For fifteen years, Christopher Ward has known only success as a writer. Fame, money and recognition has 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?
