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Green Typewriter

Shannon Tripp

Writer. Author. Thinker. Storyteller.

Welcome to my website.

As a Writer, I aim to create outstanding worlds, memorable characters, and remarkable books — a mission which has cast me in many different roles: author, artist, and creative innovator.

What's new?

What's been said about Dark Mirror:

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"Very easy to read"

"Lot's of Action"

"Very unexpected"

"You have a winner"

Dark Mirrorcover.jpg

Dark Mirror

26 April 2019

I’ve been working on this latest release for quite some time now, and can’t wait for you to read it.

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Dark Mirror

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Jack’s heart thundered in his ears and his head felt like it was going to explode, but he didn’t dare stop. The pain in his side stabbed deep and in time to his labored breathing. He swiped a hand across his eyes, trying to focus on the street ahead.

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A dead-end greeted his efforts. He looked wildly around before spotting a foot path steps away. He aimed for the path before he realized he was going too fast to make the turn. Throwing out his hand, he wrapped his fingers around a lamp post and nearly dislocated his shoulder as he swung around. His heart slammed against his ribcage in time to his steps and the stitch in his side grew, stealing his breathe but he couldn’t stop. He knew she was right behind him.

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He glanced over his shoulder, but the street was empty. He knew that it might not look like anyone was following him, but she was a witch. She didn’t need to run after him physically. He shuddered as her cackling boomed, howling over his labored breathing. He took another turn before he realized his mistake. He groaned at the sight of the switch-back street before him. He’d never build up enough speed to outrun her. He’d have to go straight through.

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Shrill laughter echoed down the street behind him. Somewhere deep inside he found the energy for another burst of speed. It was this street or whatever she had in mind for him. A shudder ran through him at the thought of the paper portraits lining her table. They seemed alive because they were alive. He was not going to be part of her collection.

How did this happen? This was the last thing he’d expected when he attended Brianna’s dinner party. He plowed through a hedge and two flower beds before he was able to drag his mind back to the present. He vaulted a fence and raced across a backyard only to vault another fence on the other side. His foot caught on the top rail causing him to stumble off the sidewalk’s curb. Wind-milling his arms, he managed to stop his fall after a few steps, but pain flared up from his ankle. Ignoring his foot and the agony throbbing through it, he headed for the next street.

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Another turn crossed his path but he plowed straight ahead; hoping to avoid that thing looming behind him.

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He reached the bottom of the switchback too soon. There was no time to stop and he didn’t even try. Hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much, he dashed across the little bridge spanning the river and into traffic. Horns blared and tires squealed as he threw his arms up in front of his face. A flash of light and pain radiated from everywhere before darkness stole over him.

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Slowly the world reformed around him. He seemed to be floating. He’d seen enough movies and read enough books to know what that meant. Not wanting to look, but needing to know for sure, he started to turn around. Before he could complete the move, something tugged at him, calling him back across the river.

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Drifting silently back toward the water, he stopped on the south bank and gazed at the purple cloud hanging on the other side of the bridge. Instinctively, he knew it was the witch. Something seemed to be stopping her from crossing and he was in no hurry to try and avoid her in this form.


Instead he decided to drift here and try to figure out what had happened to him. It all started with that party.

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"Last night I finished Dark Mirror, my first read of your many books that I had no idea you were so busy writing and was terribly impressed!!!  I’m always fascinated with what lurks in a writer’s mind but it simply triples when it’s someone you know.  Admittedly, what with all my good grades and like of English, and language, and history, and imagination, and love, I’ve simply never had the drive and discipline to gather a complete and compelling story of interesting characters as you have.  Bravo, bravo, bravo my friend.  Without a doubt, I will be exploring more of your tempting novels as my mixed time and moods control my many interests!" 

- Jo Dahlin

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Meet the Writer

My Story

When I was little I remember my Mom telling me that I had a hard time learning to read but when it finally clicked, I took off running and never looked back. However there were some road blocks; like waiting for my favorite authors to come out with another story. So I started making up some of my own. I fill my time waiting for books, working and imagining what would happen if...

"To write well, express yourself like the common people, but think like a wise man"

Aristotle

Get In Touch

One of the greatest perks is getting feedback and interacting with readers.
Contact me if you’ve got any comments or questions for me, I’d love to hear from you.

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