Noble Death – Novel

It’s done. I have published my first novel, a supernatural mystery Noble Death. It’s available in ebook and paperback formats on Amazon. If you’d like to read more about it, below are the links.

Amazon: here
Unrealcastle.com: here

I must say that it was quite the journey. At every turn, there was something new to tackle, some new decision to make, or something new to learn. And it was a great learning experience! There is a lot of things that go into publishing a book – some are easier to deal with than others (I’m looking at you widows and orphans). It’s a huge package. From the cover, down to the actually interior design, and all the bureaucratic formalities, there is quite a lot of things to do. The good news is that once you go through the learning process you grow accustomed to all the problems and challenges, and the second time around it’s not as challenging, or so I hope. I can confirm that when I publish my second book in the future, but the thought is what kept me going many times.

Good luck to any and all writers out there with their publishing endeavors!
Poem incoming.

Patrick Rain

Master of Peace | Short Story

The lad marched with a steady pace, hemmed in between the escort. The four guards encircled him from every direction, leading him down the hall. They had almost no facial expressions, besides the occasional evil glare. The only human characteristic they retained were the heartbeat and a need for air. The lights were dim, and there were no windows which made the corridor feel humid and hot. The wooden floor creaked every few steps, but the door at the end lingered in the distance like it had no intention of moving closer. Continue reading

Darkness from Light | Poem

Darkness that is created by light,
Shadows of things illuminated by the sun,
Things casting shadows – why?

If light is everything good,
Why does it create the dark –
Shadows that spread wide?

Their hands reaching with desires,
Yet they can’t grasp,
The darkness – defenseless, powerless
Or is it?


Thanks for reading.
Patrick Rain

The Spider in the Hand

The rain is falling,
But the sky is clear,
Her eyes are white,
But she sees you,

She smiled to you,
Her teeth pure white,
Her pale face,
Your heart begins to pace,

The fly is buzzing,
The spider danced in her hand,
Her dress of simple rags,
Her grin – your very end portends,

The shadow grows on the ground,
A pair of horns,
It dances around,
Your fate is set in stone,

To never see her, never more,
You run for home,
She’s already at the door,
She keeps on staring at you,


Thanks for reading,
Patrick Rain

Devoured by the Living Room Pt. 3 | Short Story

An hour or two later, a stream of water flushed down the gent’s head, waking him up. Victor was standing over him with a water bottle.

Victor’s shoe was gone and in its place was a thick bandage. He swallowed painkillers dry. “What did you do with the money?”

“Lots of things.” The gentleman’s voice was feeble. His head jammed pack with all the mishaps of his life.

“Be precise!”

“Take the remote. Turn on the TVs.”
Continue reading

Devoured by the Living Room Pt. 1 | Short Story

“You should have known I would find you eventually.” The man declared with a victorious spark in his voice. After scratching his head, he run his fingers over his buzz cut. His leather jacket was zipped up to his neck. He wasn’t ashamed of his scarred hands. The pair of jeans he was wearing was dirty and cheap.

He strolled around the lavish penthouse, taking in the sights. His face was twisted, lingering somewhere on the boundary of hate and madness. The former was keeping him from completely losing control. Continue reading

The Exchange of Nightmares

The cry was strong, loud. It echoed through the house with unforgiving repetition. Stephen rolled off his bed and onto his feet. His wife, as always, was deaf to the screams. Her sleep was impervious to any and all noise. He gazed at the pillow one last time, but soon he was called again. He felt as if someone plunged a lance through his head every time a scream resounded through the walls. He knew he could practically forget about the midnight snooze. Continue reading