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ISBN: 978-1-942428-05-3

Available at

332 pages
$14.97 in softcover
$4.97 in ebook

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Also by Woody P. Snow


by Woody P. Snow

Trapped between life and death, justice and revenge,
while a beautiful murderer lurks.

Evil disguises itself behind a mask of beauty in DEPRAVED. Finley Bliss must survive a shocking betrayal by his stunning, murderous wife Eva. Stranded in a coma and warehoused in a squalid nursing home, Finley must cross back over the mystical river of life to consciousness, so he can reveal the truth, exact justice and seek revenge . . . but how? Ruthless Eva has legal and medical protocols on her side — the authority to pull the plug to end his life support. Finley's only chance is a mysterious being he calls James Earl Jones who appears by the river to give him counsel.
      Depraved is an insightful, genre-bending thriller — a gripping mystery and a compelling love story, from the beginning to the surprise ending.

Praise for Depraved:

A fast-paced psychological thriller with the kind of emotional impact that transcends today's social and religious mores with relevant, interesting characters, believable dialogue and an intelligent plot. Enlightening as an exploration of identity and reinvention, with a satisfying dramatic twist ending. I loved it.
      ~ Jim Blaine M.D.

This is a book you don't just read and put aside forgetting the characters and plot. The plot, characters and ending will haunt you for weeks. The ending . . . well, let me just say it's worth the read to get there. Loved the book. Hope Mr. Snow will continue writing . . . he is definitely a talented and imaginative author.
      ~ Elizabeth

This was such an exciting story, I could not put it down. Snow keeps his readers captivated with each chapter . . . revealing a surprise ending that left me with a satisfied mind. If you like thrillers this is definitely one that will keep you engrossed; but if you are even a little claustrophobic, be aware that this story explores that small, constricted space inside the head with bewilderment and humor, leaving more questions than answers. I highly recommend.
      ~ Kathy Bosch

Finally had time to read Depraved and couldn't put it down. It was great!!
      ~ Vickie Wester

Depraved is a well thought out and well written fast paced thriller. I read a lot of books in this genre and most, while entertaining, are not very thought provoking. In this book Snow not only takes his readers on a psychological thrill ride with the usual twists and turns, but forces them to think about the "what ifs" of the mysterious workings of the human mind while delving into the spiritual part of our being.
      To read a book that does not challenge you to think about things you may have never thought about before is a bit is like eating a rice cake . . . you got something to eat, but it wasn't very satisfying. Depraved is no rice cake.
      ~ David Haganon

A fun tale of betrayal and revenge. Smooth, fast paced story that I read in two days. Memorable characters and fresh perspective on what can go on in the mind of a coma patient.
      Really enjoyed this book. I recommend it to my friends.
      ~ Southern Belle

The title Depraved didn't sound like a book I would be into but I got into it in a big way. Woody Snow's multi-dimensional characters act out in a unique story line the eternal struggle between good and evil. He takes you down a "foggy," yes, uncomfortable path inside the very active brain of a man in a comatose state, often relieving the tension with well placed and very relatable humor. From the point in the book where the main character is tagged by his own wife as the "most boring man she's ever known", I promise you will not be bored . . . shocked, uncertain, frightened, curious, entertained, but not bored. You'll find yourself becoming more and more emotionally invested in the story of Dr. Finley Bliss.
      ~ Harold Bridges

Not as dark as the title might imply, this is a fantastic story that really explores two things at once: what goes on when we are between life and death and what might you do for revenge when you find your way back. I loved the author's exploration of the workings of the mind when the world would say nothing is really going on. Is there life after death? Is there something in between? And just how depraved can some people be just for money? No spoilers from me!
      ~ Margaret W. Dendler "Meg"

An Excerpt:

"Would you like to talk about it?"
      "Talk about it?" Finley flared. "Talk about it?"
     Holy crap, something awful had just happened, something horrible. He couldn't remember what. A car accident maybe? No. No, it was something about his wife. Weren't they just talking about his wife? He had just said something about her to this guy, but what was it? Why was everything so jumbled? His head felt like it was splitting. And who was this guy anyway? Whatever. Whatever. Here he was. He was here now, in this place, this . . . where was he again? The lights in the room started to flicker. Wherever it was, they seemed to be having electrical issues.
      "Stay with me," the old man said.
      Finley stared.
      "Are you a movie star?"
      "Do I look like a movie star?"
      Finley smacked his forehead.
      "What is this, hell for boring people? Is that where I am?"
      "Stop it," the man commanded. "Don't get all stormy on me." He steepled his fingertips together. "Please," he coaxed. "Easy. Easy."
      Finley was anything but easy. He was outraged.
      "So I'm boring; so shoot me." The abundance of impulses now discharging from the nerve cells in his brain generated a power surge. The circuit breaker was tripped, and those flickering lights went out.
      James Earl Jones shook his head, started another game of solitaire, and waited.
      There was no time clock in this arena, no measurement of time to speak of at all, so the question of how long Finley's brain remained offline was moot. Eventually, his head jerked.
      "Oh, crap. Whoa. What is going on with me?"
      The elderly black man watched as Finley struggled to refamiliarize himself with his surroundings.
      Below him somewhere he heard air-filled balls bouncing on hardwood and saw ghostly people-shaped forms doing . . . something. Shooting hoops, that was it. His dad used to ask him to go out into the drive and shoot hoops before dinner. I'm in a basketball gym. He started to look around.
      "Don't be looking 'round now," a voice from behind said. "You've got to watch something here."
      Finley could not help but turn to see who had spoken.
      The man smiled.
      "You look like you're surprised to see me."
      What a strange way to start a conversation.
      "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked.
      "We've been talking for twenty minutes."
      Finley struggled for context, but had to settle for déjà vu.
      "Twenty minutes? You and I?"
      "Maybe twenty hours," the man said.
      Déjà vu, big time.
      "You need to watch something here," the man said.
      Finley wondered now if he had stumbled into some insane person's LSD trip or maybe onto the set of a bad Hollywood movie. Yes! A movie! That would explain the guy sitting just above him. Morgan Freeman? No, that wasn't right. Well, hey, this might be fun.
      No, it wouldn't be. For one thing, his head ached like a train wreck, and, for another, he had no script. Had he lost it? He didn't know his lines. He didn't know his part. He was probably just an extra, but where was the director? None of this made sense, any sense at all, and, yet, somehow it all seemed familiar.
      At the far end of the room, a blinding light poured through a door and a voice called out names: "Brinley, Brywell, Deffenderfer, Lewis, Reed, Taylor, and Vanaman."
      Finley watched seven figures drop their basketballs, hustle into the luminescent tube, and start for the door.
      "Head for the light, right?"
      "Only if you're called," the man admonished. "That's what I've been trying to explain to you."
      Finley stood up. "I'm going."
      "No, you're not," the old man said. "Sit back down."
      He didn't care if his name had been called or not. Finley wanted out. He hopped down the bleachers and headed for the river of light.
      The man rose with alarm.
      "Don't be a fool!"
      That nagging voice that Finley had argued with all his life, the one in a back room somewhere in his brain, shouted, "You should have listened to that guy. You know who that was?"
      The eighth and uninvited soul, Finley A. Bliss, trudged up the light-stream, followed the others through the door, and then tripped into oblivion. Total darkness. No light, no people. No floor. Just suddenly falling through emptiness like a grain of sand somewhere in space beyond the Milky Way.
      Finley Alan Bliss ceased to exist. Almost.

Woody P. Snow

Woody P. Snow, radio personality and award-winning author of The Boy Who Stole the Moon and Blood Silver, has been intrigued by the stories of recovered coma patients of their experiences while seemingly unconscious. He writes books and songs, paints and researches in the Missouri Ozarks.

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