I met Joyce after I read her author bio on Amazon--it captured my interest--I thought, wow, I'd like to meet her--so I contacted her. She graciously accepted my invite to be my blog guest and feature THE GIRL THIEF, which I purchased after meeting her, but have to finish one more book before I get to it--looking forward to delving in!
So enjoy meeting Joyce!
About Joyce
I shouldn’t be doing this.
It’s late. I’m limp from fatigue but find myself standing
out in the hall, feeling torn. Because tonight is my only chance to essentially
be alone in this house. Kate is in bed drunk and will be out of it for at least
overnight, and the housekeeper won’t be back until morning. The police could be
back too.
What do I do with this chance?
The hall is nearly dark, with just one sconce lit. I look
around, feeling my pulse quicken. The whole house is deathly quiet.
Something thuds, and I jump. “Oh!”
My eyes dart around. Someone coming? The noise sounded
near, and a sick feeling shoots through me.
Thump! There it is again. A low sound coming from…down the hall?
Panic stirs, but I have to know. I pass closed bedroom doors on the right and
left, knowing that this is crazy. Frightening, but my feet keep moving as I
strain to listen.
I hear the thud again and jerk my gaze up. That sound came
from over my head.
The attic.
I remember Kate opening the attic door, wrinkling her nose
and closing it again.
No one goes up
there. It’s too creepy.
Common sense tells me to - forget this! Quit while I’m
ahead and get some sleep! But I know I won’t sleep. Not with this one night to
look around…
On wobbly legs I reach the hall’s backstairs landing, and turn
to the attic door. It is cracked open. My heart pounds but compulsion rules, so
I get out my phone, flick on its light, and open the door into darkness.
My beam lights the musty steps. I start up – and hear that
thud again. Only now it’s louder. My lips go dry. Cold dread shoots through me.
At the top of the stairs, I shine my light shakily through
a dark vastness of stacked trunks and ghostly, sheet-covered shapes. Roof beams
slant low at the edges, and at the far end is a tall, arched window emitting
thin moonlight.
Surprise, the thudding is coming from it! I move closer,
shifting my light to the moonlit glass, and my shoulders relax. A breeze gusts
through a low, broken pane covered flimsily by a tied board.
Thud…thud…
My, this house is full of things that go bump in the night.
I breathe again, but the sound is still frightening.
Shapes to my right loom. I shine my light on an old
dressmaker’s mannequin, and a long rack holding clothes covered with dry cleaner
plastic. Outdated-looking dresses, men’s suits, an old-fashioned tuxedo and …
I let out a strangled gasp.
My light jumps as I see what is hanging there. I lurch
backward, shoulders heaving with my free hand clapped to my mouth - just as a
hideous shriek tears through the air. I freeze in shock for seconds, can’t
move. The shriek sounds again.
Someone is dying, brutally. Where? Frantically, I whirl my
light around, seeing no one.
Horror bolts through me as I wheel away and fly down the stairs. From the landing I race down the hall stumbling, trembling uncontrollably.
No comments:
Post a Comment