PARANORMAL BOOKS FOR THE BRAVE
Hey, Ernie Lindsey here, but I also write paranormal books under the pen name Desmond Doane. If you’re like me, you love all things paranormal; paranormal reality shows, paranormal movies, etc. (My wife thinks I’m weird, but I love being scared. Sound familiar?) I’m fascinated by the mystery and the possibilities.
Does Bigfoot exist?
What about the Loch Ness Monster?
Are ghosts real, and if so, can we communicate with them in the way that shows like Ghost Adventures and Ghost Hunters claim?
Me? What do I believe?
I’d say yes, absolutely, to all of them. I’ve been infatuated with this stuff for as long as I can remember.
And here’s where that led me…
Not just want, do.
In fact, I’m so fascinated by all the ghost hunting on television that I wrote an entire three-title series of supernatural & paranormal novels featuring two ghost hunters who had fallen from grace after their mega-monster hit show was yanked from prime time.
Here’s the whole description and a sample from the first chapter of the first book in the Graveyard: Classified series, The Dark Man.
(Note: With apologies to Stephen King, I had no recollection of his illustrated poem with the same title, nor did I remember that he referred to Randall Flagg as the Dark Man. Purely coincidence, Mr. King. You’re my hero.)
THE DARK MAN, Book 1
Ford Atticus Ford, former host of the hit ghost-hunting reality show Graveyard: Classified, has more than a few regrets—especially after young Chelsea Hopper was attacked by a demon.
Assisting police departments by conducting paranormal investigations and uncovering buried clues now provides Ford with an ounce of redemption, but it will never be enough.
What occurred on that long-ago Halloween night was unforgivable, and Ford, chasing ratings and stardom, let it happen. With Graveyard cancelled and his reputation destroyed, Ford sets out to avenge little Chelsea, and to save his own soul—if he can.
THE DARK MAN – SAMPLE – CHAPTER 1
A damp breeze pushes the rotting, translucent curtains to the side. A hundred years ago, they might have had some color. Someone’s great-great-grandmother had undoubtedly hand-sewn them with pride and a song on her lips, humming as she swayed gently back and forth in her rocking chair.
Now, however, the curtains are just as faded and gray as everything else in this decrepit, abandoned farmhouse. Out here on the open land, miles away from the lights and sounds of Portland, Oregon, where it’s buried under an overcast sky and the threat of rain, the night is as black as the bottom of a well.
It’s hard to describe, but I feel as if my skin is starting to vibrate. That’s a good sign. It means there’s energy here. A presence. With the coming storm—lightning flashes in the distance, the rarest of occasions here—it’ll help that much more. Those without a corporeal representation feed off nature’s power; they gain strength from it, energy to communicate, and we may actually get some legitimate clues this evening. I felt that I was close the last time I was here, but it didn’t happen. I went home with nothing but hours of blank tape and empty photographs, which was strange, since I was specifically asked to come here—you know, by a dead guy.
I have a new partner with me tonight. His name is Ulysses, officially, but I’ve decided on Ulie for short. He doesn’t care what I call him. To Ulie, I’m the one and only Foodbringer. I’m the Light of His Life. I’m the One with the Stick. I am the Thrower of All Things.
I am Pillow. I am Chew Toy. I am He Who Takes Me for a Run Sometimes.
We’ve been together for a month, but this is the first time he’s been on an investigation with me. Animals are sensitive to other realms, and I’m sure he’ll be an excellent addition to my one-man team now that we’ve had an opportunity to connect on the appropriate levels. I went to the pound looking for company. I walked out of there with a friend.
My nose picks up on the fat scent of distant rain when another breeze rushes through the open window. Ulie lifts his head and sniffs the wind, too. Where I only smell impending precipitation, Ulie takes in the full breadth of life outside these walls. He cocks his head to the side, and I wonder what’s pinging on his canine radar.
Ulie decides it’s not worth more than a second of consideration. He looks up at me with an excited doggie grin, tongue wagging, almost like he’s asking, “What’s next, Ford? You brought me out here. Now what?”
I tell him, “Okay, Ulie, you’re probably wondering why I brought you here, right?”
He closes his mouth. His ears perk up. He listens. He’s probably waiting for a command, which will result in treats, but I like to pretend he’s hanging on every word.
“Since it’s your first day on the job, let me give you the quick and dirty. You know who sees things that other people don’t? Ghosts.”
We’re standing in the second-floor hallway of this 150-year-old farmhouse, and at the mention of the word “ghosts,” Ulie flicks his attention away from me, down to the distant end where the master bedroom sits empty and, I’ll admit, menacing.
Could be nothing. Could be a mouse.
I don’t spook easily. You can’t in this line of work. And yet, there’s something about this place—something about the energy I feel—that sets me on edge more than the other times I’ve been here. Perhaps I should say that it doesn’t feel friendly.
It never has been, honestly. Tonight, though, it feels like this could be big.
My fingers go up to the crucifix necklace I wear on nights like this. I touch it, just to make sure it’s there. I’m not religiously religious, but I’m happy to call Jesus my copilot when it feels necessary.
I say to Ulie, “We’re not actually on a case tonight, my friend. This is different, okay? We’re looking for . . . well, we’re looking for our own answers. If this works out, maybe you can start coming along with me on jobs, yeah? Local ones, at least.”
Ulie grumble-whines and shakes his head, paws at his snout.
“That’s easy,” I say, answering an unasked question. “If you want to solve a mystery with no living witnesses, my dear flop-eared pal, then you have to talk to the dead ones.”
(If you don’t have a Kindle, paperbacks are available.)
As of January 2017, The Dark Man has 361 reviews on Amazon with a 4.4 out of 5 average.
Here’s a sample of some of the reviews:
“I was in high school when I first discovered Dean Koontz. The covers of his books first caught my attention with something not quite right. I developed a love for Koontz books, a passion that culminated in his Odd Thomas books from the past few years. I went on Koontz binges, reading three or four books at a time, letting the supernatural elements, the humor, and the everyman perspective wash over me. If Desmond Doane keeps writing like this, I can say with certainty he will be the next Dean Koontz.” – W. Swardstrom, Amazon Reviewer
“The suspense and terror had me on the edge of my seat. I am already anticipating the next book in this series. Fans of Stephen King and Dean Koontz will love this.” – Amazon Reviewer Angie Bartley
“…he nails the creep-factor nicely and had me completely sold on the book’s premise and invested in the outcome. There’s a scene early on when Ford is investigating a haunted house and [Lindsey] gives readers their first taste of the otherworldly that raised the hair on the back of my neck and got me grinning.” – Amazon Reviewer Michael Hicks
Not too shabby, huh? But get this…
The reviews are even better and higher rated for the next two titles in this series of supernatural novels.
I’ll only include the covers here because the series needs to be read in order, and I don’t want to spoil anything for you with their descriptions!
GRAVEYARD CLASSIFIED SERIES: BOOK 2
THE WHITE NIGHT
4.6 out of 5 Stars on Amazon
GRAVEYARD CLASSIFIED SERIES: BOOK 3
THE BELLY OF THE BEAST
4.8 out of 5 Stars on Amazon
I wrote these novels with fellow fans of the paranormal in mind, but if you don’t want to read mine…
WHICH PARANORMAL BOOKS DO I RECOMMEND?
Paranormal fiction, supernatural fiction, whatever you want to call it, I’ve been fascinated by the work of Dean Koontz (as you can see from the comparisons in the review samples above) for nearly thirty years.
I would recommend his earlier paranormal books for the thrills and chills, especially Whispers, which scared the crap out of me when I read it in high school. (The movie, not so much, sadly.)
Just about anything by Stephen King, of course. And the scariest book of all time, The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty.
I could go on an on, for hours, about the paranormal world. If you’ve got any cool, spooky tales about your own experiences, use the Contact form and tell me your story!