D.O.A.

First let me say to all those who have liked or followed my blog lately and all along, ‘Thank you!’. I’m not ignoring your encouragement, but life is hectic sometimes and things get away from me.

You’ve probably read at Per Rose Oddly that we are getting a payment from Amazon. I believe I can take the credit here, After all every one loves a whodunnit, right? Her Poetry is all right, but can hardly compete with me.

I am sending for the proof of Daughter of Anger. so that will be out soon. Book 2 of the DNA Trilogy —

The recipient of a 5 star People’s Choice award. Read the review part of which appears below….

This is a very interesting story for fans of suspense and psychological thrillers, a fascinating story with multilayered characters. The narrative is stellar and it features excellent prose and powerful plot points. Note that it does contain mature content and situations that can be psychologically challenging. The use of the epistolary style reinforces the beauty and depth of the story, allowing the mindset of the protagonist to come out clearly, deepening the elements of the conflict, and enhancing character development. The twists and turns in Jenny’s Story (sic – previous title) are manifold and readers won’t see them coming. Percy Rose has a unique and compelling voice in the genres of crime and psychological novels, and this book is a fascinating read and a real treat.

Just to whet your appetite, let’s read the opening…

My Story

Dear Doctor Alec,  

 I’m innocent. I didn’t do it. I would never murder anyone. You believe me, don’t you?

Sorry, I had a moment’s panic there. I’m getting ahead of myself…

   Let me open with a little quote my mother used…

‘True! – Nervous – very, very dreadfully nervous. I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses – not destroyed not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! And observe how healthily – how calmly I can tell you the whole story.’

It’s a quote from the beginning of Poe’s, ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’, with which I am sure you are familiar, my dear doctor. Pretty apt considering my circumstances, don’t you think? I’ve never actually read any of his work myself. And, it’s a funny thing, Mum never used to read fiction at all until her later years. Most of what she did read was on the dark and weird side.

As you can see, I have decided to take up your suggestion and write down my story. But I shall do it in my own way and in my own time. After all, a girl must have her secrets.

 You pretend this is for my own good, but I know the truth. The truth is that you are curious, with more than an academic, professional curiosity. Yes, much more than that. You want to see into my life, into my mind, how I think, so you can take possession of it, of me. You think that if you can just understand, that if I know you understand, I will be yours.

Ah yes, I can hear the shocked denial echo through that bulbous head of yours, but you know it’s true. That is why you are a psychiatrist. You love that smug sense of superiority. You love watching your patients’ futile struggles as you pin us down with your words, your diagnoses. You love poisoning us with your filthy drugs that subdue us, make us malleable in your hands.

Outrageous, you say. And well you might, because it is outrageous. You are a very naughty man. I’ve heard all about you, and what goes on behind closed doors. Do you think that we don’t speak to each other, we in-mates of the female locked ward at the Mental Health Unit. Such a fancy name for a Lunatic Asylum, a Looney Bin. You may not see our lips move, but we are communicating all right. Have you never heard of telepathy? Yes, telepathy. They have told me everything. They whisper to me constantly, especially at night. Their voices ring in my head, telling in intimate detail, intimate detail of their ‘sessions’ with you.

They tell me everything. They send me pictures – your hand on a breast, sliding sensuously up a bare thigh, your full, wet lips kissing and sucking. I thrash around in my bed. I groan aloud as I bite the pillow to muffle my orgasm.

However, that is not what you want to hear about, is it?

What do you think? Admit it, you want to read more…

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