Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Tuesday Quote

'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.
                --William Shakespeare

Thursday, October 16, 2014

The Monster's Scribbler: Excerpt 2

The Monster's Scribbler
Wisteria Mountain High, Book 1

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“Did the cat get your tongue? Or was it the Boogieman?” Jayla and her small group of cheerleaders laughed.
“The Boogieman doesn’t take children’s tongues. He prefers to scare you, so he can feed on your fear.” Phoebe put her hands on her hips. Jayla’s crap was old and Phoebe was so sick of it and the other stuff she had put up with lately. “Now, the Boogiewoman, that’s a different story. She just absolutely loves the tongues of mean bullies.”
“Boogiewoman?” asked one of the cheerleaders with Jayla.
“Phoebe, let’s go.” Madison tugged on Phoebe’s sleeve.
“You can’t leave. Phoebe was just telling me about the Boogiewoman, and I just have to hear more. This story is so entertaining.” Jayla laughed.
“Phoebe?” Madison’s voice no more than a squeak.
“Madison, I have to stand up to her. I can’t run away. Not anymore.” Phoebe swallowed but the lump of fear stayed firmly stuck in place. Even though she was afraid, she knew she had to stand up. She had done it once before. How was this any different?

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Tuesday Quote

Ghosts, like ladies, never speak till spoke to.
---Richard Harris Barham

Sunday, October 5, 2014

from The Monster's Scribbler

Excerpt from The Monster's Scribbler

Something heavy slammed into Phoebe, knocking her free of the grip.

“No!” Becka’s scream echoed through the pavilion. “The story isn’t worth it. I don’t want it. I want this nightmare to end.”

The lake churned and bubbled ferociously like boiling water.

Terrified Phoebe stared. She knew she should run, but her legs weren’t getting the message her brain was sending.

Out of the depths of the lake, rose the monster that had injured Phoebe’s shoulder and plagued her dreams. It did not glide smoothly out of the murky depths. It dug and clawed its way through the water like a vampire or a zombie digging its way out of a dirt-filled grave. The flesh clinging to the bony limbs stretched under the weight of the waters, making the putrid flesh ooze and drip even more than it did in Phoebe’s nightmares. New exposed white bones glowed in the moonlight. The tattered remains of clothes barely hung on the gaunt frame approaching the shore.

Phoebe could not do anything but stare at it.

The monster stepped into the soft twinkling light of the pavilion. Its face was little more than a skull with patches of rotting flesh clinging to it. The eyes—the eyes were not there. Two large dark holes marked the spot, but deep in their depths, small, blood red embers glowed.

Phoebe tried screaming but nothing came out of her mouth. Wide-eyed and shaking, her legs started working and she backed away from the monster-filled pavilion.

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