Decay
Kindle / Paperback / Hardback / Audiobook
In the vast forests of Jämtland, a broken family seeks one last chance at peace. Johan hopes wilderness might stitch together what separation tore apart. Freya wants only to protect their daughter, Lena, from disappointment. But beneath the moss lies a secret long abandoned: an old relic humming steadily, poisoning the soil, the water, and the blood of anyone who lingers too close.
As their bodies falter and reality frays, the line between folklore and nightmare dissolves. They came to escape the past. The forest will not let them leave the future.
Decay will be released 10th October
Text Sample
Chapter 1: Split
The cobblestones still held last night’s rain in small puddles. Water pooled between the stones slowly evaporating, lifting the scent of birch sap into the streets. A battered Volvo sat parked along the school fence, the colour dulled by years of snow slush and treks in dirt. The left wing mirror was cracked. Rust crept along the bottom edge of the door, flaking in slow curls peeling at the paintwork.
Johan leaned against the car, hands buried in his jacket pockets. His head tilted slightly forward like he was listening for something. His weight shifted now and then between feet, the right leg favoured. A pale sun sat behind the clouds, faint enough that shadows had forgotten where to fall.
He looked older than his twenty-eight years. Not dramatically. Just worn in the way people get when they stop worrying about partying with friends and have attempted to settle down. His stubble had grown soft along his jawline, patchy around the faint scar near his chin. The grey hoodie he wore had thinned at the elbows and stretched at the wrists. His fingers, marked with old work and small calluses, fidgeted with the zip of his coat. The way a child might impatiently fidget without realising.
The wind picked at him. Not harsh, but persistent. It tugged at the hem of his jeans, lifting dry grit from the road. Somewhere nearby, a bus exhaled around a corner. The town was quiet. Still too early in the year for crowds, too cool for idling. Early summer in Östersund arrived with hesitation. Lake Storsjön glimmered in the distance, wide and unmoved, likely still cold to the touch. The snow had gone, but winter hadn’t quite loosened its grip.
Beneath balconies and along the shaded sides of old buildings, a few people moved homeward, their coats still zipped. Pale apartments stood clean but tired. Windows stayed shut. Nothing drifted from them. No music. Few voices. The square was empty. Festivals hadn’t begun. No tourists had yet come north from the coast to ski. Even for a city tucked in the quiet center of Sweden, it felt too still. The school term hadn’t ended. Children weren’t yet spilling into the streets. Johan checked the school doors again. His gaze flicked there every few seconds, always in the same rhythm. Then came the sudden thrum of voices.
Lena burst out first like a firework.
She ran as fast as she could. All elbows and knees sparked with energy not yet depleted after a day at school. Her backpack bounced behind her, a bright purple blur with one fraying strap knotted loosely with blue yarn. Stickers peeled at the corners of her backpack: space cats, sword princesses, a mushroom that had once glittered silver but now just caught the light in patches. The zip hung half open, a paper crown poking from the top like a flag in retreat.
She wore a zip-up jacket with faded unicorns across the back, sleeves too long and cuffs damp. Underneath, a cotton T-shirt, untucked from habit rather than carelessness. Her leggings were soft and worn thin at the knees, stretched slightly at the ankles. Through the fabric, two bright plasters were visible from her recent trip to the floor one lunch break last week. One orange with stars, the other shaped like a strawberry. They hugged her legs like trophies from an unknown campaign.
