Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Ghostly Excerpt from My Upcoming YA

It's Weird Wednesday, and I have no new ghost legends to tall today. I've chosen to give you a ghostly excerpt from my upcoming YA. Watch for details later this year.

     “Shelley, go to that small closet on the other side of the wall and bring down the huge screens. The city will be running pictures of Lincoln and Washington.”

     She opened the side door, flipped on a light, and stepped into a closet. Wind swirled her giving an instant chill. Wisps of her hair tickled her cheeks. The sleeves on her paisley shirt molded to her arms. Wind moved rubber edging back and forth. She searched for the switch to the picture screens and turned it. The wind roared in her ear. She took one step back and searched for an air duct. This was crazy. There was no outside wall, no fan or air conditioning vent. She left the closet, and the wind stopped.

     Now, her heart was pounding like she’d jumped to the ground after a fast gallop on Trophy. She swallowed attempting to rein in her runaway pulse. Overhead florescent bulbs gave off light enough to highlight anything out of place except for dark corners. No wind blew in the storage room now.

    Curiosity got people in trouble, but never let it be said Shelley played it safe. She rode her horse like there was no tomorrow and won play-days when others feared her speed. She inched the door open and moved ahead with her right foot, bringing her left one beside it. Wind plastered her shirt to her chest.

     “Shelley, turn it off. We don’t want that. Turn it off.”

     Dad’s voice was calling from the party room. Turn what off? She took a deep breath and eased away from the closet. Too afraid to stop watching, she backed out to where Dad and Victoria waited. “Turn what off?”

     Dad stood just over her right shoulder. “We don’t want that video going on. I don’t even know where it came from, but turn it off.”

     Shivers raced up and down her spine and exploded at the base of her neck. She did a half swivel to face him. “I didn’t turn on any video. I just hit the switch to bring down the screens.”

     “It had to have come from you. Why didn’t you answer? I kept calling.” Dad’s face reddened. His jaw looked tight.

     What was he talking about? She marched into the party room to the other side of the screens and looked for herself.

     Victoria slid to her side and pointed. “Those words keep flashing, one at the top, then one at the bottom, then the middle overlaying the others. What does it mean?”

     “Save me. Help. Lost. Grain. Husband. God.” One word after another spread across the screen in some weird-had-to-be-haunted pattern reminiscent of the screen at the people’s entrance.

     “Where did you find that? Show me,” Dad demanded and stomped his foot. “Maybe you hit another button close to the switch for the screens.”

     “I’ll show you." Would there still be wind? Goosebumps on her arms broke out like measles. Tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood out like they’d been spray-netted. She formed an o with her mouth and blew out air. With Dad at her elbow, she reopened the closet. “All I did was mash that switch.” She touched it.

     He pushed past her. His brown hair waved in the breeze. He quickly stepped back hitting his elbows on the side. “What ̶”

     “I don’t know,” Shelley said. “It happened to me too.”

     The red on Dad’s face drained away like rain into a dry ground leaving paleness. “I’m pulling up the screens.” He entered and flipped the switch down again. Before she could count to two, the wind stopped, the screens in the next room cranked up to the ceiling, and Shelley caught hold of her dad’s arm with a death grip.

     His face was still colorless. “I don’t know what happened there, but we’re leaving those screens alone.”

     “Sounds good to me.”

Hope I've increased your interest. Watch for the release date of A Ghost for Shelley, due out later in 2015.

Post a comment, e-mail me, or shoot me a Facebook post or a tweet if you know of a ghost legend anywhere that you're willing to share.

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