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enough, a famous ghost has latched onto me. A dreadfully persistent ghost, to say the least, and somewhat of a pain in the ass. His name was… Are you ready for this? No… You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. All right, here goes… Abraham Lincoln. Yes, as in the sixteenth President of the United States.
the historic site of Lincoln’s birthplace, and guess who was hanging around? You got it, Abe Lincoln. He spotted me eyeing him right away, and he knew in an instant I could see him. The next thing I knew, he was sitting in the back seat of my car, impatiently waiting for a ride. It took me forever to convince him to scoot over in the seat. I had to explain it was either scoot over, or lose the hat. I couldn’t see out the rear view mirror.
comparable to Disneyworld’s Haunted Mansion. The distinct feeling of someone’s hand on my upper arm had been undeniable. Icy fingers had coiled around my shoulder. My heart thumped, and if I’d looked close I was sure I could have seen my shirt moving with every thud. You’d think I’d be used to this sort of thing by now. Like I said, I’d been seeing dead people ever since I could remember. Adrenalin rushed through me like a gushing river as I slowly placed my foot on the step in front of me and forced the other one to do the same. The stairs made a creaking noise with every step I took, just like in the horror movies we’ve all watched, wide-eyed and terrified, at three a.m. Heavy clomps from what I recognized as boots were following dangerously close to me. However, they weren’t mystery footsteps; I knew—without a doubt—whose boots were clipping at my heels. Honest Abe had followed me on yet another exploration of the unknown. It was pretty sad when a ghost hunter brought spirits with them on an investigation. Good thing the clients didn’t know.
mid-eighteen-hundreds dating-savvy comments it was nearly impossible. How could I concentrate on the task at hand with comments like those in my ear?
“Thanks, but I’m good.” and again it was hard to find a husband without ever having a date. Being dateless was the price I had to pay for living in such a small town. Nonetheless, my social calendar was booked—So what if it was with non-romantic dates from the spirit world? Ever since I’d been a child I’d always had someone around, and by someone I mean a ghost. Most of the time it was just a poor lost soul who didn’t realize they’d died, but sometimes, perhaps, they just had unfinished business. Some took longer than others to cross over and it was always a struggle to help them. Abe was one of the hard ones. On a whim, three years ago, I’d become a ghost hunter. Helping terrified people overcome their fears and ridding them of unwelcome spiritual visitors had become my fate. I figured what the hell, if dead people were talking to me anyway, I might as well lend a hand to a few frightened folks. Of course, it wasn’t my day job; by day I worked in my bookstore. However, when darkness fell—or the witching hour, as I referred to it—arrived, I liked to pursue the unknown. I had dealt with my share of demons over the years, and this was my little way of helping all humankind. I gazed up at the dark form I’d been trailing ever since I’d felt that icy grip. It crossed the top of the stairs, as if taunting me, ready for a chase. It didn’t know what was in store for it, teasing me like that. I may be small, five foot two to be exact, but I packed a powerful punch. At least I envisioned that I did. All right, who was I kidding? I was no Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I tried. I had my share of tricks up my sleeve to rid a building of unwanted visitors. Slowly I made my way up each step, hoping some unseen force wouldn’t push me to the bottom. I was positive Abe wouldn’t be much help in that situation. I could see the whole scene in my mind. President Lincoln would be reminding me that I was husbandless as I lay stretched out across the floor, bloody and bruised.
was afraid of ghosts. As I reached the top of the old stairs, a frigid breeze zipped past, almost knocking the wind out of me. A bitter chill rippled down my spine. I prayed the spirit wouldn’t attach itself to me. I did not need another busy-body right now. “You’ll never meet anyone hanging around scary places such as this one. What about that handsome fellow who came into your shop the other day?” “Shush! You need to go and wait for me in the car. I’ll be finished soon. Now skedaddle.” I waved my hand in his direction and flashed him a stern glare. He sulked back to the front door, crestfallen. Bless his heart. I felt guilty for snapping at him like that, but enough was enough from him. I knew all too well my dating life sucked; I didn’t need him to reaffirm that for me. Quickly, I darted to my immediate right and aimed my gun to get a reading. (Don’t worry, it’s not a gun with bullets or anything, it just reads the temperature.) If cold air was present, I knew a ghost was near. Forty-five degrees and dropping. I let out a mouthful of air, and mist escaped my lips, wildly whipping around the space in front of me. Something supernatural was definitely going on in the house. As I stood there with the cold circling around me, I heard a faint whisper from the bedroom directly in front of me. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the icy chill disappeared. |
| Excerpt from Chapter 1 |