3800 Word Short Story
"Antique Charming is a gothic-style short story that will
have you wishing for a full-length novel. Adam Nichols is a refreshing change
from the garden variety vamps, shifters, and zombies that have flooded the
market. At the end of the story, you will have more questions than answers,
especially what exactly is Adam Nichols, and where has he been the last one
hundred years or so. I found this story absolutely fascinating. I will be the
first in line to petition Ms. Bates publisher to demand a full length novel!"
5 Stars Night Owl Romance
Third-generation
funeral director Lizzie Morton is about to have her dream realized. She has
purchased the long abandoned Nichols Funeral Home and its upstairs flat,
determined to restore the funeral home to its once former glory. But a late
night visitor, Adam Nichols, claims the funeral home still belongs to his
family. Lizzie scoffs at his odd behaviour and outlandish claims, but when a
vintage photograph appears, she soon realizes, to her horror, that Adam Nichols
did once own the funeral home—more than one hundred years ago—and now she has
allowed this entity to pass into her home.
Excerpt:
She
heard it again.
The
same time as last Friday night.
Three taps at her front door.
Lizzie muted the television, tossed the
blanket off of her body and scurried out of bed. She slipped her robe over her
shoulders and tied it securely, determined to find out who in the world would
knock at her door at three in the morning. By the time she had reached the door
the week previous, no one was there. The street had been dark and still.
It had to be a mistake. She had only
recently closed sale on the long abandoned funeral home, determined to restore
it to its once former glory. She had only been living in the upstairs flat for
a few weeks.
As she hurried down the staircase, each
step beneath her feet creaked in protest. There was no one visible through the
peephole. She unchained the door and opened it just enough to peek around it.
No
one was there, just like the previous week.
The street was dark and quiet. Not even the whisper of a wind could be
detected. Only the cold dampness of the October night raised a chill on her
skin.
Who was playing this weekly joke on her?
Could it be the ghosts of some departed soul who had passed through the halls
of Nichols Funeral Home sometime during the past century? A small smile crossed
her lips as she prepared to close and lock the door. She was a third generation
Funeral Director. Did she now believe in
ghosts?
Before the door could close, a hand poked
into the slight space and seized her wrist. A cry rose in her throat and she
jerked backward, but the hand held tight and the door flung open.
The man emerged, shrouded in darkness. He
was an ethereal creature, tall, and dressed in anonymous black. Only a
streetlight glowed behind him.
“I’m home,” he announced.
Buy Antique Charming:
WOOT!!!
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