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Mystery, Thriller, and Suspense

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The Witching Hour

October 4, 2014 by admin Leave a Comment

Haunting footsteps appear during the witching hour
Haunting footsteps appear during the witching hour

It’s 3:30 a.m in Savannah. What I would call the witching hour. It’s the time when I’m most often awakened by ghosts. Like tonight.

First there were footsteps. Not just the sound of them. But also the feel of them. You know, like when someone runs down the hall and you feel the vibration from the pounding of their feet? Like that.

At first I thought someone was in trouble. Maybe my sister had returned home without my knowing, and maybe she was running down the hall because she was ill.

I jumped out of bed, opened my bedroom door and looked down the hallway.

No one.

The sound and the feel of the footsteps had disappeared. But the hallway held that eerie feeling. That feeling where you know someone is there, but they’re hiding from you.

I waited a few moments in the quiet. Looked around. Then convinced myself I’d had a vivid dream, and went back to bed.

Then, just as I’d snuggled myself under the covers, my eyes flew open.  The footsteps resounded through the hallway again.

Someone was messing with me.

I waited a few moments to see if they would go away. Sometimes ghosts just wandered in and out.

But the footsteps kept on.

Up the hall. Down the hall.

When I growled a cry of frustration, a man’s laughter rang out from somewhere just beyond the end of the hallway.

I walked into the hallway again but found no one.

Quiet.

As I made my way back to my bed, they began again.

The witching hour typically refers to the hour exactly between day and night, when witches and demons are supposed to be their most powerful. Most people think that means midnight. But I think the witching hour begins at 3:00 a.m.  It’s the time when ghosts’ are at their strongest and humans’ energy is at its weakest.

“Having fun?” I yelled and balled my hands into fists.

His laughter squealed as he ran.

All day long he probably tried in vain to get someone’s attention. But the humans who still had their bodies had enough energy during the day to tune him out. In the light of day he probably didn’t have nearly enough energy to make a good noise.

But at 3:30 in the morning? He had the energy of ten men. While all I wanted to do was get a little more sleep.

Perhaps I ought to be grateful that he didn’t want to charge into my bedroom and pace at the foot of the bed. Then I’d be the one running up and down the hallway.

My bare feet padded quietly on the dark hardwood floors as I slowly walked to the end of the hallway. I could feel him, but I couldn’t see him.

“Look, I can appreciate the fun you’re having here. But I need to sleep,” I said into the moonlit darkness.

A lump swelled in my throat as I felt his energy build in excitement and move toward me.  In a gust he moved through me, his rushing blew my hair back and my nose filled with the scent of cheap cologne and stale beer.

I stood in the empty hallway and sighed with disgust.

***

The cool morning air blew in through the screens on the back porch and I pulled my robe up around my neck, squished myself a little deeper into the couch pillows. I sipped hot espresso and turned the page of my newest ebook. It felt remarkably good to have a small, quiet space all to myself.

 

Filed Under: Mystery, Paranormal Tagged With: haunted house

Calling All Readers! Join the Alyssa Richards’ Street Team!

October 2, 2014 by Alyssa Leave a Comment

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Calling All Readers!! Join the Alyssa Richards’ Street Team!

If you love to read paranormal romance, and enjoy getting the word out about a good book, I would love for you to join my Street Team!

I’m looking for 20 Street Team Members to help me launch and promote my book, The Fine Art of Deception.

The Fine Art of Deception Alyssa Richards

What is a Street Team?

The Alyssa Richards’ Street Team is simple and fun and there are team perks, like pre-release reads of my books and cool book swag!

Since we’re all very busy, you may not be able to support all of the goals as outlined below – which is completely fine! Any and all support is greatly appreciated. Please just do what you feel you can.

Essentially, I’m looking for two kinds of support:

1.    Beta Readers – Occasionally I will ask for Team Members to read and provide feedback on pre-release books and sections of books.

*Currently I am looking for readers to read a pre-release copy of The Fine Art of Deception and provide me with your reviews before November 30th.

2.   Promotion and Reviews – Team Members will receive exclusive information on book releases, reviews, contests and promotions for you to share with people via Twitter, FaceBook other social media outlets and blogs.

Reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, book and review blogs, and bookseller sites are fantastic and appreciated! Team Members receive a free, pre-release copy of all Alyssa Richards’ books!

Likes, Friends and Follows on my social media sites are also wonderful ways to help.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/1AlyssaRichards

FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/alyssa.richards.942

Google+  :  https://plus.google.com/110133656249841700759/posts

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/alyssa0312/

 

Fun book swag is available to have and enjoy and to share with others!

 

How Do I Join?

Please send me an email at alyssa@paranormalromancebooks.com with Street Team in the subject line. Let me know how you’d like to help!

With love & gratitude,

Alyssa oxox

Filed Under: News

Southern Haunts Share Stories of Love, Betrayal and Oleander Tea

September 25, 2014 by admin 1 Comment

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(Visiting Savannah Part 2 of 2)

What’s your name?”

“Emma.” She whispered. “Emma Carter.”

“Look, Emma. We’ve all been there. We’ve all been cheated on or left behind.” A small surge of adrenaline jumped across my heart at the thought of Jeremy, my former fiance’ who had left me for none other than my best friend at the time. My reaction surprised me, it had been so long, I really thought my heart had healed. “Or in my case cheated on and left behind. But we have to move forward,” I said.

Emma placed her chilly, transparent hand on my arm. She must have read my story on Jeremy as I reflected on it.

“I don’t know how to move forward,” she said honestly. “All I can think about is that day when I arrived at the church, the way people looked at me. The pity in their eyes. I stood in the vestibule while my father came to me, told me that Albert wasn’t coming.” Emma’s anger started to build again and I could tell I was losing her to the past once again. “He said we had to leave. We came home, my mother helped me change out of my wedding dress and I never left this property again.”

“Emma, Albert is dead,” I said abruptly and tried to break her habit of reliving the event that held her in the past.

“He’s dead?” Her eyes pulled wide.

I nodded in the silence and she turned back toward the window.

“I wanted to kill him myself.”

“I understand.”

And I really did. I tried to hold my laughter in but a tiny smirk appeared on my lips. Emma caught sight of it when she turned toward me and she smiled a little, too. I think it must have been her first smile in over a 100 years.

“Men are pigs.” Merrilyn chimed in from the middle of the room. And that did it. The three of us burst out laughing so hard that we all doubled over.

“Oh, if you only knew how many times I imagined his death at my own hands. And in so many painful ways.”

Our laughter bounced off of the empty walls and wrapped around us in the vacant room until it gave way to intermittent giggles.  I watched Emma closely to make sure she stayed with us mentally and emotionally.

“He’s very lucky he never came back to Savannah,” she said. “Because I waited for him, you know.”

“Why? What were you going to do?”

The corners of Emma’s lips tipped up as her head lowered just a bit. “I just wanted to invite him over for tea,” she said calmly. “To let him know that I forgave him.”

“What kind of tea?”

“Oleander tea.” She said.

“Oleander tea?”

“Yes, I picked fresh oleander leaves from my garden every few days while I waited for him.”

“Oleander…” Merrilyn whispered. “Oleander is deadly poisonous.”

“I think she knows that.” I whispered in return.

“It’s a Southern specialty. My Grandmother served Oleander tea to several Yankee soldiers during the war.”

“Never cross a Southern woman,” Merrilyn said and took a few steps back.

“A lot of time has passed, Emma.” I said. “I think it’s time to move on.”

“I can’t seem to figure out how to move on.” Emma pressed her dress absently.

“I could help you.” I said. But before I could start Merrilyn walked over and elbowed me in the side.

“The people downstairs,” she whispered.

“Oh, right. Emma, there are a lot of um, spirits downstairs. Do you know how they got there?”

Emma looked a little sheepish. “I stand here at the window and call them in.”

“You bring them here”

Emma nodded and looked out the window again.

“Trying to offer a little refuge?” Emma nodded once again.

“I’m going to help you home, Emma. But when I do, I want you to tell your guests they need to go with you, okay?”

Emma smiled, and I could tell she would help. The three of us walked downstairs together, Emma’s frosty aura accompanying us.

When we reached the main room  Emma waved her arms to bring the spirits together and told them they would be taking a trip together. When one young child asked where they were going, she said, “Someplace where it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

There was a collective murmur of excitement among the group and the lights flickered several times in the wake of their energy. I crossed them over quickly and the air pressure in the room shifted immediately.

“It feels like we’re the only ones left in the house again,” Merrilyn said with a heavy exhale.

“Yes,” I sighed. “For a change.”

***

Merrilyn and I walked outside to the wide, front porch and sat on the steps. “Thank you,” she said as she hugged me. “This business is all I have right now.”

I smiled and hugged her back. “Just don’t tell anyone about this.”

She elbowed me. “New York has made your paranoid.”

“Life has made me paranoid.”

“You know that’s the difference between the North and the South. In the North no one wants to have anything to do with people who walk in more than one world. They call them crazy and tuck them away where no one can see them. In the South we trot them out on the front porch with pride and call them eclectic.”

“Ah!” I yelled and tickled Merrilyn in the ribs until she fell back onto the painted wood and begged for mercy.

I loved the friendships I’d forged in New York, but nothing came close to precious friendships of my childhood. They would forever have a place in my heart.

“You did a lot of good today, friend.” Merrilyn said as she rocked her shoulder into mine.

“I was just thinking of Emma. How easy it is to get stuck in the past by hanging on to hurts and -.”

“Jeremy?”

“Yeah. You know it’s been a while since he ran off with Catherine. I wonder how many times I’ve been over their betrayal in my mind. Thousands. Millions of times, probably.”

“Not as many times as Emma, though.”

“Thankfully,” I laughed.

“My father says that you shouldn’t try to find logic where there isn’t any.” Merrilyn said. “You just have to accept crazy when you see it. Don’t pick it up and carry it with you. It’s not yours to take.”

“I love your father.”

“And I love you, Addie.”

“Look,” I pointed to the delicate, white blossoms that grew on the sprawling green bush planted beneath the live oak tree.

“Oleander,” Merrilyn said. “She was really going to poison him, wasn’t she?”

“Oh yes. She was. What’s that saying about a woman scorned?”

“I think they say ‘hell hath no fury like a Southern woman scorned’.”

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Filed Under: Ghosts Tagged With: ghost stories, savannah

Visiting Savannah – A Haunted City

September 24, 2014 by admin Leave a Comment

savannah-georgia-historic-home-picture

 

Savannah is a very haunted city. Which is part of why I liked growing up there. It was fairly easy to find people who appreciated ghosts and other eclectic phenomenon.

After visiting Georgia and her recently departed husband, Andrew, I made my way over to the other side of town to visit with another childhood friend.

Merrilyn was a favorite playmate of both Alexa’s and mine when we were children. Even though Alexa is a couple of years older than Merrilyn and me, the three of us were nearly inseparable. When Maman would bring us into town so she could visit her friends, attend meetings and run errands, she would let the three of us run around outside in orbit of wherever she happened to be.

We played in the grassy city squares where we often splashed barefoot in some of the city fountains. Though we weren’t supposed to. And because Savannah has so many cemeteries, we often found ourselves playing hide and seek around the headstones of Civil War soldiers.

Today Merrilyn and I strolled through one of Savannah’s older cemeteries. Her chestnut hair danced around her shoulders in God-given curls as she told me about her latest historical rehabilitation project in downtown Savannah.

“We’re refurbishing all of the walls and floors to their original stain colors. Most of the guys doing the sanding and staining were complaining that the house was haunted. They said there were cold spots, weird knocking noises upstairs, voices that didn’t seem to belong to the crew. I’ve had three guys quit already because they said they felt people watching them while they worked. I didn’t believe them until I took this photo and look!”

Merrilyn handed me a photo of one of the semi-furnished rooms of the house and it was covered in orbs. There had to be 100 orbs in the room.

http://www.pinterest.com/pin/397020523374107369/

“Oh, Merrilyn,” I exclaimed. “It really is haunted…”

I touched the photo and a vision of a woman in a navy blue, high neck dress came to mind.

“Do you know the history of the building?” I asked.

“Not much of its original history. It was built in the mid 1850s as a private residence. The original owner’s daughter lived there for a while. But no one has lived there since the 1950s. The owner rents it out to tourists and to local people for events. Why? What do you see?”

I told Merrilyn about the woman. “There are fabric covered buttons traveling from the top of the neck all the way to the hem.”

“Could we  go visit later today?”  She asked.  “If we could get her to leave, maybe the rest of my crew wouldn’t quit! I really want to finish this job.”

We turned the corner and I stopped abruptly. A young man in a Confederate uniform was leaning against a tombstone, relaxing. He jumped when I saw him and then he ran off.

“What’s the matter?” Merrilyn asked.

“Nothing. Typical Savannah.” I said.

***

Merrilyn was building her restoration business from the ground up and was working hard to get it going. She had several other homeowners who were interested to hire her. But if she couldn’t keep a crew onsite long enough to finish a job, it would be hard to build a good reputation for herself.

“The owner says he can’t keep the house rented on nights with a full moon,” Merrilyn said as  we walked into the three story pre-Civil War home. Suddenly everything became eerily quiet. As if there had just been a party going on, but now everyone stood quietly staring at us.

“Mind if I start upstairs?” I asked.

“Want company?” Merrilyn sidled up next to me as we climbed up the stairs. She looked nervously over her shoulder into the room now below us. We could both feel the invisible eyes watching our every move.

I followed the trail of the presence of the woman I’d seen. She was expecting me. Ghosts missed nothing.

When we reached the bare, attic-like room I saw the woman in blue staring out the window just under the roof’s apex. She didn’t turn around but I knew she saw me. Her hair was pulled up off of her neck in a long, draped updo and an ornate hair comb tucked at the top.

“Oh, she’s here, isn’t she?” Merrilyn asked. “I can feel her.” Merrilyn rubbed her throat.

“She is,” I answered.

I quietly asked the woman in blue why she was here. She ignored me.

“You can’t stay here any longer,” I said. “You’re ruining my friend’s business.”

“Well, he ruined my life!” The woman in blue yelled and immediately her story burst into my head. A handsome dark-haired man on bended knee gave her a mine cut diamond solitaire. When their wedding day arrived, however, she was the only one to show up at the crowded church. He was nowhere to be found. It was finally revealed he had left town with another girl, and the despair was too much for the woman in blue to bear.

“Was this your house?” I asked. The ghost laughed aloud and pointed toward the rafters. Her body swung from one of the lowest boards. Merrilyn was oblivious as she stood below it.

“What’s happening?” Merrilyn leaned in and asked.

“Left at the altar,” I said.

“What an ass,” Merrilyn said as she shook her head.

And the ghost’s energy softened.

 

 

Filed Under: Ghosts Tagged With: ghosts, Haunted stories

Savannah – A Haunted Trip to a Haunted House

September 18, 2014 by admin Leave a Comment

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Blake and I recently made a trip to my hometown of Savannah – A Haunted Trip to a Haunted House in a Haunted City.

One of the highlights was seeing Georgia, a dear friend of mine from years ago. Georgia moved away with her family when we were children. Now that she’s grown, widowed and has three children of her own, she returned to our lovely little haunted town.

George doesn’t see ghosts. But she doesn’t mind that I do. That always endeared me to her.

While Blake went to meet an eccentric client, I met Georgia at her home in the historic district. She and her two girls had moved into her parents’ elegant home which had been sitting empty most of the year. Her parents love to travel. So, when Georgia’s husband died they insisted she move back and live in the home where she had been raised. “It will bring you good luck,” her mother told her. “And we can help you raise those sweet girls. Turn them back into proper Southerners.”

When I first saw Georgia, I also saw someone else in the room. Her deceased husband, Andrew. He hadn’t crossed over yet. Great.

Georgia never told me how he died. Well, she said he had pneumonia. But I knew she was hedging. There’s always more to every story.

Andrew didn’t hedge, though. “I was gay,” he said while Georgia and I hugged hello. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I’m just so sorry.” He was near frantic.

I didn’t tell her. Not at first. Telling someone, even a close friend someone that you know their intimate secrets, is kind of a buzz kill. Especially if you launch into that kind of information too soon in the conversation.

But after a glass or two of Prosecco in the sun room…

“So, Andrew passed. I’m so sorry, Georgia. How are you and the girls handling everything?”

“Oh, fine. Fine. You know it’s hard. But he was sick. They didn’t want him to suffer anymore.”

“What else do they know, sweetheart?” I placed my hand on Georgia’s hand and the tears fell almost immediately.

“Is he here?” Georgia rubbed at her red cheeks. “I feel him with me all the time. I know he’s still around.”

“He’s here.” I said as I gave her hand a light squeeze. “He says he’s sorry.”

“Oh, God, Andrew. I’m not mad. Not anymore. I just need this nightmare to be over. He was so – sick.”

“He had AIDS?” I asked.

Georgia nodded.

“Are you and the girls healthy?”

“Oh, yes. We’re fine. You know the sex left our marriage a long time ago. Obviously I now know why. You know I thought he was older and single because he just hadn’t found the right girl, yet. Turned out his grandmother was going to write him out of her will if he didn’t get married. I was just the fool who couldn’t see what was really going on.”

Andrew stood behind her, shook his head vehemently and passed a critical message to me. “George, he’s saying that’s not the way it was. He’s saying it was his fault. That he didn’t mean to, but he fell in love with you. And he thought he could make this work. He just keeps saying he’s so sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.”

As usual, ghosts impart more meaning and story with feeling and pictures than with words. And Georgia and Andrew’s courtship presented itself for me like a mini-movie.

“You know, George. It’s like you to blame yourself when something goes awry. There’s a price we pay for doing that. Plus, Andrew’s saying this was his fault, not yours. And he seems to feel really badly about it.”

Andrew showed me his life before Georgia, lots of men, lots of dating. And then – whoa. Someone that looks like a wealthy older woman.

“George, his grandmother – she has silver hair and it looks like three gold rings on each hand?”

“Oh, that’s her.” Georgia rolled her eyes and shook her head.

I took a deep breath as Andrew smiled and sent me his message.

“George, you’re about to be a very wealthy woman.”

“What do you mean?” Georgia wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Andrew tells me he’s on his way to meet his grandmother. He’s part of her welcoming committee.”

Georgia’s eyebrows climbed as high as her Botox injections would allow. “She’s about to die?”

I nodded and laughed a little as Andrew broke out in a fit of laughter. “He says you’ll inherit everything she leaves behind.”

“I can hear him laughing,” she said. “You know, just a little. Like a distant echo.”

“That’s him.” I said.

I watched Andrew lean down and kiss Georgia on the cheek. “I’m sorry, love. I really do love you.”

Georgia rubbed her fingertips against her cheek and a double breath escaped her lips.

“He really did love us.”

“He really did, sweetheart.”

 

 

http://paranormal.lovetoknow.com/List_Haunted_Houses_in_Georgia 

Filed Under: Ghosts

Naked Pictures of Celebrities – Okay, Why Exactly?

September 1, 2014 by admin Leave a Comment

Someone hacked into iCloud yesterday and broadcast quite a few naked pictures of celebrities onto the internet. Aside from the validation of my decision not to use iCloud, this gave me pause over the whole celebs taking naked pictures fascination.

I may be one of only 3 people on the planet who have never had the urge to take a picture of herself naked. Ever. Really. If I want to know what I look like naked, I use a mirror.
Then I either do the happy dance, or I go drink. Depending upon how many times I went to see my trainer over the previous month.
But I’ve never wanted a keepsake from that moment.

I mean, if we’re going to learn from history, think for a moment – for how many celebs/politicians has this naked picture/sex video thing worked out badly? Okay, then.
But if you are someone who needs a memento from that special moment in front of the mirror, perhaps while you’re with Mr Right Now, here’s a hint: Try Polaroid. Then put it in a safe. Or at least the bottom of your lingerie drawer. Don’t trust that stuff to technology.

Crimeny.

Have a brain cell. Please.

People often ask me if ghosts see us in our more vulnerable moments. The answer is yes. Oddly.

True ghosts – those spirits who have not yet crossed over – have personalities and interests that are roughly the same as their living interests were. So, if they tended toward unsavory interests while they were alive, the same is often true while they wander around in death.

I know. It’s awful. But it’s true.

Filed Under: News

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