Visions of Death: The Music Department Murders

The first three episodes are free to read! 

Visions of Death: The Music Department Murders  takes place during the summer of 1935, the build-up to WW II is heating up, swing music is blasting from the airwaves, and seventeen-year-old, Ruby St. Claire is a rising star of Weston's music department with her swinging quartet. 

Next stop, the Roseland Ballroom Competition. She's helped the police find murder suspects since she was thirteen with her extrasensory vision, but after taking a break to focus on her music, the images of death have returned. Girls from school are disappearing. Ruby has to act fast and find their killer even when all the signs point to her. 

Click the photo to take you to the story!
Cover created with Canva.

In the author's notes at the end, I've added a couple of historical events that were happening at the time and influenced the story.  There are historical parallels to the current build-up of the authoritarian political climate we find ourselves in now. Not only in the US, as I thought when I began this project, but all over the world. We much squash white supremacy!   

After watching the Authors Guild Foundation's webinar about serialized fiction, I was inspired to try it. Have a look.

If you like it, please give the episode a thumbs up!     THANK YOU! <3 

MG Book Review: Spirit Hunters by Ellen Oh.

Spirit Hunters by Ellen Oh
My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Reposted from my review on the Kidliteri Blog

Twelve-year-old Harper Raine and her family have relocated from New York City to DC during the heat of summer. There’s much to get used to, the incessant heat, and the “gothic charm” of their new house and the renovations.

Her four-year-old brother, Michael is oblivious, and it’s very strange that his room is cold with an unnatural chill when she visits, and he tells her about his new friend, Billy, pointing to a corner.

Michael is frustrated Harper can’t see him. His words trigger a memory of Harper’s when she was five-years-old when she had a best friend her older sister couldn’t see either.
“Billy doesn’t like when you call his house stupid.”

Harper covers for Michael when he tries telling their mother. She doesn’t like things she can’t understand. Harper doesn’t understand either.

Nothing has been the same since Harper’s accident. Reviewing her memory book, an "unfinished jigsaw puzzle", that had one missing piece. Unable to remember anything about the fire at school, when she was hospitalized with several broken bones. "It’s what the mind does to forget terrible tragedy." Did she really want to remember what happened?

With the move, Harper’s Korean grandmother lives closer, and she can’t wait to see her. But her mother won’t speak to her. She hasn’t in years. Harper misses her grandmother terribly, and through all the hauntings, and missing memories, Harper works to reunite them. Turns out, Grandma has a few surprises.

Ooh, I LOVED this fun, spooky middle-grade book! The ghosts were truly evil and SCARY! Harper has to go through several hoops to save her brother, and her older sister blames her for the move to D.C. One of my favorite scenes is Harper confronting a salesperson who’s a racist, and she sticks up for herself! The author is the founder of “We Need Diverse Books”.

The first in a series, I can’t wait to read the follow-up, ISLAND OF MONSTERS, for more spooky-fun! Out now!










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My Short Story from "Ghosts in Tight Spaces"

The Boat 

The winds were strong. Mom and Dad kept urging me ahead. They didn’t seem to remember how much I dislike boats. But this would be different. Different they said because the boat was a ship: an Ocean Liner. I thought that was ridiculous. It’s bigger therefore it sinks faster.

“Come on, Desi,” Mom said. “Don’t you want to see the room?”

Oh, great. Yes, I really want to spend time in a room with fishbowl windows, and being lashed from side-to-side. My stomach already sour, queasiness had settled there.  This was going to be a nightmare.

“I bet there’ll be a few cute boys,” she said.

Oh, God. She’s trying that one, again. I’m most attractive in the hue of blue and green. I rolled my eyes and pray to be close to a railing where I can jump off.  I mean, throw up.

I drop my bag on the bed. I have my own room. I mean I should, I am traveling with my parents. It’s times like these I wish I had a sibling.  Now they’re going to expect me to go out there and make new friends. Why bother? It’s not likely I’ll see any of these people again. 

When we take family vacations, I might meet a few people, and collect a couple numbers, but we never call each other and make plans. Usually, they’re from a hundred miles away. Sure, we friend each other on social media. But then one of us drops the mic and forgets about ever chatting again. Who cares?  After the weekend, I’ll be back home where my real friends are. 

A knock. “Hi, Mom.”

“Isn’t this fun, we have joining rooms if you want to use it?”

“I like having a front door.” I fold my arms and sit on the very thin mattress. Great, I’ll get to feel every wave we rock over.

“Want to come with us for the meet and greet?”

I give her the infamous Desiree eye.

“Okay, but that’s where we’ll be. Make yourself comfortable. Maybe stroll along the promenade.” She turns back before closing the door. “You all right?”

I nod and unfold my arms, and if I want to get rid of her I better say, “I’ll take a walk, soon as I unpack.”

She smiles, and reassures me, once again, where she and Dad will be hanging out.

I sigh, heavily. Look at my watch. I better not start that. If I watch every minute till this is over it’ll feel like an eternity. I begin unpacking, and hang the black dress, of which mom thought was too serious for boat trip and for summer, inside the tiny closet. I turn for my bag and notice something on the floor in the closet.  A string? I bend over and tug on it, but the string won’t budge. I pull harder, and nothing happens.  I drop to the floor, trying to see where the string ends. This closet is larger than it looks. “AHH!”

“Ahh!” Something screams back.

I jump up and bang my head. “What are you doing in my room?” I ask. Some boy is sitting there, his sweater unraveling and I’m holding the end of the unravel.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Guy.”

“Gee?”

“French pronunciation. You’re American, right?” he said, with his French accent.

I nod. “My parents aren’t going to like you being in my room. Why are you in the closet? You hiding from someone?”

“Actually, yes I was.” His eyes look around. “The last person in this room was Dutch, very nice boy. He kept me company.”

“You’re a stowaway, I get it. But you must have missed your departure. We’re leaving NYC.”

“Yes, that’s what the Dutch boy told me.”

“Where’d you want to go?”

“I don’t know actually. I’m waiting for someone to find me. We were playing hide and seek, and I hid in here . . . and?”

“Why won’t you come out of the closet, are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Did your parents get off already? You should come out quick before we actually depart—come on.” I try and pull him out, but my hand slips through his wrist. I try again, and again.

“You’re a ghost!”

“Yeah, I think I am. That’s what the Dutch boy said, too.”

“Cool.” I collapse next to him. “But you aren’t one of those dangerous, and scary ghosts, right?”

“Don’t think so?”

“How come your sweater isn’t, um, transparent like the rest of you?”’

“Some girl, from years back gave it to me. Said it helped her to see where I was.”

“Oh? Can you leave the closet?”

“Sure, but only in the room. I think. But once I leave the closet, you won’t see me either.”

“I bet it’s the same throughout the ship.”

 “We could hang out. There’s never anyone to talk to on these boring trips my parents drag me on.”

“Understood.”

“Well, if your going to be my escort maybe we should take the sweater off, completely. Wouldn’t want to draw too much attention.”

I open the closet door, and wait. He floats out, wearing the sweater and slowly disappears in the light. The sweater may have been a hundred years old from the looks of it. He takes it off and fades.

“We’re going to have so much fun.” I imagine the tricks we are going to play, first on my parents and then the staff.

Mom calls my cell.  “I’m heading up now, meet you there.”

I turn to Guy. “Ready for some fun?”

“Anything’s better than that closet.”

“Good.”

I’m dressed for dinner in my black dress and ready for adventure. Maybe this trip will be some kind of fun after all.

The Office . . . my 1k Short Story from "Rooms with a Chill"

The Office

Guinevere fastened the top button of her dress shirt. Straightened out her skirt, rising a little too high after sitting, and preceded to Mr. Wilson’s office. 

“Yes, Mr. Wilson?”

“Did you stack these manila envelopes on my desk?”

“No, and I haven’t seen anyone come into your office,” she said, before passing the large skyscraper window. One hundred and five flights up, it made her nervous. Guinevere leaned over Mr. Wilson’s desk and searched the envelopes for an address or a clue.

“They’re unmarked,” he said.

“Oh? Have you opened one?”

“Are you kidding, unmarked envelopes sent to a newswire? I better call in Homeland Security. Can you get these out of here?”

She paused. “Sure.”

“Maybe you should use gloves?” he said.

Guinevere lifted the empty waste basket and scraped the envelops off the desk using her clipboard.

“There, I’ll get these looked at. Maybe the mailroom knows something.”

Mr. Wilson took a phone call and nodded. She slipped away holding the wastebasket, filled with the twenty or so unmarked manila envelopes and proceeded to the elevator. Her curiosity grew while waiting for the elevator.

She pulled one out and sniffed it. Traced her fingers along the seal, about to rip it open.

“Going Down?” Gregory, the elevator operator asked.

“Ah, yes,” She stepped inside.

“Mailroom?”

She nodded.

Strange, the wastebasket felt heavier. There was an unpleasant odor.  It wouldn’t have come from Gregory, dressed top-notch, a very proud and dapper man.

The elevator doors opened.

“Thanks, Gregory.”

The waste bin slipped from her hands. What?

The mailroom wasn’t much farther down the corridor but she couldn’t pick up the bin. Taking another look inside, she saw that the envelopes had grown and each now the size of a shoebox. Were they even envelopes to start with?

What if she held some type of expanding bomb? She better hurry. Bending over, she pushed, but it still wouldn’t budge.

“Tommy, “ she called, spotting a mail clerk. “Can you help me get this to the mailroom?”

“Sure.” He ran over. “What’s that smell?”

The odor grew stronger, a humid odor, somewhat like goats on a grassy pasture, earthy.

“Just help push, will you?” she ordered.

“This came in the mail? Shouldn’t we call security?”

Guinevere stood up and adjusted her skirt. “Guess we should.”

“I see you’re struggling.” It was Mr. Hampton, mail-hall security. “Whatcha have there in that waste bin?”

“These came in the mail today. But not like this. They’re expanding,” she said.

Mr. Hampton’s hands fell from his hips. “You need to get back—both of you.” He radioed security for back up. “Way–back, Ms. Martin.” 

She did as she was told. Tommy stood in front of her.

“That smell? Is it coming from those?” Mr. Hampton asked.

They both nodded.

And right then, one by one, envelopes began jumping out of the waste bin.

“WHAT-The!” called Mr. Hampton. He pulled his gun.

Two security guards flew from the stairwell and were next to Mr. Hampton, guns drawn.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Envelope landed on the shiny tiles. Pop. Pop. Pop. They moved through the corridor, lining up like ants, and preceded up the stairwell.

Mr. Hampton, Tommy, Guinevere, and two security guards, watched without moving.

“Shouldn’t we stop the envelopes?” Guinevere asked.

Mr. Hampton shook his head out of a stupor. “Yeah, we should.”

But he didn’t move.

The twenty envelopes were fast. They hopped up the steps.

“Are those some type of drone robots?” one guard asked.

“Whose office were they delivered to?”

“Mr. Wilson’s.”

“That’s probably where they’re going. Make haste!” They all gathered in an elevator and pushed the 105^th floor.

Mr. Hampton picked up his radio. “We believe there may be a threat to Mr. Wilson of TechStation. Can Brewster get over there?”

The envelopes had a head start and were ahead of their convoy. But when the group came out of the elevator, they saw them traipsing down the hallway, legs sprouting from the manila envelopes, white and black and brown furry legs like cats?

“Someone sent cats to Mr. Wilson’s office?” she whispered.

The group chased the envelopes and turned the corner to Mr. Wilson’s. The legs had grown larger. Heads had sprouted up, but they weren’t cat’s heads.

Guinevere screamed. A sight she’d never seen before.

Reptilian?

Mr. Wilson hearing the noise, stood outside his office, taking notice of the tidal wave approaching him, he slammed the door shut.

Twenty hybrid cat-reptiles crashed into the door.

Guinevere held the crew back. They ducked behind furniture while personnel screamed and hid behind each other, some took to their offices and locked the doors.

“Now what?” Guinevere asked the Mr. Hampton.

The cat-reptilian hybrids turned to Guinevere after they finished sniffing and licking Mr. Wilson’s office door.

The security guards held their guns. The menacing hybrids came toward them. Tongues dripping, hungry eyes growing larger, they too, grew larger, moving forward, step-by-step, until Mr. Wilson’s door flew open.

Standing in place of Mr. Wilson was a large cat creature with yellow reptilian eyes, and as Guinevere focused wings sprouted from his back. “It ate Mr. Wilson!” she shrieked.

The cat hybrids shifted back toward the winged creature. Lifting his wings, they raced toward him and jumped into his arms. Where they quickly disappeared under an apparent cloak.

“Ms. Martin, please take all calls for the week.”  The winged creature said, and turned, walking toward the large glass window; the wind blowing papers into tempests throughout the room.  He arched over the ledge and jumped.

Mr. Hampton, the guards, and Guinevere ran to the window.

He was gone.

Each looked at the other without words, unbelieving what they’d witnessed. Shredded envelopes were strewn throughout the office. Guinevere picked one up and peered over Mr. Wilson’s desk.  

Crumbs, maybe seeds, her eyes followed the trail that led to an open drawer, the locked drawer. Open, she pulled it out fully.  A reflection of light beamed up at her. She reached in for the photo.

“Whatcha got there?” Mr. Hampton asked, behind her, mumbling about what had happened.

Inside the picture frame, a large photo of a radiant cat-lizard, the most beautiful creature Guinevere had ever seen. Hidden away in a locked drawer.

Staring at the photo she whispered, “Suppose he went to see her?”

 ... a collection of ten supernatural stories in the vein of Twilight Zone. 

"Rooms with a Chill" by K.L. Hallam 

Day Four has you Asking for More! The Crossroads Blog Tour Continued.

You bet! More Authors for you to read about and learn about their newest paranormal releases . . . sign up for prizes with the Rafflecopter at the bottom and see who else is hosting here. 

Dorothy Dreyer

1.)  You and a friend are walking down a dark alley. You hear strange noises. Do you walk ahead and check things out, or send your friend instead? 

LOL, it depends on which friend I’m with. Some of my friends are fierce enough to scare any potential threat away.

2.)  What's your Halloween costume back up, the one that's always waiting in your drawer or closet? 

If I’m desperate, I’ve always got a witch’s hat handy. A bit of witchy makeup and black clothes, and I’m ready to go.

Dorothy Dreyer has always believed in magic. Born in Angeles City, Philippines, to a Filipino mother and American Father, Dorothy grew up a military brat, living in Massachusetts, South Dakota, Guam, New Jersey, and New York. She now lives in Frankfurt, Germany, with her husband, two teens, and two Siberian huskies. Dorothy not only writes books with some element of magic in them, but has a fondness for reading those kinds of books as well. She also enjoys movies, chocolate, take-out, and spending time with family and friends.

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MY FRAYED ETERNITY (Reaper's Rite Book Three) - YA Dark Paranormal

Just when Zadie thought life was returning to normal, one of the most important people in her life turns up missing. When Zadie finds out this disappearance has something to do with Reapers, her worst fears are realized.

Not only have the Reapers returned, but a plan to up the stakes and bring the Reaper’s Rite to the next level is discovered. Using their Vila powers, Zadie and her sister Mara must set out to rescue their friend and do what they can to put an end to the pact between witches, faeries, and Reapers, before all is lost for eternity.

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 Tina Ferraro   

1.)  You and a friend are walking down a dark alley. You hear strange noises. Do you walk ahead and check things out, or send your friend instead? 

I believe in safety in numbers, so my friend and I would join hands and investigate together!

2.)  What's your Halloween costume back up, the one that's always waiting in your drawer or closet? 

I like to think my bridal dress is my back-up Halloween costume, but I’m not sure it still fits!

Tina Ferraro is the author of several young adult novels and novellas, as well as upwards of a hundred romantic short stories for teens and adults.

A two-time finalist for the Romance Writers of America's RITA award and the National Reader's Choice award for her young adult novels, her interests include Facebook Scrabble, the color orange, and chasing coyotes out of her neighborhood.

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Half a life is not worth living. 

Probably not a good idea to take advice from your dead twin sister.

Half-Life

High school sophomore Trisha Traynor and friends have played the Halloween mirror game for years, the one that’s supposed to show a glimpse of the guy they’ll marry. But no one’s ever seen anything.

Until tonight—when Trisha is gob smacked by the candlelit arrival of her long-deceased twin sister, instead of her crush, Kirk Maxwell.

In a voice and vision that only Trisha can hear and see, Chessie claims to be back on a compassionate journey. Trisha fears she's gone nuthouse crazy. But she nonetheless follows the instructions Chessie outlines in their nightly conversations, until she finds herself stepping across some ethical lines, and probably ending all chances with Kirk.

When a sisterly showdown ensues, resulting in the shattering of the mirror, Chessie’s gone again, and a heartsick Trisha sets about righting her recent wrongs. That is, until she stumbles upon the real reason Chessie had come back and the most important glimpse yet that the mirror could never predict.

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