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#Ghoststories

This #Ghoststories post is brought to you by a friend of mine who shared his story with me just last week.  Thanks Kyle! 

“My Dad lived in a house that had been a stagecoach stop in the 19th century. It’s on the National Historic Registry in Missouri.  You always felt watched in that house–like, most nights when I was a kid, if the weather was nice enough, I’d sleep out on the porch. It just wasn’t comfortable inside. My bed was original to the house–it has shotgun spray lodged into it. Just to give you an idea.

Anyway, one night when I was in middle school, my dad had some friends over and let me invite a couple of friends over, too. Everybody was hanging out in the living room, just talking and having a good time, the adults drinking some beers.  All of the sudden, we start hearing a crashing sound, like glass breaking.  A bunch of us got up and followed the sound into the kitchen to find the necks broken off all of the bottles of beer that were sitting on the counter. Beer is pouring down the fronts of the cabinets, onto the floor, and the necks are sitting alongside the bottles, clean broken, no shattered glass.

It was especially spooky because everyone in the house had been in the front room–everyone had heard the noise. We all experienced it together, so it wasn’t one person’s word over another’s. Nobody could explain what had happened. ”

 

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Autumnal AF!

It’s the first day of Fall, you guys!

I’m drinking a hot caramel apple cider and wearing my fave boots to celebrate 🙂

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I love summer, don’t get me wrong. But when the temperature begins to drop, and the days are getting short, my writing brain comes alive and I get all kinds of great ideas!

No more pressure to use every moment of nice weather to the fullest (we get a limited number of nice-weather days here in the PNW!)  No, now it’s just the slow slide into months of overcast darkness and rain.

(All the better for live-tweet reading Interview with the Vampire!)

By April, I’ll be ready for some sunshine. But, for now, bring on the drizzle!

Who’s with me?!

 

Weddings Everywhere!

My little sister is getting married today!  I’m in a weddingy mood. So, to celebrate the day, here’s a re-post STAND’s Alternate Epilogue (Leah and Drake’s wedding): 

I fidgeted with my earring once more, making sure it was hanging just right—making sure it hadn’t fallen out though there was no reasonable way it could have.

“They’re still there, Lee,” my Dad said.

I looked up and saw him in the mirror, behind me.

He smiled and crossed the room. He looked funny in a suit. “Touching them makes it feel like she’s here though, huh?”

I nodded with a smile. “But I should stop messing with them—lord knows how old they are.”

“Only Cecelia would own a pair of antique sapphire earrings and keep them in a random jewelry box in her room—not somewhere safe.”

It wasn’t worth explaining that she could have kept them on her kitchen counter and they would have been safe, given the middle-of-nowhere location of her house. My house. No, that didn’t feel right. I still hadn’t moved any of her furniture, though technically, I’d owned this place for years now.

Drake and I hadn’t been able to bring ourselves to live here at first. We’d said the reason we hadn’t moved in was because we needed to finish school—and that was true—but, the other reason was because, at first, it had been too hard to be here. It was better now though, the sorrow less acute. Now this house was full of memories, bittersweet and tangy like lime sherbet. But it was also sitting, waiting to be made full of new memories. At first, Samantha and Harris had kept an eye on the house, keeping it dust-free and in good repair. Then, when Harris retired, and they’d decided to move back to California, I’d paid a property management company to look after it while we finished our Bachelor’s degrees. Now, Drake and I were getting ready to move in. After today.

“You’re almost up,” Dad said as he glanced out the window. “Everybody’s seated and Yumi’s about to wet herself she’s so excited—you better get out there before she spins off into the aether and takes all the flower petals with her.”

I laughed and joined him at the window, my dress rustling softly as I went. Sure enough, Ferris and Collin’s daughter was spinning in place, watching her red-orange dress with the teal ribbon flare as she turned. Her black hair showed blue in the bright sunlight. Ferris crouched down in front of her to grab her attention.

Dad let the curtain fall back into place. “See what I mean?”

“We should probably get out there before everybody melts, regardless,” I agreed.

I took his arm though it wasn’t necessary just yet, and together we walked down the short hallway, then across the living room to the front door.

“So,” Dad said as we waited. “After today, Mrs. King, huh?”

I shook my head. “Ms. Brayton-King, Dad. I told you that.”

“That’s right.” He sighed theatrically. “Hyphenating…that’s very modern of you. How does Drake feel about that?”

“He’s fine with it.” Especially when I’d explained to him why I’d wanted to do it: to preserve the Brayton shifter lineage. I was the last Brayton shifter, after all.

“I know,” Dad replied. “I’m just diffusing the situation with humor—it’s a coping mechanism.”

I laughed quietly.

“See, it works every time.”

A knock on the door meant the flower girl was on her way down the aisle, which was my cue.

My eyes found Drake’s the second the door opened. And while I knew there were people sitting in the white chairs on either side of the aisle—Samantha and Harris, Mallory, Terry and Michael, Sol, Poi, Nina, Wyck, Gabriel, even Felix, an empty chair beside him in honor of my aunt—Drake was all I could see.

We couldn’t have known, when we met, all the things that would happen. Just like we couldn’t have known, standing there that day, that it would take five years before we would refer to our house as ours and not Cecelia’s. Or that, in that time, we would have a daughter named Cressida and a son named Joaquin. We had no way of knowing those things as we stood, staring at one another, exchanging the vows we had already been living for years on that sweltering, sunny day under the tree in my aunt’s front yard.