We are currently preparing to launch our next (and really first) project. The name is still encrypted, but if you are interested in being a test reader / test user then drop us a line, here, or at www.moorsgatemedia.blogspot.com. let us know an electronic address that we and contact you at. For a taste of the project: see below.
The door shrieked in protest. Rust flecked hinges popped and rang as they separated from the wood beneath. The sound reverberated around the room and dove into Maura’s ears.
“The widow!” Paul jabbed his finger to point across the gulf between them.
She turned and looked out the casement window. The checkerboard of glass framed the harvest moon with a jeweler's skill.
Paul grabbed the faded dresser and began wrestling it away from the wall. The whitewashed mass refused to budge until he wedged his knees behind it and strained.
A piercing crack from the door drove electric convulsions down Maura's spine. The wood frame splintered, slivers of carved driftwood coughed onto the floor boards.
Paul leaned into the dresser and pushed; his bare feet slipped, scraped and grasped for traction. Slowly, too slowly, the antique began to move. Progress was marked in thin trails of blood upon the wide-plank floor.
Comments