RED MOTHER DEAD: A Merry Halloween Release!

IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! 

After probably the longest overhaul (between moving 700 miles and plucking at a vampire story...where nothing sparkles except for the floors), the release is finally upon us! And what better way to usher in Halloween than with a new story! 

Below are the gritty details (with a little excerpt at the bottom)! Thank you all for the support! This story holds a special place in my heart. It was the last story started in St. Louis and the first one to finish in Dallas (coincidentally, the next story does take place in Texas...but you'll have to read this one first 😼). 

Undying love, a fear of the dark, and a passion for disinfectant bring forth a new romantic horror!

Brit McKay, faithful (and OCD) housekeeper of the Brennan Estate must battle germs AND the paranormal in order to keep those she loves safe. But are the disturbances truly of a paranormal nature? Or is the new tenant (and Brit's old flame) causing the chaos? 

Jack Brennan has been lost in a state of depression since his wife's death. He seeks refuge at the Brennan Estate...unaware that what he's running from has found him. But is it all in his head, or has something insidious returned from the grave to haunt him? 

A TEASER!

7:30AM

“How long do I have to stay here?”

            The morning had been rough. Liam was more than a little scared about school – that much was clear. But Brit could be tough. And as they walked through the front doors of the school, she could sense the kid starting to buckle.  

            “It’s only four hours a day.” She said firmly. “You can handle four hours of school.”

            She hadn’t heard of a part-time kindergarten before, and it seemed a little ridiculous. At the same time, Liam was an anxious kid. Maybe four hours to him felt like ten hours.

            “But not until tomorrow, right? I don’t have to stay here today?”

            She bent down on one knee to talk to him. “You had school in Indiana, right?” He nodded softly. “This is the same situation, just with different kids. No big deal.”

            “What if they don’t like me?”

            He was sucking on his lower lip nervously. “They’ll like you. I like you, and I don’t really like anybody.” He smiled at her remark, then took her hand. This is how kids get to you, she thought, they do cute things to try and get you to forget how full of bacteria they are. “Okay, you’ll start tomorrow. Maybe your dad will have time to drop you off in the morning, too.”

            “And you’ll come too, right?”

            She couldn’t get over his little face. One dimple on his left cheek. Big doe eyes. And his habit of sucking on his lower lip.

            “Yes, I’ll drop you off either way. Okay?”

            She felt his hand grip hers tighter. “Okay.”

            “Liam,” she kept her voice steady – because she needed to address his safety without scaring him. “I need to ask you to keep your window closed and locked at night.” His eyes looked puzzled, so she added, “It’s too cold at night to leave your window open. I don’t want you to get sick.”

            “I just left it open a little bit.” He whispered.

            A cracked window is all a murderer needs, she thought. And after what she had seen on the news, an attack just down the street had her on high alert. “But I need you to leave it closed for now, okay?”

            He stared at her blankly for a moment. “But…my mama talks to me there…”

            She cupped his little face in her hands. “Your mama is always with you in spirit, Liam. But she also wants you to be safe. Just like me, and your dad, and your Aunt Melanie. So, can you please promise me that you’ll keep your window closed?”

            He didn’t look very convinced. Maybe she was being insensitive to his deceased mother. “Liam, if you get lonely at night, I’m just down the hall. So is your dad. But the window must stay closed. I promise you that your mother understands. She wants you to be safe.”

            Brit wasn’t sure how much he understood.

            “Enough talk of safety and windows, right? Let’s get some hot chocolate.”

            His face lit up. The awkwardness of the conversation lifted. She made a mental note to check his window before she went to bed.  

+++

Grab a copy here on HALLOWEEN: #RMD

Nightmare Apartment

(DISCLAIMER: I love ghost stories and I love Halloween - but many a friend I've gained has had something eerie enter their life. This is a story that started nearly a decade ago - and it's one that fortunately has a good ending (so far). And, best of all, it's a great muse for a new book! Do you have any nightmare apartment or housing stories? Please share in the comments!)

I've been an apartment dweller my entire life - which means I've probably heard every kind of noise and smelled every kind of smell possible. Good neighbors truly are what make great apartments. They create the true dynamic of a building. Good history adds great character. Happy portraits that line the common walkways as each tenant finds their own font door - portraits of past social gatherings, block parties, barbecues - they all breed the same effect. Home. Comfort. Safety. 

Bad history, though, can add its very own element.

A few years ago, my old friend Darren (also an apartment dweller) relocated to a tiny Midwestern town and became enchanted by a street of historical buildings and homes that date back to the early 1900s. So enthralled by the quiet tree-lined street, he actually bought a swanky 1000 sq. ft. shotgun style apartment that was inside a towering Victorian. He liked the openness of space, the 10 ft ceilings, the French doors that led to a narrow 3rd floor balcony, and the giant vintage fireplace that made the front of the apartment pop.

The stark white Victorian had been renovated and divided into 12 separate units sometime in the 1960s. The unit Darren purchased hadn't been occupied in over a decade, and had instead been used as storage for the building's former owner. The unit - located at the end of the 3rd floor hallway - had a cozy feeling to it. But it started out as less than welcoming.

After the apartment had been emptied, Darren discovered that every wall had a crucifix nailed to it. "Religious fanatics," was what Darren had been told by both the former building owner and the realtor. Former tenants who seemingly prayed day and night. It was odd, and it gave Darren pause. After all, why would a property owner leave an entire unit unoccupied for over a decade, and instead just use it for storage? That seemed like a waste of money and a waste of space in a building that stood out for its beauty and location.

The lush Victorian stood tall at the end of the street. To this day, superstitions about ghosts and bad luck persist in the area. Longtime locals recounted tales of murder inside the Victorian. Specifically, a former resident had allegedly murdered his bride on their wedding night. It was an eerie and intriguing story, but there were no town or county records of any such tragedy - not inside the Victorian nor in the quiet town.

Being a level-headed man, Darren pushed any reservations he had to the side and bought the unit. After 2 months of remodeling, Darren moved in. But within a week's time, he began to notice strange scratching noises at night. First he assumed it was an animal scratching against the outside of the building. But the noises soon grew louder, as if coming from inside the apartment.

He set mouse traps and eventually adopted a cat, thinking the problem would go away. But the noises persisted. His mother, an avid believer in ghosts and the paranormal, made a 2 hour trip from St. Louis to check out her son's home. One single night in the apartment was all she needed to make an astonishing claim.

"There's a demon in this house."

Darren recalled rolling his eyes at her remark. She had been up investigating the scratches, but like Darren, she couldn't find a physical cause. Or even evidence that anything had been disturbed.

"There's no demons." He said firmly. "It's an old home. There are probably rodents in the walls." He planned to hire an exterminator to investigate. But his mother doubted that was the cause.

"I saw a black shadow." She alleged. "It rolled from the ceiling to the floor, like mist, then picked itself up as if it were taking the form of man, and it walked straight to the back door."

Darren again dismissed her claims. "Too many scary moves."

But when the hired exterminator couldn't find any evidence of rodents (or any other pests) behind the walls, his frustration grew.

Until one day he noticed a strange trail of ash that was sitting in the middle of the apartment. It wasn't pieces of drywall or dirt. He couldn't explain how it got there or why. He swept it up, took the trash out, and the very next morning the trail of ash was back.

One night- the worst night - he woke up to hear what sounded like heavy footsteps walking toward the back door. He turned the lamp on next to his bed, and to his horror watched as the deadbolt on the door that led to that narrow balcony slowly began to unlock...seemingly on its own. As the deadbolt could only be locked or unlocked from inside the apartment, Darren stormed outside and spent the night in his car.

Regardless of the logic he depended on always, the scratching noises just weren't going away. The trail of ash on the floor became a new daily phenomenon. Then there was the self-turning lock... And inevitably, he thought about all those crucifixes that had once lined the walls inside the unit. 

At long last, he called a minister and asked for help. After blessing the apartment, the noises ceased. The ash went away. Doors and locks stayed as they were. The place was quiet. In another year, the noises would return, but Darren wasted no time in calling the minister again. Every year since, he's had the apartment blessed. And each year that has passed has grown calmer and more serene.

This isn't a Hollywood story where a war between heaven and hell grew to a climax, by any means. But it's a great reminder that not all alleged hauntings end with the owner(s) fleeing their home at midnight. Sometimes a haunting can be pieces of the past that simply need to be quieted so that new memories can add new life and depth.

And if you're curious, Darren still lives in that 3rd floor unit. Peacefully.

*I do not own or have copyright to images*

The Trader Joe's Experience

A year ago, I uprooted my life for a 10 year career and moved to Dallas. There are lots of things that happen when you have a sudden life shift. Lots of firsts. Lots of new faces. Lots of learning. And, no surprise, lots of stress.

A month ago I had a pretty severe nervous breakdown. In truth, it had been building for some time. The adrenaline high that you get from moving into a completely new environment can only last so long. Eventually, if you're not taking care of yourself and paying attention, you're gonna crash and burn.

Fortunately, I've been bouncing back pretty smoothly (albeit, it's felt like a slow crawl out from under a rock). A large part of my so-far recovery has been because of great support from family and friends, and great advice: starting with getting out more.

We live in an age where technology makes it possible to never leave the house unless you're going to work. I think that can be a detriment to your mental health after a while.

So, breathing in fresh air and accepting my own failings, I stepped back into the world - and in this journey found myself inside a Trader Joe's.

In truth, I don't know what my great expectation was, short of feeling out of place (and I did). I frequent Kroger (or wherever is closest that honors coupons). I was astonished that TJ wasn't the overpriced, hyped let-down I envisioned. And what was especially telling was just how ordinary (and generic) it was.

The food? The selection was minimal and in truth I could get the same at Tom Thumb or Kroger. The size? I could get on board with a smaller store compared to the mega Kroger just a few miles from my apartment. The wine? Alright, I'll admit the price was pretty damn good. The people?

There's the most interesting part. The tribal, familial, clannishness of the sandal'ed (and in one instance, socked) feet, Hawaiian shirt (or sun dress...and maybe a fedora) attire, and that airy tone of mall-girl meets hippie when discussing kale and beet salads. Quirky, friendly, and a little bit flaky. It's the flavorful people that make the Trader Joe's experience worth taking, with the goat cheese coming in at second place.

Am I a TJ convert? Probably not quite, but it's given me the strength to go forward and explore Wholefoods. Food and grocer pretension aside, it's a grand thing to pull yourself out of your own comfort zone and challenge yourself. For some, it may be chasing ghosts. For me, it's encountering food snobs in grocery stores. So far, so good.

On to the next! - Stay tuned for an update from a trip back home + other huge changes!