Redemption by Wayne Sharrocks (Debut Novel)

Cambridge, United Kingdom, June 24, 2008 --(PR.com)-- Novel: Redemption by Wayne Sharrocks

Book Description:
Indelibly scarred by childhood trauma, abuse and distrust, the main character (Jamie Allen) seeking refuge and solace, loses himself in the capital city. Forced by circumstances to grow up fast, he begins to build a new life for himself, gaining confidence, although still battling his inner demons. He lives a solitary life until fate intervenes and a chance meeting in a local bar suddenly turns his life upside down. He is charmed by her beauty and enthralled by her mystique. She becomes an all consuming obsession.

After their brief but intimate liaison, the woman in question (Nikki Chandler) is followed home and strangled on her doorstep. When her body is discovered it echoes the unsolved murders of three other local women. Is he innocent or does his mind hold a dark and terrible secret?

Will he discover the truth before his tormented mind snaps completely?

From the Author
One for fans of psychological thrillers. Think Val McDermid with a sprinkling of Gothic/Pagan sensibility…

About the Author
Redemption is the debut novel but there are two more books already in the pipeline for future release.

Extract from the debut novel ’Redemption’ (by Wayne Sharrocks)
Category: Writing and Poetry

Chapter 1

I awoke trembling and sweating, the sheets soaking wet beneath me as my mind recalled the visions from the nightmare that had violently ripped me from my sleep. The recollections were sadly all too vivid as I had been fighting them all night, a battle I was destined to lose.

Damn, twenty years on and still the memory of those events would not fade. I felt the maelstrom of reproach and morbid regrets as every night seemed to rekindle old memories that I wished to leave behind and to deny the existance of. Sometimes I found myself closing my eyes and hiding away in the dark. I knew that there was a lot to be ashamed of in my life, but I just did not understand why these dark spectres from my past, kept invading my mind of late, now almost on a nightly basis. I always felt exhausted upon waking due to the upsetting dreams and unwelcome presences disrupting my slumber and I was now sick of continually waking up in cold sweats. I had always hoped that my mind would bury the experience if my will was strong enough, but alas it was not to be, as the scar tissue had peeled away, leaving me raw.

My temple was beginning to throb so I rolled over in bed, opened my eyes and looked across into the semi darkness at the illuminated face of the now buzzing alarm clock, which sat perched precariously upon the bedside table. It was pleading with me to arise. I looked at it for a few seconds, whilst attempting to focus my eyes and clear my head, before turning off its infernal din. I reluctantly slipped out from beneath the covers and headed towards the bathroom. Pulling on the cord to the light, I then recoiled at the vision that confronted me from the bathroom mirror. The fact that I’d had a restless night was etched into every pore and crevice of my milk white skin whilst my eyes were bloodshot and drowned in themselves.

I looked like Bela Lugosi, which was not necessarily so bad in itself, except for the fact that he’d been dead since 1956. I ran the taps, filling the wash basin, and splashed water onto my face in a vain effort to revive myself. My mouth was dry, filled with a sour taste, my teeth stained red…

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