Synopsis

Daniel has always been lucky…

Daniel has been lucky from day zero. Surviving the car cash that made him an orphan whilst still nestled within his mother’s womb, he is branded a miracle.

But when the sister of his diseased mother adopts Daniel, it soon becomes apparent that all is not quite right with the child; something strange and sinister lies beneath that sweet façade. He sees something others don’t – he can do things they would never believe possible…

‘People who were good for him had a blue fog surrounding them. People who were not, had a red fog…When he first saw Christy, she had had no colour at all. Then she grabbed him out of his bed which he didn’t like. Her fog turned red.’

In his transition from boyhood to manhood, Daniel learns to channel his psychokinetic abilities, setting his sights on the political stage – but will his fog register as blue or red? And will this next venture spell his unravelling?

In the same vein as Stephen King, Chris Coppel harnesses a looming sense of unease that is offset by his wry and darkly humorous pop-culture references.

Luck is an addicting tale of supreme wit, satire, and uncanny parallels which demonstrates the necessity of caution in a world succumbed to the powers that be.

Amazon * Waterstones

Praise

“‘Luck,’ the latest offering from L.A.-based author Chris Coppel, is a tight, thoughtful piece of satire that takes aim at the continued absurdity of our current hyper-charged political climate. […] Coppel has succeeded in weaving just enough mythology into his narrative to give the whole thing a sense of ‘timeless’ buoyancy that is sure to resonate for years to come—unless, of course, the apocalypse is already upon us, in which case this is essentially an eerily-apt prophecy masquerading as a politically-charged novel.
From the brilliant cast of flawed characters to the satisfying conclusion (of course, mileage may vary depending on your political leanings), ‘Luck’ is just the sort of story we need at this unprecedented time in history.”

“[…] A richly layered and textured story of one man’s quest for acceptance. Coppel is a masterful storyteller whose unique skill resides in how he steers this inventive tale to a supremely engaging and satisfying conclusion.”

Excerpt

Excerpt from chapter seventeen of Luck by Chris Coppel

Later that evening, after an unimpressive dinner of canned tomato soup and a wholewheat pitta each, they sat watching the TV with the sound off. They were both in their own worlds. The sound of Daniel burbling while having his evening bottle drifted in from the kitchen.

“It is strange though, isn’t it?” Henry broke the spell. “Why would Jerry have visited the hospital?”

“I think we both know that Jerry may have been wrapped just a little too tight. Don’t forget his trying to make more out of Ellen’s accident. His conspiracy theories had conspiracy theories.”

Henry pondered her words for a moment.

“I’m gonna have a beer. Want anything?”

“Holy shit!” Mary exclaimed, slapping herself on the forehead.

“Sorry. It’s just a beer!”

“Zeke was impotent! I remember Ellen telling me that when they first met. She said he was the perfect man for her. Hung like a horse and snipped like a rescue dog!”

“She always was a classy gal,” Henry quipped.

“Yes, she was! She was also the founding member of the Colorado Anti-Monogamist Society.”

Realisation of where Mary was heading finally started to creep into his grey matter.

“Oh my god! Zeke wasn’t the father. That would explain Jerry’s preoccupation with the baby.”

“Me thinks Jerry’s rump roast wasn’t the only meat Ellen was working with during those cooking classes!” Mary grinned at her own raunchiness.

“You really are a genteel little flower, aren’t you?” Henry shook his head in wonder.

“You know the good part of all this?” Mary was totally psyched. “This explains everything. Ellen was depressed about having another man’s baby. Zeke was angry, and depressed for the same reason. Jerry was obviously simply screwed up over the whole mess.”

“You seem bizarrely happy over a pretty sordid situation,” Henry observed.

“I know, but it’s great. I mean it’s not great for Ellen and everyone, but don’t you see? There is nothing creepy going on!”

“You don’t think that four suicides within a matter of days warrants being considered just a little creepy?”

“Not any more!” Mary was on a roll. “The funny thing is, we were getting kinda creeped out at the way all this seemed to involve Daniel. Now we know it absolutely involved him! But not in the way we thought! This was just love triangle shit!”

“As opposed to pentangle shit?”

Mary laughed. “Clever! But yeah. I guess so.”

“So, we’re agreed. He’s just an ordinary baby!?”

“Boring, but yeah, ordinary.”

Daniel had finished his feeding and Christy had just succeeded in easing a burp out of the little man. She gave his face a quick wipe then brought him into the living room.

“Hey, big guy!” Henry called out.

“Who’s had his din-dins then!?” Mary cooed.

Daniel recognised the two people in the room. He was way too young to understand that they were family. He somehow knew they were good for him. People who were good for him had a blue fog surrounding them. People who were not, had a red fog. People who played no part in his existence had no colour. Henry and Mary had a bright blue fog.

When he first saw Christy, she had had no colour at all. Then she grabbed him out of his bed which he didn’t like. Her fog turned red.

When people went red, he didn’t want them around so they stopped being ‘around’. There was no conscious or deliberate action. It just happened. It’s just the way it was.

When Christy came back the second time she was colourless. Now that she was feeding him and taking care of him, she had colour. Her fog was blue. Very light blue, but still blue. He hoped it would stay that way.

At least while she was important to him.

The blues gathered around him and made a big fuss.

He liked that.

About the Author

Chris Coppel has taught advanced screenwriting at U.C.L.A. He is the writer of several screenplays and three novels; the majority of which lean into the realm of horror.

This was a trend influenced by the work of his late father, who authored a number of successful plays, films, and novels throughout his career, which included co-writing for Alfred Hitchcock’s dizzying 1958 feature: Vertigo.

Chris was born in California. He spent much of his adolescence touring Spain, France, and Switzerland with his family. He has since settled in the UK – the place he has called home ever since.