Just in Timber Lake.

By Darren Hobson

Tracey was just an average young lady working in a diner in another grey American town that seemed to be soulless, nothing ever happened in Timber Lake, there was nothing exciting at all, that is why Tracey took this job to earn some money and get out of that town.

Months had turned to years and now she felt trapped in that diner, she was the joke of the town, how come an English lass ended up in the back of beyond? Most of the customers only dreamed of England and obviously she was the target of many jokes, this made her life even more frustrating and made the lady even more hostile.

That all changed one day when an explosion erupted on 13th avenue knocking her out of her usual daydream, she was faced with life changing choices, facing life or death choices, when she asked for some excitement in this town this was definitely not what she had in mind.

Can Tracey survive all that was happening in what seemed to be a lifeless neighbourly town in America? Will her gritty nature and dry sarcasm be the death of her? Will she be able to overcome all the odds that were stacked high against her? The author invites you to Timber Lake where there are more secrets than dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookRix
• Release date: Jan 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9783743838284

Darren Hobson

Darren Hobson was born in Preston,Lancashire in England and moved to Italy in 1998.Currently living near Rome working for a multinational company. In his spare time he loves traveling to historical cities for inspiration him to write more intense poetry. The poet started submitting his work for inclusion in many anthologies between 1990 and 2009, but with the help of social network sites and self publishing sites he started to publish his own books in 2014.

Book preview

Just a Beginning.

We can’t all be great writers some of us cannot write at all but that does not make them anything different from one who can. There are writers who have stopped writing and there are people who dream of being a bestselling author.

Whoever you are, you are welcome on my train of thought called Just, has the joke worn thin? Is there any humour left on planet Earth? This train has been running off the rails for the last few years , if your imagination is as good as mine then turn it on now, don’t let the grammatical barriers weigh you down, let this story be how you want it, give the main characters different names if that is your thing, oh and by the way welcome to Timber Lake.

The Lake.

In was the deepest darkest most treacherous corner of the known universe

It was where all survivors suffered and all heroes failed

It was a place of limited fantasy in what would have been a fantastic world

It is where our deepest darkest tale will be told

It was always dark for most of the cruel year

The temperature cold and the wind was bitter

No beast could survive in this inverted paradise

There only ever lived the foulest parasite

It was a lake but it was not filled with the sweetest purest water

It was the accumulation of centuries of blood and sweat and slaughter

Nothing survived yet nothing was ever alive

It was a living, dying petri dish of the universes worst bacteria

The air was foul the toxic gases mixed with what seemed to be sulphur

Volcanic mountains in the background continued to spew its lava

Earthquakes shook this place moving huge rocks as if a game of football

The landscape scarred with strange indentions like an Egyptian scroll

In the midst of another deafening earthquake

The foul liquid in the trough of death rose

For centuries this murky mirror did not ripple

What did this tremor do to move this lake so?

If this was music then it must have been a philharmonic orchestra

A tidal wave of doomed notes moved the stagnant water

If something moved in the depths it was too dirty to tell

There was a crackle of static in the air and a god awful smell

Then through the mist and the fury something in the lake appeared

Something ominous and threatening something to fear

It rose from the lake with a supernatural flutter

It carved through the foul liquid like a knife slicing butter

Soon it was nearing the shore a colourless bogeyman on the way out

Changing shape, changing form and changing colour

Black was the night, black was the lake so black become the demon

What was the meaning of this, to arrive and not be welcome?

The static in the air reached a tipping point

A huge violent fork of lightning blasted the lake

The violet light of