Lucy anxiously watched Lady Umbersmith set down her cup of tea and scan her guests, the three detectives and then finally Lucy herself. The elderly matron began to speak, her gaze resting on Lucy.
“When a person dies and her soul leaves her body right away, the body remains, just a husk. But while the person lives, the body and soul are linked, entwined, and inseparable. What happens to one happens to the other. If the soul is attacked, the body too feels the effect. It becomes incorporeal, intangible, insensible, silent, invisible. Continue reading
Jeremy Falls remembered when he first came to Roaring Ridge (where there was no roaring and no ridge to speak of). It was a clear and cloudless Tuesday. The first person he’d met was the sheriff. The second person he’d met was the owner of the town’s only diner. The first impression he’d made was as a decent enough fella, passing through town on his way to the mountains. The second impression he’d made, after settling in as the town’s newest resident, was as a conspiracy theorist, and the town crazy. Continue reading
“None of the stories Mama tells us is real.”
Marra crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “‘Are’ real, Jeppa. Learn how to speak like a civilized human being.”
Jeppa frowned at her older sister.
Wenda, the eldest, smiled at them both. “It’s more important to be a decent human being than a civilized one.” It was one of Mama’s sayings.
And if it wasn’t for Mama walking into the room at that moment, Jeppa knew that she and her sisters would have started throwing pillows at each other. She’d had a good grip on hers just in case, though she didn’t want to throw it. It was a warm pillow and a chill night. Cold air seeped in from any crack or seam it could find.
Mama had gone to get the matches so they could light the candles that were arrayed on the windowsill. It was story night. And it was Jeppa’s turn to choose. As Mama settled down on the ground in their makeshift camp, joining the girls in their storytelling circle, Jeppa prepared herself. Continue reading
Everything went dark. And for just a heartbeat, Frank was strangely soothed by the luxury of pretending he was just sitting in a closet above ground on a muggy day. And then the emergency lights came on and all the instruments were beeping and blaring and the commanding officer was giving orders that Frank could not hear as he took his station and stared at the dials and readings that made no sense. It was like what happened in movies when the needles of a meter flipped back and forth and computer read-outs blinked and fuzzed for dramatic effect. Only it was really happening. The instruments were going haywire. And their submarine, ominously named the Harbinger, was caught in some kind of turbulence. Continue reading