Book one, of a series my wife and I have been working on, "Myrtle Mae and the Mirror in the Attic," is set to soon be released. We have been working away on the second book in the series, Myrtle Mae and the Ring of Fire, which will hopefully be released next year. Also, I haven't been sitting around on my hands when it comes to writing another story of my own. The House on Black Mill road is in the works as a really scary Haunting story. Here's a sampling of some of the writing...
A low rumble shook the foundation of the house. Outside was a gentle autumn rain. Leaves, just beginning to change their colors, and a slight bite to the breeze cooling even the last bit of warm air that swirled amidst the rain drops, were blowing across the old country road.
Inside, the window panes rattled in their frames and small amounts of dust and plaster fell from cracks into the howling breeze that had found its way in causing the air to have a haze-like appearance.
The damp, mold covered curtains fluttered until the foul spaces between them that let in even the faintest of light fell back into place darkening the secrets inside even more. Spiders had made their presence with webbing that stretched from corners to floor and fell over everything like linen blankets. Tiny corpses of flies and moths and many other creepy crawlies littered the dust covered floor. Amid paint chips and pieces of wallpaper, rats and mice had scattered other unmentionables along the warped floor boards and hallways.
Broken glass led to the occasional dead bird and broken window. Many animals had entered here seeking shelter or food, but even now with a coming storm not a creature was stirring. Not here. Not in this house.
This house. This house. This house. This house groaned from pain. It groaned in sorrow. It ached in hunger. It had filled its desires before on the few living that had filled its walls in the past, walls that had been infected long before wood was even cut. The very ground had been spoiled and soured long ago.
Oh this house…