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Obliterated, By Chris Mentillo: A Best-selling Horror Novella (Sample Chapters)


Obliterated, Everything is About To Change -- An Award-winning -- Best-selling Horror Novella Short, written by, Horror Author, Chris Mentillo. 


Top Ten Award




"Imagine the perfect place where there is little if any crime, a safe haven jam-packed with welcoming neighbors, a profusion of popular sports to partake in, plenty of stimulating recreational activities everyone can enjoy, white picket fences, pristine lakes, lush greenery, and gorgeous mansions – the ideal kind-of-home to raise your kids in even.

Now picture this same sanctuary where, when the sun subsides, something causes everyone and everything to turn 360 degrees out of control – a place where teenagers and adults are possessed with becoming widespread or even famous for becoming one of the residence lifeguards. What is instigating these things to happen? Why are people missing and acting so outlandish? Why can no one remember?

There is one tenacious, single-minded lifeguard, however, who is painstakingly persistent to find out, but has no idea of the physical and mental anguish she will endure while trying to unravel the mystery behind this nightmare."



   To date, since the inception     of Chris Mentillo's       story, "Obliterated," which    ironically (in some strange way) was published on September 11, 2015, when unfortunately, something else horrific, and sinister took place regarding being obliterated (different obliterated meaning than what the book's interpretation represents. By-the-way we discuss this all in the introduction section of the book) on the exact same month, and day. Since the stories debut, the book has gone on to do well -- winning several awards, and still continues to trek, and adventure into unknown territory scaring the heebie-Jeebies out of everyone who crosses its path, even killing some. Fortunately, however during its triumphant journey, we have had nothing thus far except upon arms, thank God.




The introduction (known to be rather informative) to this award-winning, novella-short, includes intriguing information regarding how the horror author’s story came to be, and indulges in meanings behind the story, explaining why it was finally manifested to the stage of profound literature it now boasts.

In addition, like most retail, and distribution platforms, where they typically give the reader the opportunity to read somewhat of a large portion of the book's introduction -- we instead have taken the liberty of displaying for you -- a couple chapters of the actual story itself -- hopefully giving you some insight sample on the story itself. 

Therefore, we hope you indulge yourself and immediately dive into the story, where you will eventually come across (if you look hard enough) a tenacious lifeguard who is trying to find the underlying cause of this horrific mystery. Perhaps it is another one of those bad dreams. Maybe it is something mortal instead. Worst yet, not mortal at all, and is something far more sinister than any mortal has ever seen or experienced -- something not of this world. You be the judge. Have fun, and do not say we did not forewarn you first. We are serious as hell.

Here are a couple sample chapters of  horror author, Chris Mentillo book.


Chapter 1



     I laid half asleep in bed, and could not stop the sweat from dripping down my body. The cabins air conditioner broke, and the several ceiling fans in the bedroom did little justice in helping me breath.

     I continued to toss and turn all night. Already wide-awake, I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and proceeded outdoors to the front porch. The short time outside gave me only temporary relief from inside my hot enclosed cabin, nestled deep within the woods in Skaneateles, New York.

     Directly behind my cabin here in Skaneateles, was considered to be one of the state's most popular lake‘s. Notorious for being exceptionally clean, the lake’s presence gave people the widely held impression you were off somewhere living on a tropical island in the Caribbean.

     The water was so amazing, and on some days appeared to be a beautiful dark blue. On other occasions, when the sun’s rays beamed down on the lake, the water sported a pristine turquoise color — not the kind of place you consider creepy or terrifying. This, “picture-perfect scene” changed after the sun subsided and evening came. Then it was a different story. The townspeople rarely if ever went out during the nighttime. Somehow, they knew better.

     Celebrities from all across the country traveled far to visit this tourist attraction, and shortly thereafter, it did not take them very long to be bitten by what I call, “the village bug.” In fact, many who stayed here found complete refuge  — so much so, several of them would later find themselves purchasing million dollar summer home mansions, somewhere far out on the water.  After living here for a short time, they would leave town, and for reasons unknown — never come back.

   On many occasions, I enjoyed taking long drives down, “west-side road,” just so I could get a quick glimpse of these beautiful estates owned by, “the rich and famous.” At other times, I drove up towards the east end of the village along the lakeside to check out the real huge mansions. Bored with nothing to do, I would park my vehicle on the side of the road to stare, and stare some more. Yet, for some strange reason, I always made sure to leave this area before dark.

     Many of the residents living here treasured playing hockey, and If you did not play or somehow become involved, you were not considered to be a true village resident. The same thing stood with most of the recreational water sports -- mainly consisting of snorkeling, waterskiing, and swimming.

     Of course, if you are one of the lucky ones who owned a piece of property with access to your very own private waterfront, you did not have the burden of having to use the public beach to do these activities. Instead, you had all the clandestineness you wanted, and the sovereignty to do as you wished. Most residents would rather avoid using public areas of the lake for this reason. Unfortunately, though, some (not so stable lifeguards who always took their job too serious) patrolled these areas. They never let their guard down, and you would never see them walking around, mingling and philandering with other people.

     These lifesavers never let their safeguard down period. Many of them were in top shape, and usually fortified themselves with what I call, “lifeguard ammunition.” Whatever apparatus they needed in order to save an impending drowning or injured person, these guys carried it everywhere they went, even during their break time and when using the lavatory.

     Yep, they were excessively serious, and many people living in the village often interrogated their outlandish behavior. This has not always been the case, though. Notwithstanding, plenty of folks around town began conjecturing if some sort of overpowering freestanding force was to blame.

     One lifeguard, in particular, who I will call “Bulldog,” the more somber of the cluster, had what girls would consider, (and maybe other guys too) “a killer body,” but sported a freighting face of an attack dog. His facial expressions lived up to his nickname and only intensified when he blew one of his several whistles, which he carried securely latched around his neck.

     They came in all various shapes, sizes, and colors. One whistle was red, engraved with a Red Cross emblem, (the bigger one) a blue medium sized one, and a yellow one, which appeared a bit eroded — perhaps from the privation of use or from getting too wet. I always saw him expending his big red whistle. When Bulldog blew his whistle, man did it ever give off a god-forsaken loud pitch sound. This is his most treasured one and by far his brassiest. I rarely if ever recalled Bulldog blustering into his blue whistle, and I never saw him reach out for his yellow whistle. I still do not know why he always carried three of them. Nevertheless, the point is he is obvious by far the most serious lifeguard on the lake. Guess you just have to respect someone like this.

     One day Bulldog had his dream come true when he became, “managing supervisor,” placed in charge of other lifeguards. This new position also consisted of training all those other “poor individuals” who wanted to get their lifeguard certification. I guess they thought Bulldog made a great candidate for this, maybe because they figured he would make it more challenging for other new lifeguards to obtain their merit badges, or for those needing to maintain their lifeguard prominence. God help them all!

     The lucky guards, (who showed promising athletic ability in receiving their certification), were considered heroes. You see, when you worked on the lake as a lifeguard, people treated you like royalty. Honestly, the best thing you could be in town was a “certified lifeguard.” So as a result, you were considered... well, to be one of a more ubiquitous one living in the village. Everyone, including all the other teenagers, looked up to you as some kind of celebrity. However, the only problem with obtaining this whole lifeguard fecund is how expensive it was to become certified. In addition, certification is exceptionally hard to complete, since Bulldog became, “the new head trainer.” By the following year, however, this would all change.

     The local Y.M.C.A, who sponsored the lifeguard certification, only employed the best — fit guards. They could do this because their amount of supply, far suppressed their demand. Everyone, including their own mother, wanted to be a lifeguard on the lake, and for recognizable reasons. Even older folks would give this a whack.

     Hell, one year an eighty-year-old woman once tried out for certification. One of her dreams had been to one day become a guard. Older people applauded her on, but she still had not conjured up enough nerve to give her lifelong dream a shot.                

     One day she decided to try out, and though she never made the cut, she did, however, became the talk of the village. She even had her picture plastered all over the front page of several local correspondents, including an inspirational article written up about her experience. Unfortunately, though, shortly after the “Daily Penny Saver” published her story, she went missing. Until this day, no one had ever seen or heard from her again. She was not the only person to disappear involving lifeguards while pursuing their certification. Many other (whom I will refer to as, “unfortunates”) would soon join her.

     Plain and simple, the towns’ people were jubilant about the whole lifeguard bonanza. Every year, newer, younger, and more serious lifeguards, supplanted the older burnt out ones — if any were still around.





Chapter 2



     I am not quite sure how this all transpired. What I do hark back to though is a lot of tossing and turning in bed. Something deliberately began to woe me. I refused to believe the heat was the culprit for keeping me wide-awake. Instead, I realized deep down inside, something else (maybe even sinister) was brewing in the air!

     I do not label myself as a psychic, however, I do have a rather keen sense of prediction. These so-called predictions usually came in the form of a dream, but this was much different. This night, I did not even get a twinkle of sleep. Something kept me up all night — peaking my interest. This mystified me and provoked my curiosity. What is this, which came over me? Did I feel good things, or perhaps far worse and sinister? I stood on the cabin porch-smoking cigarette after cigarette, pondering on those thoughts while I continued to gawp off — out into the webbed foggy water.

     I had not comprehended it yet, but many of the bizarre chains of events began on this night, starting first when I could hear a high-pitched noise resonance out from the lake. The sound had been an all too acquainted one, and I rumored to myself, am I envisaging this? What is all this ringing in the ears about? Am I in a daze — half-asleep, and sleepwalking? Then I started to think, is this another psychotic dream?

     I had the lights off to smoke in amity and seepage the hundreds of moths, which endlessly tried to cleave onto the porch lights. With no streetlights on, the scene outdoors now became an eerie one.

     The cabin I lived in, is not only surrounded by a primeval lake but is nestled deep inside the woods. Little if any people are nearby, and I mounted there sheltered from cultivation and unaccompanied in the dark.

     I am all by myself out here in the middle of nowhere, gazing off out into the lake, when an earsplitting noise reverberated out again which continued to echo into my ear. Then, without caveat, something caught the viewpoint of my eye. A flash of impenetrable, black smoke soared by. This thing winged by so fast; I did not get a respectable foretaste — only an abrupt gloomy shadow, conceded by which appeared to be some kind of condensation. It was pitch black out, and somehow this peculiar manifestation became visible to the stark-naked eye.

     Seconds later, a cold winter chill hit me like a ton of bricks — hot and humid outside one minute, to feeling as though I had walked into a freezer the next. The little voice inside prompted me this was not good. I could not help imagine what could happen next. Instincts told me to head for safety, but my curiosity, as usual, got the best of me. Like an idiot out of some horror movie, I stood motionless trying to rationalize to myself what had happened.

     I began to conjure up some lame — rash excuse for this unusual activity. Then, not more than a few seconds later, a well-lit light blinded me. Bam... Bam, the robust beam went on and off, and became so blinding, that after finally fading away, I still could not see.

     Not long after regaining eye site, I scanned the premise — searching for the basis from where the light came from. I could not find a damn thing. As I slowly turned my head out toward the lake, I suddenly realized... I was now no longer alone, and out there standing in the distance, appeared to be a dark shadowy figure.

     I stood shivering and ice-covered in disbelief. I have never seen anything like this before and had no idea what it was. I strained my eyes to get a better view, but everything looked vague. This rare daunting looking thing appeared covered with a black veneer. No legs, no arms, only a sketch of a shadowy entity with a large head, which showed little evidence of having any eyes, or even an anthropological looking face.

     Minutes passed by, and the strange tall slender dark figure in the distance still had not nudged. What does this thing want? Why does he not move? Why is it gawking at me? The whole experience creeped me out, leaving me terrified, and frozen scared out of my wits.

     “Hello... Who the hell are you... what do you want?” I shouted. The stranger had no reply.

     The eccentric image began to move toward the porch, and my heart sank into my stomach. This thing slowly inched closer in my direction. Seconds later, I heard strange moans and clatters, but I could not make out what this thing was implying. The voice sounded almost Latin — emulating a very unusual kind of alien dialect — not from this earth. Was it trying to communicate?

     I had not detected this character’s face, and without warning, the thing stopped and turned its head to the lake. Moments later, an arm appeared into the picture, and a long skeleton like finger began to point out towards the water (kind of reminded me of those fingers from the creature in the television show, “Tales from The Crypt.” It kept his arm and one finger pointed out, and the head swiveled back and forth and then back into place.

     Now another hand came into view, which appeared to be holding something. The strange being or entity elevated its arm, and then that all too conversant high-pitched sound rang out again — piercing into my ear. This time, however, it seemed much louder — becoming almost unbearable.

     Before long, I found myself on the ground casing both ears with my hands. I screamed at the top of my lungs for the sound to sojourn. I thought I was going to die. After the noise stopped, I grabbed my porch-wooded railing to pull myself up. I turned my responsiveness towards the figure, and the thing tilted his head to the left, slightly to the right, and vanished.

This is the end of our sample. To finish reading the remainder of this book, please go to check-out now and purchase from your many different choices to pay with. Take your time, but hurry up, because we don't know how long this product will remain on sale at this price. Thank you. 


Some Reviews:

Format: Kindle Edition
"I enjoyed reading Obliterated. It was entertaining, suspenseful and I liked the way the author set the story up. In addition, some parts reminded me of some of my nightmares, which was pretty scary. Nice visual effects on that one…hope I’ll be able to sleep!"

"Interesting depictions. The story builds in momentum and the horror scenes are described in vivid detail."

"I learned a lot by reading the introduction as Mr. Mentillo described his motivations for writing in this genre and mentioned some of the famous horror writers including Stephen King, who is one of my scary writing heroes. Can’t wait to read another one by Chris Mentillo."
the following review helpful *****
By smurfette214 on October 11, 2015
Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
"The author really sets the reader up throughout the story. He keeps you second guessing on what is transpiring."
"Wow this is simply amazing ..Must Read!"
"Awesome book. Look forward to reading more from this author."

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