Good morning! It finally appears to be a day that might not be so swelteringly hot. During the hottest days of the year, I tend to 'seal' up the house the best I can by covering up the windows in dark fabric, rolling up a towels that I put down on door gaps, and running a few fans by the A/C vents. It helps a lot with my electric bill, but it can feel like perpetual night and sour our moods! In that sense, then, it will be nice to 'open' up the house today.
Anyway, I haven't worked on my latest book as much as I wanted to lately, mostly for reasons that you have already read about in previous posts. I really began again this past week with renewed vigor, laying down the plot of the book. It's moving right along again, but if there's anything else you know about me, it's that I never put a book out when I say I will.
Of course, now is the perfect time to catch up on my other books! If you haven't already, you can pick up my first book Cold right here, and my second book The Melody here, both are only $2.99 each! I can tell you that The Station will be my creepiest, most thrilling book yet, and I cannot wait for you to be able to read it!
"He put his hand against the cold surface, running his fingers along the gouges. They had definitely been carved into it by human hands. The sides of the stone should have been covered in moss, but instead were black. He got down on his haunches to get a better look, and as he did, the whispering became a symphony of loudness and annoyance. He couldn’t ignore it, so he stood up. As he did, panic began to invade his body, and suddenly, he was scared.
At that moment, a woman’s scream pierced the ungodly whispering and cut through his soul. The scream had come from no more than a few behind him. Every nerve in his body was on high alert and he had the distinct urge to run, but curiosity got the best of him. His mouth agape, he slowly turned to see what was waiting there. His heart was beating so fast that he feared it might beat out of his chest, and every hair on his skin was standing straight up.
It took an eternity to turn the 180 degrees, but when he completed the turn, the owner of the billowy white cloth was standing five feet in front of him. It was the woman from his dream. The skirt of her ashen dress blew in the cold breeze, and that dreaded face from his nightmare, the one as black as night, was impenetrable by the light of the moon. He willed himself to run but his legs were frozen in place. He begged her not to come any closer, but it only came out as a murmur. “Please…please,” was all he could quietly manage. He couldn’t bear to look into that face again and see the empty void within.
As suddenly as it seemed to begin, the whispering stopped. He didn’t move, she didn’t move, and the silence that surrounded them now was deafening. Again he willed himself to move with all the strength of his being, but before he could, something heavy struck the back of his head. He fell to the dirt floor of the clearing and then everything went black."
The preceding excerpt is copyright 2015 by H.A. Larson, who owns all rights to it.