5 Psychos to a Muse

By Janelle Chambers

5 PSYCHOS TO A MUSE contains six spellbinding tales of insanity. In "Muse Junkie," a nameless artist finds himself unwilling to find rescue from his addiction to an underground hive of muses who inject liquid inspiration into his veins.

"In God's Time," tells the tale of a serial killer on death row who goes to electric chair over and over but can't successfully die.

"Broken Rule" has Flora, an elderly respectable woman determined to discover the source of the banging coming from the attic that keeps her awake all night, even if her caretaker ordered her to never go up there.

"My Unwilling New Heart" tells of an android who, for the sake of survival, uses the illusion of love to lure in her most recent victim.

In "He Said So," the recent survivor of kidnapping and torture finds her sanity slowing replaced with flashbacks of her harrowing experience when she meets another victim of the same monster.

"Roundabout" takes place at a graveyard where abused widow Hannah not only realizes her stepson murdered his wife and children to be with her, but she may be trapped in his hell forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janelle Chambers
• Release date: Nov 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005981723

Book preview

5 PSYCHOS TO A MUSE

BY JANELLE CHAMBERS

Copyright © Janelle Chambers, 2022

All Rights Reserved

Book Cover Original Images / Illustrations by Etoyep

First Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright info

Table of contents

Muse Junkie

In God's Time

Broken Rule

My Unwilling New Heart

He Said So

Roundabout

About the Author

MUSE JUNKIE

Drugs are nothing compared to a muse. I sit in front of her strung-up body. Her filmy eyes hold mine, unblinking. I feel inspiration as it slithers into the small spaces of my brain. I hear the beautiful whispers of something grand. My fingers twitch with the kill to write.

I wince as the needle tears the flesh of my arm, coming out, pulling blood. Our connection broken, my muse sighs. Her eyes close. I press my hand to the steady pulse of red life puddling in the crook of my arm.

My head lolls towards my violator. I think I say, Don’t like you, Katie. Don’t know if I make sense. Don’t care.

You’re done Henry, Katie says, placing a hand on one skinny ass hip.

I giggle and take that hand. I wiggle it. Darling, I’m never done.

My muse looks like the husk of an old lady marionette, all tied up with clear wire and needles and tubes. She’s so white; everything is white. White walls, white floors, my white chair and her white hair, rhyming.

Katie adds