For fifteen years Christopher Ward has known only success as a writer. Fame, money and recognition have been his. Now though, the good times are over. These days, no one even wants to publish his work. Struggling to complete a new novel, Ward finds himself sucked into a vicious spiral: the further into the book he gets, the harder it becomes; the harder it becomes, the quicker he slides towards depression and alcoholism.
Then the incidents begin. Strange, unexplainable events that combine to push Ward to the very edge of sanity. How is it that he rarely works and yet, day after day, he finds whole chapters of his novel completed? He has no memory of what has been written. He isn't even sure if he is the one who has written it. But if it isn't him, then who is it?
And what of the things he sees at night? Are they dreams or apparitions? Alone in his house, and within the decaying confines of his mind, Ward struggles to make sense of what is happening around him. His memory is going, that much he sure of. But if he can write in this state, what else can he do? What might he be capable of?
As a writer Ward has always explored the darker side of the human mind. It appears the time has come for him to experience that darkness for real. But when the final revelations begin, Ward finds there are depths even he would rather not discover: his descent leading to a truth more terrifying than anything dredged from the most twisted imagination...
