It's been pretty quiet here, this week.
No one wanted to take a stab at this topic?
I'm gonna give it a go with an excerpt from Immortal Curse. And I apologize for being so late. I was pretty much gone all day and most of the evening. Literally just walked in the door and yelled, "Crap! My post is late!"
To which my kid looked at me and responded, "First world problems."
So true, boy child. So true.
But anyway, I digress. Here's the scene in Immortal Curse where our intrepid heroine, Emma, meets Ian, the ghost.
Gripping the rim of the claw-foot tub, Emma pulled herself up to the surface and wiped the water from her eyes. She opened them, and a scream caught in her chest. A tall and decidedly transparent man leaned against her sink. Dressed as he was in a black suit, complete with a long frock coat, he looked like an antique photograph come to life. Shaggy, dark brown hair drooped across his forehead, and he pushed it aside. Deep blue eyes watched her intently.
There's something about a man in a frock coat...
“For fuck’s sake,” she was finally able to mutter.
Not that this will come as a huge surprise, but 'for fuck's sake' is one of my all time favorite phrases.
“Language, Miss Boulton.”
Boulton is my great-grandmother's maiden name.
She grabbed a towel and quickly stood to wrap it around herself. Pointing at the door, she said, “Out. Out of my bathroom. Out of my house. Out of this plane of existence, already.”
A dark eyebrow rose. “I’d love to. Really, I would.” An Irish accent colored his words, and his deep voice wrapped her in tingling warmth. “However, I’m not leaving until you convince your harridan of a sister and her equally obnoxious companion to leave.”
God, I love an Irish accent...
“Your sister.” He spoke slowly as though he thought she were an idiot. “Is in my schoolhouse. With her friend—the girl with red hair. They’re not listening.”
Realization sank like a stone in her stomach. “The abandoned schoolhouse on eighty-fourth street.”
The schoolhouse in the story is a real place in rural MI - in fact, it's the same one room schoolhouse where my Dad and uncles attended school waaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in the day. It's a cool old building, but creepy as hell.
“The same. They have an Ouija board.” Disdain dripped from his voice. “A pink Ouija board.”
Jen Armintrout and I went ghost hunting there once. With a pink Ouija board. It was Jen's.
She was going to kill Meaghan. And her friend, Rowan. She’d told them time and time again to stay away from there, but they didn’t listen. Now, she had to deal with a pissed off ghost.
I have a friend who's very sensitive. This whole bathroom scene was inspired by what happened when Jen and I went to the schoolhouse. However, the ghost is the story is much hotter than the one who showed up in my friend's bathroom and inspired this story.
“Look, I’m sorry they disturbed you, but they really don’t mean any harm.”
“I don’t care. I want them out.”
She sighed. Meaghan wanted nothing more than to see the same spirits Emma did, but it wasn’t where her gift lay. She was a seer—not a medium. Of course, Emma heartily wished she wasn’t a medium at the moment.
My friend has wished this too. I, however, wish I could see stuff...like ghosts.
Because it's so late and I'm so stinking tired, this is just a short bit of author commentary, but I promise, if we do this again, it'll be longer.