Tag Archives: paranormal fiction

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!

About This Writing Stuff…

This month, writer pal Kathryn Craft shows us how to use weddings and funerals in our stories to explore characters and heighten emotions. Over at Mythcreants, Oren Ashkenazi examines the ever-popular literary device known as unreliable narrator.

Kristen Overman offers advice on self-editing and developing strong characters while Meredith Lyons talks about keepin’ it real in paranormal fiction. Do you feel pressured to sacrifice your social time for your writing? John Gilstrap reminds us not to feel guilty for living our lives.

Kelsey McConnell discusses the need for trigger warnings in horror novels. This is a timely topic given that I just released the second edition of Testing the Prisoner, my first paranormal mystery novel from 2009 that deals with child abuse and domestic violence.

All that and a lot more. Enjoy!

Writing Believable Characters by Michal Leah

There’s Always a Choice: Revision Techniques to Make Your Writing Stronger by Kristen Overman

How Subplots and Plot Filaments Lend Texture and Depth to Any Novel by Michael Craft

Why Is Strong Character Development Important? by Kristen Overman

Marry ’em and Bury ’em: Weddings, Funerals, and Your Novel by Kathryn Craft

Is There a Place For Trigger Warnings in Horror Books? by Kelsey Christine McConnell

How to Write a Realistic Paranormal by Meredith R. Lyons

How to Point Readers’ Attention in the Right Direction by Jami Gold

How to Increase Your Productivity When You Don’t Feel Productive by James Scott Bell

Writer’s Guilt by John Gilstrap

Unreliable Narration: A Useful Tool or Just Hype? by Oren Ashkenazi

Atmosphere Literary Definition: Genre Examples that Evoke Emotion by Joslyn Chase


If you’re a LibraryThing member, I’m running a giveaway for Testing the Prisoner! Six winners will receive a signed copy. Check it out here. Ends October 25th.

Testing the Prisoner is available now in ebook ($2.99) and paperback ($18.99)!

Testing the Prisoner print promo

Short Story Award Finalist!

I received an email yesterday morning from the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable informing me that my paranormal short story, “So Hungry . . .,” is a finalist for the 2017 Bethlehem Writers Roundtable Short Story Award.

Final judging will be by NYT Bestseller Carrie Vaughn. Winners be will announced by July 1.

Even if my story doesn’t place in one of the three top slots, I’m honored that it made the final round!

Click here for more information about the Bethlehem Writers Roundtable.

 

OK, Now What Am I Working On?

Amidst all of the turmoil, chaos, and uncertainty that continues to be 2016, I must admit that it was not a bad year for me as a writer. I always wish I’d done more, of course, but I’m grateful to have four stories and an essay published across three anthologies, one of which was a second place contest entry that earned me $250. Click on each cover below for more information about the books.
Write Here Write Now Cover Elsewhere in the Middle of Eternity Beach Nights
 
Last month, I had a short vignette accepted for the 2017 anthology of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group. That book will be titled the Write Connections and is slated for a March release.
 
I also finished my first of what I hope will be three stories for Meanwhile in the Middle of Eternity, the third volume in the Middle of Eternity speculative fiction series (no release date yet) and I’m working through a gods and monsters tale that is due in six weeks. YIKES!
 
Most importantly, I wrote the first four chapters of an SF novel that has been in development since 2012. It’s one of those projects that, at first, I simply tinkered with between other stories, but I finished the outline in 2015 and wrote four chapters over winter before being pulled away onto other projects. I intend to switch my focus back to this novel and complete the first draft in 2017, even if that means postponing or turning away some other projects. Only so many hours in the day and while I love writing short stories and editing anthologies, it’s been over three years since my last novel was published, so I’m overdue! 
Shout out if you’re working on any cool projects!

The View From On High: The WWII Towers of Delaware

 

Beach NightsIn case you missed my other five or six posts about the Rehoboth Beach Reads short story contest, my paranormal tale, “Tower 16” took second place and will be published in the anthology, Beach Nights, coming in November from Cat and Mouse Press.

In fact, the book launch is scheduled for November 13, 2-4PM, at Browseabout Books on Rehoboth Avenue.

My story focuses on lonely WWII veteran and Rehoboth Beach resident Reggie Prell and his doting granddaughter, Hannah, who is visiting him during summer vacation with her parents. In between regaling Hannah with stories of his army career, Reggie is confronted by the ghosts of his brothers-in-arms, all of whom have passed away over the years leaving Reggie the lone surviving member of his battery. Realizing that his end is near, Reggie reveals to Hannah the legend of Tower 16—which only materializes to claim the souls of those who served in the fire control towers along Delaware’s coast. Will Tower 16 come for Reggie next?

I was told by the editor of the anthology that my story actually made one of the judges cry. I know it certainly moved me as I wrote it.

So What Is This Tower You Keep Referring To?

I’ve been fascinated by the WWII fire control towers along Delaware’s coast for years and always wanted to write a story about them, but it was not until the Beach Nights contest was announced that an idea finally came to me.

After all, tell a paranormal fiction writer that you’re looking for stories that take place at night and whaddaya expect to get?

My connection to Rehoboth Beach seems to sDelaware Beaches Plaquestrengthen each year. I was married there, and as I write this, I am back in town with my wife as we celebrate our anniversary.

For the past four summers, she and I have rented a house for a week every July with friends, and we take the occasional day trip here as our schedules permit.

When at all possible, I also try to include a visit to Tower 7 in Cape Henlopen. It is the only tower open to the public at present, but there is a growing movement to restore and open some of the others.

This past July, I had the pleasure of visiting Tower 3 near Dewey Beach, which I’d spotted earlier in the day during a parasailing excursion.

 

Of course, trips to the beach wouldn’t be complete wiTower T-Shirt and Plaquesthout stimulating the local economy. This time, I finally bought a few tower-themed goodies from the local shops, including a t-shirt and two wooden plaques as pictured here.

Below are several pictures taken not only of the tower in Cape Henlopen, but images of the ocean, the bay, and surrounding park taken by me  from the very top of the tower.

 

The Purpose of the TowersFire Control Tower2_Long

The Fire Control Towers were constructed by the US Army in the early days of WWII to protect the Delaware Bay from potential incursion by German vessels.

There were 11 total concrete towers built between Cape Henlopen and Bethany Beach. Across the bay in New Jersey, two were built in Cape May and still exist, while the pair in Wildwood have been demolished.

Further north in Delaware, five metal towers were raised in Fort Saulsbury, but only one remains at Big Stone Beach as shown below. Photo credit: http://www.fortsaulsburyde.com

Fort Saulsbury Tower

The towers were mostly constructed in pairs in order to triangulate the position of enemy ships. The information would then be transmitted back to the gun crews.

Cape Henlopen was also the location of Fort Miles army base. Today, the base remains as a tourist attraction with many of the large caliber guns on display alongside the buildings as shown below.

Fort Miles Mobile Gun2 Fort Miles Rail Gun Fort Miles Massive Gun Fort Miles from Tower

Below: From the top of Tower 7, views of Delaware Bay, Atlantic Ocean, and Tower 12 in Cape Henlopen State Park.

Ocean from Henlopen Tower3 Ocean from Henlopen Tower2
Fire Control TowerCape May Ferry

Below: Tower 7 in Cape Henlopen State Park on a perfect summer day.

Fire Control Tower 7

References:

Fort Saulsbury, DE website

Fort Miles, DE website