While the city of Salem sleeps, a horde of satanic worshipers gather to celebrate the Witches’ Sabbath, and it’s during this festival that Satan plants his seed for upcoming destruction. The Salem Witch trials serve him well as a distraction for his chosen few to flee Salem and carry out his plan for the world. Through an Inheritance Ritual, members of his chosen coven take on the powers of each sacrificed member until only two remain. They are sealed up in a pit and await their master to call them forth to unleash his prince upon the world.
Over 300 years later, Peter Amado, a spiritual man and gifted paranormal investigator, has visions that lure him to do battle with the forces of darkness. The demons he faces put his life and soul in jeopardy, as well as those that assist him.
He meets a beautiful magazine photographer and agrees to help find her missing brother, only to discover the plot that was born out of historic Salem and it sets into motion the end of days. Can he thwart the perils of darkness to delay the Antichrist’s evil reign or will life as we know it cease to exist? The end is only just beginning.
Evil Reign takes you on a journey into the past and sets the groundwork for a diabolical future, as one tormented man comes to grips with his past and uncovers a horrifying revelation.
Targeted Age Group:: 15 -99
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The inspiration for writing Evil Reign came from multiple sources though I would have to place the need to portray good over evil at the top of my list. Tales of witches have evolved into tongue and cheek fairy tales over the years and my desire was to write a book that cast them in a different light. The witches in Evil Reign are more akin to the characters of the recent TV series “Salem” and don’t wear pointed hats and fly on broomsticks.
My inspiration came from listening to my Grandfather as he told us about witches, demons, and exorcisms. He was a Godly man and believed strongly in the manifestations of good and evil.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Characters are born within the imagination. Sometimes they are as strangers that you get to know as the story progresses, and other times they are combinations of people you know or have seen. One of my characters in Evil Reign was created from the impression I got from a counter clerk at a hotel I stayed in, another was fashioned after an actor I had enjoyed watching on the TV and in the movies. Sometimes I hear their accents and envision how they dress and before I know it, I am in their mind and I hear their thoughts.
They had been called out in the middle of the night to an apartment in a small town near Buffalo, New York. Even as he reminisced he could feel the tightness in his chest that he had felt that night, walking that long, graffiti covered hallway to the apartment door. He could taste the soured bile that had come up in his throat when the door opened and he looked into that sweet lady’s desperate eyes. Eyes that begged for help. Much like Maria Rosario’s eyes as she had begged him to help her brother.
“Please, help my Michael!” she cried and led them into a small bedroom. They stood, frozen in the entryway with their eyes turned to the ceiling. The boy, twelve years old, had levitated to the top of the room, his chest nearly crushed between the ceiling and the supernatural force that held him there. His face was turned toward them with his right cheek pressed hard against the ceiling. A white, misty cloud of plaster swirled in the room beneath him, giving the illusion of him floating in a cloud.
The woman grabbed each of them by the cuffs of their suit coats and dragged them further into the room, and begged them to help her son. She screamed for them to get him down as the white plaster dust cascaded down around them and coated their bodies with a blood tinged powder. The labored breathing of the boy filled the room as he sucked in short, wheezy gasps of air. From blue lips came a voice of many demons, and with barely enough breath to speak, he cursed God.
Peter had looked squarely into the eyes of the professor that night, and without a word said to him, “See? See? I told you there were things in the darkness. I told you.” And for that brief moment when their eyes met, he was sure the professor heard every word. He would never forget the look on his face as he watched his world of logic crumble. There was no triumph in unveiling his misconceptions, and Peter would have given most anything for the professor to have been able to explain it all away that night. But it wasn’t to be so. Not then, and not now.
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