“Unforgivable” by Francis H Powell

Posted on Categories books, dark Fiction, horror, Horror writer

I have a new horror book out.

“It’s called “Unforgivable”

Why, you might ask.

It’s because it’s about people who commit unforgivable sins, perhaps the most unforgivable of all…killing a priest. This book goes into some dark places.

The book is divided into four parts, with four different confessions, which have different time settings, as well as locations. The killers are reluctant or unlikely killers in which fate has played them a terrible hand.

The first part is “The Modern Day killer” and is a confession in the first person by Michael Dawkins, an unremarkable man apart from the fact he believes he is a serial priest killer. His story begins by the coast in which he accidentally kills a young Polish prelate. This sets him on the road to killing other priests in different circumstances, in some cases in a horrific manner.

The second confession goes back a few hundred years in time and is set in Italy. This time the priest killer is a woman, Lucrecia Di Benevento, who we discover is in love with a young priest Angelo Amentini, who she first meets in a strict convent, run by nuns. She later meets him as he conducts a wedding. She marries his cousin Cosmo Di Benevento, but somehow the pious Angelo can’t escape her life. While her husband is away, going about his military duties, Lucretia finds herself alone with Angelo in a boat house on an island, as she tries to attend to an injury he has sustained. A remark she says about priests being celibate, sends Angelo into a rage, he loses his self restraint and rapes her. After this terrible act Lucrecia is also full of rage and she murders him, then dispatches his body in the lake.

The third part of the story goes further back in history, to Celtic times, told like the other parts as a confession in the first person. A man who is important to his tribe, a warrior has grown up with a beautiful Druid priestess named Milucrah. During battles and escapades, he doesn’t realize that it is Milucrah, who is shaping his destiny and appearing in different guises, having the ability to transform herself, in different human forms as well animals.

The last part of the book goes into the future in the year 2042, it is a confession of Maz Zing, in her early thirties, a party official, who runs a correctional centre in which there are priests, who have been rounded up and who are brain washed into renouncing their faith. It tells the story about one priest in particular who fights to keep his faith, despite Maz Zing’s efforts to break him.

Find “Unforgiveable” on AMAZON UK: https://amzn.to/3xudMnY AMAZON USA: https://amzn.to/4atfZyw Published by

@PoeGirlPub

If you like dark horror you will love this. #horrorbooks

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Published by Francis H Powell

What better way to put all my angst into short stories. Born in a commuter belt city called Reading and like many a middle or upper class child of such times I was shunted off to an all-male boarding school aged eight, away from my parents for periods of up to twelve weeks at a time. In such an institutions, where I was to rest until my seventeenth year, there was no getting away from the cruel jibes hurled at me from taunting tormentors. My refuge was the arts room, where I started to find some kind of redemption from the stark Dickensian surroundings, whose aim was nurture the army officers, businessmen, and gentry that dominate the class ridden world I was born into. The seeds were sown, I was an outsider, Happier times were to follow, I went to art school, where I attempted to exorcize my time spent at school. At eighteen I turned my back on a parentally enforced weekly visit to church and my head was filled with a range of nonconformist ideas. While at my first Art college through a friend I met a writer called Rupert Thomson, who was at the time in the process of writing his first book “Dreams of leaving”. He was a bit older than myself, me being fresh out of school, but his personality and wit resonated and despite losing contact with him, I always read his latest published books with not only great expectation and unabashed admiration, but also a fascination for a person I had really looked up to, his sentences always tight, shooting arrows that always hit the mark. My yearning to be creative stayed strong and diversified, from my twenties through to my thirties and forties I made electronic music, doing concerts, in front ecstasy infused crowds, at a point I was making videos and short films. When the age of the internet arrived I was really able translate my creative endeavors into something really tangible. To earn a living I have worked as a teacher. I moved to Austria where upon I thought I would try writing. It is sure that my writing at that time was rough and rugged and without direction. I dived into a story about immortality, the story remains vegetating on some dusty floppy disk. Then tried short stories for children with illustrations to go with them. It wasn’t until I was in my mid-forties that my writing took shape. I was at this point living in Paris, France. I spotted an advert for short stories. The magazine happened to be called Rat Mort (dead rat) I sent off a short story, in the hope it would match the seemingly dark world the magazine seemed to embroiled in. I got no answer. Not put off I sent two more stories. Finally I got an answer. It seemed the magazine editor was a busy man, a man prone to travelling. It seemed my first story really hit the right note with him. His name was Alan Clark. He had a flat in the Montmartre area of Paris, where he seemed known to all, especially those who frequented his favorite drinking haunts. He offered me many words of encouragement. I was writing stories that were coming into my head at regular intervals, as if a monster had suddenly awakened. I was writing them on scraps of paper, less I would forget them, while I travelled on the Paris metro, going about my teaching work with staid business types. I had found a format for writing that worked, as well as a hunger to write about the demons of my past that still haunted me. Moving closer to present times, the desire to put together an anthology seemed to resonate in my mind. The Flight of Destiny evolved slowly. Many trans-Atlantic exchanges between myself and two editors seemingly far away. This evolution took my writing to a new level and the stories more depth and resonance.

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