Release date: May 18, 2019
Subgenre: Occult horror
About Idimmu: An Ancient Evil:
Since ancient Sumer it has been imprisoned. It was never meant to escape.
Former Vatican archivist Gwendolyn Myers knew of the legend, but she never expected to discover the truth. The elderly scholar's curiosity proved fateful.
Gwendolyn’s niece, Anjanette, works as a nurse in Houston where she begins to notice similarities in horrifically injured ER arrivals. After Anjanette and her boyfriend move into her aunt’s house, the horrors follow them home and begin spreading throughout the neighborhood and beyond.
There is something of indescribable evil starving for blood and terror. A seemingly unstoppable evil has been unleashed that a small group, led by Anjanette, must desperately try to confront.
Former Vatican archivist Gwendolyn Myers knew of the legend, but she never expected to discover the truth. The elderly scholar's curiosity proved fateful.
Gwendolyn’s niece, Anjanette, works as a nurse in Houston where she begins to notice similarities in horrifically injured ER arrivals. After Anjanette and her boyfriend move into her aunt’s house, the horrors follow them home and begin spreading throughout the neighborhood and beyond.
There is something of indescribable evil starving for blood and terror. A seemingly unstoppable evil has been unleashed that a small group, led by Anjanette, must desperately try to confront.
Excerpt:
There was now a real purpose in the undulating mass. It had
detached itself from the corner and was rising and bubbling into
being. With a force that felt like a gelid wind in her face,
the tumorous blob exuded malevolence. It was the stench of a
thousand rotting corpses basted with feces and marinated in old
clotted blood. It was all she expected. Gulping for
air, she finally managed to pull the drawer half out as it
stuck. Her heart was racing in her chest and her terror had
turned to utter black panic as she glimpsed the thing approaching
her. It did not float so much as it slithered like some giant
viscous slug. Then, she heard it speak and it spoke her
name. Knowing she was too late, realizing that had she only
finished her journal fifteen minutes earlier, she would have made
it. Nonetheless, she thrust her hand into the half open
drawer, peeling a layer of skin back on her wrist and groped for
the medicine bottle that lay inside. She retrieved it and was
shaking so badly she fumbled the bottle and dropped it on the desk,
pills scattering and dropping to the floor.
A black nodule rose from the top of the gelatinous entity and
whispered thick and wet, Eli Baltuti Ima''Idu Mitut. Even in her fear, she understood it. “The dead shall
surpass the living.”
She was crying, staring down at the missed opportunity to cheat it,
to deny it what it desired. It towered over her and she
gagged from the stench. It was too much, and she vomited
across the desk, coating the pills and sending smoky floaters
across her corneas. The corruptive demon folded in and upon
itself, reforming and growing. Black gases, like methane
bubbling from a stagnate lake, shot out here and there and the
sooty appendages solidified and coalesced around the thing.
She pushed the rolling chair back to gain a few more feet of life
and, with her last defiant breath, screamed at the abhorrence,
“NO. YOU CAN’T HAVE ME!” Her stomach suddenly cramped
in fiery pain and with wide eyes she looked down and saw a
jet-black tentacle imbedded in her gut, deep red blood effervescing
out around the rim. The smell deepened as she realized that
her bowels had emptied. She grabbed the appendage and
grimaced in pain as she tried to pull it loose. A tremendous
stab of agony shot up her back and she knew that it had completely
penetrated her and had latched on to her spine. She tasted
blood. Oblivion crept ever closer. Each breath became a
tortured effort and each exhale was wet, red spittle flying into
the air. Her chair rolled slowly toward the unholy creature
as the tendril shortened and reabsorbed into the host.
Gwendolyn’s arms dropped to the sides of the creeping chair as she
accepted her fate. The glutinous mass produced more obsidian
branches that wrapped around her shoulders, legs and head.
She had one last thought and she uttered one final plea to a god
she had forgotten. “Forgive me.” Then she was gone and
the corner, and the darkness within, reclaimed the horrid thing.
Amazon
About David Mayo:
David Mayo was born in February of 1950 in Houston, Texas. His
earliest career was what was known as Data Processing back then.
Accounting machines, collators, teletypes. etc. Within 20 years he
was supporting IT customers and began a new career of Technical
Writing. That led to a long stint in the medical industry.
Mr. Mayo has always been a long-hair and once posed for a painting of Jesus Christ for a Methodist Church, an unusual experience. He has published poetry and dabbled in screenplays. He has authored a lot of manuals, handbooks and even speeches.
He is a voracious reader and enjoys playing acoustic guitar. For a time in the 1990s, he was the editor of a globally well-received UFO monthly newsletter. He lives in Eastern Texas with his wife and for a time, two beautiful loving dogs. They crossed the rainbow bridge and he misses them deeply.
All of Mr. Mayo's book covers are designed by Prometheus Productions.
Mr. Mayo has always been a long-hair and once posed for a painting of Jesus Christ for a Methodist Church, an unusual experience. He has published poetry and dabbled in screenplays. He has authored a lot of manuals, handbooks and even speeches.
He is a voracious reader and enjoys playing acoustic guitar. For a time in the 1990s, he was the editor of a globally well-received UFO monthly newsletter. He lives in Eastern Texas with his wife and for a time, two beautiful loving dogs. They crossed the rainbow bridge and he misses them deeply.
All of Mr. Mayo's book covers are designed by Prometheus Productions.
