A little over a year ago I learned about a call for submissions from Tease Publishing. They were looking for books to represent cards of the Tarot Deck in a series of books called "Dark Tarot".
I had a modern ghost story that I had written a few months prior and it seemed to fit the Justice Card perfectly. "Righting the wrongs of the past" The people at Tease thought so too, and now my book "Bring Me To Life" is available for sale!
Here's an excerpt from it. I hope it will catch your interest and that you'll want to read the entire story.
BRING ME TO LIFE
Darren dug deep into the pocket of his jeans. He produced the key to the desk drawer. Even though he was alone in the loft, he still looked around as if someone may be watching him. He unlocked the long desk drawer and lovingly drew out the sketch pad. He carried it carefully over to the windows to get the full light. Slowly, he lifted the cover to expose the drawings he had made of the girl he had seen.
“Draw me,” she had said and so he had. Pages and pages of her face, some more detailed than others. Her curly hair that cascaded to her shoulders, her big, sad eyes, her too thin body.
The voices that weren’t voices seemed to flit around in his head as he looked at them. Finger tips seemed to brush his arms and cheeks as he stood in the full sun of the windows.
“Stop,” Darren said, almost absent mindedly. He had become more accustomed to the voices now. They were always there, just under the surface. Like a song that you get in your head and can’t seem to shake. Today he simply spoke to them to be quiet. He let his concentration on the drawings take over and the voices receded a little.
“I know I saw you,” he said to the drawings, “in the storm that night. I looked for you, you know.” He took the sketch book to the windows that looked onto the patio and held it up. He played the scene back in his mind again. The lightening, the frightened girl, the pounding rain. Then he thought of his futile attempt to find her. Maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough. Then he had seen her in the hallway. So, that must mean that she was alright, but just for the time being. Something was terribly wrong.
“Who are you?” he asked the pictures.
“Hattie,” came a voice – in his head.
Until next time,