 |
|
|
Excerpts
~ Extras
|
| Excerpts |
| The
House of Many Doors |
| The
House of Many Doors is a ghost story told through the voice of Langdon
Rene Parker, Jr., a teenager whose artist father has been missing and
presumed dead, for two years. A brief synopsis is here. An image of how I see the
house is here.
|
Last night I dreamed
about the house again.
It
started out the same as always. The brick house nearly hidden
behind a rusting iron fence and overgrown hedges. Light
flickering through leaded glass windows. A single figure
shadowed
against the darkness. The house, the light, the
watcher--those
images looped again and again and they terrified me more than the
goriest slasher movie ever could. But something made last
night’s
dream much worse. I swear it felt like the house opened its
eyes
and looked at me. And even more than that, it knew who I
was.
I felt like crap, but I dragged myself out of
bed and into jeans and a t-shirt, trying to shake off the dream that
had come back out of nowhere to haunt me again. When I got downstairs,
my mom was sipping coffee at the kitchen counter. She poured me a
cup. I dosed it with cream and sugar and rummaged for
something
to eat that would settle my stomach.
"Langdon, are you all right?"
It
was rare that she used my full name, the name Dad and I
shared. I
glanced up from the Cheerios I was busy stirring into a
whirlpool. My mom was watching me, her eyes narrowed, deep
furrows in her forehead. I put the spoon down and tried to
smile. I hated that look. Hated that it hardly left
her
face anymore.
"Yeah, sure." I looked away, hoping she would do the same. It wasn't
fair. Why the house again? And why now?
The
scrape of the stool on the kitchen floor startled me. My mom put her
hand against my forehead. Part of me wanted to lean into her like I did
when I was a little boy, but I shook her off, pushed away from the
counter, and headed toward the sink. "I'm fine," I snapped. She sighed
and passed me her empty coffee cup. I felt crappy for cutting her off,
but bad things happen when I dream about that house.
The first time was two years ago after my dad disappeared.
|
|
| (Top
of Page) |
 |
Extras
Freely available ebooks on Scribd, writen
by Lisa:
Organize your Novel with a Wiki
Poetry for Novelists
Pain, Pain Perception, and Healing: A Primer
for Writers
|
| (Top
of Page) |
|