Gothic Suspense Countdown Begins Now

Indie Author Updates on Pre Launch Novella Filled with Obsession Secrets and Dark Psychological Thriller Vibes

Hey you, coffee in hand, let me tell you a secret. Last night I heard my next story breathing. I was brushing my teeth when the mirror fogged up and spelled the word “bound” in reverse letters. My own reflection looked back like it had already read Blood Whispers Silence Never Forgets and was begging me not to release it. That was the first shadow, and it is still pacing behind me as I write this.

I promised you a pre launch countdown, so here is the deal. For seven days I am going to drop tiny clues that feel like Polaroids left on your doorstep. Each one will smell like river water and vanilla smoke. By the time we hit zero, you will be either racing to subscribe or triple checking your locks. Maybe both.

Day Seven. I created a private wall on my Gumroad page. If you join the list, you will see a single picture of a cracked diner window at 3 a.m. A bruised handprint glows on the glass. No caption, no explanation. Just the date September 29 written in frost. That is the day the full novella slips into the wild.

Day Six. I mailed myself a postcard from a town that does not exist. The postmark reads Riverbend, NY. The front shows a sleepy main street, but if you tilt it, the shadows spell “RUN.” My mail carrier asked if I was okay. I told her I was writing a Dark Psychological Thriller and she laughed, said it sounded like her last marriage. I think she meant it.

Day Five. I recorded a twenty second audio clip. You will find it in the welcome email after you subscribe. It is a lullaby my grandmother used to hum, only now it is slowed down and played backward. When reversed, the notes become a confession. I cried the first time I heard it. You might too, or you might dance. Reactions vary.

Day Four. I placed a single salt line across the doormat of my apartment. It snapped at midnight, like someone invisible stepped over it. My neighbor thought I was seasoning the hallway. I told him it was for Gothic Suspense flavor. He nodded like that made perfect sense.

Day Three. I left a Polaroid on my own windshield. The photo shows me sleeping, mouth open, clutching a torn slip that is not mine. I have no memory of the picture being taken. My camera was in the closet. The closet was locked. I checked twice. I am starting to think the story is photographing itself.

Day Two. I wrote a note on the bathroom mirror using red lipstick. I swear I wrote “remember,” but by morning it read “belong.” Either the steam shifted the letters, or the house has opinions. I told the mirror I would fix it in edits. It fogged again and added “too late.” Fair point.

Day One. This post goes live. You are reading it. That means the shadow has reached you. Congratulations, new accomplice.

Now let me share three truths I learned while writing this Pre Launch Novella.

Truth One. Obsession Secrets are easier to hide than to confess. In early drafts I tried to make Lila the clear victim. Every beta reader yawned. The moment I let her hold the camera, the story sharpened. Turns out readers crave messy people, not moral trophies.

Truth Two. Silence has texture. I spent a whole week recording the sound of my room at 2 a.m. No traffic, no birds, just air. When I layered the track under key scenes, reviewers said they felt watched. They were. We all are.

Truth Three. Gothic Suspense works best in tight spaces. My childhood bedroom, my first studio, the back booth of a diner all fit inside two hundred square feet. Small rooms force secrets to rub against each other until they spark.

Here is how you can play along while waiting for launch.

1. Go to my Gumroad page and join the list. You will get each clue delivered like a whisper in your inbox.
2. Share the most unsettling item on your own mirror, desk, or windshield. Tag me if you dare. I will repost the spookiest ones.
3. Ask yourself what memory you would erase if the river promised to keep it. Write it on a scrap, burn it, then watch the smoke. Do not tell me what you saw. Some answers are meant to stay ash.

I almost scrapped the whole project last month. I woke up with bruises shaped like fingerprints on my thigh and no idea how they got there. My rational brain said heating pad. My writer brain said the story was claiming real estate. I kept the bruises. They appear in chapter six, word for word.

People keep asking if this book is autobiographical. I tell them it is safer than the truth. My truth involves a small town, a sheriff who smiled too wide, and a girl who could taste lies on other people’s skin. The novella only borrowed the flavor, but the aftertaste lingers.

If you are still here, the countdown is almost done. Tomorrow night the final shadow arrives. It will knock once, then step inside. Make sure your subscription is active, or the knock might come from your own reflection.

I will leave you with the last line I wrote before sending the manuscript to my editor. “Every vein carries both life and longing, and the river remembers which one you chose.”

See you at midnight. Bring salt.

Ready to own the shadows before they own you? Tap Join the Riverbend List and slide into my inbox crew. You will snag early access to Blood Whispers, secret discounts, surprise freebies, and the occasional midnight whisper only subscribers ever hear. One click, zero spam, all thrill.