by Trinity Crow
I had warned them. This land was hungry and it would not rest until that hunger was sated.
For we ourselves were divine, needing only to claim our power. It wasn't about the gods or goddesses who walked this land, but the demons we carried within us. I did not know if the other girls had the strength to face and banish their own dark past, but I had hope for them. For the first time in a long time, I had hope for myself as well.
From the Author
Notes on Abby's story:
I started this series to be a classic series of haunted house stories, as in . . . spooky stuff happens, backstory revealed, terror, resolution, the end. They were meant to be standalone books. But about two chapters into Abby's story, which at the time was in 3rd person, I wasn't feeling it. I had no sense of who Abby was as a person and why, like any normal human, faced with the inexplicable and freaky, she wouldn't just cut and run?
(I know, you see these stories of people who just stick it out in terrifying situations, but I am always like WTH?)
Anyway, I thought as standalones, I would just shuffle her to the back of the queue and tell Tasmyn's story first. I wrote 17, 800 words in 4 days which was a new personal best. And while writing out the auction scene, I realized that as they gathered around the table of raffle boxes, the characters would have seen each other and probably interacted. So, a series it became! And after writing Abby through Tasmyn's eyes, I could see her much clearer.
She arrived wih her own fears and quirks, and really, she introduced a story arc I had no intention of writing. The point is, please take Abby as she is. At some point early on, it became clear she was going to do whatever she needed to to feel safe and to survive. She is young, raised by crazy people and doing the best she can.
But for the record, I'm not advocating against men or marriage or even Christian religion. I don't sit down and plot stories. I don't outline or construct story arcs. The characters show up and they tell their story to me. Stephen King says writing is more like an archaeological dig where you slowly reveal one layer at a time. The story is already there, you just uncover it. Abby made me confront why I have predominantly male friends, the best of whom is my husband, and yet I wrote about female relationships over and over. She also had me look closer at pagan pantheons, because although I am pagan, I am an atheist. I am curious to see what Tasmyn, Cassie and Nikki will reveal in their stories.
There is a real Spicewood, with one of the loveliest natural springs I have ever seen. It is a quirky little place, with a vulture for the town logo and a library that refused any state or federal funding so they might drink wine at the board meetings. If you go, go on Friday for the King Ranch Chicken at the local gas station. Maybe ride up to Marble Falls to that pie place with the eight inch pie. I only borrowed the town names because I suck at names. All places, people and names are otherwise completely fictional. I never had any paranormal experiences there or saw any abandoned houses.
Finally, I need to dedicate a thank you to some people. When I doubted myself, they were readers and supporters and just good people. So to:
Kheya G.
Kaisea E.
Clare M.
From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.Whatever future success I have in the writing world, please know that your support was what gave me the courage to keep going. Blessed be, ladies.
And to my husband and best friend, well, you know . . .
Trinity Crow
Sneak Peek fo Fright House…Tasmyn's Story
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the book, please leave a review. There is no better way to boost a book and help an indie author. You can also enjoy my first series listed below. I've included a Sneak Peak of Book 2 in the Haunted House Raffle Series!
Other books by Trinity Crow
The Child Lost Series
www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B07HPFLFTB
Crooked Crossroads
Midnight Mojo
Graveyard Grit
***
The scream jerked me from sleep. My eyes flew open and I froze where I was, half raised in bed, surrounded by darkness. Before I could form a coherent thought, rapid footsteps pounding along the upstairs hallway seized my attention. My heart slammed violently before lodging in my throat and cutting the air from my lungs.
The scream had come from the Oreo room. I was sure of it. I shivered violently, thinking of the hours Nikki and I had spent in there watching TV.
Had something been watching us?
The footsteps raced past my door and thumped down the stairs. When no further sound came, I took a cautious breath, and then another.
It was over.
This was a scary as the house got. I could live with that, couldn't I?
Without warning, the door to my bedroom rattled, gently at first and then louder. My mouth opened in a scream.
"Tasmyn?" Nikki's voice was low and urgent, filled with fear. "Tasmyn, are you in there? For God's sake, let me in!"
I scrambled up from the bed and hurried to the door. But when I reached for the handle, I froze. Was it really Nikki on the other side of the door? My mind imprinted a new reality on me, one of dark horrors, where I opened the door to something else . . .
A buzzing sound behind me made me jump. The screen from my phone lit up the room. I backed away from the door and snatched the phone off the end table.
It was Nikki.
Wake up.
I'm outside your door.
Please let me in.
Nerves tingling, I moved cautiously back to the door and clicked the lock open. From the other side, Nikki shook the door violently and then pushed her way inside. Swiftly, she turned, shutting it firmly, and snapping the lock closed. The sound ricocheted through my panicked skull. The finality of it.
I backed up, staring at the figure before me. She was a mess of tangled dark hair and shadows. Uneasy, I backed up further till my butt bumped the edge of the bed. A bolt of of terror shot through me that it wasn't Nikki at all. And I imagined the figure turning slowly, a stranger's face, ravaged and rotten, peering up at me.
