Distracted by
the everyday routine of raising children, being a wife, and keeping a home,
Lorraine Morrissey let life pass her by. Her wakeup call comes when she
realizes that with their children gone, her husband Richard is rarely home, and
she’s filling her solitary days with trivial tasks. A crazy idea to save her
marriage leads to a summer beach vacation unlike any she’s ever taken; one that
involves unknowingly buying a haunted house.
Excerpt -
The fast approaching
ground disappeared, replaced by an old, worn, wooden floor. I shook my head to try
and clear it of the cobweb fuzziness I felt. Raising my hands in front of me, I
didn’t recognize them. They were dark brown, dry, and the skin was cracked in
places. They didn’t feel connected to my body either. My words got stuck in my
throat when I tried to ask what was going on. Swallowing to clear the blockage, I
surveyed the room. Before me burned a dwindling fire
inside an old-fashioned
stone hearth, and to my right, old shuttered windows were thrown open, letting
the cooling night air in.
“Girl!”
The hoarse male voice
startled me. I spun around, becoming aware of heavy skirts tangling in my legs.
“Yes, sir.” The voice,
thick with a low country accent, wasn’t mine either, but the sound had passed
through my lips. What the . . .
“How many sacks of cotton
did you pick today?”
A tremor settled into my
arms as panic tightened my chest. Tall and wide, the white man advanced on me.
I skittered back toward the hearth at the look of hatred on his face.
“None, sir. I’s sorry,
but my momma –”
“There are no excuses,
Jesse. Rain or shine, y’alls task is at least two sacks a day while the cotton’s a
blooming.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did your momma get her
two sacks picked?”
Beyond my control, my
head shook side to side, and I curled in on myself more while taking another subtle
step back. Warning sirens were going off, but it was obvious, I had no say
over my faculties, nor did I have any idea what was going on. “She’s got the sick,
sir.”
In slow motion, his hand
rose, and I took in every detail: thinning, greasy brown hair slicked back
from a shiny forehead, a narrow beak of a nose stretched down the length of his
long face to a thin pair of pale pursed lips. His green eyes were bloodshot with
the drink that wafted from his mouth. The yellowing linen shirt he wore was
opened down to his mid-chest, exposing pale, untoned flesh. Proof that he
relied on others to get the work done.
“‘She’s got the sick,
sir,’” he sing-songed, mocking me. “Not my problem, girl. What is my problem is
that you owe me four sacks’ worth of cotton, and have nothing to pay with.”
At his words, an uneasy
feeling settled in my stomach. I didn’t like where this was going and took
another step back, bringing me a little closer to the fire and the iron tools I
could see in my peripheral vision.
“But I can think of
another way that you can start paying up.”
When he came at me, I
spun to grab the poker. Before I could reach the tool, arms enveloped me from
behind, yanking me back until I collided with a hard chest.
When I first started reading Haunted Raine, I really didn’t think I would enjoy it. Boy was I wrong.
At first I thought it was going to be a story about a couple who’d lost each other after thirty years of marriage, as is very possible with many couples. You want to hurt for Raine and what she’s feeling, but quickly find out that she is a very smart and strong person.
As the story progresses we learn that Raine and Rick end up buying a house to fix-up and then sell, but this house has secrets. Secrets that help bring Rick and Raine back to themselves. It was an experience that changed so much for Raine.
There is also a supernatural aspect to the story that keeps you on the edge of your seat and wanting more.
Due to it being such a short story, I can’t say more without giving it all away, but if you do get a chance to get it and read it I promise you won’t regret it.