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New Release | The Boy in the Bubble by Stephen B. King #thriller #horror #fridaythe13th #99cents



Title: The Boy in the Bubble

Author: Stephen B King

Genre: Thriller/Horror


Book Blurb:


Timothy Bergendorf suffers from so many potentially fatal allergies, he’s forced to live in a self-contained bubble. Protected from everything and loved by his parents, Timothy endures a lonely childhood. Yet, as nature compensates, he develops extraordinary telekinetic and psychic powers. As he reaches puberty, his secret talents increase in power so he can travel the world in his mind. Using his power while juggling numerous cars in the air, Timothy suffers a ruptured hernia and is rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. But the operation goes wrong, Tim awakens in agony, and the arrogant, incompetent surgeon can't help. Enraged, Timothy unleashes the full power of his ability—and no one in his path is safe.


Excerpt:


Joseph looked up and, for once, stopped cleaning his glasses. "What do you mean, Timothy? You can see it in my thoughts?" For the first time, He realized that while the boy was only twelve, his demeanor and way of speaking made him seem much older and wiser.


Timothy grinned. "Well, let me put it this way, Doctor. You suggested I should develop my mind. I've done nothing but do that for years. Seeing your thoughts is easy, I know when people are being truthful and when they are lying. If they lie, I can see why. Whether they are being mean or trying to save my feelings."


Doctor Ashworth snorted with derision. "Timothy, I'm way too old to have you pull my leg. No one can read minds outside of a horror movie."


"Really? Let me try to show you're wrong. Think of a color...Blue, he added quickly."


Joseph spluttered. "A lucky guess, a party trick. A good one, but a party trick. Maybe most people think of blue when you put them on the spot. Try it on your parents, Timothy; entertain them; I'm sure they will enjoy it."


"But it was blue, wasn't it? Okay, think of another...Red. Come on, Doctor, test me; think of an obscure color this time...Cerise. Another, come on, make it hard for me...Purple. Okay, I can see you're not convinced. Let's try something harder. Think of an object, anything at all, and make it with three different colors." Timothy shook his head sadly. "I thought, being a doctor and possessing a brilliant mind, you could come up with something more complicated than that. You're thinking of a ball with yellow, orange, and blue stripes. Pretty gaudy-looking ball if you ask me, Doctor Ashworth."


Joseph stared back as if he were looking at a monster. Everything he'd predicted had been true, including the ball he had given his grandson last Christmas, and he had to admit, it did have highly gaudy stripes. "But you simply can't read minds, Timothy; no one can do that."


The boy grinned again. "Oh, when I want to, I can do much more than read people's minds while they are thinking of simple objects and colors. Perhaps Mother Nature has compensated me for a life in a bubble by giving me something extra; what do you think? Try me; think of something complex, a song, instrument, or anything; the more complicated, the better. Now you're getting the hang of it." He nodded in appreciation. "You play the guitar, and you're thinking of your favorite one at home, which you keep in a black case with blue velvet lining. A cherry red and yellow Sunburst Gibson Les Paul made in nineteen seventy-two A beautiful guitar, Doctor Ashworth. Would you consider giving me lessons sometime?"


Joseph stood up abruptly, gasped loudly, then sat down heavily again. "What's going on here? There is no way in this world you can read minds; it's just not possible."


"Of course not; just keep telling yourself that. Would you like another demonstration? Something even more amazing?"


Speechless, he nodded.


"Well, Mum and Dad have an inkling of what I can do, but not the full extent, so if I show you, you must promise not to tell them, please? Let this be our secret? Otherwise, they will worry, and I don't want that."


Doctor Ashworth nodded again as if he didn't trust his voice.


"Over my shoulder, can you see my laptop computer on the table? Yes? Just watch it, and while you do, please notice I'm not looking at it."


Slowly, as Joseph watched, the laptop lid opened by itself. Then it rose and began rotating as if it were on an invisible axis. Next, the cover closed and repeatedly reopened while the computer spun through the air as if it was speaking silently, and the base and cover were lips.


"Doctor Ashworth, think of a poem, a song if you prefer, a verse, any verse. Oh, an excellent choice, Doctor. I genuinely like your taste. Now watch my laptop."


The machine stopped turning in mid-air, and the lid opened as it crossed the room and stopped just before hitting the plastic wall barely three feet from Doctor Ashworth's face. As he watched, the keys moved quickly, almost in a blur, as if unseen fingertips were pressing them. "That was the verse you were thinking of, wasn't it, Doctor?"


The Doctor raised his eyes to the screen and read:


The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.


"You like Robert Frost, Doctor Ashworth? I must admit he is one of my favorites too."


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Author Biography:


I left school very early to join a rock band and spent a few years writing poems, short stories, and music. I’ve won two short story writing competitions, had poems published, and enjoyed being a long-haired rock guitarist before life got in the way, and I settled down, married, and had children. I’ve owned my own businesses, managed large vehicle sales dealerships, and observed people from all walks of life. It is these observations that have aided in creating characters. I work hard on building them because I figure if I can get the reader to like, love, fear, or even remotely care for my character, then hold on tight; we're going on a roller-coaster ride.


Among my inspirations to become an author are the other slightly more famous Stephen King, Stieg Larsen, Val McDermid, and Leonard Cohen. My publisher has called me the Australian Stephen King, and as I consider the original to be the master and me just an apprentice - that's very high praise indeed.


Social Media Links


Twitter/X: @stephenBKing1

Facebook: @stephenbkingauthor

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