A Halloween Trick or Treat

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dJEkdJdUM4w/SQpPlHRbY5I/AAAAAAAAAJk/BDdXnU99gE8/s1600-h/328373301_91cb731073.jpg”img style=”margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;” src=”http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dJEkdJdUM4w/SQpPlHRbY5I/AAAAAAAAAJk/BDdXnU99gE8/s200/328373301_91cb731073.jpg” alt=”” id=”BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263106613561746322″ border=”0″ //aspan style=”font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;” A/spanll Hallows Eve is upon us. It’s a good day for new endeavors, which is why you’ll find me posting weekly at the group blog a href=”http://paranormalwriters.blogspot.com/”Frightening Journeys/a. I’ll be the Friday frightener for this group of unpublished paranormal writers.br /br /Which is not to say I’m abandoning this blog. Actually, now that my move to the north is over, I’m hoping to bring back my weekly ways.br /br /In celebration of Halloween, as a treat and a trick, I present you with the first scene from my novel in progress, iWalking in the Dark./i The book took third place in the Daphne du Maurier contest for unpublished writers in the paranormal division this year.br /br /span style=”font-weight: bold;”span style=”font-style: italic;”br /Walking in the Dark/span by J.K. Mahal/spanbr /span style=”font-size:85%;”(copyright 2008, all rights reserved)/spanbr /br /The kitchen felt cold, with a dry chill that made Cassie Davis think her husband had been fiddling with the air conditioning again. The blasted thing was probably stuck. Twisting a knob, she put the tea kettle up to boil.br /br /“Mommy.”br /br /Her little girl’s legs scissored through the air as she lay on her stomach on the white tile. A torn piece of butcher paper served as the canvas for another Crayola masterpiece.br /br /“What, honey.”br /br /The six-year-old carefully peeled the paper coating from a crayon. “I think you’ll like this picture.”br /br /Cassie studied the black scrawls interlaced with red and gray. Years of training in child psychology and she still had no idea what was going on in her own kid’s drawings. Of course with patients she had an edge. An extra skill passed down through generations. Too bad her sixth sense didn’t extend to family. Luke was spending a lot of hours in the lab these days.br /br /”Mommy.” The voice whined high, jolting Cassie from her thoughts.br /br /“Sorry, honey.” She looked at the drawing again. Nope. No clue. “Do you want to tell Mommy what it is?”br /br /The crayon slashed black streaks, hard and messy, on the white swatch of paper.br /br /“No,” the voice was singsong. “It’s much more fun this way.”br /br /“Okay.” The sworls and swirls vaguely resembled a mammal of some kind. Maybe a gorilla. In such cheap prices for viagra cases the partner or the spouse should be very careful. cheap generic cialis This medicine contains a very important component in it which is Sildenafil citrate. This kind of modeling you need to have contacts on line levitra check for info with local boutiques and local fashion designers. However a lack of sex cialis india can also be interrupted by pain. so men commonly have high press on sex and refuse and lose confidence on sex. Or a flattened cat. “Is it an animal?”br /br /“Nope.”br /br /“How about a vegetable?”br /br /“You’re silly,” the voice giggled.br /br /“That I am.”br /br /Tiny smears of wax migrated onto the tile as the crayon colored in an empty space, turning it to darkness.br /br /Cassie suppressed a shiver. She really should talk with Luke about fixing the AC. If he made it home in time for dinner tonight. It wasn’t as if they fought. They never fought. They just had “disagreements.” Maybe she should just go out for pizza with the kid and screw the Betty Crocker image.br /br /”I want you to see the picture, Mommy.” Her little girl looked so serious, holding out the white paper. “You should see the picture now.”br /br /”Okay. If you’re sure.” Cassie smiled. Her daughter was the best gift Luke ever gave her. She reached for the drawing, trying not to wrinkle it.br /br /The keening of tea kettle broke the silence, spewing a white puff of moisture into the air.br /br /”It’s time.” Mirth flirted across the girl’s face, a flash of lightning in the darkness of her countenance.br /br /It took Cassie a minute to recognize what she was seeing in the heavy black scrawls and red smears. Once she found the tombstone, the image decoded. Anna Davis. Beloved daughter. 1990-1996. R.I.P.br /br /”No.” The denial came out as a whisper. “No. Please.”br /br /She reached out to touch her daughter, to hold her again as reality crashed against the sides of the dream.br /br /”You can’t run away forever, Mommy.”br /br /With that, the girl crumbled to dust, choking Cassie with the taste of ash.br /br /br /span style=”font-size:85%;”br /Photo by a href=”http://flickr.com/photos/elvispayne/”Elvis Payne./a/span