Tag Archives: Ghosts

Guest Release Promotion–666 Pine Edge Place by Caryn McGill

spooky mansion

How does a house become haunted? Must someone die there? Do ghosts or goblins seize it against its will? Or does the house decide? Learning to focus its energy. Relentlessly practicing until able to slam shut doors and windows, control faucets and thermostats…ignite blazes in its fireplaces…or anywhere it chooses. Unearth the answers in the short story 666 Pine Edge Place. If you dare.

Release date is October 28, 2017 from Drunken Pen Publishing

EXCERPT

I didn’t always look like hell. Once, I stood three stories tall crowned with a cupola and a wind vane perpetually pointing north. Wrought iron curly cues, like the letter L written in ornate script, pinned my black shutters tightly to the gray clapboard. My paint gleamed, my wainscoting appeared dent-and-scratch-free, my twenty-foot ceilings embossed with glorious white federal molding. Rather than the current inhabitants of creepy crawly creatures, pesky feral animals, and ghoulish spirits, happy families lived here…for nearly two hundred years. I protected them from the elements with my sturdy roof and walls, and from the frigid temperatures with my toasty-warm fires.

I watched with a sense of immense satisfaction as fathers tickled their children to near hysteria before finally tucking them into bed at night, then reading a favorite bedtime story, and mothers prepared sumptuous family dinners, sometimes with the aid of a kitchen staff. Holidays were magnificent with grand Christmas trees and mountains of festively wrapped presents; the sweet smells of holiday treats permeating the air as they baked in my professional-grade oven. Music and song filled my hallways. Dancing feet pranced on my marble floors and people made love in my bedrooms, sweet, thrilling love. I tried not to watch, but sometimes I just couldn’t help myself.

I felt like a worthy house, solid, set on a good foundation, hugged by magnificent magnolia trees and protected by sturdy oaks. Until the Sinclairs moved in…then everything went to shit. Perhaps if I’d been more patient, or just ignored them I might have survived.

The moment they stepped across the threshold of my magnificent mahogany door with the stained glass window spelling out WELCOME, a chill spread through me. No matter how high I turned up the thermostat I still couldn’t banish the dreadful iciness that penetrated my rafters. I shuddered, and the sound unnerved me…a sound I’d never made before.

The year was 1979. Dr. Sinclair, an eminent physician from New York, had just taken over old Doc Jensen’s practice who’d recently succumbed to liver cancer attributed to years of excessive alcohol consumption. Honestly, the stories I’d overheard from the previous owners made me think the new doc was sorely needed.

Upon her arrival, Mrs. Sinclair’s tall thin frame—her posture indicative of the stick up her ass—paraded around the first floor like a solider marching to war, her sharp spikey heels digging into my polished hardwood. I winced, and the wallpaper in my foyer wrinkled. My vents hissed, all the air seemed to get sucked out of me and I threw a few windows open so I could breathe. Nobody noticed.

Two children ran up the stairs, yelling and jumping around, as children are prone to do. But they didn’t seem joyful, their screams more like shrieks, unsettling, evil. I didn’t think there was such a thing as an innately evil child, but the second I saw them I knew this would turn out bad. Really bad. A few tears formed, the tiny droplets leaking from my faucets onto the ceramic basins with a bit of a plopping noise.

I tried to shove my anxiety and apprehension into my attic, giving myself a pep talk. You’re overreacting. You’ve been spoiled with wonderful loving families and these people are, well, just a little different. A little off… but everything will be okay after they settle in. It always takes me a while to get used to new residents. Perhaps I’m still too old-fashioned. People are more sophisticated these days. They smoke pot and believe in free love. I need to relax, chill out. Give them a chance.

Well, that attitude only lasted a goddamned week. I valiantly tried to ignore the giant gashes in my woodwork made by flying objects that should never become airborne. I really did. Mrs. Sinclair had a violent temper and both her children and her husband sported enough cuts and bruises to have her taken into custody. I couldn’t comprehend why they put up with her abuse. I mean… her husband is a doctor for Christ’s sake! He should know better! But Dr. Sinclair rarely made it home, spending long nights at his practice or the hospital and turned a blind eye to the dysfunctions of his family.

I witnessed the evilness of the children as they tortured small animals and also each other. A gleeful sneer would overtake their faces as they smeared their hands in the greasy red blood of their victims—painting their faces like war paint—and popped eyeballs with their feet. At times I couldn’t decide who was more malicious, the kids or the mother. Often I felt the urge to scream and I did so. My wailing sounded like the wind mostly, and frequently resulted in comments like “This old house sucks!” or “I hate this creepy house!” I should have been angry at the insults, but instead I was…well…hurt.

The basement became my own personal hell. Dr. and Mrs. Sinclair never went down there, but the children made it into kind of a Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory. The smells alone nearly suffocated me. The rotting bodies of furry creatures littered the cement floor when they should have been out running through the dewy green grass in my yard. I have a magnificent yard hugging me, one where lovely flowers grow and people could sit and sip a cocktail on a hot summer evening.

About a month after the move-in date I decided I couldn’t put up with one more second of this depravity. This repugnant family had to go.

Caryn McGill

Caryn McGill is published in paranormal: THE WIVES OF LUCIFER and also erotic suspense: UNSUB, under the name Kendra Greenwood.

Born on New York’s Long Island, Caryn McGill resided on its bucolic East End until a recent move to Richmond, Virginia.

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Guest Interview–Maureen Bonatch

What’s the logline that describes your writing?

It’s interesting that you ask that question since I’ve recently had my website and my logline updated. Previously it was, “Making the Ordinary Extraordinary and Laughing all the Way”.  My new one is, “Stories with Hocus Pocus and All That.”

I believe both capture the essence of my writing, which is humorous paranormal and fantasy romance.

Do you start a new story with the plot or characters first?

My characters always start the story. Sometimes I don’t even know their names when they begin telling me their story.

Is your writing style planned or freestyle?

As you can see from my answer above, my writing is freestyle (or panster as some refer to it–I write by the seat of my pants.) I’ve tried to force myself to plan out part of my story to reduce editing after, but most of the time my characters have minds of their own, lol.

Have you traveled to any locations that appear in your books?

Most of my stories feature small towns surrounded by dense wooded areas (a great place to tuck away all kinds of secrets). I draw from my home to create the settings, although I don’t use any specific locations.

Are you a pet person? If so, what do you have?

Yes, definitely. I currently have a Shih Tzu, or I should say, he has us, lol. Scruff’s been with our family for four years now. Prior to that, we had a Lhasa Apso for 14+ years. My girls have had an array of other critters over the years—guinea pigs, hermit crabs, fish and a hamster. My husband is allergic to cats, or I’m sure one might’ve been in the mix as well.

What do you hope readers gain from your stories?

I hope readers find a relaxing escape from the everyday. That they might laugh a little and wander out of the comfort zone of their imagination. That they might appreciate those around them once they look a little closer and see the extraordinary concealed within.

EvilSpeaksSoftly_Oct 11

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They were never supposed to meet. Fame came easy for Liv by following in the footsteps of the female writers in her family. The cycle repeated for decades…until Liv changed the story. Her villain doesn’t like the revision—and he isn’t a fictional character. In his story, the bad guy always wins.

They were never supposed to find love. Liv never questioned her demanding nocturnal muse, or the strange incidents in her old, family home until she met Gage. His job was to watch her from afar, not reveal the truth about the curse and the stories of the dead. They’ve broken all the rules. Together they unravel secrets as they strive to stop the cycle. Liv’s ability to find love, and protect her loved ones, hangs on the fickle whims of the dead—and they’ve got nothing to lose.

BUY LINKS

The Wild Rose Press

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EXCERPT

“I met this strange man at the bar last night. He told me some really weird stuff.” I paused. When she remained silent, I continued. “He said it was related to my writing.” She watched me with the fascination of one who desperately wanted to look away but couldn’t. As if a deer blinded to the oncoming headlights, she was fixated, trapped. “He said to talk to you.”

I searched her face. I knew my Grams. When resignation settled on her features a knot clenched in my stomach from either fear, or the excitement of validating Gage didn’t fabricate the story. Perhaps he wasn’t crazy.

Grams slowly closed her eyes and opened them again. “He found you?”

I nodded.

She turned to stare out the frosted window where the birdfeeder sat frozen over from the recent snow. “I can’t believe he took that risk. Watchers are never to approach the Recorders. It could totally upset the balance.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth.

When she used the same terms as Gage, my anxiety elevated. I expected her to deny his claims and then we’d laugh about the incident. “Grams, please tell me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I took a deep breath. “Some weird things happened last night. Occasionally I notice unusual things, but it’s an old house and I have an active imagination, but this time it scared me.”

Added note: This manuscript placed second in the 2015 Golden Palm Contest of the Florida Romance Writers—Paranormal category

maureenbonatch

Maureen Bonatch grew up in small town Pennsylvania and her love of the four seasons—hockey, biking, sweat pants and hibernation—keeps her there. While immersed in writing or reading paranormal romance and fantasy, she survives on caffeine, wine, music, and laughter. A feisty Shih Tzu keeps her in line.

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Guest Release Promotion–All In For Love, an anthology

Why we decided to write All In For Love:

Late in 2016, a few of us started a conversation about forming a box set which featured short romances and romantic suspense stories. One had a ghost! We decided to place it in the vicinity of Buffalo and Niagara Falls so that we could also bring in an influence from Toronto, Canada. The casino resort setting came easy and voila! All In For Love came alive. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing each story.

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Welcome to La Bonne Chance Resort & Casino!

With thousands of people passing through the casino’s doors on a daily basis, it’s no surprise that a variety of lives and loves are on the line there. It’s said that you’re more likely to lose your heart at La Bonne Chance than a hand of poker. Whether you are the Director of Casino Operations or the guy who created its software, a jilted bride or a black jack dealer, a past guest’s ghost or a sous chef–when it comes to love, the stakes are high.

Ready to roll the dice?

An Inn Decent Proposal, Sharon Buchbinder
Can an hotelier with a past and a chef with a future revive the grand dame in a neglected old inn?

Perfect Odds, Lashanta Charles
When a jilted bride meets the man of her dreams, will she embrace the new plan, or cling stubbornly to the old one?

A Ghost To Die For, Keta Diablo
She didn’t believe in ghosts…until one showed up in her room.

Raising Kane, Kat Henry Doran
Funny how a night in jail will change a woman’s outlook on life.

For Money Or Love, Margo Hoornstra
She’s the one woman he can’t afford to lose.

Take A Chance On Me, M.J. Schiller
Who do you count on when the chips are down?

GIVEAWAY  To add to the fun, we are giving away a gambling-themed handmade item to ONE lucky commenter who will be selected by a Random Number Generator.

LINKS

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Guest Post–New Gothic Mystery Series

A group of authors from various countries all over the world are writing stand-alone gothic mystery romance novellas set in their specific country. The stories are in the classic style of the old Victoria Holt and Phyllis A. Whitney novels—a young woman in a remote setting, cut off from family and technology, a spooky house, a reclusive hero, ghostly elements–but set in modern times. (Although, actually, there will be at least one historical gothic in the series).

While the stories are stand-alone, they each share a recurring thread of a Spinel stone, which can play a small or large part in the plot. The series has stories set in Scotland, Greece, United States, France, Ireland, and more. The releases so far have been Ghost in the Rain: A World of Gothic – Scotland House at the Edge: A World of Gothic – Greece, and mine (featured below) releases July 8th.

This project has been so much fun, and I hope it continues for a long time. I love reading the stories, they remind me of my youth when I devoured gothic mysteries. We hope readers will enjoy them too.

Devil's Promenade

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Amidst a blizzard, paranormal debunker Camille Burditt arrives at Devil’s Promenade in Oklahoma to research a supernatural ‘spook light’ for her latest book. There she encounters a ghostly being, which she dismisses as a figment of her imagination. But as the apparition becomes too persistent to deny, Camille realizes the woman’s ghost is quite real—and that her demise was not accidental.

Declan Rush—the inhospitable, reclusive owner of the inn—is linked to the deceased woman, but he is less than forthcoming. Despite his unfriendliness, Camille is oddly drawn to him, even though she suspects his connection to the spirit might be that of killer to victim.

Pre-order link on Amazon

EXCERPT

I was about to turn back when I heard the murmur of a voice—a male voice. An irrational prickle of fear swept through my stomach, but I dismissed it. There was nothing to fear out here. Why would there be? Well, maybe coyotes, but that had definitely been a human voice.

I stood still and cocked my ear, trying to figure out where the voice came from. It came again. I rounded the carriage house and ended up back where the trail had forked. I took the other path this time. I walked a few steps and realized I no longer heard the voice. Maybe I hadn’t heard anything at all.

A glimpse through the trees made me halt. A man. I moved closer and when I cleared the trees, I recognized Declan, although his back was to me. Three headstones were spaced six feet apart. Declan stood in front of the one on the right. It was a white marble teardrop-shaped stone with roses carved into the side and looked newer than the others.

His sister’s grave? I moved around until I was to his right but slightly behind so he wouldn’t see me. He wore a gray coat with the collar pulled up around his neck. His breath came out in wisps of smoke. He was bare-headed, snow dampening his dark blonde hair, making it look almost black. He was unaware of my presence. His focus was on the grave.

Sympathy pierced my heart, and I blinked back moisture. He looked so forlorn, so alone. I had to tighten my hands into fists inside my coat pockets to keep from reaching out to him. In spite of my good intentions, my efforts wouldn’t be welcome.

After several moments of silence, I began to wonder if I’d really heard his voice. Had he been speaking to his sister? He didn’t seem the type of man to give in to sentiments such as talking to a dead loved one. But what did I know?

I no sooner had the thought than he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I wish we’d gotten along better, but I did love you. I never wanted this to happen. I only wanted to protect you.”

Feeling like a spy and not wanting to continue intruding on his privacy, I stepped back. My foot landed on an icy tree branch lying on the ground, and the sound cracked like a firecracker in the still afternoon.

Declan whirled to look at me.

My heart leapt to my throat.

His expression tightened in anger. “Ms. Burditt? What in God’s name are you doing out here?”

“I—I was just…taking a walk.” I cast a guilty glance over my shoulder, then looked back at him.

He peered in the direction from which I’d come. “You were at the carriage house?” The words were barked like an accusation.

“Y-yes. I just…” I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling the cold even though the wind was still calm. “I just came upon it. I didn’t go in. the doors were locked.” I realized my error as soon as I said the words. Too late to take them back.

“You tried to get in?” He stalked over until he stood directly in front of me, looming like a dark angry cloud. “The carriage house is off limits. Stay away from it, do you understand me?”

I swallowed. “I wasn’t going to hurt anything, I was just curio—“

“I said stay away.” His voice was deadly, his eyes molten steel. “Do you understand?”

I couldn’t speak, so I only nodded. He held my gaze for a few more angry moments, then stormed away.

Author Picture - Alicia Dean

Alicia Dean is a suspense and paranormal author in Edmond, Oklahoma. She wrote her first romance at age 11, and she still has the tattered, pencil-written copy. Other than reading and writing, her passions are Elvis Presley, MLB, NFL, and watching her favorite televisions shows.

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Guest Release–Demon Kissed by Karilyn Bentley

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Gin Crawford, the world’s latest demon huntress, has no time to mourn her dead lover as she’s called in to determine why a demon attack occurred at the local medical school. And not just any demon, but the one demon that gives her demon-killing bracelet the shivers. A dead professor, a lab full of missing anthrax, and a demon who turns good people into minions complicate her life. Can Gin and her mentor Aidan Smythe solve the mystery of the missing anthrax and the identity of the demon before someone else dies?

BUY LINKS

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ibooks

The Wild Rose Press

EXCERPT

The scent of sulfur hangs in the air like a demonic stink bomb. I want to slap a hand over my nose, but no one else seems affected by the stench. Must be a demon huntress thing.

Justitian,” Smythe mutters. “Not demon huntress.”

“If you don’t like my new title, then stay out of my mind.”

He glares. I swallow. Cross my arms. Refuse to take a step back. I’m learning not to be intimidated by his anger. Go me.

My justitia vibrates, throwing me out of my internal battle, pulling me back to the land of death and minions. The blob of colors pulsates, a glowing reminder of a moment of terror. The moment the demon appeared to the grad student.

Granted, I’m still taking Demons 101, but I thought demons formed minions in private.  Usually after the human committed a crime, not before. A tryout, so to speak. And maybe that happened, but it sure seems to me like the black blob of demon force appeared to the grad student smack in the middle of the hallway.

Or maybe that always happens, and I just now noticed it.

The justitia’s vibration grows stronger, trembling my arm, my veins. Not its normal excited tremor upon seeing a minion or demon. A rush of images spikes through my mind, scenes of terror coupled with blood and death, memories of the justitia’s former wearers captured in time by the entity in the bracelet.

I’m not the only one freaked out by the colored blob. How bad was this demon to scare a justitia?

KarilynBentley

Karilyn Bentley’s love of reading stories and preference of sitting in front of a computer at home instead of in a cube, drove her to pen her own works, blending fantasy and romance mixed with a touch of funny.

Her paranormal romance novella, Werewolves in London, placed in the Got Wolf contest and started her writing career as an author of sexy heroes and lush fantasy worlds.

Karilyn lives in North Texas with her own hunky hero, a crazy dog nicknamed The Kraken, and a handful of colorful saltwater fish.

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Caster’s Unfriendly Ghost by Alicia Dean

Here’s another selection from The Wild Rose Press’s Haunting In the Garden series.

Caster’s Unfriendly Ghost by Alicia Dean

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A year after her husband’s death, Emily Tillman is ready to start dating again, and hopefully, find what she’s always wanted—marriage and children. But the man who broke her heart five years ago is back. And he’s anything but the marrying kind.  Confirmed bachelor Reese Caster is perfectly content with his life—and he’s finally over Emily, the one woman who almost made him commit. Now, his world is rocked when her dead husband shows up, demanding that Reese pursue Emily to keep her out of the clutches of her latest suitor—a jerk who is only after her money.  Being around Emily again has made Reese reconsider his bachelor life style. But now that the threat of the other man is gone, the pesky ghost wants Reese to break things off. Can he and Emily find the love they were denied, or will the ghost of her dead husband destroy their chances?

EXCERPT

“Emily is the kind of woman you have to take things slowly with.”

“Sure, if this was real. But you have to step it up, turn on the charm. You need to show you care, that you know her, buy her things that she loves. Her favorite flowers are white roses, she loves dark chocolate, and her favorite wine is Merlot. You need to move in on her, hard.”

Caster gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. “Do you hear yourself? You were her husband, for God’s sake. Have some respect.”

Joey’s face flushed. “I do respect her. That’s why I don’t want this asshole putting one over on her. She deserves to find someone who will truly love her and give her the things I couldn’t.”

A note of pain in his voice almost made Caster feel sorry for him. But not as sorry as he felt for the family who lost a loved one less than half an hour ago. “Listen, I’ve performed back to back surgeries today, and had my night capped off by an emergency surgery that ended with a young girl’s death. So, you’ll understand why I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that. My concern is with Emily. And I need you to follow through with your end of the deal.”

“Deal, my ass. You blackmailed me into going along with this bullshit. Well, I’m out. I’ll finish the haunted forest thing, but no more of this romancing Emily crap. I can’t use her like that, I can’t break her heart again.”

“Break her heart? You sound pretty sure she’ll fall for you. My, my. Someone’s full of himself.”

Caster stood and stalked to the door. “Look, I don’t know if she will or not, I just know I can’t do this any longer. You can destroy everything I own, keep me up every night for the rest of my life, but I’m done.”

He put his hand on the door, but Joey’s voice stopped him. “I’ll tell her.”

Caster paused and turned to face him. “You’ll what?”

“Not only will I continue to screw with you, even on the job, but I’ll appear to Emily, tell her about our little scheme. What do you think she’ll think of you then?”

“You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t hurt her like that.”

Joey shook his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were suspiciously damp. “I don’t want to. But I’ll do anything to keep her from making the biggest mistake of her life.”

Caster let out a resigned sigh and shook his head. “Nah, getting mixed up with the two of us was the biggest mistake of her life.”

Website:

http://aliciadean.com/

Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/Casters-Unfriendly-Ghost-Hauntings-Garden-ebook/dp/B00NQMV4NQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1412516933&sr=8-1&keywords=caster%27s+unfriendly+ghost

Nook:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/casters-unfriendly-ghost-alicia-dean/1120455662?ean=2940150463943

Wild Rose Press:

http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=242_177_139&products_id=5840

Guest Interview–Christy Effinger

Welcome to an author friend from The Wild Rose Press, Christy Effinger.

Tell us a bit about you and your background.

I’m originally from Southern Indiana, but now I live in a suburb of Indianapolis with my husband and baby daughter. Books have always been my passion; I earned an MA in English and then taught for several years at a community college. I’m excited to have a book of my own in print—finally!

Do you start a new story with the plot or characters first?

I usually start with the characters. Say Nothing of What You See began with the mental image of a woman jumping off a grain elevator, but there was another character I’d been thinking about for some time. He was intelligent and sophisticated but also controlling and jealous. I wanted to find out how these two characters were connected. And to do that, I had to write the story.

  Is your writing style planned or freestyle?

I work from a rough outline, but I’ve learned to be flexible. Often characters take me in a direction I never could have imagined. That certainly happened with Say Nothing.

If you use music while writing, name your favorite types.

When I wrote Say Nothing, I sometimes listened to electronica while I worked. I love chill-out, downtempo, and ambient music. Now that I have a baby, I cherish the quiet moments when I can write. But music remains an important source of inspiration.

Describe a normal writing day (or period, if you have other employment obligations).

Right now I’m home with my baby daughter, so I write during the day. I tend to write in short bursts when she’s napping or playing. Morning is my favorite time to work.

Do you write in a genre other than the one of this release?

Say Nothing is a paranormal new adult novel, but my WIP is contemporary women’s fiction. I also have a historical fiction project in mind I hope to tackle one day.

In what genre do you read?

I love all kinds of books, from literary classics to commercial fiction. I also enjoy narrative nonfiction and poetry.

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When her aunt steps off a grain elevator into the emptiness of a prairie evening, Mira Piper loses her one protector. Chloe, her flighty mother, impulsively drags her daughter to Bramblewood, an isolated spiritualist retreat in northern Michigan, run by the enigmatic Dr. Virgil Simon.

 

Chloe plans to train as a medium but it’s Mira who discovers she can communicate with the dead. When her mother abandons her, Mira discovers a darker aspect to Bramblewood: the seemingly kind doctor has a sinister side and a strange control over his students.

 

Then one winter’s day Troy Farrington arrives, to fulfill his mother’s dying wish and deliver her letter to the doctor. But calamity strikes and he finds himself a captive, tended by a sympathetic Mira. Haunted by her dead aunt and desperate to escape Bramblewood, Mira makes a devil’s deal with Dr. Simon. But fulfillment comes with a steep cost…betrayal.

BUY LINKS:

The Wild Rose Press

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Amazon

EXCERPT:

 

“You are absolutely stunning, Mira.”

 

I stole another glance in the mirror. The material was a rich, shimmery gold that fell from my shoulders in folds of liquid light. It looked like something a Greek goddess might wear. Oh, how I wished the girls from Amberville High School could see me in this dress!

 

“When you came here,” said Dr. Simon, “I had a vision of you like this. I looked at the girl before me, but I saw the woman you are now.”

 

“Thank you,” I murmured, gesturing toward the piles of clothes on my bed. “You’ve been so generous. I know you’ve spent a good deal of money on me—”

 

“Money means nothing,” he interrupted abruptly. “I have more than I could ever spend, more than I know what to do with. Don’t consider the cost.”

 

His tone was brusque, and I wondered if I had offended him.

 

But the next moment Dr. Simon smiled. “I think of you as my charity case. You were like a doll thrown out in the garbage. I simply rescued you from the trash, cleaned you up, and dressed you in something decent. But the beauty was present all along.” He touched my cheek. “Here.” Then he touched my forehead. “Here.” Then he touched my chest. “And here.”

 

I knew he was referring to my heart, but even so, his hand on my chest made my face warm with discomfort.

 

“You blush so easily,” he laughed. “You’ll never be able hide anything, Mira, with such a transparent face.”

 

“That’s all right,” I said, taking a small step back. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

 

 

 Quote from a 5-star review:

 

“A tale of darkness and despair at the hands of a madman . . . fabulous reading.” –Tome Tender

Effinger Photo

BIO & CONTACTS:

Christy Effinger’s poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared in various print and online publications. She lives near Indianapolis. Her website is www.christyeffinger.com.

Author Links:

Website: http://christyeffinger.com

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