A Touch of Evil, a book of horror and the paranormal

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“A Touch of Evil.”


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He’s hidden his unique skills since he could walk. Now they might be the only thing that can defeat an unspeakable monster.

1981. Nine-year-old Alan Barnes is afraid to touch anything. The merest brush with an object triggers an overwhelming flood of images and feelings he struggles to understand. And his extrasensory gift becomes a nightmare when he accidentally puts his hands on a bully and experiences the horror of raw evil.https://tinyurl.com/4jt678vv


A Touch of Evil: A book of horror and paranomal by [by G.H. White]



Clara might have thought it was a fall breeze spinning over her cheek and forehead had she still been among the living. 

Before he became an evil thing, old man Ginnis MacDougal, traced his lifeless wife’s face with fingers twisted from the kind of work most would never suffer.

He smoothed Clara’s silver hair as she lay in his arms.

Ginnis had done everything he could to soothe her final moments, kissing her cheeks and singing softly to her.

Less than an hour ago, breath still moved in and out of her body raggedly, with unpleasant whistling sounds. 

Clara had borne him three sons; all died early in life for different reasons. 

Each time, their untimely deaths had taken more out of Clara’s body and soul, leaving Ginnis with less faith in a just God.

Ginnis moved the candle farther from her face so that he could imagine her beautiful and young again, as when he had first met her. 

He pulled her shawl tighter around her body to hide the shell the disease had left her as a final grim gift.  

Over two hours had passed since he fed the fire in the hearth, the only heat source in their dachaigh or home.  The simmering embers still gave a bit of warmth, but the air was getting colder, as was his love. 

He moved quickly to refuel the fire with more coal.

Soon, he would have to arrange for her burial. 

He knew he could barter with Scthey from the Dunollie Castle near Oban township, trading his precious coal for the work. 

Scthey would help bury her. Or rather, his strong sons would dig past scrabbled rocks while the father reaped the rewards. 

Oban was within walking distance but over streams and hills following the bay’s outline through the Scottish Highlands.

It was more arduous than if he could go in a straight line or if he owned a horse.

The weather was dour with a light fog, lighter rain, and chilling temperatures.

Therefore, his time with his love was short as her body grew stiffer, losing body heat by the minute as the shadows fled from the sun.

An old neighbor, Agnes, always loved his bonnie lass. He knew she would prepare the body, helping him wash it carefully.

Vicar Carrison would say a few holy words over her as she was lowered into the ground. 

Ginnis knew he would have to lock his facial muscles to stop showing anger toward God while the Vicar said biblical words.

His mental image of Clara’s body laid to rest in the Earth sickened him.  It caused a shudder to pass through his aged frame. 

Clara loved Wych Elm trees, but the ground was rocky where they grew.  Graveside would be difficult in that location.  He vowed he would get her as close to her beloved trees as possible.

He prayed that he, too, would die soon.

Ginnis began to think of ways to make that happen sooner.  Better to die together with his love than to live alone without his bonnie Clara.

After a time, he became bitter and angry.  Ginnis began to curse and plead to the ceiling of their little thatched hut. 

“Why did you take her? First, you took my boys and now her and left me upright.  Why me, Clara lass?” 

He ranted for a while longer. Only a silent, thatched roof could answer him.

“Neither God nor Satan will stop me from being with me, Clara!  I swear this! I’ll find her somewhere, somehow!” he screamed while staring into her serene face.

Shaking one fist at the heavens, he promised, “I’ll give my soul to the Deevill since God has taken all of my loves!”

A strange calm and spirit descended on the house and Ginnis. He felt a wrenching in his body as if some giant clawed hand slid in and took something out.  He felt differently but did not know why.

Suddenly, Clara did not feel so cold to him, while his anger and resentment filled the hole in his heart.

Looking around his hut, he knew he no longer belonged in this world.

Thoughts filled his mind of death and killing and making all pay for the love lost in his life.


~1982 A.D.

          Water fell from the overhanging stalactites causing echoes when they dripped on the rocks below. 

Cold, moist air spilled through the cave, chilling Alan to the bone.  He knew he should have been home an hour ago.

His mother was likely starting to worry and would soon try to squeeze either hand in anguish.

Yet, the Touch was here!

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