The grand house towered over the newly trimmed trees and bushes that surrounded its four sides. How beautiful it looks, she thought. Peaceful. The moonlight reigned over the tops of the leaves, climbing its way to the top of the house.   The house’s majestic appearance took her breath away. Fireflies fluttered, spotting the darkness with tiny yellow dots.
  Way out where the house stood, there were no lights from the city or from other houses. Night, lit only by the pale cool light of the moon and the reflecting light of the stars, was deep out in the woods. Creatures and critters of all sizes scurried about with their business - in the deep, dark night. The only sound was the chirping of nearby crickets, frogs singing their mating songs, and the faint summer breeze whistling across the open fields. The brick pillars on either side of the stately porch stood like well-ordered soldiers guarding the entrance to the house.
  Taking a deep breath she smelled the mix of burnt oil and smoke. The wind picked up, howling as it slapped at her face. Raising her arm to shield herself, she made her way up the brick steps and onto the porch. Taking the gold doorknob in her shaking hand, she realized she wasn’t alone.
  From inside the house she heard screams.
  She pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “I’m trying,” she yelled. “I’m trying. What more can I do?”
  Her mind spun.
  She stepped back after catching her reflection in the glass of the door. But the face that looked back wasn’t her own.

  Taking a huge sigh, she unfolded the collar of her tan suede jacket and rubbed her gloved hands together. She now stood across the street from her new brick home.
  The cool wind whipped her long brown hair around her shoulders.
  Gwenevere Simone’s best memories as a child took place right here - where she had run wild and worry free.
  She pulled a sealed box from the rear hatch of the SUV and casually glanced up at the second floor window.
  The curtain was pulled back as if someone were holding it – peering out. Then she saw him – a man who looked to be wearing all black.
  A shiver slammed through her like a hammer against a steel pole. The box fell from her shaking hands.
  A thick lump sealed off her throat.
  She forced the lump down and stared back at the man. Darkness swallowed her peripheral vision - he was all she could see. The curtain separated and he motioned her to come. She stepped forward.
  HO-O-O-ONKK!
  A car whizzed by, its side just grazing her.
  She blinked unable to take her eyes off him. “Are ya all right?” A woman’s hand banged hard on her shoulder.
  The man in the window watched.
  “Good golly, yous pants! That car barely missed ya. Are ya sure yous ok?” Gwen pulled her gaze from the window to her leg. Dirt from the side of the whizzing car smeared across her upper thigh.
  Dismissing the woman, her eyes traveled back to the window. Her heart pounded in her ears. A sweat broke along her brow. He was gone.
  “Honey - hey, yous ok?” She felt the woman’s fingers kneading her shoulder – breathing heavy. “Yous ‘bout gave Miss Miss Stella a blowout.”
  Standing like a statue, she whispered at the woman from the corner of her mouth, “Did you see that man - that man in the window?”
  The older woman strained to see. “What man? What winda, honey?” She placed her hand above her eyes, shielding the sun. “Yous mean the old Brooks house?” She sighed. “I don’t seen nobody, dear.”
  Starting at an early age, Gwen woken often to the figure of a little girl standing in her bedroom - staring at her. Dr. Wells said she was waking in mid-dream and that the child was simply a hallucination. He seemed more intent on probing who the real child was that roamed the subconscious of her dreams.   But ‘that’ll have to wait awhile’ he’d always said.
  Was she hallucinating?
  She pulled the sunglasses from the top of her head and adjusted them, then gazed at the window. Nothing. She giggled childishly and focused on the old woman.
  “It must be the sun. I should’ve had my sunglasses on,” Gwen said. She smiled hoping the woman would forget her outrageous question. Feeling awkward, she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Gwen. My husband, Jack and I are just moving into my grandparents’ old home.”
  A camera’s click snapped her attention to the front door. She grinned as the camera clicked again. Jack had just snapped her picture from the porch. He always did like photos of her best when she was unaware - genuine he always called it.
  “Yous grandparents’?” A small grin unfolded, denting her puffy round cheeks. “Ah, then yous must be Daisy and Mason’s kin, huh?” She gently rubbed Gwen’s hand. “I’m so sorry to hear about yous granny. A nice woman there.” She laid her hand on Gwen’s arm.
  “Thank you and yes I am their granddaughter.”
  “How wonderful,” said Miss Miss Stella.
  Gwen took a quick look at Jack.
  “I can sees u’s busy,” she said. “I’ll let ya’s go. Pop in on me whenever yous wants childs. We’ll have tea.”
  “Thank you,” Gwen said. She headed toward the house.
  “I’m Miss Miss Stella…I live next to ya,” the woman called after her. “Hey, don’t ya want ya box?”
  But Gwen was already gone.

  Jack stood off to the side of the porch, focusing his camera on a chimney swallow that had made a home on top of the corner slab.
  “You ready?” she asked him as she climbed the brick steps.
  “Yeah, go on in, I’ll be there shortly. I wanna take another picture yet.”
  Gwen shook her head; she remembered how Jack used to open every door for her, including car doors. Now he hardly ever does. What’s gotten into him? He always seemed distracted. She had brought this up to her therapist during her last visit. His suggestion was to talk to him. Tell him how she’s feeling. He said that later, if she wanted, they could invite Jack to a few of her sessions. She didn’t know if that would be a good idea or even if he would go.
  The front landscaped yard housed several evergreen shrubs and a dormant pussy willow tree, which served as a secret hideout when Gwen was a child. Her eyes fell to the smooth wide bricks that covered the porch. Her fingers lovingly caressed the 100-year-old brick, bringing back days of summer fun and cool evening chats with her grandparents.
  She found herself fighting back the tears.
  Gwen loved her grandparents dearly. The house on Eleanor Street had always made her feel safe. Like nothing - no matter how horrible it was - could hurt her. Now a piece of those happy memories was gone.
  She had come to learn where each creaky floorboard was and how to step around them as not to make a sound.
  Gwen hated that her grandfather was moving, but she knew the house be too different for him now– too quiet, too big and lonely.
  Jack let the camera fall to his chest. “Are you going in?”
  His tone was flat…indifferent. Now he was ready. She knew then that if she truly loved him, she’d have to try – to find out what his distractions were and why they began in the first place. Looking into his impassive eyes, she knew she had her work cut out for her. Tears flooded her eyes. Turning her head, she pushed them away.
  Searching for the key to the house, she saw the brass, block-lettered sign that read BROOKS ESTATES. A tiny cloud of air escaped her lips.
  In 1932, Gwen’s great uncle Doodle rebuilt the house that had burned nearly to the ground a few years before. He lived there for several years before passing it down to Grandpa Mason.
  Now the beautiful house sat close to a busy street in the middle of a booming residential slash commercial area.
  The long winding driveway was gone - less than half remained.
  Gwen took a deep breath. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. After graduating high school, she moved to the ocean with some of her friends. They were set on finding a job that didn’t entail long hours, sweaty labor, hard or dirty work. They had to save their energy for the all-night parties they’d be going to. But, within two months, of doing everything but the all-night parties, Gwen decided to return to the hills of Western Maryland. She very much wanted to travel, but she’d always call Hagerstown her home.
  Dragging her keys from the bottom of her purse she remembered the statement her grandmother had made a few days before she passed. “This house is special, Gwen. Love it and it’ll love you back.”
  Love me back, huh? I guess we’ll see, she thought. She slid the key into the slot. Her mouth fell open and she paused, as Jack nudged her from behind. Her stomach clenched.
  “You going in or are we standing out here all night?” He asked, now becoming annoyed. Chills shot up the middle of her back when he placed his hand there.
  She turned toward him. “Yeah, we’re goin’ in.”
  She pushed open the heavy oak door to a brightly sunlit foyer. Her throat stiffened as if invisible hands squeezed it with malice. She couldn’t quite pin the feeling, but the house didn’t seem the same. The air felt heavier like the house mourned too.
  She moved to the living room. Immediately, she saw herself as a child, playing with dolls on the thick braided rug. Those days were much simpler than they are now. She had no cares, no worries; she just had fun. Now, she had a deadline to fulfill at work, and a marriage to strengthen.
  Gwen followed Jack to the kitchen. As she passed by the basement door, the hairs on the back of her neck stood with an electric bristling. She stopped. Her eyes moved with a certain creepiness.
  Jack arched his eye. “What’s wrong?”
  Gwen backed up and stared through the crack.
  She half expected someone to open the door and walk through, but after a few seconds, she turned away. No one came. This must be harder on me than I anticipated, she thought. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if hugging away the wariness and entered the empty kitchen.
  Slowly they circled the house, ending where they had started - in the foyer.
  She stood silent, and swallowed hard, focusing on Jack. Suddenly he looked happy. Maybe the house was just what they needed.
  As he ran his hand through his short, spiky hair, he grinned at her. “What ya thinking?”
Gwen just stared into his eyes. He was the old Jack…smiling Jack. The Jack she fell for the moment she looked into his sexy brown eyes. Everything would be okay. She loved him. They just had to make more time for each other. But he had to want it too.
  Jack grabbed her, lifting her off her feet. He spun her around.
  “We’re house owners.”
  She laughed.
  As he spun her, a small shadow by the staircase caught her eye. “What was that?” She tried keeping her focus, but the spinning made her dizzy. “Jack!” He spun her around again. The shadow grew darker. “Jack, someone’s here!”
  “What? Where?” He stopped and placed her on her feet. “Where?” His head jumped from side to side as if watching a tennis game.
  Gwen’s eyes searched for the shadow, but she saw nothing. A deep, soul-draining sigh pushed its way out of her. Not again. She shook her head. “I know it was there. I saw it. Someone was standing right there just a second ago.” Her chest heaved. What was going on? “I think I saw someone upstairs too.” His eyebrow arched up at her again. Her voice faded. Damn, think, think, think before you speak!
  “When?” Jack asked, his eyebrows heavy with concern.
  “Earlier. Outside. When we first arrived. I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure.” She watched as Jack’s shoulders dropped.
  Didn’t she just see someone?
  “Gwen,” Jack’s face hardened, “we’ve been over this...your doctor has been over this - many times in fact.” He spoke slowly, “You’re not really seeing what you think you’re seeing.”
  “Jack - I know I saw someone...something. Dr. Wells doesn’t know what I’m seeing and neither do you!”
  At first, she resisted the conversation of her seeing a doctor, but when she started seeing visions, the little girl during the day, she knew something was wrong. Jack wasn’t always there for her to talk to. He wasn’t there for her when she saw the girl during lunchtime, or there when the girl’s dog whined as if asking to go out. He wasn’t there to reassure her - to tell her that the girl wasn’t really there.
  What was happening to her happened when she was alone – that’s for sure. She shook her head. Nothing felt right anymore.
  “No, I don’t know what you’re seeing. I just know that it’s driving me crazy,” he said flatly.

END OF CHAPTER ONE SAMPLE

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