Saturday, December 31, 2016

Stranger than fiction...

It has been said that truth is stranger than fiction.  But, what happens when truth is completely replaced by fiction?

Such a question was once limited to science fiction, but no more.  In an age when cyber technology afflicts society with a barrage of  "fake news," when unsupported opinion and even outright fabrication are presented as fact in a cybernetically generated alternate reality -- in which so many immerse themselves -- what then is accepted as reality?  Reality, it seems, is whatever the majority chooses to embrace.  Truth or fiction.  Bright, idealized vision, or horrific nightmare.

Joseph Goebels, one of the great masters of untruth once said that the bigger the lie, the more people will believe it.  That seems even more true today in the age of cyber reality, or un-reality.

Our current president-elect seems to create his own reality quite handily, conjuring phantom enemies and allies at will.  And, concealing any reality he chooses not to see. 

His own intelligence officers insist the evidence is overwhelming that the current Russian dictatorship is attacking this country at will in cyber space, attempting to affect the course of our national destiny as far as current cyber technology will allow.  Yet, our chosen leader simply refuses to accept that reality.  Why he refuses to accept it, only he knows.  But, as George Orwell pointed out in his dystopian future novel "1984", truth becomes malleable in the hands of a dictatorial regime which controls the flow of information.  Nothing...not even the statement that 2 + 2 = 4 can be considered absolute.  The human mind is our only instrument for discerning truth, after all, and that faulty instrument can be twisted.

President-elect Trump refers to fellow Americans who oppose him as his enemies, and treats a foreign dictatorship like Russia as a friend, even as they demonstrably attack us.  All manner of horrific scenarios of back-room dealing and international intrigue spring readily to mind and haunt our nightmares as we speculate as to the true nature of our new leader's relationship with the great bear across the sea.  But, the true reality, like the Wizard of Oz behind his curtain, remains hidden.

Like the Russian doll, shells within shells of false realities may regress infinitely inward.  What we find at the center may be the most horrific reality of all.


Thursday, November 24, 2016

Visions of Tomorrow...

What is humanity's future beyond the safety of Earth?

Lillicat Publishers presents:

The Visions Series

Exciting science fiction which explores the possibilities of space travel, from near-earth space to the remotest galaxies, and beyond...

Wednesday, November 9, 2016


And, night has fallen.

The light of reason and hope ebbs and so begins a long, dark night of hatred, fear and hopelessness.  A night of walls, of bigotry and fear and "extreme vetting."  Of hating the outsider in trying to make ourselves feel greater.

A step has been taken backward.  Back toward reversing a woman's right to control her life.  Back toward reversing marriage equality and relegating an entire group of people to an assigned caste of perpetual inferiority and alienation.

Families may be torn asunder, chasms may widen between nations and religions.  But, will our nation endure?  Will we still recognize it...and, each other...when the long dark night is over?

And, when will it be over?  Can darkness endure forever?  Hatred does.  War does.  Bigotry does.  How much more easily those things come to the human heart than love.  How much more easily to the human mind than reason.

So easy to revel in our own hatred.  Love of war.  Love of torture.  Hatred of the outsider.  Are these our creeds now?  Will any of our soul or national character survive in the cold, deepening shadow of a wall that blocks out the sunlight of hope?

All talk now is of healing and reconciliation.  Is that even possible in a regime that has fed and grown on division, fear and hate?  That depends on these things to continue to grow and prosper?  That would fill its ranks with those that would widen the gulf between authority and community?  That would move the law backwards while half the country longs to move forward?  Can we even try or want to support our elected leader if his goals include only more division, more fear, more inequality and more hatred?  When the leader's goals conflict with those of half the governed, then where does healing begin?

The protest marches have already begun.  Will they dissipate, or spark violent counter-protests, a taste of which we've already seen throughout the exhausting election behind us? 

This election was spawned by a complete lack of hope.  By a blind desire for change at any cost.  Like the foolish frogs of Greek myth who demanded a king.  Zeus gave them a log for a king, because it did no harm, and they were outraged in their boredom.  "Give us a king who does something," they cried, and Zeus gave them a crane for a king.  As the crane devoured them, they begged to have the log back.  But, it was too late.


Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Can history happen without anyone noticing?

If a tree falls and no one is there to hear, does it make a noise?  And, if historic events fall on deaf ears and uncaring history made at all?

We stand now at a crossroads of history.  In a tiny march of days, either we'll have the first female president in U.S. history, or...we go backwards, perhaps.  We succumb to cynicism, hatred and complete and utter loss of faith in our system and our way of life.  "Make America Great Again," is the rallying cry of the madman leading the opposition to reality.  No specific date is offered as to when exactly America stopped being great. Though, one suspects that crowd sees it as the day we elected a black president.  That was the day they started dressing up in colonial Halloween costumes and screaming about the Constitution.  Something they never seem to give a damn about when phones are being tapped or people are being tortured in secret prisons.  Only when a black man sits in the White House.  They compared Obama with Hitler, supposedly because they didn't like his healthcare plan.  A convenient way to vent their racist fury without admitting (even to themselves perhaps) the true source of their anger.  Obama's election was a moment in history they desperately tried to drown out with background static and period costumes.  They wanted to bury the true meaning of that election with petty grievances that couldn't in a million years elicit such fury with a white president at the center of it.

So it is now with this election.  The fact we could have our first female head of state is buried under petty gripes about emails and dusty law files.  The election of Hillary Rodham Clinton to the Presidency could be a moment in history, yet the forces of reaction, cynicism and moral despondency insist on seeing it as "more of the same".  "Business as usual."  They have lost faith in America's system of government, so they would elect a brutish clown, a testosterone-driven Neanderthal who plays on their fear and hatred of the outsider.  Their fear of the future most of all.  Those who embrace Donald Trump as the symbol of yesterday's American dream revitalized...the white, cigar-chewing, swaggering, arrogant dominant male American dream... are like children afraid of change, afraid of growth, afraid of the future.  They want to escape into the past.  More than that, they simply refuse to acknowledge that they live and breathe a moment of American history.  Our first woman President.  They don't dare to see her that way.  They hide behind cheap shots and name-calling rather than see the bigger picture.

That's not to say we should want to elect just any woman to the presidency, of course.  But, it does mean something.  It means we as a people haven't given up on the future.  It means we can take a step forward, as we did with Obama.  It means we haven't given up hope in the capacity of societies to grow and improve.

The Trump campaign is rebellion against reality.  Against the future.  Against our maturation as a people and as a nation.  Adolescent escapism in the form of a misogynistic, racist, dirty old man out of the past.  Trump feeds our darker angels, our fear and bigotry and xenophobia and misogyny, yet he hides it skillfully behind locker room insolence and petty gripes.  With him, the angry white male gets to indulge his hatred without really acknowledging it.  The enemy is always external, always in the ill-defined form of rigged systems and nameless, faceless corruption.  It's never about race or gender.

But, let's face it:  It damn well always is.  What happens next will, one way or the other, change the course of history.  The question is, will anybody notice?


Barnes & Noble

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

"The Last Time Keepers and the Dark Secret" by Sharon Ledwith

Welcome to the cover reveal for Sharon Ledwith's upcoming new novel, The Last Time Keepers and the Dark Secret!




Title: The Last Timekeepers and the Dark Secret

Series:  The Last Timekeepers, Book 2

Author Name: Sharon Ledwith

Genre(s): Middle Grade, Young Adult, Science Fiction, Fantasy, WWII


Release Date: October 17, 2016


Publisher:  Mirror World Publishing (




About The Last Timekeepers and the Dark Secret:
Only a true hero can shine the light in humanity’s darkest time.
Fourteen year-old Jordan Jensen always considered himself a team player on and off the field, until the second Timekeeper mission lands him in Amsterdam during World War Two. Pulled into the world of espionage, torture, and intolerance, Jordan and the rest of the Timekeepers have no choice but to stay one step ahead of the Nazis in order to find and protect a mysterious book.

With the help of the Dutch Resistance, an eccentric baron, Nordic runes, and an ancient volume originating from Atlantis, Jordan must learn that it takes true teamwork, trust, and sacrifice to keep time safe from the evils of fascism. Can Jordan find the hero within to conquer the darkness surrounding the Timekeepers? If he doesn’t, then the terrible truth of what the Nazis did will never see the light of day.




Read an Excerpt:


“I wonder what else is down here.” Drake beamed his cell phone across the basement, hitting jars of jams, pickles, and relishes. His stomach growled.

Jordan pulled the cheese from his pocket and handed it to Drake. “Trade you for your phone.” 

“Best. Trade. Ever.” Drake passed his phone to Jordan.

Jordan walked over and grabbed a jar of pickles off the dusty shelf. At least they wouldn’t arrive at the baron’s place hungry. He hoped his uncle had managed to stop Amanda’s bleeding. His hand tightened over the jar, the ridges of the lid cutting into his palm. A scrape from behind the shelves made Jordan jump. 

“Hello?” he asked, pushing jars aside. He flashed the cell phone into the small, dark area. 

“Who ya talking to, Jordan?” Drake asked with his mouth full of cheese. 

“Shhh, Drake.” Jordan listened. Hearing nothing, he shrugged and turned back around. 

“I thought I heard—” Jordan stopped and pointed the phone at Ravi. His jaw dropped. “A-Are you serious, Sharma?"

Drake spat out his cheese, snorting with laughter.
“Is there a problem?” Ravi asked, tying the bowtie of his tuxedo.
“You look like a penguin with attitude!” Drake slapped his knee.
“Say what you want, but I’m glad we didn’t hit the cleaners on the way to school now,” Ravi replied, pulling down his sleeves, “or else I wouldn’t have these dry clothes.”

Jordan chuckled. Suddenly, he heard a door creak open, followed by heavy footsteps squeaking down the stairs. Panicking, Jordan stuffed Drake’s phone in his track suit jacket’s pocket and waved Drake over by the shelves. Drake slipped behind Jordan just in time, before the small light bulb above the bottom of the stairs clicked on. Jordan swallowed hard. There, staring directly at Ravi was a portly man in a blood-stained apron. Tufts of blond hair sprouted from the sides of his balding head. His brown trousers were pulled up past his waist, making him resemble an evil garden gnome. In one of his hands, he held a huge butcher knife, its blade flecked with blood.
Wielding the knife, the man pointed at Ravi. “Who are you?”


Ravi licked his thick lips nervously. “The name’s Bond. James Bond.”


Meet the Author:


Unearthing the uncanny one book at a time.



Sharon Ledwith is the author of the middle-grade/young adult time travel series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, and is represented by Walden House (Books & Stuff) for her teen psychic series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, researching, or revising, she enjoys reading, exercising, anything arcane, and an occasional dram of scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a southern tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her hubby, one spoiled yellow Labrador and a moody calico cat.


Connect with Sharon:


Amazon US: 

Goodreads Author Page: 







Author's Website:









Friday, July 8, 2016

History's Crooked Line...

Science fiction writers dream of future worlds where petty feuds and national boundaries have been erased by the tide of human evolution, where the planet Earth stands as one in a brave and noble quest to explore the universe.  When the world was younger, we had our dreams.  And, hopes.

Today, it seems, the dream withers and humanity seems to be receding backwards into darkness, rather than forward into light.

The European Union was a dream.  For some of us, the first step towards a United States of Europe.  Of the world, perhaps.  But, fear, selfishness, tribalism, cynicism and feelings of alienation triumphed over the newer human qualities of hope and idealism.  Reversion to fear and anger killed at least  part of that dream when England, to the shock of the world, withdrew from the E.U.

Some blame the failure on bigotry; the same fear of the outsider, of the stranger who is different from you and me, the primal fear in all of us that drives police bullets into black suspects (and now, perhaps the reverse) and fuels Donald Trump's wall-building frenzy.  Trump builds walls against Mexicans and Muslims, the Israelis build walls against Palestinians.  Now, the English want to build walls against all foreigners.  Walls are going up all over.  Is it just bigotry?

Partly.  But, others blame elitism.  Decades of the rich and the powerful ignoring the working class. There's truth in that. What we are seeing now, worldwide is in many ways a worker's revolt.  Sad, that all that unfocused anger, festering for so long had to find its focus in the blind hatred of the outsider.

So, is this the end of the dream?  Has humanity made the final U-turn?  We are never to stand as one in reaching for the stars, but only cower behind our damned walls, fearing foreigners and killing each other, ultimately turning not outward to new frontiers, but inward to the caves?

Maybe.  But, then again, it would be na├»ve to expect human progress to be a straight line from the caves to the stars.  It never has been.  History has always been a crooked line.  There have always been great rises and falls.  Advances followed by grave disappointments.  The dream of a United States of America was delayed, after all, by a civil war fueled by both economic conflict and racism.  Many would contend the former eclipsed the latter.  America simply had to unite, in spite of its divisive racial hatreds and fears, because larger forces demanded it.  And after re-unification, the dream and the struggle continued, and still continues today, through all the senseless hatred and violence.  The line is crooked yes, but it does seem to move forward, however haltingly.  The same may yet prove true in Europe and elsewhere.  Only time will tell.

Perhaps today's sad failure will be tomorrow's wake-up call.  Perhaps a house divided against itself truly cannot stand.  Maybe it took something like this to wake the world up to the fact that elitism is not the road to the future.  The workers must have a hand in the future they are called upon to build.  A truly united Europe...or ultimately a united Earth... must be one that includes the votes and voices of the common people.  But, for that to happen, education must take the next generation beyond its tribal fears and isolationist instincts.  The vote to exit the E.U. was largely a vote of the old over the objections of the young.  The last gasp of a dying generation?  We'll see.  Where there's life, there's hope.

Lessons learned, and tomorrow's another day.  Maybe.

Monday, June 20, 2016

A Visit with Sloane Taylor

Sloane Taylor hosts my SCIENCE FICTION guest post on her fine blog:

Sweet as Honey...Hotter Than Hell!

Check it out:

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Divided in Crisis

 Science fiction delves into the darkness of the human soul.  It also speculates on how societies present and future may react to extreme crisis, up to and including the apocalypse.  History teaches us that societies in real life often unite in times of crisis.  After the 9/11 attacks, our society certainly united, in common hatred for the common enemy.
But, it would seem it takes an attack on the entire society to elicit such a visceral feeling of tribal unity.  Attacks against carefully selected sub-sections of society do not seem to elicit unity.  Quite the opposite.
Orlando, Florida.  The most recent mass shooting in what is becoming a darkly monotonous parade of senseless death did little or nothing in unifying society.  Perhaps because segments of the public saw different faces of evil when looking at the carnage.  The LGBT community saw hatred directed against them.  Right-wing politicians saw an opportunity to strike terror into the collective consciousness of the public by raising the devil of Islamic Radicalism and reiterating mad cries for closing the doors of the land of opportunity to anyone who prays to Allah.  Other right wing politicians used the opportunity to stoke the fires of the culture wars by suggesting that the patrons of a gay night club simply "reaped what they'd sown."  As usual, the obvious question of gun control was raised, and as usual, still more right-wing politicians kow-towed to the gun lobby in blocking substantial progress on the issue.
The usual arguments and counter-arguments were raised. On one side:  Why was a man on a terror watch-list able to purchase an assault rifle?  For that matter, why is anyone able to purchase an assault rifle?  On the other side:  Why weren't the patrons of the night club armed with assault rifles?  (Yeah, those right-wingers in North Carolina would love that...gays with assault rifles.)
The right wing continues to hold the unlimited right to bear fire-arms as sacred while giving at best meagre lip service to the right to live, shrugging off mass shootings as an immutable fact of modern life while bemoaning abortion as murder.  (Say...if a gunman shot up a maternity ward instead of an abortion clinic, I wonder if the pro-lifers would picket the NRA?  Nah...they'd probably advocate arming the OBGYN staff.  And, the pregnant patients.)
No, unless the enemy hits us all at once, we will not unite against him.  We won't even agree on who he is.  Instead, we'll just use the selective attacks, the terminations with extreme prejudice as propaganda material for waging our private feuds and hateful slights, even before the bodies are cold.
Now, that's an effective strategy for any enemy of our society.  Attack the factions one by one, and watch them turn on each other.  "They came for the Jews, and I didn't protest because I wasn't a Jew.  Then, they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't protest..." Well, you know the rest.
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 Goodreads page
Free sample

Saturday, June 11, 2016

The long, hard trek of progress...

Science fiction tracks the millennial progress of future societies, following them into very strange places.

But, truth is stranger than fiction.  In real life, social progress moves at a crawl.  More than half a century has passed since the days of bus boycotts and struggles over segregated lunch counters, water fountains, public swimming pools and restrooms.  And, racism is still alive and well.  Laws may change, but the evolution of human cultures and mindsets is glacially slow.

Today, a new battle is being fought.  The players have changed, but it is still over something basic to everyday life.  Again, the battle for civil rights is waged in the dingy field of the rest room.  Again, conservative politicians in the American south are trying to pass a law making it a crime for certain people...certain people unwelcome for their share the same rest room as the other, more "normal", more valued members of society.

The proposed law, absurd on its face, would require transsexuals to use the rest room corresponding not with their identified gender, but with the gender listed on their birth certificate.  This law is not only impossible to enforce (short of having security guards check everyone's birth certificate upon entry) but impossible to obey.  Try to imagine transsexual men...who look like men, who wear beards, who wear male clothing and may even have post-operative male genitalia...using a women's rest room.  I'm guessing it wouldn't be popular.  Nor would transsexual women...who look like women, who wear dresses, nylons and high heels...using a men's rest room.  (Try to picture what would happen to them.)

The proponents of this law would have us believe it's about protecting the privacy and safety of women and girls who feel invaded by males entering "their" rest rooms.  (Just as white people may have felt similarly invaded.)  That's not a male next to you, Miss.  That's another female, whether you know it or not.  That, of course, is not the real issue.  The proposed law goes much further than that, in forbidding the passage of all forms of anti-discrimination law, not only affecting transsexuals, but gays and lesbians as well.  The law simply legalizes discrimination.  Not only in the rest room.  Not only at the lunch counter or swimming pool.  But, everywhere.

The fact this law comes on the heels of the Supreme Court's historic decision on marriage equality is no coincidence.  It's a retaliatory assault on the entire LGBT community.  An attack on the simple human dignity of those who are different, preying on fear and ignorance.  The cowardly bigots behind the law, as usual, cry "victim" and equate discrimination and alienation with religious freedom.

Lacking the advantage of time travel in real life, we can't see how this will play out in the future.  But, if recent events are any indication of the tide of history...In twenty or thirty years, this issue will have gone the way of racial segregation.  But, the ghosts of the past will, alas, linger for generations beyond that.  Fear of the unfamiliar and all the cruelty it spawns is ingrained in the human psyche.  It will take evolution, not revolution to change that. 



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Free sample


Saturday, May 21, 2016

Healing His Soul's Mate by Dominique Eastwick

Join Dominique Eastwick as she celebrates her new Wiccan Haus release with a Rafflecopter Giveaway!


The babies are coming… the Wiccan Haus will never be the same.


Things are not as calm at the Wiccan Haus as they usually are. The impending birth of Dana and Rekkus’ cubs has everyone on edge. The last thing anyone wants or expects is a series of uninvited guests.


Ashlynn Stone hasn’t spoken to her sister Dana since she left for the Wiccan Haus over a year earlier. But when a fluke accident on the fashion runway forces her to seek the healing of the Wiccan Haus, she has no choice but to pack her bags and take the ferry to the island with her family in tow.


Shadedor has been sent to the Wiccan Haus to assess the situation. But he soon finds more than he expected. His soul mate in need of healing. Can he negotiate the issues of the Wiccan Haus and overcome the walls Ashlynn has built to protect herself.


As the Haus prepares for the biggest event since it opened, can the siblings find harmony and manage to do what they do best, heal those in need? Or is it too much for them to take?


Welcome back to the Wiccan Haus.



He walked. This morning, he had been right next to her, and there had been constant contact. Now they would appear to anyone passing to be complete strangers. “You want to tell me what is going on?”


“We are attempting to remove all stress from your life in hopes of easing the headaches.”


“No, with you. If you would prefer to be elsewhere, I can go back to my room and lie down.”


He stopped. “There is nowhere I would rather be.”


“Then why are you acting like I have the plague? Was it the kiss earlier?”


“I overstepped my boundaries this morning. I should not have done so.”


“Do you regret it?”


“I am assisting the staff here in your healing. It is inappropriate for me to come on to you.”


“Are you on staff here?”




“That settles it.” She smiled. Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I do not know what is going on, but I do know my pain and fears ease when you are near. I don’t claim to understand how you discern all you do, but I am starting to see things here aren’t always black and white, and sometimes I have to have faith and trust.”


After a brief second of him standing as still as a statue and her wondering if she read too much into this morning’s embrace, he relaxed. His arms snaked around her, pulling her against his hard body. His mouth came down on hers begging her to open for him, demanding she submit to his kiss. She might have started this dance, but he would damned well be leading it.

RAFFLECOPTER through  May 26th


Award-Winning author Dominique Eastwick currently calls North Carolina home with her husband, two children, one crazy lab and one lazy cat. Dominique spent much of her early life moving from state to state as a Navy Brat. Because of that, traveling is one of her favorite pasttimes. When not writing you can find Dominique with her second love…her camera.


Learn more about Dominique Eastwick on her website, blog, and Amazon author page. Be sure to join her Newsletter for up to the minute info on new releases, contests, and more.


Stay connected on Twitter, Tublr, Tsu, and Pinterest.



Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Science Fiction thriller Dissent is now on sale

Dissent:  Book I in the Nexus series

Witness a galactic empire of women

Witness a cosmic supercomputer with designs of creating a new human race

Witness a race of world-builders who can manipulate time and space across billions of years

Visit genetically engineered worlds where people can fly and live underwater, where combat to the death brings forth new life.

In the galactic empire of Kalthaar, a race of women battle for control of entire star systems.  A rigid caste system based on irreconcilable values divide a galaxy.

In the midst of interstellar war and political intrigue, an impossible love between two courageous women from two castes forbidden to interact leads to a daring alliance and a desperate effort to save a dying world.

Phase 5's Website Link
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Goodreads page
Free samples

Review: Dissent - Book I in the Nexus series

Read an in-depth review of my new science fiction thriller Dissent:  Book I of the Nexus series:

Sunday, March 13, 2016

"The Island" by Clarissa Johal

Demonic horror on a mysterious island -- Supernatural thriller from Clarissa Johal...
Book Details:



Genre: Paranormal Horror 

Author: Clarissa Johal 

Editor: Marisa Chenery
Booktrope, Forsaken Imprint (2015)

ISBN-13: 978-1-5137-0161-5   


Number of Pages: 210





Exploring a remote island can sometimes get you into trouble.

Especially when you stumble upon a cave and awaken two demons.


Rumors and superstition.

That’s what Emma thinks about local gossip concerning her grandmother’s “cursed” private island. Emma journeys to the island to ready it for sale. While out exploring, she unearths a hidden cave–a cave which holds answers to the island’s dark past.

There may be more to the rumors than she thought.


Excerpt from THE ISLAND:


She was jarred awake by a cry. The vestiges of her nightmare dissipated as she orientated herself. Nightmare. Emma let out a sigh of relief. The cry sounded again. A distant sound, high and wailing. A baby’s cry. Her heart quickened. Good god, surely that can’t be a baby?

The fire in the stove had burned down, its embers lending a glow to the living room. Emma looked out the front window. The yard was still. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. The cry drifted in with the breeze, faint but unmistakable. She ran through her mind what possible bird or animal could make the sound and came up with nothing. Characteristically, the island was blanketed with silence, almost like a vacuum. She stood, uncertain. After several minutes, the sound started again—the unmistakable high wail of a baby. She slipped on her boots and parka.

Fog trailed like cobwebs in her wake. The mournful cry threaded through the trees and came from the direction of the house ruins. In spite of a growing anxiety at what she’d find, she quickened her pace. If that is a baby, it’s still alive, and I need to get to it. If it’s not a baby… She blocked out the possibilities of what else it could be.

She approached the ruins and the sound stopped. Her heart raced. I know it was coming from here. The area held an unnatural heaviness. A branch cracked behind her and she turned with a start. Something dark darted through the trees.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded muffled in the fog. Emma’s attention snapped to the left. The dark figure ducked out of sight. She took one step backward, and fled.

Heavy footsteps echoed from behind as she plunged through the trees. They were catching up with her. Emma pushed herself to run faster, terrified she’d lose her footing on the uneven ground. The cabin loomed large, a haven in the thick fog. Stumbling across the cabin’s porch, she hurdled through the door and slammed it shut, locking it.

Emma rooted her feet to keep from running around in circles. Straining to hear, she was greeted with eerie silence. Several moments passed before the baby’s cry started again. And this time, it sounded from right outside the door.








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About the Author:


Clarissa Johal is the author of paranormal novels, THE ISLAND, VOICES, STRUCK, and BETWEEN. When she’s not listening to the ghosts in her head, she’s dancing, taking pictures of gargoyles, or swinging from a trapeze. She shares her life with her husband, two daughters, and every stray animal that darkens their doorstep. 


Find Clarissa Online:


Author Website:



Twitter: @ClarissaJohal


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