Posted by: Thomas Drinkard | July 23, 2011

Sample from “Devil’s Blade”

The green Honda Civic stayed just under the speed limit on Interstate 65 north, just a few miles west of the Huntsville Airport. If one of the owls hunting above the night fields could have been floating along at sixty-eight miles an hour and looked in through the car’s passenger window, Halyard Moonleigh’s face would have appeared serene. The bird would have been wrong and should have looked  at the bunching of jaw muscles and repeated licking of lips. Observing more closely, it could have seen occasional dribbles of spit forming at the corner of the driver’s mouth, fastidiously licked away. The owl would have been watching another predator, one who was soon to hunt again.
Moonleigh’s mind accelerated like dark rapids of a river hurtling down a giant chasm, pouring thorough emptiness in a hollow roar, pounding down into darkness.
It was getting closer again. Faster. Like the screaming-down humps of a roller coaster spaced at shorter and shorter intervals. Less time to prepare… to make sure everything is exact. Precise. Correct. Everything going more and more wrong. Worse and worse—got to complete a new task.
Like the jackstraws Mummy bought me. So pretty and neat in a sleek round box with shiny metal caps. When I took the top off, there were those precise little colored rods all in rows but not arranged just right and I started playing with them—taking each little straw and arranging it to stand next to the others of its own color—finding just the right space. Then she laughed at me. She took the little tube and shook everything out—all confused on the floor. She said that the game was to pick them up from the pile. It was wrong. I didn’t like the jumble. I didn’t want to play the game that way. She called me “silly boy” for my tears.
The soft October night swallowed the headlights just ahead. The darkness shrouding Moonleigh and closing in behind like great black hands reflecting only the faintest red glow. What had to be done bounced and clattered in the killer’s mind like jackstraws dropped on tile.


  1. Very visual, clearly displaying the emotions and the mind within the scene; and strongly setting the atmosphere of tension and trepidation into the mind of the reader. Darkness is heavy and one worries about the monster under the bed. Effective and affecting. My heart is still trembling. I have to take a deeper breath and still my own imagination! Excellant work, brilliant writing.
    Virginia Lee

  2. Thank you, Virginia. Moonleigh is as cold as a zombie’s hands. The book is in the editing phase and we hope to publish by the end of August.

  3. You immediately pick up on the beginnings of victimization in Moonleigh’s early life, that will create the psychotic serial killer now behind the wheel;. Intermixed with his uncontrollable violent urges, is the ultimate lesson we as parents must learn: torment and psychological punishment will begat evil. Starts as a great read, showings the causation and effect of early humiliation and pain…….and how it so violently will be passed to others…

  4. you got me. Now am compelled to read more. Fascinating view into a killers mind. Thanks

    • We hope to have Devil’s Blade published by the end of Aug. Thanks for your kind words.

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