Tag Archives: horror

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!

About This Writing Stuff…

It has been three weeks since my last blog post. How the hell did that happen? Well, I’ve been stretched thin as of late with my FT job, a few expensive home renovations, health problems, managing eBay auctions (the time has come to downsize), and yes, writing projects.

I have a short story in progress for a contest, the second draft of my SF novel awaits my attention after that, and I’m waiting to hear back from two small presses on short stories I submitted to them. I’m also scheduling a book signing or two for a speculative fiction anthology I just released with a group of fantastic writers and I’m reviewing a presentation on self-editing that I wll be giving to a local writers group on Monday evening (24 May).

However, the fact that I’ve been neglecting my blog has been gnawing at me, so here we go!

This week, Steve Hooley reviews several sites for serialized fiction, including Kindle Vella, while Jodie Renner discusses close and deep third person POV.

Mary Alice Monroe and KL Burd use fiction to raise awareness of environmental issues and social issues, respectively, while Philip Athans offers advice on blending SF, fantasy, and horror. James Scott Bell provides tips on increasing productivity, Terry Odell delves into crafting character descriptions, and Kathryn Craft wages war against the lame apology.

All that and much more. Enjoy!

Serialized Fiction and Vella – What Do You Think? by Steve Hooley

Tips for Deepening the POV in Your Fiction by Jodie Renner

Weaving Real-Life Environmental Issues into Your Fictional World by Mary Alice Monroe

Fantasy and/or Science Fiction and/or Horror by Philip Athans

The Five Things You Need When Writing a Mystery Novel by Melodie Campbell

6 Practical Business Tips for Authors to Market Their Story of Success by Taylor Payne

7 Tips for Producing More Words by James Scott Bell

Character Descriptions Part I by Terry Odell

Character Descriptions Part II by Terry Odell

Why Bookshop.org is Not the Savior the Book World Needs by Ellen Peirson Hagger

The Magic Number by Todd Sattersten

Legal Protection for Fictional Characters by Matt Knight

Kick Your Story Up a Notch by Knowing Your Character’s Conflict Style by Kelsey Allagood

Unapologetic Characterization by Kathryn Craft

Incorporating Social Issues Into Your Manuscript by KL Burd