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Back Nana Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title page
  2. Prologue
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. Part Two
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. Part Three
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. Get on the Mailing List!
  69. Also by Brandon Massey
  70. About Brandon Massey

She doubled back and switched off the light in the bedroom. As she approached the staircase again, she felt something slip around her ankles. She looked down and saw a slender, pinkish appendage coiling like a rope around her leather boots.

A scream escaped her.

It was a fleshy thing, alive, and the word snake came to her panicked mind, but somehow she knew it was not really a snake. It was something else strange and terrifying.

The thing drew taut around her boots, lifting her off her feet. She lost her balance and plunged toward the staircase. The gun spun out of her grasp. Arms flailing, she tried to break her fall, but her head slammed against the hard edge of a step. Red-hot pain seared through her, trailed by an inky blackness that leaked into the edges of her vision.

Please, Lord, not yet, not now . . . I’ve got so much work left to do . . .

She was dimly aware that the tentacle still held her, looped around her boots. Floorboards shifted above her. She felt a presence near, and had the lurid vision of a monster out of a nightmare, something inhuman that possessed a giant tongue that it was using to suspend her at the top of the stairs.

Blood trickled into her eyes and mouth. Using her weakened arms, she attempted to push against the steps and lift herself up. She managed to raise her body about an inch. Trembling, she twisted her head around, blades of pain chopping down her spine.

She saw who was standing at the top of the stairs.

Her blood-stained lips formed the word: “You . . .”

And then she was released and was falling down the long staircase, tumbling into perfect darkness.

Part One

1

Troy was the first to meet the woman.

On Saturday, November 1st, the funeral service for Lily Worthy commenced at eleven o’clock in the morning, at Lily’s longtime church home, Riverside United Methodist Church, in East Point, Georgia. Hundreds of people attended the ceremony. Over the years, Lily had touched the lives of many, and her untimely death left an indelible scar on the hearts of those who had loved her so much.

She fell down the stairs in her own damned house, Troy thought. He sat in the front pew of the sanctuary with his family, as the twelve-member choir launched into a soaring rendition of Amazing Grace. Lily had been seventy-five, but in excellent health. Her tragic accident was so unexpected that it was difficult to believe, like something out of a sad dream from which you soon hoped to awaken.

He knew his wife, Monica, was tortured by the same thoughts.

Troy had kept his right arm wrapped around Monica for most of the service. Monica trembled, sobs shaking her slim frame. He stroked her dark, curly hair, but said little. Nothing he could say would make Monica feel any better just then; holding her was enough.