A Prison In The Sun by Isobel Blackthorn @rararesources @IBlackthorn #Extract

Book Description:

★★★★★ – Readers’ Favorite Awards

After millennial ghostwriter Trevor Moore rents an old farmhouse in Fuerteventura, he moves in to find his muse.

Instead, he discovers a rucksack filled with cash. Who does it belong to – and should he hand it in… or keep it?

Struggling to make up his mind, Trevor unravels the harrowing true story of a little-known concentration camp that incarcerated gay men in the 1950s and 60s.

You can purchase your copy here.

Extract:

Alarm raced through me. Someone might have recognised the rucksack, pretended not to so as not to attract attention, and then followed me back here.

I went straight to the window and peered out through the net curtains up and down the road. There was no one about, no suspicious car parked anywhere nearby.

But that didn’t mean I was in the clear. Word would go around. I would be the gossip of the day for all those I had approached, an idiot English tourist with someone’s lost rucksack.

My suspicions landed on that couple in the Bohemian restaurant, Paco and Claire; they had been rather too quick to give up their table and leave. They were the most likely suspects simply because they were the ones who took the keenest interest in me. Everyone else had expressed indifference. Not them. They invited me to join them. And I had fallen for their trap and told them exactly where I was staying.

Yet why give me their business card? If they were in any way implicated, wouldn’t they rather hide their own identities, not flaunt them? Maybe Claire thought to lure me to their place in order to do heaven only knew what to me. After all, she did seem rather keen to lure me to Tiscamanita. I pictured the couple, all self-assured and relaxed, and told myself I was being paranoid. That couple had exuded a mix of indifference and mild concern. They lacked the air of the criminal. There was nothing shifty about either of them. In all, they were not the criminal type.

Then again, you never could tell.

Considering all the various implications of my situation, it appeared I was left with no choice. I had to drive to the nearest police station and hand in the rucksack. The longer I hung on to it, the worse for me it would be. I pulled on the gloves, wrapped up the cash and then I began returning the contents to the side pockets.

As I picked up the cash bundle, I hesitated. There was more to this than met the eye, and I was making a string of baseless assumptions. The truth would reveal itself if I waited. If anyone pounded on my door, I could act dumb or hand over the cash. Or I could simply hide the rucksack and pretend I had handed it in to the police and then make a run for it after whoever it was had left.

Whatever I chose to do, one thing was certain, while doubt and suspicions replaced hard truth, I couldn’t spend a single euro of that cash.

Author Bio – Isobel Blackthorn is an award-winning author of unique and engaging fiction. She writes dark psychological thrillers, mysteries, and contemporary and literary fiction. Isobel was shortlisted for the Ada Cambridge Prose Prize 2019 for her biographical short story, ‘Nothing to Declare’. The Legacy of Old Gran Parks is the winner of the Raven Awards 2019. Isobel holds a PhD from the University of Western Sydney, for her research on the works of Theosophist Alice A. Bailey, the ‘Mother of the New Age.’ She is the author of The Unlikely Occultist: a biographical novel of Alice A. Bailey.

Social Media Links –

https://isobelblackthorn.com/

https://www.facebook.com/Lovesick.Isobel.Blackthorn/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5768657.Isobel_Blackthorn

https://www.instagram.com/isobelblackthorn/

Twitter: @IBlackthorn

2 comments

Leave a Reply to Sarah Hardy Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s