Category Archives: New Releases

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Week Five

By Your Side Front Cover featuring protagonist Miranda Lorensen carrying a young boy while two ghosts stand behind her.To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords.

I hope you enjoy the following scenes from Chapter Three – Strange Happenings


Miranda excused herself and snatched her phone from the table. “Tammy, how are you? Long time, no hear from.” The two had been neighbors for a few years until Tammy moved to Lancaster.

“I’m doing all right. Is this a bad time?”

From the urgency in Tammy’s voice, Miranda sensed that this was more than a social call. “I have dinner guests here right now. Can I call you back later tonight?”

“Sure. I think I may have a case for you.”

“Really?” Miranda was intrigued. “Never thought I’d hear those words coming from you.”

“Same here, believe me, but I think we’ve exhausted all other options.”

“We?”

“Call me later and I’ll give you all the details.”

“Well, hold on. My entire team’s here stuffing their faces. They can entertain themselves for a little while if you want to give me the low down.”

“Are you sure? What I have to tell you is going to sound dramatic and probably a little crazy.”

Welcome to my life. “Try me.”

Tammy launched into the events at the hospital on the night that Matthew Meade had awoken from his coma and predicted the death of Lori Urban.

“I didn’t know what to think at the time, so I let it go. Then two days later, a known alcoholic, Arnold Weiss, was driving drunk when he ran a red light and hit a guy named Mike Leigh. Mike died on impact. Arnold lost control of his car, drove up onto a sidewalk and straight into a brick wall. Needless to say, he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Miranda said.

“It gets worse. In fact, it gets unbelievable. Mike Leigh had two daughters. One of them is an oncology nurse on my floor. Her sister works at the hospital next to us. The day after the incident, Matt became agitated and warned his nurses that both Arnold’s son and one of Mike’s daughters were in danger. He insisted that someone check on them right away. I wasn’t there at the time, but the nurses took it as a sign that he was declining, getting confused, losing his grip on reality. Matt is declining but patients with brain tumors don’t develop psychic abilities.”

“How long does he have?” Miranda asked. Another child with no chance, like those boys in the barn.

“He probably won’t make it to the end of the week. He’s going to hospice care in the next day or two.”

“That’s terrible. I don’t know how you do it, Tammy.” Watching children die.

“It’s worth it for the ones we save. Anyway, a week after Arnold’s funeral, his son hanged himself.”

“Charlie,” Miranda blurted. “No, one syllable like Chet… Chad? Is it Chad? Sorry, I had this name forming in my head.”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Hold on.” Miranda started pacing in her kitchen. She massaged her forehead as fleeting images assaulted her mind. This wasn’t unusual. In past phone conversations, Miranda had gleaned information through sensations and images, some more intense than others.

“What about Mike Leigh’s daughters?” she asked.

“The one who took his death hardest was Lena. She’s a radiologist at the hospital. I got to know her through her sister, Jackie. In fact, Jackie’s staying with her for a while to help her through this. Lena seemed like she was coping at first until she had a breakdown after their dad’s funeral.”

An audience had gathered in the kitchen doorway in the form of Eddie and Amy. “Short hair, bleached.” Miranda turned away from them without breaking stride. “I see a woman in her early forties, average height, full figure. Does she drive a tan or gold SUV?”

“Yeah. Lena drives a tan Chevy Tahoe. Christ, between you and Matt, I’m getting even more freaked out. I don’t believe in clairvoyance, but this is remarkable.”

“Ever have a bad feeling about something or trust your instincts?” Miranda asked. “That’s a form of clairvoyance. Everyone has some measure of it.”

“I guess. I don’t know about the others, but Lena’s always been strong. Still, with everything that’s happened lately…”

“In other words, she’s on a suicide watch.”

“We didn’t want to say that, but yes. Matt warned Jackie that something was going to happen to Lena. Jackie said she didn’t believe him, but I think she was more rattled than she let on.”

“Has Matt been able to predict every death?”

“Only the suicides,” Tammy replied. “And only within a few hours before they happened, which makes me wonder if we would’ve had time to prevent anything even if we had believed him. Try getting the police to buy a suicide that’s about to happen somewhere in town. It isn’t like Matt provides addresses, just names, and by the time I look them up, it’s too late. I keep hoping to wake up one morning and laugh all of this off as a bad dream.”

“What do Matt’s parents think of all this?”

“They don’t know yet. I think he’s too scared to tell them, and we don’t know what to tell them. As you can imagine, his parents are dealing with enough right now. There’s no precedent for this. It’s devastating enough to know that your child has maybe a week to live.”

Miranda knew Tammy was no stranger to death, but the bizarre circumstances unfolding in Lancaster were enough to put even the most clinical minds on edge. She sensed that someone—or something—was at work in the town, and it wasn’t finished. Its motives were unclear, but its presence and energy were formidable. In her pacing, Miranda turned away from the kitchen doorway without looking up. She knew Eddie and Amy were still there. So why did her mind register two young girls in bell bottom pants?

She glanced back. Eddie and Amy were now bickering under their breath.

“Does Matt have siblings?” Miranda asked.

“No, he’s an only child.”

So who were those two girls I just saw? “Do you think his parents would let me meet him?”

“I can talk to them. I guess it’s about time I told them what’s happening.”

***

Three hours later, after her guests had departed, Miranda rinsed off the last plate and slipped it into the dishwasher. After pouring detergent into the dispenser, she closed the door and noticed a blurred reflection in the stainless-steel door. It moved from left to right before coming to a halt in her peripheral vision. It made no sound as it glided along the tiled floor, which became cold under Miranda’s bare feet.

She ignored the presence at first, continuing with her chores. She had learned years ago not to be frightened by the appearance of spectral visitors, nor would she drop everything to attend to them. Death should not give license to be discourteous. Miranda wanted to help them, of course, but she would not allow them to disrupt her life. She was a single parent with three children, a career, and a home to maintain. These were her priorities.

Still, the kids were away for now and if this gentle presence was the return of the little girls she’d seen earlier this evening, then Miranda was all too happy to give them her attention. She dried her hands with paper towel as she turned to address her guest. “Yes, what can I—”

It had been twelve years since she last saw the tall, gaunt man who stood before her. He’d appeared to her just after the birth of her twin boys. Before that, it had been the birth of her daughter. He hadn’t come to her wedding. Miranda’s mother had joked that he probably didn’t approve of Brian.

“Dad.”

“How’s my Miranda Panda?”

“You haven’t called me that since I was eight.”

Her father shrugged. “I miss my little girl.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I checked in on the grandkids. They’re safe with Brian. Despite his other shortcomings, he turned out to be a good dad.”

“Yes, he is.”

Her father looked just as he had in the months before his emphysema—healthy and robust. As always, he was clean-shaven and his light brown hair spiked as it had been since his days in the Marines.

“I’ve been having visions of Colin,” Miranda said.

“I know.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’d be better if you’d move on.”

“How can I? He took his own life, and I could have saved him if—”

“Depression took him. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Then why am I having—”

“Guilt is what you’re having. Needless guilt. Let go, Miranda. Give him peace.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as her father continued. “Now, as to why I’m here. You’re going to help those people that your friend called about, but you don’t realize how dangerous it is.”

“Dad, my ability is dangerous in and of itself. I never know who’s going to show up or when. The things I’ve seen… If I can’t help people, what’s the point of it all?”

“You can’t save the world, Miranda.”

“No, but I can damn well try.”

“At what cost?”

“We’ve both seen the cost of not trying.”

“You didn’t know the depth of your brother’s depression,” her father said. “No one in the family understood it.”

“You did. If you could come here tonight to warn me about going to Lancaster, you could have warned me about Colin.” Miranda turned away and reached for paper towel to dry her eyes. “I could have helped him.”

She glared at her father, but he was gone. “I could have saved him.”


Check back next week for another spooky sample from By Your Side!

By Your Side – Countdown to Release – Week Six

By Your Side Front Cover featuring protagonist Miranda Lorensen carrying a young boy while two ghosts stand behind her.To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords.

For now, I hope you enjoy the following scenes from Chapter Two – The Boy and the House


It had been two hours since the boy awoke. No one was certain how the seven-year-old with an advanced brain tumor had managed to survive two comas in the past six weeks. The nurses, who had come to adore the sweet, hazel-eyed tot, attributed it to his strength of will or perhaps, a miracle.

Dr. Tammy Schell, the newest and youngest pediatric oncologist at Irvine Cancer Center, was hard-pressed to come up with a better explanation.

Matthew Meade had been admitted nearly eight months ago after being diagnosed with diffuse pontine glioma, an inoperable brain stem tumor. Initial radiation therapy had proved only temporarily successful, but that was expected.

Just before lapsing into his second coma, Matt had suffered from the worst of the symptoms including frequent headaches, vomiting, and loss of motor functions. He’d been unable to chew or swallow food. In short, Matt had been close to death. Bearing all of that in mind made his current condition all the more surprising.

“Matt, your parents are on their way back.” Tammy cupped her hand over his. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he whispered. “But Lori’s in trouble.”

Tammy leaned closer to the bed and pushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “Sorry, who?” This was probably another of his dreams or delusions caused by the tumor.

“I know that Tom Urban died here yesterday.”

“Uh, yes he did. How do you know that? Did you overhear the nurses talking?”

“No.” Matt shook his head, or tried to with what little energy he could muster. “Those two girls told me. They said we need to protect his wife, Lori.”

“Protect her from what? Which girls?”

“The twins. They were standing right where you are.” The boy turned his gaze to the ceiling. “It’s too late. Lori’s coming, but she won’t make it.” The wail of sirens in the distance grew louder as he spoke.

Tammy ignored them at first. Before she moved to this semi-rural town, she had lived and worked in Baltimore and before that, Philadelphia. Such sounds had been daily background noise, no more or less distracting than car horns or street music. Tammy knew the approaching ambulance was headed for the emergency room of Lancaster Hospital across the street. Though she would never admit it, the noise brought a sense of comfort, like being home again.

“She’s here,” Matt said. “But she’s slipping away.”

It was beginning to seem less likely that this was a delusion, which piqued Tammy’s curiosity. She hurried from Matt’s bedside to the window and opened the blinds. Two floors below, a cluster of nurses crossed the glass-enclosed bridge that connected Irvine Cancer Center to Lancaster Hospital. On the street, the ambulance was just coming into view, turning into the driveway toward the emergency room.

“How do you know that’s Lori Urban?”

“The girls told me she was in trouble,” Matt replied. “But the ambulance got there too late.”

“When did they tell you all this?”

“I don’t know… just before you got here.”

“Matt, I checked with the nurses when I arrived. No one’s been in this room since your parents left a few hours ago.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Matt closed his eyes. “She’s gone. Lori’s gone now.”

Tammy paused for a moment before returning to Matt’s bedside. She waited for more information, but he was already drifting off. “Get some rest, I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

“I’m sorry.” Matt awoke with a shiver. It took a few moments for his eyes to focus on the woman standing near the window. “Tammy?”

Her short blonde hair was disheveled and tears streaked her face. It was definitely not Dr. Schell. The woman was taller with a slightly heavier build. Somehow, Matt knew it was Lori Urban.

“Why am I here?” The air grew frigid as she approached Matt’s bed. “Can you help me?”

He tugged at his blanket. “It… it wasn’t your fault.”

“I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t control it.” Lori sobbed. “It was like someone else took over and made me want to die.” She wrapped her arms around herself and massaged them. “I’m so cold.”

Matt wasn’t surprised, considering she was wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and panties. The last time he’d seen a girl so barely dressed, it was a Halloween night. He had snuck into his cousin’s room and hid in her closet wearing a werewolf mask. What he hadn’t expected was that she’d get undressed to change into her costume before opening the closet door. Needless to say, both of them got a good scare that night.

“Tom is waiting for you,” he told her.

“Where?”

“Go to the light. It’s warm there.”

Behind her, a glowing portal appeared, dim at first but it soon washed out the entire wall. Lori made her way toward it. Before stepping through, she glanced over her shoulder and waved. “Thank you.” With that, she was gone. The portal faded.

Matt stared at the wall. “Wow.”

***

The headlights that shone through the kitchen window and glided across the wall startled Elias Gray. As he folded his newspaper and tossed it onto the table, he made a mental note to get curtains. There were still a few such minor furnishings left to complete. Elias had just moved into the house two weeks prior. Since then, he’d been busy arranging far more important matters—such as the visitors arriving at this late hour. It was nearly 3:00 in the morning. Right on time, as usual.

Elias took one last sip of tea and rose from his chair. He glanced out the window into the darkness as headlights approached the house. The pop and rumble of tires over gravel reminded him to call the contractor about having the driveway paved. He started across the kitchen toward the door to the basement stairs. It had been closed and locked a moment ago but was now wide open.

“This again.” The bizarre event had started two days after he moved in. As of yet, Elias had no explanation for it. He dismissed it as he continued down to the basement and unlocked the metal doors that opened to the backyard. He pushed them outward until they stood vertical and locked them in place just as two armed men climbed out of a large, nondescript white van.

The driver, Leland, was the older and shorter of the two. Though only in his late forties, his thinning black hair and sagging, stubbled jowls added years to his appearance. The second man was his nephew, Hagen. Even at twenty-eight, he was referred to as “the kid.” Though he was the tallest of the three men, Hagen’s round, boyish face and unruly blonde hair complemented his often puerile behavior.

Without a word, Elias joined them at the van. Together, they unloaded several framed paintings of various sizes, all wrapped in canvas cloth or bubble wrap. They carried each piece down into the basement and leaned them against a wall.

“Well, that was easy enough,” Hagen said, once all of the cargo was inside.

“There were no heavy wooden crates this time,” Leland added, his voice betraying a slight German accent.

“And there won’t be ever again,” Elias said. “It’s all paintings from here on out. No more marble busts or statues.”

Hagen spun and crept to other side of the basement.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Elias asked. “Looking for something?”

Hagen held up a hand. “I heard what sounded like a woman crying. It was faint, but it got a bit louder while we were talking.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Leland grumbled.

“Actually, I heard that sound down here a few days ago,” Elias said. “Among some other strange things I couldn’t explain.”

Leland waved a dismissive hand. “You’re both crazy. Whatever it was, it came from outside, a stray cat or something. We should close those doors.”

As if on cue, they slammed shut with a thunderous boom. All three men exchanged startled glances.

“Probably… just the wind,” Leland suggested, although by his tone and expression it was clear he didn’t believe it himself.

“What wind?” His nephew said. “There was barely a breeze out there and those steel doors were propped—”

“Whatever! This is going to be one of our biggest payoffs. We’re near the end now so it’s understandable if we’re a little tense. Just relax.” Leland turned to Elias. “What possessed you to talk to the newspaper about the house, Janos? You’re not supposed to draw attention to yourself.”

“His name is Elias now,” Hagen corrected.

Leland snickered. “Elias, Marcus, Karl, whatever you’re calling yourself this month, whatever you look like today, you were born Janos Skorzeny. We go back thirty years and to me, you will always be Janos.”

Elias placed a reassuring hand on Leland’s shoulder. “And you haven’t changed a bit in all that time, my stoic friend. The newspaper reporter came to my door. I had little choice but to talk to him. I thought if I did, he’d be satisfied and leave me alone. However, I refused to have my picture taken.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Hagen remarked. “How many plastic surgeries have you had in the last ten years? Your barely look like yourself with raised cheekbones and curved-in nose and you’re wearing blue contact lenses to hide your violet eyes. Very clever.”

“That and shaving my head were the easiest parts of the disguise,” Elias smiled. “As for the paper, the article was printed at the bottom of some obscure section of local news. No harm done.”

“What do you have to drink around here?” Leland asked.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of your cool new house,” Hagen said.

Alone among the dead.”

All three men turned their gazes to the top of the steps. The door was open and light from the kitchen illuminated the upper half of the staircase.

“Is there someone else here, Janos?”

“No.” Elias shook his head. “But then, you read the article.”

Ever the pragmatist, Leland had never believed anything beyond the perception of his five senses. Which was why, when they heard footsteps in the kitchen above, he pulled his gun.

Hagen did the same and motioned for Elias to remain as he followed Leland up the stairs. When they were three steps from the landing, a shadow passed the doorway. Leland bolted into the kitchen. Seeing no one, he continued into the dining room. As Hagen emerged from the basement, Leland signaled for him to check the back door. It was locked. They made their way through the rest of the house but found no intruders.

“There was someone here,” Hagen insisted later when the three regrouped in the dining room. “We heard the voice. We saw the shadow.”

“Welcome to my world,” Elias said. “That door in the kitchen that leads to the basement opens and closes on its own. I’ve locked it before going to bed only to find it wide open in the morning. I’ve heard the crying in the basement, but this voice up here… that was new. As for the shadow, it could have been caused by passing headlights through a window.”

“This is a nice house you’ve built, Elias,” Hagen said. “But what if it really is haunted?”

“Oh, for Chrissake!” Leland holstered his gun.

“If so, I won’t bother them so long as they don’t bother me, and if it becomes a problem, I’ll deal with it. Keep in mind, Leland and I are from Germany where every place is haunted.”


Check back next week for another eerie excerpt from By Your Side!

By Your Side – Countdown to Release!

By Your Side Front Cover featuring protagonist Miranda Lorensen carrying a young boy while two ghosts stand behind her.To celebrate the upcoming release of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, I’m sharing random excerpts of the story each week from now until July 22 when the book goes live.

Click here for more info on By Your Side and to pre-order the ebook for $2.99 from Amazon, Kobo, Apple, Nook, or Smashwords.

I hope you enjoy the following scenes from Chapter One – Night at the Zoo


On the opposite side of the zoo, Miranda and Amy made their way to the Reptile House by the light of the lampposts. It was a long one-story brick building with four windows along each side. During their guided tour earlier in the evening, Stanley had promised to keep the place unlocked until their investigation was over. No sooner had Miranda touched the handle of the glass door than her flashlight dimmed for a moment before going dark.

“Mine, too,” Amy said. “And these are new batteries.”

Miranda unclipped the walkie-talkie from her belt. The LCD display was off. She twisted the power knob to no avail. “Check your radio and mini DV.”

After a moment, Amy shook her head. “Same. What the hell? There’s no way everything could shut off at once.” As if on cue, the closest lamppost winked out. “I stand corrected. I don’t scare easy, but this is creepin’ me out.”

It was a popular theory among paranormal investigators that as spirits attempt to manifest, they draw energy from their surroundings. In doing so, they can drain batteries, as well as any heat in the immediate vicinity. Amy shivered as a chill wrapped itself around her. “Oh, my God, Randy, did you feel that? I think we have a cold spot.”

Something flashed in the pale moonlight that crossed the entrance to the reptile house. Amy realized she was alone. “Randy?” She stepped up to the door and pulled the handle. It was cool to the touch, but refused to budge. She cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed her nose to the glass. It was impossible to discern any details inside, save for the reflection of moonlight on various surfaces. A shadow passed in front of a window on the opposite side of the building.

“Randy!” Amy pounded on the door to no avail. She backed away until the air was warmer, and pulled her radio from her belt. It was still dead. She considered making her way back to the security office but couldn’t bear to leave Miranda alone. The question was, how long could Amy bear to be alone?

***

In the blink of an eye, moonlight through the windows brightened into the amber rays of the afternoon sun. Straw crunched beneath her feet. Somewhere behind her, a woman called her name.

Amy? The barn door slid aside, stopped midway, then continued as if requiring great effort to open. The silhouette of a young boy appeared. He held an oil lamp in one hand and in the other, a leather strap that led to the halter of a brown horse, young and sturdy. Except for a white patch between its eyes, it had no other markings.

“Come on, Bluff,” the boy said. As he drew near, Miranda estimated his age at ten, perhaps eleven. “It’s too hot out today. We’ll ride tomorrow.”

Miranda went unnoticed as the boy led the horse past her. He placed the oil lamp atop a wooden barrel and used his free hand to unlock the stall door and swing it open. At that moment, there was a loud thud from the hayloft, startling both boy and horse. Bluff jerked his massive head to one side as if preparing to retreat through the barn doors. The boy stroked the horse along its taut neck, but this only served to aggravate it all the more.

“It’s okay, Bluff. It was nothing. Probably a squirrel or a bird.” He pulled on the strap as hard as he could to turn the horse back toward the stall, but Bluff wouldn’t have it. The horse reared up, yanking the strap from the boy’s grasp and whipping him against the door of the neighboring stall.

The boy shrank away and for a moment, Miranda hoped his fear would keep him frozen in place, allowing the horse to bolt freely from the barn. Instead, the boy charged forward.

“No!” Miranda cringed as Bluff’s left hoof slammed down on the boy’s head, knocking him to the floor in a crumpled heap. The horse then bucked, kicking the barrel with its hind legs. The oil lamp tumbled to the floor, igniting a patch of dry hay. At that, Bluff bolted from the barn, leaving the boy unconscious and helpless against the spreading flames.

Within minutes, the fire had consumed the stall and the boy with it. The entire right side of the barn was soon ablaze. There was nothing Miranda could do. She was merely a spectator in this vision of the past, a dark and immutable event in the land’s history.

On the hayloft, an older boy gazed over the edge on his hands and knees. He appeared to be drowsy and disoriented, as if he’d just awakened from a nap. At the sight of the flames, he pushed himself to his feet and swatted bits of hay from his hair and clothes. The fire had spread beneath the loft, scorching the underside of the wood. He had barely taken two steps toward the ladder when his left leg punched through the floor. His face contorted in agony from the pain of the jagged wood that sliced into his calf and the flames that singed his bare foot and ankle.

Miranda knew he had no chance. He sat back on the floor and pulled his leg up through the hole. He crawled toward the ladder, but the floor could no longer support him and gave way, sending the boy plummeting to his death in the inferno below.

Miranda dropped to her knees and wept, ignoring the fire that raged out of control around her. Above, wood beams cracked and groaned. She threw her arms over her head as the roof collapsed.

When she opened her eyes a moment later, Miranda found herself in the Reptile House once again—along with the two boys. The room was oppressive, as if it still retained the inferno’s heat.

“We didn’t know anyone could see us,” the younger boy said.

His older brother stepped forward. “We’ve been trying to get through to people for a long time, but no one would listen.”

“I’m listening now.” Miranda wiped the sweat from her nose and chin.

“We’re lost. We don’t know how to get home or where our parents are.”

She took their hands. They were cold, but she gripped them and spoke in a soft tone. “You never left. The farm is gone. There’s a zoo here now. You—”

The younger boy’s eyes widened. “What happened to our mom and dad?”

“They moved on.”

“To where?” he demanded.

His brother placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Please, can you tell us where to find them?”

Miranda nodded, failing in her attempt to hold back tears. Discussions like this were never easy, especially with children. “Yes, I can.”

***

All the lampposts turned on at once.

Amy shot forward on a park bench beside the Reptile House, nearly sending the video camera tumbling from her lap. She caught it and noticed the red glow of the power light. Flipping open the screen, she aimed the camera at the light of the lamppost. It worked, but not for long. The batteries were nearly dead.

“Amy.”

She whirled to find Miranda leaning against the side of the building. “Randy, what happened? You’re drenched in sweat. Are you okay?”

Miranda swallowed hard before finding her voice. “The barn was here. Whole thing burned down. Those boys died right where I’m standing, not back there.” She waved in the direction of the Weeping Willow Garden.

“You had a vision.”

“I need to sit down.”

With some help from Amy, Miranda lowered herself onto the bench. She rocked her head back and closed her eyes. “Hot in there.”

“You were only in there for a few minutes.”

“A few minutes in Hell.”

“There you are.” Eddie emerged from the shadows along the trail. “What happened? We’ve been trying to get you on the rad—whoa, Randy, you okay?”

“Just peachy.”

“She had a vision,” Amy said. “All of our equipment lost power. Even the lampposts went out.”

“No freakin’ way.”

“She’s not lying,” Miranda confirmed. “It’s been a few years since I’ve had a vision that powerful.”

Eddie took a seat at the edge of the bench. “So what did you see?”

Amy sneered at him and shook her head.

“If you feel up to talking about it, that is.”

“Stanley was partly correct,” Miranda said. “Although his location was off. The brothers did die in a barn—”

“—but the barn was here.” Eddie finished. “Right where that Reptile House was built.”

“How did you know?” Amy asked.

“Google.”

Miranda chuckled.

“Seriously, you wanted me to research the history of the area, right?” Eddie said. “I found a website of some local historian and he had all the details of what happened here, so your vision was accurate. Though it sucks that you had to watch some kids die. Oh, and as for the mother, Nellie, she didn’t hang herself from a tree, she died in a nursing home seven years ago at the age of eighty-nine. The father, Leonard, died from a heart attack eleven years before that.”

“Nice work,” Miranda said.

“Maybe we should send two other people back here,” Amy suggested. “Set up video and audio inside the Reptile House. We might catch those speakers turning on by themselves like Stanley said.”

“I’ll stick around,” Eddie patted his jacket pocket. “I got my digital voice recorder in case those dead kids have something to say. Just send someone back with fresh batteries in the video camera.”

“‘Those dead kids?’ You’re so rude.” Amy turned to Miranda. “You feel up to walking back?”

“Absolutely.”

The women started off along the trail toward the security office. Before they were too far away, Miranda turned to ask Eddie if he was sure he’d be all right by himself for a few minutes. It was, after all, against the rules to go anywhere alone. But Eddie was speaking into his voice recorder. This was not unusual. It was common practice to provide a brief introduction, so you know what you’re listening to later when you review the evidence.

What was unusual were the ghosts of the two boys seated on opposite sides of him. They waved at her before vanishing.

“You worried about leaving Eddie alone?” Amy asked.

“Nah. He’ll be fine. There’s nothing to fear in the Reptile House, aside from that albino crocodile that was eyeing me up for its next meal.”


Stay tuned for another excerpt next week!

By Your Side Redux

By Your Side Front Cover featuring protagonist Miranda Lorensen carrying a young boy while two ghosts stand behind her.“You’re all alone here. Alone among the dead.”

While haunted by visions of her brother’s suicide, psychic-medium Miranda Lorensen is called to Lancaster, Pennsylvania to investigate a series of bizarre deaths—some of which are also suicides. Miranda and her team of paranormal investigators soon find themselves confronted by a vengeful spirit awakened thirty-three years after a bloody family tragedy. Miranda realizes that only she can stop the entity before it claims its final victims, but will her obsession for saving lives redeem her for the brother she failed?


I’m pleased to announce that the second edition of my paranormal mystery novel, By Your Side, is now up for preorder in ebook format for $2.99 from all the major resellers including Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.

This edition has been re-edited and given a new cover by comic book artist Scott Barnett.

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The official release date is July 22, 2024. The book will be launched a few days later at Shore Leave 44 SF convention in Lancaster, PA.

 

The Healing Power of the Written Word

Testing the Prisoner Front CoverRegardless of genre, several of my stories present a protagonist forced to confront repressed pain in order to overcome it and move on. As its heart, Testing the Prisoner is about the trauma suffered by victims of child abuse and the emotional damage they carry into adulthood.

I’ve been told by more than one reader that the book has aided in their healing process and for that, I cannot be more grateful. Most recently, fellow horror writer Carson Buckingham opened up about her experiences in her review of Testing the Prisoner on Hellnotes, a horror review site.

“I think the reason this book is so easy to get into and easier to continue with is the fact that the plot highlights the trauma, psychological chaos, and human feet of clay that makes it so relatable, even though it is about child abuse and letting go of hatred toward the abusers. Being a victim myself, though initially bothered by similarities to my childhood through some strongly-written abuse scenes, I stayed with it and am happy to report that this book turned out to be one of the most uplifting novels I have read in a very long time. If you have been a victim, it might do you good to read it. I found that, after I did, I was able to let go of a large negative burden that I’d been carrying for years… so thank you, Mr. Giunta. For your writing to be able to do that—to cause readers to step back and take inventory of their own lives and to improve them by acting on what they see is nothing short of miraculous.”

You’re welcome, my friend.

Six out of Five Stars for Testing the Prisoner!

This, ladies and gents, is the kind of book review that every writer dreams about. Thank you to fellow writer Carson Buckingham for giving Testing the Prisoner 6 out of 5 stars on the horror review site, Hellnotes.

“…Testing the Prisoner is so much more brilliant than just a terrific piece of fiction. It’s about the crossroads that we all eventually end up at and the decisions we make when we get there. The book takes an old trope and imbues it with complexity and new life… The character development is masterfully done, with character growth of not only the protagonist, but almost every single character in the story…”

Click here for the full review.

Testing the Prisoner by Phil Giunta