Welcome to the 2015 October Frights Blog Hop Tour.
Below is a little tidbit to scare you and intrigue you. If you stay long enough, you can even be entered to win a prize.
Death’s Dance Blurb:
Being a psychic, you would think talking to the dead was a walk in the park. However, it’s not always that simple. The hooded specter haunting me is one I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid. One day, he appeared in my bedroom mirror. Good. Evil. I don’t know what his true intentions are.
Enter Jackson, ghost hunting show host extraordinaire, and my ex, to save me from the big bad ghost.
From there…well…it’s been a world wind of complications. My house burnt down. I’m being stalked by an ancient evil and gotten myself back into the world of being a ghost hunting psychic. Jackson dragged me, along with a few other psychics, to a ghost town wiped off the map called Death’s Dance.
Enter Jackson, ghost hunting show host extraordinaire, and my ex, to save me from the big bad ghost.
From there…well…it’s been a world wind of complications. My house burnt down. I’m being stalked by an ancient evil and gotten myself back into the world of being a ghost hunting psychic. Jackson dragged me, along with a few other psychics, to a ghost town wiped off the map called Death’s Dance.
From there things went from bad to worse.
EXCERPT:
The rolling fog on the monitor stopped. The screen lightened enough so I could see lines appearing on the surface as if someone had breathed on it and was writing with their finger. I waited to hear the squeaking of skin on the glass, but there was only silence. It took a moment, but the letters formed into words.
Death.
“Are you death?”
There was a pause. The atmosphere weighed down the room. Watcher.
“Okay. You’re a watcher. Do you watch me in my dreams? Is that you?”
Yes.
“Were you in my mirror this morning?”
No.
A shiver ran down my back. It could be lying to me. Not all ghosts told the truth. I wasn’t about to put my trust in something that was coming through over my computer screen. Then again, I wasn’t going to open myself to it and see if it wanted to use me for a channel either.
“So what kind of a watcher are you?” Some of my clients spoke about ghosts who hung around their houses. They were dark shapes who were just there. One woman had called me concerned about a lingering entity. When I had gone to her house and asked the phantasm what it wanted, it said that it was just monitoring her. It observed her and didn’t get involved with her daily life. Was this the same kind of being who was contacting me now?
The haze cleared even more. The mood in the room was a little higher. Maybe he wasn’t going to answer my question. Maybe he was thinking about what to say.
“Why are you in my dreams?”
Protect. Guardian.
A strong compulsion to go over to the computer gripped me. What did the entity mean that it was my guardian? How was it protecting me? What did it really want with me? There had to be an answer for that. I reached out tentatively and touched the computer screen. It was cold underneath my fingers. When I pulled away, my fingers didn’t stick to the glass. They weren’t being held there by some unseen force, which calmed me a little. When I felt the pressure of a finger pressing on the screen and this time heard the distinct screech of a finger wiping over the screen, my heart stilled. The whole world froze. I swallowed hard and tried to catch my breath. I glanced over my shoulder to see if there was someone in the room with me. No one was there. Biting my lip, I put my finger over the words being written. An electric jolt ran up my arm, but I was still free to move my hand away.
“Why are you protecting me?” I sat down in the desk chair before the computer. It slid a little ways away from the desk. The mist cleared on the monitor. In the distance, I saw a figure in the dark cloak that I had dreamed about. He stared at me, but he made no move to come any closer. A small breeze wound through the room that jingled the wind chimes on my bookcase. I had them there because every time I entered and left the room it was said that fairies would be drawn to the melody of the chimes. That and the dinging pleased me. It helped me remember my grandmother because she had loved the tinkling sound so much. I glanced behind me and saw my hematite sphere rock from its base and fall on the floor. It landed with a loud thud, rolled across the floor, and hit my foot. I reached down and picked it up, hoping it wasn’t damaged because it had fallen from the second shelf of my bookcase. The orb was heavy and cool to the touch. There was no blemish to it. My reflection was distorted in its round exterior.
“What does this have to do with anything?”
See. Protection.
I stared into the stone’s reflective surface. There was movement behind me. I jumped when I saw a hooded figure. I looked behind me for good measure and no one was there. I glanced back at the sphere and he was still there. I checked the computer screen and saw thewords were still there. Focusing back on the ball, I tried to sense the figure that was shown in the hematite. Sometimes even the psychic didn’t pick up on everything.
“Are you telling me the hematite can make me see what’s coming and you’re offering me protection?”
The hooded figure nodded.
“I don’t understand. Why are you warning me? Who or what was in the mirror? Why are you in my dreams? Telling me you’re watching me doesn’t tell me anything. And for all I know you could be stringing me along and tricking me.”
Another rush of air whooshed by me. This time I felt the strong presence that was in the room. It was right before me. I glanced in the gray sphere and saw him standing next to me. My cloaked visitor lifted his arm toward me, but it was still contained in the folds of his tattered robe. He pointed at me. I remained frozen to the seat, waiting to see what would happen. It seemed we were having a staring contest while I waited for him to respond.
The keys on the keyboard started clicking. I glanced behind me and saw words being typed on the screen.
Watch. Protect. Mission. Graveyard. Tree. Don’t go Dance.
“The town that Jackson was telling me about. You don’t want me to go to Death’s Dance?” I glanced in the hematite ball and the figure nodded.
“Why don’t you want me to go?”
The temperature in the room plunged again. The atmosphere thickened. It sucked the air from my lungs, and something tried to keep me in my seat. I glanced in the ball and didn’t see anything anymore. Whoever was watching over me had vanished. Loud footsteps came up the stairs toward the office. I fought the pressure, stood up, and clutched the hematite sphere. Words were flying across the screen now. They only said one thing.
Run.
Death’s Dance Buy Links:
Bio:
Crymsyn is a National Bestselling author of over seventy paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic have given her a lot of material to use in her books. She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.
To find out more about Crymsyn:
Twitter: @crymsynhart
a Rafflecopter giveaway
5 comments:
Good excerpt and giveaway! Nice to be in the hop with you. :)
Nice to be in the hop with you as well. Thank you :)
Hi, Crymsyn. Nice to meet you. Good Excerpt!!!
A wonderful excerpt.
Nice to meet you too Cathrina and A.F.
Post a Comment