Tag Archives: excerpt

Halloween Sample of “The Girl on the Highway”

sample illustration

Note:  Nothing is more appropriate than a sample from a horror novel in celebration of Halloween, by the author of the work who — by the way — was born on that notorious day!  So with no further ado, please enjoy this sample from my upcoming horror novel — An Interstate Ghost Story:  The Girl on the Highway.  And Happy Halloween!  


Adrianna had fainted while in the truck with the older stranger. The sight of a human head at her feet was horrifying enough, but the fact that the lips had been moving had caused a light-headiness, which overcame her willpower to stay lucid.

Now she slowly regained consciousness in a very dank, dark place. A mixture of terrible odors assaulted her sense of smell in a way that almost made her nauseous. She smelled a sweaty, soured, and a strong coppery scent. She felt as if she was lying on a narrow, hard object of some sort, maybe a bench. The scents around her were simply unnerving and truly offensive. As she opened her eyes, she saw a hint of light ahead and to the right. But her vision was hindered by something between her and the light. She tried to move but couldn’t. She suddenly realized she was tied up with some type of material, maybe burlap, covering her. She could feel the rough texture of the material hard against her skin. She realized that she was naked after barely moving her hands around enough to confirm it.

A shishking sound, like knives being sharpened, commenced, grating on every last nerve fiber and seemingly testing what little was left of her sanity.

Should she call out? After thinking about it for a couple of minutes, she decided her best move would be to feign unconsciousness and run as soon as soon as this sick bastard untied her. Extremely terrified by these very unnerving sensations surrounding her, she realized that her situation did not present a very favorable outlook.


Why the hell was he sharpening knives? Was he planning on cutting her up or something?


Would he untie her before he killed her? She continued to think about what all he may possibly do to her.


She wondered if he would rape her. She then realized that if he was going to do so, he would have to undo the binds on her ankles. And what would she do if he did undo them? She then decided she would have to kick him as hard as she could, get to her feet, and run the hell out of there, wherever in God’s name she was!


For more information on me and An Interstate Ghost Story: The Girl on the Highway, please visit my Official Website.  Please subscribe to the website now, if you wish to obtain a free PDF copy of Chapter One!


Sample from Chapter 1 of “The Girl on the Highway”


Please enjoy this sample from my upcoming work of horror:  The Girl on the Highway !


Tyrese Haroldson, the driver of the tanker, watched what appeared at first to be a dark shadow in the fog up ahead about 20 yards.  He suspected it could have been a motorcycle.  But then he noticed that this object was not moving.  Before he knew it, he saw the outline of an attractive woman’s figure in his lane directly in front of him!  She appeared to be in a slight daze as if maybe she had an accident.  She was dressed as if she were out at a night club on a Friday or Saturday night, wearing a skirt that stopped at the middle of her thighs, and a jacket that stopped just below her elbows.  A loose fitting shirt came down exposing generous cleavage.  Her outfit looked rather retro. 

But his mind immediately shifted into emergency mode as he realized he was going too fast and would surely hit her unless she was quick enough to dart out of the way!  But it appeared that she was frozen in shock, her eyes full of worry and horror.

“Holy shit,” he said as he turned the wheel hard clockwise in a knee-jerk response to miss the young lady.

His instructor saw her too and was in total shock.  Fear shot through his mind as he worried that a woman may have been run over by one of his students as he sat idle and useless in the passenger-side seat.  And this oversight went almost unnoticed until the whole cab seemed to tremble intermittently.  He then tried to grab the wheel and turn it back the way from which it had come, but it was already too late!


Note this sample of literary work by Phil Sanderson is Copyrighted 2014 with all rights reserved.  

A Heated Conversation



An Excerpt from 2018: An Uncivil War:  

Terrence’s eyes finally shone soberly in spite of the beer he had just sipped, his fifth since walking in.  “Did you call the police?”

Stuart shook his head.

Now Terrance regarded him just as seriously with firm eye contact.  “Dude, next time, you better call the police.”

Stuart took a long pull at his beer, his third for the evening, and glared at his friend.  “If that son of a bitch comes around again, I’m planting his ass in the ground.”

Terrance could not believe what he had just heard.  “It ain’t your job to deal with these assholes!” 

“What if this guy is the one who raped our neighbor, and he comes back to my house again – if it was him the first time, which it very well could have been?”

“Stu, what the hell are you now?”  Terrance’s eyes hardened upon him.  “A vigilante?”

“What if this was Rebecca, and you were not a detective?”  Then he found a better way to rephrase the question.  “What gives you the right to protect the woman you love, and denies me the same right?”

“The law, for one.”  He now looked at his best friend as though he were stupid.  “If you break the law, what good is your relationship going to be if you are in jail?”  Stuart countered him quickly:  “What good would it be if she were dead, because I did not protect her while the police were nowhere to be found.”  Terrence replied just as quickly.  “If you don’t call us, how can we protect you?”  Now Stuart had a look of disgust on his face and had not even bothered looking at the table.  “The same way you guys protected our fellow neighbor?”

Now Terrance’s blood started to boil, and his face started to become red.  “How dare you accuse us of not doing our job!”  He threw his cue stick down on the table changing the position of several balls upon it.  After trying to calm down, he found himself looking for the right words.


Guard Down!



An Excerpt from 2018: An Uncivil War

The other guard had been smoking a cigarette when he had gotten the call.  He had quickly discarded the cigarette and now ran around the very side of the house from which Stuart was expecting him.  This man actually removed his shotgun and was ready to shoot anyone not wearing a suit and overcoat.  He approached very slowly and cautiously, examining each and every shadow as he stepped forward with a paranoid gait. 

Before he knew what to expect, he heard and felt a freezing whoosh of air behind him and quickly rotated his body.  Stuart, while recovering from just jumping down from the building directly behind him, readied himself as the guard had spun around to address the noise and the rushed movement of air from behind him.  Stuart had promptly grabbed the barrel of the shotgun with his right hand, forcefully pulling it away from the surprised attacker.  He wielded his Ka-Bar in his left hand in the classic knife-fight position, with the blade facing out from the bottom part of his hand.  He stabbed it forcefully into the guy’s chest, puncturing his right lung.  This was the first time he had ever punctured a lung.  The sound of air leaving out of it was one that he would never forget.  It alone served as confirmation that he hit a vital area on his opponent.

The guard had tried to pull his shotgun away, but Stuart had pushed it forward unexpectedly, causing the fatally wounded guard to fall backward abruptly and accidentally letting go of it.  Stuart slammed the butt of the weapon downward into the guy’s right eye, collapsing that part of his skull invasively into his brain, thereby killing him instantly.

“Thanks for the shotgun, asshole.”  Stuart held the weapon out, examining it carefully…a Browning Maxus shotgun.  He looted shotgun shells off the body at his feet.

The Stalker



An excerpt from Phil Sanderson’s 2018: An Uncivil War:

A car pulled up along the curb about twenty feet away, and the birds flew away from the crow’s carcass just as soon as the occupant got out.  A large, black-haired Caucasian man scanned the neighborhood around him.  Content that no one was watching, he walked up to the mail box in front of the house, opened it, and removed the contents.  First, he confirmed the address of the letter at the top of the stack:  1986 Vandenberg Court.  Secondly, he was mainly interested in the names at the top of each postal address, Stuart Milligan, the first one read.  He rifled through the other mail and finally saw the name he had been hoping to see: Alessa C. Milligan.

The visitor knew this occupant as Alessa Compton, that special one that got away.  Since no cars were present at the house, the time was not yet right for him to see her again.  But being that he now knew where she lived, he would certainly be back after dark.

The Warning

ImageAn excerpt from Phil Sanderson’s 2018: An Uncivil War:

Now the older officer cringed in his seat and crinkled his forehead as though someone had just told him his pants were on backwards.  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“It sounds like some whack jobs may be heading your way tomorrow.  So I just thought I should let you know.”

“But what makes you think this is going to be a terrorist attack?”

“I don’t know what it is, but I just didn’t think…”

“I understand that you probably used to be some big shot when you were a detective,” the guy’s facial features now appeared somewhat defensive.  “But we don’t need you coming here to tell us our job.”

Terrance brought one of his hands forward, palm down, as though stating that he meant no offense.  But the older man wasn’t buying it and got promptly back on his feet.

“What the hell do you think we do over here?  Eat donuts and drink coffee all day?”

Terrance shook his head, realizing that his visit most likely was a huge mistake that was doomed to failure from the beginning.

“As a matter of fact, you are probably full of shit, just trying to get a rise out of me.”  Now the guy’s eyes glared at him through angry slits in his face.  “I think you better get the hell out of here before I detain you as a suspect yourself.”

Now Terrance got to his feet and went back to the corridor that had led him there.  He started to leave but instead stopped and turned to the officer once more.  “I’ve given you this information.  It is up to you to use it.  If you choose not to, then anything that may or may not occur here soon will be on you.”

For more on 2018: An Uncivil War please visit Phil Sanderson’s official website:  http://www.philsanderson.net 

…Best Served Cold?


Judd knocked on the door and Williams looked out through the side window wondering what the hell the terminated employee was doing on his front porch.  The crazed man had the rifle up close to the door and out of view.  The African-American district manager was so arrogant that he promptly opened the door and aggressively began asking:  “What the hell are you doing here…”

But these would be the last words he ever said to anyone else as the AR-15 came up into view.  Now the snobby bastard was actually at a loss for words.  Judd was quite amused, grinning just before he unloaded the weapon into his first victim.

“Fuck you!  You may have taken my job, but I am taking your life!”  The AR-15 had never felt better firing as it did at that moment!  The first three shots – thundering loudly across this premiere Birmingham neighborhood – entered his abdomen and then exited in big, bloody chunks of tissue, making an ungodly mess of the previously gorgeous and spotless staircase just behind him.  Williams’ body jolted back and forth with each shot.  Only the first of the next three shots landed on its target, point blank against his forehead.  His head exploded sending blood everywhere as the next two shots were fired in a random direction after the rest of his body fell hard to the ground.  Judd was covered in the bastard’s blood and brain matter.  Inside the house, Williams’ kids ran away from the living room, screaming for their mother!

Not even phased by what he had just done – not only to his former district manager, but also his family – now Judd walked purposefully back to his vehicle, got in, and peeled out of the driveway headed for his next target.  Across the street, the stunned neighbor frantically read off the guy’s license plate to the 9-1-1 operator.  — Excerpt from 2018: An Uncivil War