By Edward Lee

COME TAKE A GUIDED journey OF LUCIFER’S residence Theology scholar Hudson has simply received the lottery, yet not only any lottery—Satan’s lottery. in simple terms 11 humans in all of human background were so venerated considering Lucifer’s fall from Heaven in 5318 B.C. All Hudson want do is say “yes,” and he'll obtain an all-expenses-paid travel of Hell, and his tour-guide is the damned soul of H.P. Lovecraft, the best horror author of all time… And into the Abyss, Hudson ventures, to witness carnal pleasures that boggle the brain and horrors piled upon horrors in the smoking, screaming city that's now Lucifer’s area. yet will Hudson make the final word selection and disavow his salvation to develop into an aristocrat in Hell? a home with atrocities soaked in its partitions, a Christian church perverted right into a chapel of abomination, boy or girl corpses exhumed for a diabolic rite... those elements are just the start of Edward Lee’s most modern day trip into hardcore occult horror. LUCIFER’S LOTTERY takes the reader on a macabre and harrowing trek of unspeakable evil, devilish intrigue, demented eroticism, and results in the very mansion of devil himself...

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That younger guy who can’t stroll . . . So she’d referred to as him at the emergency walkie-talkie—she needed to be aware of if the lake’s abrupt strangeness was once basically in her mind—something she nearly was hoping used to be true—but his personal observations proven her personal. what's going? It were over a part hour in the past that she’d referred to as him in. Had he had a few scientific challenge? absolutely his fingers have been robust adequate to row the boat again in much less time than that. She stood stressful and straining at the dock, her eyes pressed into the binoculars, yet even within the robust moonlight, she couldn’t see him. Please, please, son! Get yer ass again the following . . . was once it the 1st actual premonition of her existence? As her abdominal twitched, and that stiff, ozonelike odor sharpened, Dorris knew that anything was once going to ensue. whilst she scanned alongside the lake’s coast, she spotted that the standard people who consistently fished at evening have been packing up and hightailing it out. in actual fact, they sensed a similar inexplicable factor that Dorris did, but she couldn’t think what that factor used to be. Then— There! she proposal. Her implants jounced while she shot to her tiptoes; within the binoculars’ hourglass viewing box, she can make out the tiny type of the paralyzed guy rowing via a pool of moonlight. The loudest sound she’d ever heard erupted subsequent, now not an explosion, now not the earsplitting sound that observed a huge lightning bolt, yet whatever extra like trees splitting or a titanic tree cracking because it was once felled. The sound prompt Dorris to scream louder than she ever had in her existence yet even that couldn’t be heard over the big cracking . . . Then got here a unmarried, concussive growth! Had a bomb truly been dropped at the lake? The concept was once absurd, yet what else may well it's? A terrorist assault? the following, of all areas? now not that Dorris may imagine deductively in the mean time; terror and confusion obfuscated all rational proposal. within the vicious boom’s wake got here a few kind of displacement of air that slammed her within the abdominal, lifted her out of her flip-flops, and flung her down the dock, screaming all of the method. She landed not easy on her again. all of the wind blurted out of her lungs, and whilst the again of her head smacked the dock, she blacked out right now. It must’ve been a dream—a nightmare—that dropped into her brain throughout the short interval of unconsciousness: a nightmare of sounds . . . The sounds have been screams, screams of human slaughter en masse—indeed, screams from one other international. A deafening waterfall of relentless human and unhuman anguish as if hundreds of thousands of individuals in 1000 assorted towns have been being butchered in position all while, a legitimate, a residing blare that raged and raged and raged via a few incomprehensible hire within the sky . . . Silence, then. notwithstanding it appeared like hours, it was once just a minute or that handed sooner than Dorris regained realization. stories dripped slowly again into her understanding but her daze stored them from making experience. She rolled over, attempted to upward push to arms and knees yet then collapsed backtrack, heaving. She reeled as though seasick, and now, as she blinked again progressively more awareness, she spotted not just the dead-calm silence but additionally a deep earthy smell simply in need of a stench that now changed the former ozone odor.

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