Frightening Friday - The Devil's Tramping Ground of #NorthCarolina #haunted

Photo by Jason Horne

The Devil's Tramping Ground is a camping spot located 10-miles from Siler City in western Chatham County, North Carolina. A circle 40-feet in diameter, the "tramping ground" has been the subject of legends and lore pre-dating the American Revolution. The lore alleges the Devil walks in circles on certain nights, thinking of ways to bring evil into the world. Despite being within a forest, only wiry grass grows inside this circle, and no plant life of any kind grow on the path leading to it. Locals have been unsuccessful in trying to transplant the wiry grass to other soil types. 

It is rumoured that objects left overnight within the ring disappear, animals won't go near the area and those who spend the night within the circle experience strange events. Numerous theories have arisen which try and explain the phenomena. One theory states the circle was originally a Native American meeting ground, another theory states the area is part of Croatan, named for a fallen tribal chief who may be buried there. In both stories, the tribal gods purportedly preserved the barren circle as a memorial to their followers' loyalty. 

Scientific explanations exist as well. Soil samples show the circle contains higher sodium, copper, zinc and pH levels than the soil from a few yards away. However, the difference isn't enough to make the circle soil toxic to plant life. Another interesting observation is that at certain points within the circle, a compass will move by about five degrees. Only soils with a high iron content would cause this to happen, which the soil does not have. 

The Devil's Tramping Ground remains a mystery...

Frightening Friday -- Isla de las Muñecas (Island of the Dolls)

Photo courtesy of Esparta via Flickr

Dolls. I've never been a big fan of dolls because I think they're creepy. Their blank stares, frozen expressions, predatory smiles...yeah, it's creepy.

Just south of Mexico City and between the canals of Xochimilco, there is a small island known as Isla de las Munecas (Island of the Dolls). As if one doll wasn't creepy enough, here you have a whole island of decapitated doll heads, arms and bodies; weathered by the elements and home to spiders and everything else. Oh, and did I mention? The dolls that populate the island have been put there to appease the spirit of a dead little girl and are reputedly haunted.

Don Julian Santana Barrera was a hermit who lived on the island. The story goes that he witnessed a little girl who drowned and was unable to save her. Seeing a doll floating in the canal, he hung it in a tree as a way of showing respect for her spirit. Shortly thereafter, Don Julian claimed he was haunted by the little girl and began hanging more dolls in an attempt to appease her. After 50 years of collecting dolls and hanging them around the island, Julian was found dead, drowned in the same spot where he found the little girl. 

After Don Julian’s death in 2001, the island became a tourist attraction run by members of his family. Local legend says that the dolls move their arms, heads and open their eyes. Some witnesses claim to hear the dolls whispering to one another. There are even those who claim the dolls have lured them to visit the island. 

Here's a short video to get an idea what the island looks like now. A trip to the Isla de las Muñecas is not on a regular tourist route. If you want to visit, you'll have to hire a private boat and the trip takes about two hours. Any takers?

Frightening Friday-The "Real-Life" Case Behind The Exorcist: Fact vs. Fiction

Photo courtesy of Michal via Flickr

There was a lot of conflicting information concerning the "real life" case and inspiration behind The Exorcist. The general (compiled) story goes something like this:

Roland Doe (a pseudonym) was born 1935 into a German Lutheran family. An only child, Roland depended upon adults in his household as playmates. It was his Aunt Harriet who introduced him to an Ouija board and it seems they used it on numerous occasions. When Roland was thirteen, she died of multiple sclerosis. Several reports suggest that Roland tried to contact her spirit with the Ouija board. Eleven days after her death, supernatural events began to occur--marching feet, strange noises, and household objects allegedly flew or levitated. After being placed near the boy, a container of holy water smashed to the ground and a picture of Jesus rattled on the wall, as if being hit from behind. When hearing of the numerous Ouija board sessions, the family became convinced that evil had possessed their 13-year-old son and consulted with Father Albert Hughes of St. James Catholic church for further assessment.

Roland was observed overnight and it was reported that in addition to scratching sounds on the wall, a pallet of blankets moved across the room and a heavy armchair tilted and tipped over on its own. The boy went home the next morning only to have the activity worsen. Scratches and sometimes words began to appear on his body, a kitchen table turned over, and objects flew around the room. At school, Roland's desk vibrated across the floor and he was sent home. Father Edward Albert Hughes decided to perform an exorcism. During the exorcism, it was alleged that the boy escaped from the restraints and broke off a bed spring from under the mattress, using it to slash the priest's arm from wrist to shoulder. As a result, the exorcism ritual was stopped. The incident reportedly had a traumatic effect on the priest and Father Hughes went into a long seclusion.

The family sought further help from Rev. Raymond J. Bishop and Rev. William S. Bowdern. The priests claim the boy had an aversion to anything sacred. Strange welts would appear on his body and he would speak in a guttural voice. They also claimed that objects flew around the room and the boy's bed would shake. Bowdern sought permission from the archbishop to perform an exorcism. His request was granted with the requirement that a detailed diary be kept. The exorcism was performed at the psychiatric ward of the Georgetown University Hospital. The priests stated that during the exorcism, words such as "evil" and "hell," along with other various marks, appeared on the boy's body. Outbursts, including cursing, spitting, urinating, vomiting and the use of Latin phrases, were also reported. The exorcism ritual was performed thirty times over several weeks. When the final exorcism was complete, witnesses reported loud noise going off throughout the hospital. Afterwards, the boy went on to lead a normal life.

That's the story you'll read on various sites concerning this case.

Author Mark Opsasnick tells a different story. In his meticulously researched article for Strange Magazine, Opsasnick states that "Roland Doe" was actually Rob Doe; a troubled teen growing up in an overly strict and religious household. Rob and his best friend would continually try and "outdo" each other when it came to pranks and other shenanigans. The best friend states that, "(Rob was) smothered by his obsessively religious mother and grandmother who held deep interests in spiritualism and Ouija Boards, shunned by his classmates at school, prone to tantrums and even violent outbursts towards his family and his few friends, and exhibiting cruel and at times even sadistic behavior towards other children and even animals." Mark Opsasnick's research uncovers that there was indeed an exorcism, though most of the activity reported in the "real life" case behind The Exorcist wasn't confirmed by any of the priests involved. Father Hughes was never attacked with a bed spring, nor did he experience a breakdown due to an attack. Father Halloran states the boy mimicked their Latin rather than spoke it fluently, and with no guttural changes in his voice. There was no vomiting or urinating, and the scratches were questionable. The list goes on.

If you're interested, I encourage you to check out Opsasnick's article. It's quite fascinating. What do you think? Was Rob Doe's behavior a result of demonic possession, or merely a troubled teen acting out? 

Frightening Friday-Collecting #Ouija #paranormal

Photo courtesy of felinebird via Flickr

Mainstream religions (and some occultists) associate the use of Ouija boards with demonic possession, opening portals, and an invitation to evil spirits.

I like Ouija boards. There. I said it. My head didn't spin around or anything. I don't know when I became fascinated with them, nor do I remember where I acquired mine. According to eBay, it's an antique. 

The last time I "played" with my Ouija board was in high school. Our school theatre was reportedly haunted, as all good theatres are. One rumor stated a student hung herself in the dressing room and could be seen over your shoulder when you gazed in the dressing room mirror. Another stated a student committed suicide in one of the bathrooms, which explained why the showers turned on and off by themselves. Yet a third rumor stated a student died on-stage and now sat in the audience to watch rehearsals. Sometimes, you could see their shadow in one of the seats. 

When we asked the teachers for details on these deaths, they were vague. The school was over a hundred-and-fifty years old, they'd say, it probably had many buried secrets. Why would we want to dig up anything so macabre? Well, we'd argue, because we've seen some weird things and want to know if the rumors were true. Unfortunately, we were dismissed with the excuse they weren't allowed to speak of such things. 

But theatre students are persistent. And when word got out that I owned an Ouija board, well...sorry Mr. B. When you thought your cast of Midsummer Night's Dream were rehearsing, we were calling upon spirits of the dead in the dressing room.

Fast forward to years later. Would I "play" with an Ouija board now? Probably not. While I don't feel the board itself is dangerous, the invitation may be. I'm still undecided on whether the board is a tool of divination or the subconscious at work. Regardless, I don't dabble. I collect paraphernalia because it still holds a fascination. I have several T-shirts, a blanket, necklaces, earrings, sunglasses, hair clips, a pair of socks, a business card holder, cellphone case, wallet, mug, spatula, computer sleeve and even a pair of undies.

However, the Ouija board I used in high school is in the attic. My teens keep bugging me to dig it out so they can look at it, but I'm reluctant. The board holds secrets. Secrets of what a group of high school kids contacted in that haunted theatre, years ago. Secrets of what should have stayed buried. Secrets we probably didn't need to know.

And secrets that, for now, will stay in my attic.

Frightening Friday - Creepypasta and Channel Zero #horror #paranormal

Creepypasta is quite popular with the young adult crowd - my teens included. On Creepypasta.com, you can submit your short horror/paranormal stories for (unpaid) publication, get reader feedback and ratings, explore writing prompts and participate in discussions. The site is a perfect venue for the budding horror/paranormal author and beyond. Their top stories have inspired the SyFy television series, Channel Zero, which just finished its third season. Channel Zero scored 98% on Rotten Tomatoes and if you haven't seen it yet, you're missing out. It's what American Horror Story used to be before it crashed and burned.

If you haven't checked out Creepypasta.com, I encourage you to do so!

Creepypasta
Twitter @creepypastacom
MrCreepyPasta via YouTube

You can catch up with Channel Zero here:

Channel Zero 
Twitter @ChannelZeroSYFY

Season One: Candle Cove (2016) based on Candle Cove by Kris Straub
A child psychologist returns to his hometown to determine if his brother's disappearance is somehow connected to a series of incidents and bizarre children's television show that aired at the same time.

Season Two:No-End House (2017) based on NoEnd House by Brian Russell
A young woman and her group of friends visit a house of horrors only to find themselves questioning whether it is a tourist attraction or something more sinister.

Season Three: Butchers Block (2018) based on Search and Rescue Woods by Kerry Hammond
A young woman moves to a city haunted by a series of disappearances. After learning the disappearances may be connected to a baffling rumor, she works with her sister to discover what is preying on the city's residents. 

Frightening Friday - Haunted #Raleigh #NorthCarolina #Ghosts and Urban Legends - Part 2

Welcome to Part 2 of Haunted Places to Visit in Raleigh.

Photo courtesy of Mark Turner - Public Domain

Mordecai House

Built in 1785, the Mordecai house is located in the heart of downtown Raleigh. Once part of a thriving plantation, it is one of the oldest homes in the area. Historic outbuildings include the Badger-Iredell Law Office, the overseer's office and smokehouse, the Allen Kitchen, St. Mark's Chapel, and the Andrew Johnson house; birthplace of the 17th President, Andrew Johnson.

The ghost who inhabits the Mordecai house is said to be the spirit of Mary Willis Mordecai Turk, who lived from 1858 to 1937. She appears wearing a grey 19th-century dress, and can occasionally be heard playing the piano in the downstairs drawing room. Some visitors have also reported seeing a grey mist hovering near the piano. The Mordecai house is filled with original furnishings and many family portraits. It is said that any unkind remarks directed towards Mary's portrait will result in the portrait dropping from the wall. During a field trip, a child claimed they'd seen a man appear and disappear by the Andrew Johnson house. The child became so inconsolable, that they had to be taken back to the school. There have been many investigations on the property - all resulting in impressive evidence of paranormal activity.

The city of Raleigh hosts a family-friendly Haunted Mordecai Festival every October.
Year-round tickets for a guided tour of the home may be purchased at the Visitor Center.

Photo courtesy of Mark Turner - Public Domain

Governor’s Mansion

This Victorian-style mansion has been called home by North Carolina governors since 1891. It was once described by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt as having “the most beautiful governor’s residence interior in America.” The mansion was built from native materials and occupied by 28 governors’ families throughout North Carolina's history. It is also reputedly haunted.

In 1891, Governor Daniel Fowle gave his carpenters precise measurements to construct a bed for the second-floor bedroom. The bed was constructed and moved into the residence. That same year, Governor Fowle died in the same bed but many have suggested that his spirit remained. In 1970, Governor Bob Scott decided to replace the massive wooden bed with a modern, king-sized bed. The old bed was moved to a room on the third floor, and the new bed put in its place. A short time afterward, the governor was awakened at night by a strange rapping sound coming from the wall where the original headboard had been. The rapping continued for several years, and the family nicknamed the pesky spirit, "Governor Fowle’s Ghost."

When a new administration took over the office, they decided to move the old bed back to its original location on the second floor. The ghost has not been heard from since.

Photo courtesy of Hans via Pixabay - CC0 Public Domain

Poole Woods

William Poole was a wealthy mill owner during the Civil War and owned large tracts of wooded land just east of the city. When Union troops marched into Raleigh, a rumor spread that Poole had vast amounts of gold hidden in the woods around his estate. The Union troops confiscated Poole's belongings, including his prized white horse, but the gold was never recovered.

Against Poole's dying wishes, the trees surrounding his mansion were cut down for timber. However, the trees were found to be worthless, having rotted from the inside. Shortly after Poole’s death, a ghostly white horse was spotted along the road in the woods surrounding the mansion.

Poole’s estate house burned to the ground over a century ago. The tract of land can be found between Walnut Creek Amphitheatre and the Neuse River.

______________________________

PART ONE

Frightening Friday - #Raleigh #NorthCarolina #Ghosts and Urban Legends

I love urban legends and haunted places. There are many such legends and places in Raleigh, but whatever city you live in, I'm sure you have some of your own. If you visit Raleigh, here's a couple of less-known hotspots to check out. Whether they're "truly" haunted or not, is up to you to decide....

Ratcliffe Angel of Oakwood Cemetery

In the beautiful and historic Oakwood Cemetery is a grave belonging to Etta Rebecca White (1880-1918). The grave is marked with a stone angel, shown in my photograph above. I've taken photos of this angel numerous times. Little did I know, there was a legend connected to it.
Legend states that if you view the angel at night, the stone angel turns around to look at you. It has also been reported that, by day, people have felt the angel's gaze upon them, following their every movement.

The stone angel is beautiful and makes for a good photo, legend or not. My respects to Etta Rebecca White and her descendants. If this legend is true, apparently, the stone angel is her sentinel.

Dos Taquitos Restaurant

I've eaten at this place - the food was good, the staff was wonderful, and the artistic ambiance was really cool. However, the building itself made me oddly uncomfortable. I felt oddly agitated the entire evening. When doing research on haunted Raleigh, I was surprised when Dos Taquitos turned up! Apparently, the resturaunt has a history of paranormal happenings. The history is grim; the structure has burned down twice, there was a death on the premises, and another death next door. In addition to those two deaths, in 1995, John Williams Jr. murdered four prostitutes on the nearby railroad tracks. Patrons and workers alike have experienced whispers, knocks, and other spooky happenings. In spite of all that, I do recommend you check out the restaurant. Best nachos ever!

The Nazareth Catholic Orphanage c1930
Image courtesy the NC Division of Archives and History

Crybaby Lane

There are a few stories regarding the Nazareth Catholic Orphanage. Once a large and beautiful building, it is now no more than a little stretch of deserted grass off Bilyeu Street and referred to as Crybaby Lane. After doing some research on this place, here's what I came up with.

The story: In 1958, a fire broke out in the orphanage dormitory. The fire spread quickly throughout the building. By the time the sleeping children were aware of smoke filling the hallways, it was too late. When the fire department arrived, the building had already been gutted. Months after the remains of the orphanage were torn down and removed, neighbors complained the smell of smoke was still in the air. The smell was so strong that some people would choke when they walked across the field. There have also been reports of the cries of children, calling out in fear.

The truth: There were several fires, but none that reportedly killed the children. One death was reported on the property. In 1905, a fire consumed the priest’s living quarters. One of the priests was attempting to help his fellow priests to safety but was unfortunately killed in the blaze. In 1912, a fire burned out the stables, but no one was injured. In 1961, a fire was accidentally started by a priest who was attempting to burn wasps’ nests. It burned the rectory to the ground, but again, no one was injured.

Today, most of the houses surrounding the orphanage have been abandoned. The area is an empty field. If you hunt through the grass, you'll be able to find the cornerstone, which is all that's left of the old orphanage.

Stay Tuned for Haunted Raleigh: Part Two

There are several other reportedly haunted places in Raleigh. I'll post them once I finish checking the historical facts.

Frightening Friday - The Living and the Dead - The Veil Between Worlds

It's ten days before Halloween!
I love this time of year, but things always go a bit haywire once October hits. We go through more lightbulbs, appliances break, unexplained things happen, and I catch more movement from the corner of my eye. This month is no different. The first week of October, we went through four lightbulbs. By the second week, our piano had taken to playing random notes, even though the cover is always closed. It's week three, and I'm still waiting for a major appliance to break. Let's hope it isn't my coffee maker, because then, we'd have some issues. No coffee=a very unhappy writer.

So, why is October so "busy?"  It is said that the veil between worlds becomes thin this time of year. Spirits are able to make contact and cross over from their world, into ours. Because October 31st marks the time between the Autumnal Equinox and the Winter Solstice, ancient peoples thought it was an optimal time for communion with the spirits. The dead were welcomed in from the cold, and invited to feast with their loved ones. Ancient customs ranged from placing food out for dead ancestors, to performing rituals for communicating with the dead.

Historical origins aside, we definitely have more activity this time of year, and our house has plenty going on. I oftentimes wonder if we don't have some sort of "spirit railway" running through property. 

How about you? Do you notice more activity this time of year?

Follow up: the next morning after this was written, the touchscreen on my iPad stopped working. Better that, than my coffeemaker, I guess. :(

Frightening Friday - Whispers in the Wood #excerpt #paranormal #darkfantasy

It’s been quite a summer. Thank you for all the emails and kind words, I appreciated them more than you know. I write for you.

On the home front - my teens both started school this week. I’ve had to throw lots of chocolate their way, because school’s always an adjustment after a lazy summer – for everyone! It looks to be a good year, though.

On writing - my goal is to finish Whispers in the Wood by the beginning of next year. For those who've read Poppy, Whispers in the Wood focuses on the side-character of Rowan. Find out how Rowan received her “gift” in my paranormal dark fantasy.

For now, I’ll leave you with my opening chapter. I rarely let readers take a peek at my work in progress, but I asked my characters for permission. All but one said it was okay. If I go missing, blame Firth.

…and check the trees.

Chapter One

“We share the upstairs bathroom. There is no en suite. This isn’t a fancy London B and B."

"No problem, Grace," Rowan said with a sigh. "I was just asking."

"That's Mrs. Lyon." The stout woman gave her a once-over before continuing up the stairs. The hem of her dress scraped against her knee socks. "Please clean the tub after you bathe. Towels are on the shelf next to the sink. Only use one, as I’m not a maid. I lock the front door at ten pm. The back door will be locked as well, so mind your time when you’re out.”

“Do I get a key?”

       “No.” She turned with a frown. “The doors are unlocked during the day. You’re expected in by ten pm. It’s a small cottage, and I don’t take kindly to be woken at all hours.”

 Rowan shouldered her backpack wearily. “Okay.”

“That door is to remain closed at all times. The room is off-limits.” She stopped at the end of the hall and opened another door. “This is your room. It’s over the kitchen, so it should stay reasonably warm. Extra blankets are in the storage chest at the foot of the bed.”

The room had a slight musty smell to it. A single bed, topped with a well-worn, quilt took up most of the space. An old, wooden storage chest filled the rest. A small window faced rolling, green hills that ended at a thick forest.

“If you wish to hike, there’s a footpath that leads to the village. Don’t bother the sheep. And leave your hiking boots in the mudroom so as not to track.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rowan saluted her.

“Are you being cheeky?”

She opened her mouth to answer and was immediately cut off.

“I’m up at four-thirty am. Breakfast is at six am. If you want breakfast later than that, you’ll have to walk to the village.”

“Six is fine—”

“No loud music, drinking or smoking." Grace pointed an accusing finger at her. "And no guests or funny business. There’s a pub in the village for socializing. This is my home, not a party house."

"I wasn't planning any funny business—"

"You paid for three nights. I’ll expect you out by noon on Monday. If you decide to stay longer, you’ll have to pay for another three nights by three pm on Sunday. I don’t do one-night lets.”

“I’m flying back to California on Thursday—”

“And no drugs.”

“I don’t do—”

“Welcome to Sheep’s Crossing.” Without further ado, the woman turned and shut the door behind her.

“And what a warm welcome it is.” Rowan tossed her backpack on the floor. 

Backpacking across England had been everything she’d hoped for, up until a couple of days ago. She’d been hiking along a deserted stretch of road when a car stopped to ask for directions. Before she knew what was happening, the two men made a grab for her backpack and there had been a struggle. She’d delivered a good kick to one of them, but the other had pulled a knife. She’d woken in the middle of nowhere with a lump on the back of her head, a deep cut across her shoulder, and the contents of her backpack strewn across the surrounding field. Out of habit, she’d kept some cash in her hiking boots, but her cell phone and the rest of her money were gone. 

For two days, she’d hiked across miles of rolling lowlands, but the English weather had not been cooperating. It had rained non-stop and her backpack and clothes were completely soaked through. Even her skin felt water-logged. By the third night, Rowan was ready to give up she’d find civilization, when she'd encountered a stranger who directed her to Grace’s. The remote bed and breakfast was a godsend. And in spite of Grace's less-than-welcome attitude, she couldn’t talk herself out of spending the money. One more night sleeping in the rainy cold would have done her in.

I’ll file a police report tomorrow, Rowan mused. After that, I’ll catch a bus back to Heathrow and it’s bye-bye England. She gingerly touched the lump on the back of her head. “And I thought student life was rough.”  She pulled off her wet boots and absently scratched at one of the many insect bites she'd acquired.

Rowan stood and peeked out the bedroom window. The rain had finally stopped and the sounds of sheep echoed across the hills. In the distance, a clump of thick forest was touched by the sun’s dying rays. A chilly breeze slipped through the cracks of the window-frame. She gave the window a tug and latched it.

The shared bathroom boasted a large claw foot tub with a shower attachment.  A sponge and plastic bottle of what she assumed was tub cleaner had been placed next to the tub. Wooden planked floors were painted white, as were the walls. Over the sink, an accordion-style mirror was affixed, it’s metal showing traces of rust.

 Peeling off her wet clothing, she tossed her underthings in the tub. Rowan eyed her muddy jeans and sweatshirt as she waited for the tub to fill. There’s no way I'll be able to wash those and have them dry by morning. And the rest of my clothes are just as disgusting.  

"Maybe Grace will let me use her washing machine," she said aloud with mock-cheerfulness. "After a lovely breakfast in bed, and some warm and welcoming conversation, of course." She let out a snort.

Rowan stepped into the tub, and sank into the hot water with a sigh. Scrubbing off several days of travel, she winced as the soap stung her shoulder. Her namesake tattoo, one of a rowan tree, felt ruined. Sustaining the brunt of the knife attack, the tree's trunk was now split in half. Red berries that scattered the tree's branches like ripe fruit, now resembled dried blood drops. She rinsed the wound carefully, before settling back into the water.

Leaving school mid-quarter was probably a mistake, she reflected. She'd set the money aside for a summer backpacking trip, not for a last-minute trip in the spring. Most of that money is gone now. Crap. Lately, her grades had slipped, she’d missed several days of work, and she’d felt little joy spending time with her friends. She wasn’t running away, Rowan told herself, she just needed some time to get her life together. So much had happened in the past few months.

Finishing her bath, she stepped from the tub. Rowan wiped the mirror and met her gaze. The dark circles under her eyes stood out against her pallid complexion. No wonder Grace gave me the stink eye. I look like shit. She ruffled her short, black hair. Her dark blue eyes reflected the stress over the past few days, but at least she was clean. She wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and gathered her clothes. I’ll wipe out the tub later.

The door to the verboten room remained closed, and she could hear Grace downstairs in the kitchen. In spite of the woman’s stern warning, she was tempted to peek inside. You’re going to get yourself kicked out. And don't think Grace wouldn't do it, either. She hurried down the hallway to her room and closed the door behind her.

Twilight was descending and Rowan switched on the light next to her bed. Tossing her dirty clothes and towel on the floor, she draped her washed underthings across the storage chest. She hunted in her backpack for something semi-dry to sleep in. After several moments, she gave up.

Rowan slid naked between the clean, cotton sheets with an exhausted sigh. I’ll hike to the village tomorrow morning. I’m sure they’ll have a laundromat and a store of some kind. I can stock up on cheap food, maybe I’ll explore a little, and... She was asleep before she finished the thought.

It seemed like seconds later when she woke with a start. It took several moments to orientate herself. I'm not outside. I'm safe. She let out a breath of relief before snuggling into the covers again. Her vision focused on the curtains, waving like beckoning hands. I don’t remember opening the window, though.  She quickly got up to close it. 

Moonlight traced a path to the forest. Her gaze was pulled to a red-orange glow within the trees. She leaned out the window to get a better look, and a breeze hit her naked skin. Rowan shivered and pulled back. Feeling grateful she wasn’t the one camping outside in the cold, she closed the window and latched it.

                  ____________________________________________________


Intrigued? I hope so. Look for Whispers in the Wood, coming 2017 via Faeriemoon Press