I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the THE NIGHTMARE MACHINE by Tim White Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
Author: Tim White
Pub. Date: February 20, 2024
Publisher: Ocean Scribe Publishing
Formats: Paperback, eBook, Audiobook
Pages: 600
Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/THE-NIGHTMARE-MACHINE
Purchase the book directly from Tim! There’s also a prequel novella!
What
is The Nightmare Machine? Think Silent Hill meets Inception and Monster
Hunter International.
Five millennia of suffering. A pilgrimage steeped in terror. Will her quest
bring redemption or only a false promise of salvation?
Bangor,
Maine. Sara Holcomb knows what she must do. Raised within a secret order
devoted to protecting humanity from a malevolent god, the dutiful
seventeen-year-old prepares for a terrifying expedition through a world of
nightmares. So when the time comes, she convinces three close friends to escort
her on a perilous journey to an otherworldly cathedral of bone and blood.
Transported to a land of chaos and horror while they sleep, Sara wrestles with guilt at bringing people she holds dear to this hell from which they may not escape. And as vicious traps and pitiless creatures tear at their bodies and minds, the honor-bound young woman fears they won’t be strong enough to complete the mission that will preserve mankind.
EXCERPT
Dreams
December 17, 2021
Bangor, Maine
It was a typical teenage girl’s bedroom, if neater than most. Strips of LED lights, switched off for the evening, ran along the edges of the ceiling. The window in the eastern wall had a broad sill, upon which rested several well-tended potted plants, carefully arranged to soak up the morning sun. The posters of actors and bands were perfectly vertical and precisely aligned next to one another.
Similarly, the books and papers on the desk were stacked neatly and arranged at ninety-degree angles. The white carpet was free of clothes and freshly vacuumed. The walls were a soft pink—a color the paint store called Rose Dust.
In one corner, a pair of tangled headphones lay on top of a hastily discarded backpack, the only sign of mild untidiness. On the wall above the backpack, three shelves displayed various awards for academic achievement and community service. The trophies were meticulously polished, the wooden plaques free of dust.
The alarm clock on the nightstand read 10:00 p.m. The girl asleep in the bed looked like the proper owner of the bedroom. Like the room, she was all right angles, one knee drawn up, the other leg straight, one arm down at her side, the other tucked under the pillow. Her pajama top was white, the bottoms light pink, matching the walls and carpet. Her breathing was slow, even, and perfectly consistent. Like the backpack tossed in the corner, her red hair splayed wildly over the pillow was the only thing that suggested disorder.
An hour passed. She remained motionless, perfectly at peace.
Down the hall, her father slept less peacefully. His room was more sparsely decorated but equally tidy. A few framed vinyl records adorned one wall; an autographed bass guitar hung on another.
The bed was big enough for two, but he slept alone. A single framed photo on the nightstand showed a smiling couple on a beach—him and a woman who hadn’t slept in his bed for twelve years.
A beautifully hand-painted urn on a high shelf held her ashes.
The man often had vivid dreams. Some nights, he dreamed of his wife, waking with moisture in his eyes and a smile on his face. Other nights, his dreams were plagued by dark forms and whispered promises of perdition.
Tonight, he had no dreams. Even so, he slept fitfully. He always did. Another hour passed.
His eyes flew open at the sound of an ear-splitting scream from down the hallway. “Sara!” he shouted, as if by reflex, before he’d even come fully awake. His feet hit the floor as he yanked open the nightstand drawer and closed his fingers around the loaded pistol. He was at his bedroom door in a flash. It opened outward, and even though it was unlocked, he shouldered it open forcefully, causing the knob on the opposite side to punch a large hole in the drywall. His daughter needed him.
At a running pace, her bedroom door was only six steps away. Many thoughts raced through his mind in that brief distance.
At first, he wondered if she had merely had a bad dream, the same sort of bad dream that every teenager has once in a while. He dismissed that notion immediately. Her scream carried discordant notes of heart-wrenching terror far beyond anything that a normal nightmare caused.
Then he thought—hoped—that she’d screamed because someone had broken into the house. That seemed a horrible thing for a father to hope for, that an intruder was in his daughter’s bedroom. But he was armed, he was reasonably strong, and he’d been taking Krav Maga classes twice a week for years; so had Sara. They could defend themselves against an intruder.
Deep in his heart, he knew there was no intruder. The gun in his hand would be useless against this threat. In seventeen years, he’d never heard Sara scream that way before.
Only one thing could make her scream like that.
He reached her bedroom door and flung it open. His eyes weren’t fully adjusted to the darkness, but he could see her sitting up in bed, clutching the sides of her head as though she were suffering the worst headache imaginable. She screamed again, so loudly that he half-expected the window to shatter. He dropped the gun on the floor and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her.
“Sara! It’s okay, I’m here!”
She screamed again. Blood dripped from her nose onto her white shirt. Her eyes were screwed shut so tightly that, in the darkness, it looked like she had no eyes at all. Jesus, she’s still asleep, he thought. He shook her again, more violently, shouting her name over and over. He fumbled around on her nightstand until he found the small lamp, switching it on so he could see better.
She was turning blue. She just kept screaming, hunched over, hands clapped over her ears. He tried to move her hands so she could hear him, but she resisted with strength that seemed impossible for her petite frame. His mind raced, trying to think of how he could snap her out of it.
An idea came to him. He swept her up in his arms and jogged back down the hall, toward the bathroom. With an elbow, he clicked on the light, then gently laid her in the bathtub, careful not to bang her head on the porcelain. Hesitating only for a moment, he turned on the cold tap full blast.
Frigid water erupted from the shower head, drenching her instantly. The water was barely above freezing, liquid only because the pipes were wrapped. It had the desired effect. Sara’s eyes shot open, and she gasped in a breath, choking off another scream. She spluttered and began to thrash. She probably thought she was drowning.
Before she could hurt herself, he dragged her out of the tub and sat next to her on the floor. She blinked once, twice, three times, slowly regaining her senses. Her green eyes focused on him, and finally, she saw him.
“Dad?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I’m here, baby,” he said, moving her wet hair out of her face.
She collapsed against him, sobbing. He held her and said nothing, letting her come out of it slowly. He didn’t ask what had done this to her. He knew. An icy chill ran up his spine.
She said nothing either, as though it wouldn’t be true as long as neither of them spoke it aloud.
Gradually, her sobs tapered off, and she began to shiver violently against him. He realized that she was probably freezing in her soaked pajamas. “Go get changed,” he said softly, “before you turn into an ice cube.”
She looked up at him. He could see a question in her eyes that she seemed embarrassed to ask.
“I’ll wait right outside your door,” he said.
That seemed to give her the strength she needed to stand up. He followed her back to her room, retrieved the gun from the floor, and quietly shut the door behind him as he left.
He stood in silence in the dark hallway, his eyes unfocused. He’d known this day was coming, but now that it was here, it seemed unreal.
He wept, silently, just for a minute. It would be the last time he’d allow himself to cry.
His daughter was strong, but she would need his strength as well. He prayed that it would be enough.
About Tim White:
Tim White is
an author, editor, writing coach, and game designer in Phoenix, Arizona. He
started writing fiction in 1996 and nonfiction in 2006. As of 2023, he has
published more than 1,000 nonfiction articles and three nonfiction books. He
has written three novels, four novellas, dozens of tabletop role-playing game
(TTRPG) scripts, and hundreds of short stories.
Tim is a
zealous crusader for the power of storytelling to promote human flourishing. He
writes fiction in several genres, particularly one that he calls “Romantic
horror” (as in “Romantic-era novelists” such as Victor Hugo and Alexandre
Dumas, not as in “romance novel”). This little-known genre is unique in that it
uses fear as a backdrop against which heroism is sharply contrasted,
dramatized, and elevated.
Tim’s
storytelling philosophy is summed up eloquently by one of his favorite authors:
“I often
hear people say that they read to escape reality, but I believe that what
they’re really doing is reading to find reason for hope, to find strength.
While a bad book leaves readers with a sense of hopelessness and despair, a
good novel, through stories of values realized, of wrongs righted, can bring to
readers a connection to the wonder of life. A good novel shows how life can and
ought to be lived. It not only entertains but energizes and uplifts readers.” ―
Terry Goodkind
Before
transitioning to writing full time, Tim was an Army combat medic, and later, a
nurse paramedic specializing in trauma and surgery. He is a lifelong shooter
and has ranked moderately well in state-level 3-gun competitions. He loves
board games, video games, and role-playing games; cats; Pembroke Corgis; good
coffee; good books; and escape rooms. He owns an escape room venue in Arizona,
where he designs and builds every prop and puzzle in-house.
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Giveaway Details: (there are 2
giveaways)
Bargain Booksy Giveaway:
One winner will be chosen at random on 4/15/2024 and notified via email
that they have won the 20 eBooks and a Kindle.
Giveaway Link: https://www.bargainbooksy.com/thriller-giveaway-021524/
Rockstar Book Tours Giveaway:
1 winner
will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card courtesy of Rockstar Book Tours,
International.
Ends March 5th, midnight EST.
a Rafflecopter giveawayTour Schedule:
Week One:
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2/19/2024 |
IG Post |
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2/19/2024 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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2/20/2024 |
IG Post |
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2/20/2024 |
Excerpt |
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2/21/2024 |
IG Post |
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2/21/2024 |
Excerpt |
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2/22/2024 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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2/22/2024 |
IG Review |
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2/23/2024 |
Review/IG Post |
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2/23/2024 |
IG Review |
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2/26/2024 |
IG Review |
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2/26/2024 |
IG Review |
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2/27/2024 |
IG Review/TikTok Post |
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2/27/2024 |
Review/IG Post |
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2/28/2024 |
Review |
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2/28/2024 |
Review |
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2/29/2024 |
Review/IG Post |
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2/29/2024 |
Review/IG Post |
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3/1/2024 |
Review/IG Post |
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3/1/2024 |
Review/IG Post |
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