Tom Kremer

1930 – 2017

Opening the Bolted Door

Have you ever experienced terror? Terror not when fleeing a mob, not when facing a gun pointed at your head, not when your life is in imminent danger from a vicious, obvious cause.

Excerpt

A succession of terrifying and phantasmagorical stories, of extreme diversity, yet woven together,  depicts the madness of a single, extraordinary mind.

 

Of varying length, from one or two pages to substantial chapters, they intertwine to provide the strangest, and most riveting, picture of a journey from apparent insanity to irrational redemption. Writing, living or reading it, facilitates the escape from the acutest terror to a life of sanguine confrontation with inevitable mortality.

“Most readers of the text have come to the realisation that it is advisable to get down to it before the fall of the night.”

“This is a book written over a period of three years during which I was subject to violent attacks of raw, unpredictable and irrational fear. There was no door that could be opened without a sense of panic at what might lie on the other side. There was no night in which I enjoyed uninterrupted sleep. My heartbeat and breathing would without warning become irregular and wild. And yet some innate instinct in me resisted resorting to medication, or asking for medical help.”

VISITORS AT NIGHT

Thereupon I am cast into darkness.

The darkness of children, where all things are hidden and waiting to happen so ferociously fast that there is no interval between sound and touch.

Deprived of night vision I am prey to creatures who move, hunt and feed in the dark. Blind and helpless, will I be eaten alive? Eaten alive, as is rumoured, by a species of silent rodents who glide swiftly in the substance of the night, their horrendous presence first announced by the tearing of flesh.

A faint rustle. Scratching. No, more like rubbing. Ever so soft. Soft as the breathing of an infant about to fall asleep. A sound too doubtful to last. A glimmer. A trace of movement.  Whites. The whites of eyes? or teeth? Rows of sharp greedy, little teeth longing to sink themselves into milk-fed tender flesh laid out on a cot of nightmares for a silent, midnight feast.

A book that is, and
is not, a novel

Available as an e-book for Kindles, tablets, phones and as a downloadable PDF

 

If you would like to read more from Opening the Bolted Door, you can download it here.

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