Ghosts are everywhere. They’re impossible to escape. Some of us see them. Others don’t. I believe in ghosts. Do you?
Following is an excerpt from my new novel The Fine Art of Deception. Coming Soon!
“It’s dark except for the moonlight coming in through the window behind his back. I lie in my twin bed in my family home, looking out across the ocean of covers, watching the man across the room stare at me. He’s tall and thin with light brown eyes that seem to glow. His thin lips curl back and I feel like prey as he grins at me.
Family are just down the hall, but they might as well be a mile away as paralyzed as I feel.
He’s watching me. Staring at me. Surprised that I can see him, since most people don’t. But he’s not shocked enough to leave. In fact he seems intrigued by the situation.
He doesn’t blink. Neither do I.
I breathe without moving my body, praying for an outpouring of God’s grace to make this man think I’m dead and just leave. I know that if I move, he’ll move. So I remain still.
He’s sick. Disturbed. Obviously lost. Wrong that he should end up in a child’s room at this hour. Or at any hour. He doesn’t belong here anymore. He’s one of the visitors I told my grandmother about. The visitors that find me – most often when no one else is around.
The dream always begins the same way. And at 3 a.m., caught in a deep and powerless sleep, I have no choice but to let it play out.
It has three parts.
First, I’m a child again and reliving my worst nightmare, which is more horrible because I was never asleep when it happened. This time I’m five. But sometimes I’m seven, eleven or even fifteen. The nightmare goes on for years. The players change. The room changes. But the ordeal is always the same.”