Here’s an excerpt I really had fun writing. Sam delivers an order from the market to Mrs. Jasper, an eccentric lonely widow who is not so alone after all…
Mrs. Jasper invited Sam to sit at her pine kitchen table that was happily situated by a large window, with a view of her backyard garden. He watched a scarecrow’s ragged sleeve flutter in the breeze as she bustled around her kitchen, setting the water to boil, preparing the teapot, teacups, linen napkins, crystal bowls and her best silver spoons. Each bowl and cup so delicate, he thought they might break if he just looked at them.
Filling the room, the aroma of a simmering stew drifted from a large pot on the stove. It was quiet enough to hear the stew bubbling from under the lid that was slightly askew.
As she presented a serving bowl full to the brim with her award-winning cobbler, his attention was abruptly pulled from the dessert. That hair-prickling-on-the-back-of-your neck kind of feeling overcame him when a voice invaded his mind.
“I’m watching you,” it hissed in an unnatural whisper.
As he turned to find the voice, he saw a shadow rush past the kitchen door, and heard the rapid cadence of small shoes clicking down the hallway. He looked at Mrs. Jasper, who was apparently aware of it too, but proceeded to spoon the cobbler into her dainty bowl, humming.
“Don’t worry, that’s just Elizabeth playing in the hall again. She’s a little shy of strangers.”
“Who’s Elizabeth?”
“Well, I know some folks think I’ve lost my marbles, but Elizabeth, she’s the ghost of a little girl who used to live here. I looked it up in the town hall records. Little Elizabeth Morgan Jasper. She was my late husband’s cousin who passed away when she was only five years old. I have a picture of her in a drawer in the parlor. I’ll show you,” she said, as she shuffled into the next room.
Sam waited quietly, staring at the doorway. The cuckoo clock on the kitchen wall chirped once, marking quarter till four. It startled him, but he never moved his eyes from the hall.
“Here it is,” she said, returning to her seat, giving a yellowed photograph to him. He looked at it, still keeping one eye on the hall. “Wasn’t she a doll? Those lovely ringlets. You know, I wish girls would still wear their hair that way, but I guess it’s too old-fashioned. And have you ever seen so many freckles? She was adorable. I’m sure it pained her mother greatly when the Lord took her home at such an early age. Maybe that’s why she’s here…searching for her mother.”
Sam knew better. There were no ghosts.
The tea kettle eased into a full whistle, and Mrs. Jasper rose to silence it. Sam watched her take a pot holder from a hook on the wall. As she turned the knob on the stove, the whistle died, and he turned back towards the door to find the little girl from the photo in the doorway.
“Hello,” the little girl said with a sweet voice that echoed into eeriness. She smiled at him, and then her ringlets bobbed as she turned and ran down the hall with a giggle.
“Uh…may I use your restroom?” Sam asked, his eyes still glued to the doorway.
“Yes, dear. Down the hall and on the right.”
He ventured out of the kitchen, alert to all his surroundings. With the same feeling of being watched, he skulked down the hall with care to prohibit the wood floor from creaking. No sign of the so-called Elizabeth. He crept past a small table in the hall, just under the stairs. On the table were more framed photographs—he assumed they were Mrs. Jasper’s family. He recognized a young Mr. Jasper next to a Model-T in one of the photos.
Just as his eyes left the photograph, he sensed motion on the stairs above him. He looked up to find ‘Elizabeth’ crouching low and peering at him under the banister. Sam, holding his breath, waited to see what she would do.
To read this and more…
http://www.amazon.com/Knights-Angel-Realm-Guarding-ebook/dp/B004X1XCDE
