Here We Go Again... Again

You’ve probably seen the commercial where the narrator goes through a list of things that seem fun and happy, but clearly the actor depicted in each scene is anything but. The narrator follows up by saying, “depression hurts.” Well, it’s true. Depression does hurt and it makes even moments that should be pleasurable… painful. I know because last November I was diagnosed with Major Depression.  

For those of you who know me, truly know me, this probably doesn’t come as a surprise. I’ve often been described as having an unnatural inclination to melancholy. Now, maybe at this point you’re wondering what the heck this has to do with writing, or- in my case- not writing. Maybe not, but let’s just assume. Obviously I’m no Edgar Allen Poe. My depression doesn’t serve to fuel any horribly dark, yet magnificent writing. Quite the opposite, in fact. For the better part of a year I’ve not written anything of substantial value. I mean, sure I’ve made some journal entries, and to be fair I’ve even working on Voodoo Dolls. But… in the end… it’s just not been a very productive time; however, I aim to change that fact… starting with this blog!

Yep, I’m jumping back on the bandwagon. I intend to post twice a week: Mondays and Thursdays, with Mondays being a general update on my writing progress and Thursdays reserved for the fun stuff: contests, video blogs… stuff like that. Anyway, I hope you stop back tomorrow to check out my video post. So, until then… let’s all be sure to take our Prozac.

 

PK Dawning

Dead and Buried Part 5

                Paley wasn’t sure where the scream had come from, but she was certain it wasn’t Brighton. She looked at Brody, searching his shadowy face for any hint that this was part of his prank. As usual, his face was unreadable.

                “Guys, I think we should find Brighton and get out of here… fast,” Hannah said, sounding on the verge of tears. She wrapped her thin arms around her chest, a useless attempt to ward off a chill.

                Paley felt it too, in the marrow of her bones, and it wasn’t the cold October wind that brought the goose bumps prickling along her skin. Something was wrong here. “Yeah,” she said, keeping her eyes on Brody, “I think Hannah’s right.”

                Brody shrugged, casual, unconcerned. “Alright,” he said and started down the corridor. Paley walked alongside Hannah, who kept her head down, eyes on her shoes. She looked scared and possibly a little sick. Paley couldn’t figure her in on the prank. She was probably another unfortunate victim of Brody and Brighton’s sick joke. Then again…?

                “Look, up there.” Brody swung his flashlight in the direction of what appeared to be a narrow window about ten feet down the corridor. “That must have been where the fresh air was coming from.”

                And possibly where Brighton went, Paley thought.

   Hannah must have thought the same thing. “Do you think he could have crawled out of that opening?”

                “There’s nowhere else he could have gone.”

                “Except further down the corridor,” Paley said, staring down the darkened length of the passage.

                “We would have heard him if he took off that way. His footsteps would have echoed off the stone.”

                “What about that door?” Hannah asked. For the first time, Paley noticed a heavy wooden door recessed into the stone wall.

                Brody walked over to the door and shook it. It didn’t budge. “I think it’s barred from the other side. There’s no way he got out this way.”

                “Good point,” Paley agreed. “So,” she said, turning to Brody, “Out the window?”

                He shrugged with a sigh. “Looks like.”

                “If I ruin these shoes, Vance Brody, I’ll never forgive you for this,” Hannah said, with a disapproving frown.

                “Yes you will. You always do.” He ushered her toward the window. “Come on. Let’s find Brighton so we can get the hell out of here.”

                “What about Quinn?”

                Brody gave Paley a long, flat look, his electric blue eyes revealing nothing. “Haven’t heard from him,” he said, face impassive. “I assume he’s not coming.”

                The alarm that had been swelling in Paley’s chest eased. Now she was more than certain this was a setup. An elaborate, well plotted setup, but a setup nonetheless. Fine. She’d play along, make them think she was clueless. But she would not give them the satisfaction of being hoodwinked… again.

                “Oh,” she said, trying to sound oblivious and sucking at it, “I guess we’d better find Brighton then so we can leave.” She brushed past Brody and, without another word, hoisted herself through the window-like opening to land in a high patch of weeds on the other side.

 Brody gave Hannah a boost and Paley took her hands to help pull her over. She landed gently beside her. She gave Paley a thin smile. “Should’a worn flats. Looks like we’re in for a long night.”

                “Maybe,” Paley said with a mirthless smile of her own. She took Hannah by the arm gingerly and pulled her out of the way just as Brody emerged from the window and dropped to the ground beside them.

                Hannah didn’t wait for Brody to get on his feet before asking, “Now which way?” She looked exhausted and more than a little pissed off. Again, Paley wondered if she was in on Brody’s prank or if, like her, she was going to be made the butt of his joke. Either way, she was still Brody’s girlfriend and Paley couldn’t confide in her.

                “That way,” Brody said, pointing down the hill. The ground sloped away from the building and a wispy fog had set in, clinging to the ground. They inched along carefully, fighting their way through thick briars and tall weeds. It wasn’t long before they found a rough, dirt path and followed it deeper into the darkness. Even without the light of a moon, Paley could see the tall spires of the high school and knew they were circling around to the other side of the campus. Good. They weren’t as far away from the parking lot as she thought. Maybe they could find Brighton quickly and leave.

As they moved further along the path, the ground fog thickened. “We’re moving closer to the river,” Brody said, trying to explain away the eerie vapor. Hannah didn’t look convinced and Paley wasn’t buying it either. She looked up at the blue-black sky, fear sinking in the pit of her stomach like a cold stone. What if something really had happened to Brighton?

                Hannah, using her cell phone for light, shone it along the path. Something dark and glossy caught the light and shone from the corner of a broken headstone. “Is that… blood?” she asked. Her face paled to a sickly gray as she stared at the red stain smeared across the crooked headstone.

                “It looks like a hand print.”

                Hannah looked sick. “Oh, God. Brighton! Something terrible has happened to him.”

                “Calm down. Brighton gets nose bleeds,” Brody said matter-of-factly, though he didn’t sound convinced. “Paley’s right, Han. He’s probably hiding somewhere, waiting to scare us.”

                Paley resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though she doubted he could see the gesture in the darkness. This was a total set up. Obviously fake blood, Paley thought. God, these guys had it all figured out. And, of course, Brody was leading them right into the cemetery- a part of the church that had been long forgotten.

                “This way,” Brody said, keeping his flashlight beam close to the ground. “There’s a blood trial.”

                “That must have been one hell of a nose bleed,” Paley said dryly. There was too much blood for it to come from a nose bleed, she thought, as she followed Brody deeper into the cemetery. That was, of course, if it was even real blood. Paley doubted very seriously that it was.

                “There’s too much blood,” Brody whispered, and for the first time since Paley had met him he sounded scared.

                How very convincing, she thought sarcastically. Man, he was good, but she wasn’t about to buy it.

                “Did y’all here that?” Hannah asked. “There it is again. Listen.”

                Paley couldn’t hear anything besides the naked tree branches rattling in the wind and the pounding of her own heart. “I don’t hear it, Hannah.”

                “I do,” she said firmly. “This way!” She took off in a dead sprint and Brody tried to follow.

“Hannah, slow down. You can’t see where you’re going,” he called, but she didn’t listen, pushing deeper into the overgrown cemetery.

“Please, wait!” Paley called.

               Hannah turned to look back at them over her shoulder. “I’m telling you, I think I heard something. For all we know it could be Brighton.” She turned around a second too late. Her foot caught one something and she lurched forward. She lost her balance and fell, disappearing into the cold, gray fog.

                “Oh no!” Paley said, her heart sinking. “Hannah, where are you?” Paley picked her way through the cemetery carefully, not wanting to suffer the same fate as Hannah.

                “Down here,” she groaned. Paley and Brody rushed toward the sound of Hannah’s voice and found her at the bottom of a deep hole. No, not a hole, a grave. Hannah was in a grave!

                “Are you alright?” Brody asked, his voice belying the horrified expression on his face.

                Hannah tried to push herself up. “Yeah, I think so,” she said as she dusted the dirt from her clothes. She felt around for her phone, found it, and flipped the light back on. “Oh, God!” Hannah made a strangled gagging sound then, “Guys, I think I found Brighton.”

A Hunting We Will Go

As usual, my characters are being elusive. I’ve been hard at work on the fifth installment of Dead and Buried for the last four hours. However, my characters have decided to take me down a dark and unforeseen path. And, of course, I followed without question. So… the Dead Buried post is coming a little later than I’d hoped.

 But, don’t freak! As Paley and the gang take me on a wild goose chase through Jackson Hill, I want to send you on a goose chase of your own. Sort of… kind of… Okay, not really, but it’s a scavenger hunt anyway. October’s contest will consist of 31 clever (at least I hope they’re clever) clues that are buried throughout my blog. Search the archives, watch the videos, and think outside the box to find the hidden items on the list.

 To enter: Please mark each hidden object answer with the name of the blog post in which it is found, along with the paragraph number, or if the answer is located in a video clip, indicate the timeframe the object is displayed. All entries must be emailed to me at pkdawning@live.com to be considered.

 Now… for the prizes! The first place winner (fastest time) will receive their choice of either a $50 Amazon gift card or a Café Du Monde gift basket of equal value (shipping cost not factored into overall prize cost). Second and third place winners will receive a scene sketching from my story Voodoo Dolls done by… me!

 Please remember only entries that have followed ALL the rules will be accepted. Good luck and happy hunting!

                Due to shipping rates, only US residents may enter. Sorry.

CLUES:

1.       A pack of Pall Malls

       2.       A Quarter
       3.       An eight ball
       4.       A muscle car
       5.       A flooded passage
       6.       Hobby Lobby west of the Mississippi
       7.       A buyer’s warning
       8.       A raw deal
      9.       A quicksand nightmare
     10.   An undeserved pseudonym
     11.   A good-looking habit
     12.   A white ass
     13.   A Kurt Vonnegut quote  
     14.   A farewell to the Phantom
     15.   Soulful lilies
     16.   A string of green beads
     17.   Sights and sounds of the Crescent City
     18.   A practice misunderstood
     19.   Silver 3
     20.   An unoccupied soap box
     21.   A green and gold ribbon
     22.   A plastic knife
     23.   A harried mom
     24.   A neck bone connected to the head bone
     25.   A pink azalea
     26.   A mess of boiled crawfish
     27.   Three beignets
     28.   Old Glory
     29.   A disoriented owl
     30.   Most haunted place in New Orleans
     31.   Door number two

P.S. you can ask for clues in the comment section, but I won’t be giving answers!!!

PK Dawning

A Step Back

Some of you know. Many of you don’t. I’ve decided to take a mini break from Voodoo Dolls to do a little more research before finishing the story. In September, I hit the halfway point, and that’s when I realized the story wasn’t going exactly the way I’d hoped. It’s not a major dilemma, nothing to scrap the book over. But I decided it’s best to take a step back to recollect myself as a writer and reevaluate my story.

That’s one of the reasons why I haven’t posted a blog in over a week. I just needed a little breather. Now that I’ve had that, I’ll be back to posting on my regular schedule: Monday and Thursday 6 P.M. PST. I’m still breaking from the book until I return from my trip home to Alabama. I’m going to spend the next few weeks just reading, something I haven’t made time to do in a very long while. Plus, to be honest, I don’t want to be distracted by the story while I’m visiting with family.

In other Blog news, info on my October blog contest will be coming Thursday in addition to an extended chapter in Dead and Buried. (Wanna make up for flaking on y’all last week!) This month’s contest is going to be a little different, so be sure to check in Thursday for more on how to enter and to learn about the prizes.

Until then,

PK Dawning

Dead and Buried Part 4

“Does anyone know what time it is?” Paley asked. They’d been looking around the storage room she’d gotten them into for fifteen minutes. No one seemed interested in venturing up the stairs, not that she really wanted to, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of her night wandering around the dusty storage room either.

Brighton glanced at his watch. “A little after nine.”

“Oh, wow. Is it really that late?” Paley asked, trying not to sound suspicious.

“Why? What’s your problem?” Brody said as he peaked around a stack of grimy boxes. “It’s not like you have a curfew or anything.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, laughing uneasily. “I just… I’m supposed to check in with my case worker before it gets too late. Ya know, gotta keep an eye on me.” God, she was a horrible liar. Of course, she didn’t really have to call Mrs. Fletcher. In fact, she hoped never to lay eyes on the ogre again, but the others didn’t know that and she wanted an opportunity to go through Brody’s phone, see if Quinn had called or messaged him. She wasn’t about to be tricked twice in the same evening, and she had a feeling that was exactly what they were planning. “So…” She raised her eyebrows, hoping she looked sincere. “Can I borrow your phone?”

              “Have at,” Brody said, digging his cell from his pocket.

             What? The kid was even too cool to finish his sentences?

Paley suppressed an eye roll, took the phone and mumbled thanks. She glanced at the others, made sure no one was paying attention, then walked across the room to a darkened corner that provided a little privacy. She dialed a random number and let it ring a couple of times before hanging up. That way, if Brody checked, it’d look like she called her case worker. She pretended to carry on a conversation for a minute, then glanced over her shoulder. The others were completely oblivious to her. Working quickly, she scrolled through the phone and found the messages from Quinn. She didn’t feel bad snooping through Brody’s phone because she was pretty sure they’d brought her out here just to scare her. They’d probably made up the entire suicidal nun story for that purpose, though she had to admit, it was a pretty good one.

“That’s what I thought,” Paley whispered as she found the message she was looking for. Quinn and his girlfriend were on their way to Jackson Hill. Brody had told Quinn to sneak into the campanile so he could scare her. “Not going to fall for that again.”

                “I can’t believe this,” Brody said.

                Paley wheeled around, expecting to find him hovering over her scowling. Instead, the others were still across the room. She took a deep breath, told herself to calm down. She clicked out of the messages and made her way toward them. “What’s going on?” she asked, trying to sound as natural as possible, though her heart was still jackhammering against her ribcage. She wasn’t about to get frightened now knowing that Quinn and his girlfriend would soon be somewhere in the building waiting for Brody’s instruction to leap out and scare her.

                “Look at what Brody found,” Hannah said. She knelt on the dirty floor and shone the flashlight down a tunnel just big enough for a person to crawl through. “He pulled out a couple of loose bricks, and there it was.”

                “What is it?” Paley asked, kneeling beside her.

                “Some sort of passaged, I think,” Brody said. “We should check it out. No telling where it leads.”

                “It looks flooded,” Hannah said, with a frown. She brushed away a string of cobwebs. “I’m not about to go down there.”

                “Chicken,” Brighton taunted.

                Hannah ignored him. That seemed to be her default response to Brighton, one Paley seriously considered adopting. The guy was a totally jerk, and not just because he’d managed to scare her half to death.

                Brody shrugged, so nonchalant. “If Hannah doesn’t want to go, we’ll check it out some other time.”

                “Okay,” Paley said, standing. She dusted off her jeans. “So I guess that leaves the upstairs.” She looked toward the darkened spiral staircase and wished she hadn’t given her flashlight to Hannah. For a split second she thought she saw something move deeper into the darkness. A shiver ran down her spine, ice cold like a breath from the grave. She really didn’t want to go up there, and it had nothing to do with the scare she had earlier.

                “Or,” Brody said, his voice soft, drawing Paley’s attention away from the stairwell. “We could see what’s behind door number two. Brighton, help me move these,” Brody instructed as he pushed on one of the rusted file cabinets behind the dirt-begrimed counter.  

                Door number two? Paley hadn’t noticed another door, and as they moved the file cabinet out of the way, she didn’t know how Brody could have seen it either. Unless he’s been here before.  Try as she might, she couldn’t shake that feeling. Hell, they’d probably all been there before and she was playing right into their elaborate prank.

              “Is it locked?” Hannah asked, shining her light directly into Brody’s eyes.

He smiled, easing the flashlight from her hand. “Trade ya,” he said to Paley, and he passed her the flashlight in exchange for his cell phone.

“It’s not locked,” Brighton said. He turned the knob and pulled the door open, exposing a darkened corridor. The smell of mildew and dampened earth wafted out on of a gust of cold air.

“Where do you think that leads?” Paley whispered.

Brody smiled, his white teeth shining too brightly in the dim light. “Let’s find out.”

“I don’t know,” Hannah said hesitantly. She looked uneasy. Maybe she wasn’t in on the prank after all. “Maybe we should wait on Quinn and Nora. Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

“They’re not coming.”

“What?” Hannah sounded upset. “Why not?”

Brody wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled. “Take it easy, Han. Nora got sick at Horrorville. Quinn thinks she ate something bad, so he took her home.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t look so disappointed. You’ve still got Paley here to keep you company.” He gave her a dark look, his blue eyes ominous. “She’s not so bad,” he said, sounding almost sarcastic.

What was his problem? He’d lied so easily to his girlfriend, all the while smiling at her and rubbing her back. The guy was a bigger creep than Brighton, just better at hiding it. Whatever. Paley would play along with his little game. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anything to be afraid of now that she knew the whole thing was a setup. She looked around the room, her eyes drawn to the staircase again. Fickle shadows leapt and danced in her flashlight’s buttery beam. Just shadows, she told herself, nothing more, but she couldn’t ignore the unease slithering through her like a serpent.

                “Paley.”

                “Huh?” She snapped her head around to find Brody, Brighton, and Hannah all staring at her. “What’s up?” she asked, trying to will away the oily feeling of unease pooling in her stomach.

                Brighton chuckled, the noise like nails on a chalk board to her. “I said, do you want to check this way out or try the stairs?”

                “Whatever,” she said, shaking off another chill. What was it about those stairs that freaked her out so much? “I’m up for whatever.” She was not about to be the one to chicken out on this.

                “Okay, then we’re going this way,” Brody said, nodding toward the open doorway. “Let’s try to stick together. Brighton, take the lead. I’ll bring up the rear. Girls, ya’ll stay between us. Who knows what we’re in for?” He said it mysteriously, but Paley was pretty sure he already knew. He didn’t just find the hidden passage and the blocked off door by accident. No one’s that good, Paley thought, or that lucky.

                Paley followed Brighton down the dank, fetid corridor. Hannah walked beside her while Brody trailed behind. The sound of their collective footfalls echoed down the empty halls, reminding Paley of how alone they were. It wouldn’t be easy for Quinn and Nora to sneak up on them, at least not while they were in the stone passageway.

“This place reeks,” Hannah said, holding a hand over her nose.

“The air smells fresher up here,” Brighton said. He was several paces in front of them. “I think this must lead outside.”

“Or there’s an open window or something,” Paley mused aloud.

Brighton jogged ahead, eager to discover where the air seeped in from. “Up here,” he called, sounding very far away as he faded into the darkness. Paley could barely make out his flashlight beam, then it disappeared altogether.

“Where did he go?” Hannah asked, her voice feather soft, almost frightened.

“I don’t know,” Brody said, obviously irritated. Apparently losing Brighton wasn’t part of the plan, or at least, that’s what he wanted them to think. “C’mon.” He grabbed Hannah by the hand, placed his other on Paley’s back. “We’d better find him.”

Her heart began a slow tattoo in her chest as they walked together down the empty corridor, Brighton nowhere in sight. "He couldn't have just vanished," Paley said. "He's probably flipped his flashlight off and is hiding, waiting for us to come up on him."

A haunting scream cut through the night, bringing them to a sudden halt. "That wasn't Brighton," Hannah said, her voice quivering.

"No," Brody agreed. "That was a girl."

Glue, Glitter, and Writing

Over the past week I’ve been thinking about ways to amp up my writing. Voodoo Dolls is just not moving forward at a pace I’m satisfied with. So… I’ve decided to turn my entire back bedroom into The French Quarter Room. I know, I know. I can’t do anything small. Yeah, I could just go to a writers’ conference or something, but this will be way cooler. Besides, it gives me an excuse to play with glitter. Lots and lots of glitter!

I spent the day a t Michael’s, which is essentially the West Coast version of Hoppy Lobby, picking out beads, candles, glitter, anything that reminded me of New Orleans. I found some cool stuff, but it was hard not to get distracted by all of the ghosts and goblins out for Halloween. Somehow I managed to stay focused, for the most part. I did pick up a couple of All Hallows Eve decorations for my yard. What can I say? I love the holidays. Any holiday.

So, the room has a long way to go before it will remind anyone of the famed Vieux Carré, but I’ll post pictures as soon as things start coming together- hopefully by the end of the week. I still have a lot of other things on my plate, and I can’t put actual writing on the backburner to decorate the room. Anyway, I think it will look pretty cool by the time I’m finished! If nothing else, I’ll at least think about the Quarter as I’m decorating, and that will definitely help my writing.

A word of warning for those attempting to do something of this magnitude: Don’t purchase paper mache masks, glitter, a skull candle, and underwear all at the same time. It will elicit many unfriendly, suspicious stares.

For Now,

PK Dawning

Dead and Buried Part 3

So... I was thinking this would just be a short story thing that I did throughout the month of September. Looks like it might run into October now. Stick with me, kay? I promise it will be good. Enjoy!

Dead and Buried

Part 3

Hannah screamed, and it sounded a million miles away to Paley as the man in the mask lunged for her, connecting a shoulder with her ribs. She felt something crack as she stumbled backward, the world spinning clumsily beneath her feet. She hit the ground hard, cobwebs bursting behind her eyes as her face hit concrete.  She tried to move, but he was on her in an instant, pinning her to the ground with his knees.  

Paley blinked hard, struggling for air, trying to bring the world back into focus. She could see her attacker silhouetted against the night, his identity obscured behind the ski mask. He raised his arm and for the first time Paley noticed the knife in his hand, its razor-sharp blade glinting in the beam of Brody’s flashlight. She tried to scream, couldn’t catch her breath. He plunged the blade toward her chest, and she reached for the ski mask. If she was going to die, she wanted to see her killer’s face.  

Paley plucked the mask off just as the knife hit her side. She bit back a scream, waited for the pain, felt nothing. Confusion knit her brow as she stared into her attacker’s pale green eyes.  He howled with laughter and she scowled, zeroing in on the zit sprouting hairs in the center of his cleft chin. Little gremlin looking freak.  “You’re an ass, Brighton,” she said, shoving him in the chest. “Get off me.” She scrapped herself off the pavement and examined herself for injuries.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he laughed, doubling over. “That was priceless.”

Brighton poked at her again with the rubber knife and she swatted it away, surveying the rip in her jeans. Great! Because she had, like, a thousand pairs of those. The scrape on her knee wasn’t too bad, though it stung like hell. Her cheek throbbed and would probably bruise. She still couldn’t get a full breath. The jerk had probably cracked her ribs. At least she wasn’t bleeding.

                “I had you so scared. You seriously need to grow a pair of balls,” Brighton said, his laughter ebbing.

                “I guess that makes two of us,” she spat, dusting off the back of her clothes.

                 Hannah rushed over, her heels clicking like shotgun blasts against the pavement. She wrapped an arm around Paley’s waist and gave her a plastic smile. “Ignore him. Everyone else does.”

                “C’mon,” Brighton moaned, an inane grin still plastered across his dumb face. “It was just a joke.”

                “Yeah, we know, Brighton. You’re hilarious,” Hannah said with unmasked sarcasm. “You okay, Paley?”

                “Fine,” she said, secretly thankful Hannah came to her defense, even if it was just because she was the only other girl there.

                “Okay, enough games,” Brody said, arms crossed, his cool blue eyes skewering each one of them, silencing them with one hard glance. “Are we going in there or what?”

              Brighton and Hannah nodded, ever the obedient minions.

              Paley sighed. “Whatever. Let’s get this joke of a night over with.”

Brody smiled. “After you,” he said, and handed her the flashlight.

“Such a gentleman,” Paley mumbled as she departed the pathway and picked her way through the knee-high grass toward the lone campanile. Clearly the groundskeeper didn’t concern himself with this area of the school. Indeed, this part of Jackson Hill Academy was in ruins. Dirty, moss-covered bricks rotted and crumbled to the ground. Stained glass windows were cracked and shattered. Paley found the door, a giant, wooden structure hidden behind the weeping branches of a willow sapling. She pushed the branches away and pulled on the brass doorknob. Locked tight.

                “Can’t you just pick it?” Brody asked.

                “I don’t have another pin.” Paley swung the flashlight in a slow arc, spying a partially opened window. “Over there,” she said, wending her way through weeds and broken glass to the grimy window. She handed Brody the flashlight and pushed up on the pane. “It’s stuck.”

              “Now what are we gonna do?” Brighton said, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“I think I can fit,” Paley said to no one in particular. She took the flashlight back and without a second thought, pulled herself up and crawled through. The drop on the other side was higher than she’d expected, and she landed with a roll, wafting up the stench of musty rat feces in her wake. Dozens of the filthy rodents scurried back into their hiding places, yellow eyes peering at her in the darkness.

“Are you okay?” Brody called, looking down at her through the window.

“Sure,” Paley said, standing. A slow throb pulsed through her ribs and left ankle, but she dismissed it. She’d definitely have some bruises in the morning. She’d had worse.

“Can you get us in?”

“Uh, let me see.” Paley scanned the room querulously, the darkness closing in as she pushed forward. Dodging an overturned chair, she stepped lightly toward what must have been a storage room at one time. Rusting file cabinets flanked the wall behind a dusty counter covered in boxes. Long shadows danced and flickered as she swept the flashlight’s beam across the room. A vale of cobwebs covered the entrance to a darkened staircase that probably led to the belfry. No way was she going to venture up there alone. Not that she thought the place was haunted.

"Of course it's not haunted," she whispered, and forced an uneasy laugh. Cold fear slid down her spine. It felt like someone was watching her from the darkness. Ridiculous, she knew. The place reeked of disuse and had probably been locked up for years.

“See anything?” someone yelled from outside. It sounded like Brighton, but she couldn’t be sure. Paley didn’t bother with a reply, just shook off the unwarranted sense of dread snaking through her veins and made her way to the other side of the room. She cleared away a stack of books blocking the doorway and turned the lock. A shadow caught her eye and she turned. Something moved in the darkness. She cast the flashlight in the direction of the movement and the shadow-thing swooped from the rafters. “Jesus Christ!” she shrieked as an owl flew past her and out a broken window, its giant wings knocking shards of glass from the frame.

“What’s wrong? What happened” Hannah called, her shrill voice piercing the night.

“Nothing. It was just an owl,” Paley said. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, then pulled hard on the doorhandle. It creaked creaked open, allowing a cold gust of wind into the room.

“Check this place out,” Hannah whispered, stepping over the threshold and into the darkness. The others filtered in behind her. “Totally creepy.”

Paley agreed. It was totally creepy, though, she’d never admit that. “So, what now?” she asked, hoping the others would see the room and have their fill.

“Now,” Brody said, his angular features glowing eerily in the weak light shifting in through the window, “we find the ghost that's haunting Jackson Hill.”