.
As the two new additions to RavenRidge Penitentiary meet Marcus Grey and Tristan Brachenloch while inside.
Hmmmm
What could wrong?
Stay tuned 😁 ✌🏼
"The Coroner's daughter."
In the quiet, tree-lined streets of Calgary, Samantha Marie Cadence was a name that carried weight, spoken with admiration by teachers, with pride by her parents, and with a knowing nod by neighbors who saw her as the golden child of a respected family. At sixteen, she was a prodigy, her brilliance outshining the auburn fire in her hair, her gothic dresses trailing whispers of elegance down Stephen Avenue. Daughter of Dr. Samuel Cadence, the city’s esteemed forensic pathologist, she was already certified, already stepping into the shadow of her father’s world of scalpels and secrets. To the outside eye, she was flawless: an honor student, poised, untouchable, her freckled smile a beacon of promise. But beneath the surface, something darker bloomed. It had taken root long ago, in the rich soil of her grandfather’s Chestermere garden, where the scent of tomatoes mingled with blood, and a six-year-old girl first glimpsed the thrill of death. Guided by Terrance Oswald Cadence, a retired police officer whose kindly facade hid a cruel precision, Samantha learned lessons no child should know. In the cool shadows of a hidden cellar, she traded innocence for a knife’s edge, her small hands steady as they carved a path to a truth she could never unlearn. What began as a secret ritual, shared over steaming bowls of pasta and forbidden flavors, became a bond, a legacy, a hunger that grew with her.
At sixteen, Samantha stands at a crossroads. By day, she navigates her father’s morgue with clinical grace, her mind a steel trap of logic and ambition. By night, the lessons of her grandfather whisper to her, pulling at something primal, something insatiable. As Calgary’s streets grow restless with whispers of missing souls and unexplained wounds, Samantha’s mask of perfection begins to slip. The girl who once buried a cat with tenderness now holds secrets that could unravel her world, or set it ablaze. In a city that sees only her brilliance, the truth lies hidden: Samantha Marie Cadence is no ordinary prodigy, and the darkness within her is only beginning to stir.
Written in the style of a novelist interviewing Papa and Samantha from a penitentiary after they were convicted. Lydia tells their story as the serial killers recount theirs.
I'm proud of this one.
This one also ties together, 2 other saga's of mine.
Grey Kong and Bah Bah Blacksheep.
As the two new additions to RavenRidge Penitentiary meet Marcus Grey and Tristan Brachenloch while inside.
Hmmmm
What could wrong?
Stay tuned 😁 ✌🏼
Book Launch
1313 Going Up?
Launches tomorrow on Amazon, Goodreads and Kindle Unlimited!
1313 ~ Going Up? ~ Written as Aryn Bats ~ Supernatural horror, psychological thriller, and detective noir, weaving a dark tale of demonic influence, betrayal, and investigation in a haunted modern tower.
Trigger warning
This book contains graphic scenes of psychological and physical horror, including death, gore, fire-related trauma, suffocation, hallucinations, and claustrophobic settings.
It also explores themes of guilt, mental deterioration, murder, self-destruction, and supernatural torment.
Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Not recommended for readers sensitive to violence, confinement, or depictions of death by burning, asphyxiation, or dismemberment.
Dead-ication
For those who linger between floors, between dreams, between lives. May you find the door that opens home, or learn to love the dark that keeps them.
Introduction
It was now 1996, and there was a building on 102 Avenue in downtown Edmonton the city didn’t talk about anymore. On paper, it was just another relic of the early nineties, a thirty-story high-rise that promised luxury living and architectural perfection.
Rooke Tower.
Built on ambition, finished in tragedy. They said the thirteenth floor was never built. The blueprints jumped from twelve to fourteen, like most towers do, because superstition sells better than honesty. But sometimes, when the moon was full and the night air turned that strange, electric blue, the elevator stopped where no button existed. The doors slid open.
A hallway waited.
Dim lights. Patternless wallpaper. A single suite at the end with a black door and a silver handle.
Room 1313
No one who’d ever stepped inside had come back down. Eight people had vanished from Rooke Tower over the past five years. All caught, for a split second, on the lobby camera stepping into the elevator… then gone.
The city blamed faulty wiring, unregistered renovations, or doctored footage. But one detective wasn’t convinced.
Tabitha Darquequist didn’t believe in ghost stories. She believed in patterns, in cause and consequence, in missing persons who deserved to be found. That’s why she was here, at 11:58 p.m., the night of the full moon, staring at the tarnished elevator doors that gleamed like the surface of a pond before rain. The building hummed around her, a low metallic breath, as though it was waiting. She pressed the call button.
The light flickered once… twice…
Then the doors slid open with a sigh that sounded almost human.
Tabitha stepped inside alone. The air smelled faintly of ozone and old metal. She touched the panel and stared at the floor numbers climbing steadily: 1… 2… 3…
The elevator hummed louder. Something shifted in the cables. A chill brushed her neck.
“Going up?” a voice whispered from the speaker mounted in the roof. She recognized the voice, it belonged to Elias Rooke. Missing since October, 1991.
She only knew the voice because of a recording found in a cassette recorder in Lily Crane’s studio.
Tabitha froze.
Launches tomorrow on Amazon, Goodreads and Kindle Unlimited!
1313 ~ Going Up? ~ Written as Aryn Bats ~ Supernatural horror, psychological thriller, and detective noir, weaving a dark tale of demonic influence, betrayal, and investigation in a haunted modern tower.
Trigger warning
This book contains graphic scenes of psychological and physical horror, including death, gore, fire-related trauma, suffocation, hallucinations, and claustrophobic settings.
It also explores themes of guilt, mental deterioration, murder, self-destruction, and supernatural torment.
Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Not recommended for readers sensitive to violence, confinement, or depictions of death by burning, asphyxiation, or dismemberment.
Dead-ication
For those who linger between floors, between dreams, between lives. May you find the door that opens home, or learn to love the dark that keeps them.
Introduction
It was now 1996, and there was a building on 102 Avenue in downtown Edmonton the city didn’t talk about anymore. On paper, it was just another relic of the early nineties, a thirty-story high-rise that promised luxury living and architectural perfection.
Rooke Tower.
Built on ambition, finished in tragedy. They said the thirteenth floor was never built. The blueprints jumped from twelve to fourteen, like most towers do, because superstition sells better than honesty. But sometimes, when the moon was full and the night air turned that strange, electric blue, the elevator stopped where no button existed. The doors slid open.
A hallway waited.
Dim lights. Patternless wallpaper. A single suite at the end with a black door and a silver handle.
Room 1313
No one who’d ever stepped inside had come back down. Eight people had vanished from Rooke Tower over the past five years. All caught, for a split second, on the lobby camera stepping into the elevator… then gone.
The city blamed faulty wiring, unregistered renovations, or doctored footage. But one detective wasn’t convinced.
Tabitha Darquequist didn’t believe in ghost stories. She believed in patterns, in cause and consequence, in missing persons who deserved to be found. That’s why she was here, at 11:58 p.m., the night of the full moon, staring at the tarnished elevator doors that gleamed like the surface of a pond before rain. The building hummed around her, a low metallic breath, as though it was waiting. She pressed the call button.
The light flickered once… twice…
Then the doors slid open with a sigh that sounded almost human.
Tabitha stepped inside alone. The air smelled faintly of ozone and old metal. She touched the panel and stared at the floor numbers climbing steadily: 1… 2… 3…
The elevator hummed louder. Something shifted in the cables. A chill brushed her neck.
“Going up?” a voice whispered from the speaker mounted in the roof. She recognized the voice, it belonged to Elias Rooke. Missing since October, 1991.
She only knew the voice because of a recording found in a cassette recorder in Lily Crane’s studio.
Tabitha froze.
