Five Favorite Things:
Summer Parker has moved to Salem, into her great-grandmother’s house. Once there, she is plagued by the sensation of someone watching her. Added to that, she is having strange dreams about her ancestor, Mark Parker, who was one of Salem’s witches. Her human roommates remove most of the eeriness of her predicament, but the intangible roomie is making himself at home too. After a close call, the identity of her resident ghost is revealed. But if Geoffrey is the ghost, does that make her Mary Parker? One thing is certain, Geoffrey is as determined to protect her. WARNING: Suicide Trigger.
maintained and renovated over the years, so it looked quaint, but had central
heating, hot water on demand, and proper outlets in all the walls. There was
even an Ethernet outlet in the sitting room under an old writing desk that had
been converted for a keyboard tray and monitor.
warm brown wood, polished to shine. She had opted not to keep the cleaners,
saving a few pennies by keeping house herself. It wasn’t an option to normal
renters. The cleaning crew could alert the management company of problem
tenants before much damage could be done.
likely the result of rain water. Her hair, where it had escaped her hood, dripped.
She shrugged off the slicker and left it with the boots, then took her tote and
suitcase up the stairs. Creaks accompanied her climbing, and that sound echoed
as well. She would have to set up a portable stereo or something. The place was
too creepy with no one in it. There were four bedrooms in total—two tiny, one
fairly large and a master suite, which she claimed.
sink attached. Not even a toilet. Not really a suite. It was the largest
bedroom, though, and would give her somewhere to brush her teeth and fix her
hair once her roommates arrived.
the plaster ceiling and saw a myriad of tiny cracks. Was that a bad thing?
Would pieces of it start falling on her? Standing on the duvet in damp socks,
she stretched to see it better.
cobwebs, tons of them. She couldn’t reach, but she would be back with a broom
before sleeping. And she might not be able to sleep even then.
tonight or get groceries for tomorrow—but there was one more thing to do before
that. Her tablet rested in her tote bag, and she sent a message to Mom, Aunt
Marge, and Della, her best friend from Montreal. They would all want to know
that she arrived safely, that the house was in great shape—she didn’t mention
the cobwebs, the cleaners hadn’t been in since the last renter left—and she was
excited to start class in a couple of days.
window into the grey September evening and considered ordering in pizza. It
made more sense to get groceries, though. After all, she would need breakfast
as well. Judging the rain, she wondered if it was worth waiting for it to pass.
of someone watching her coming from the closet. That made no sense. She opened
the doors wide, revealing a bare bar with several hangers that rattled as air
right, examining the corners. Maybe it was a mouse. Nope.
her jacket. Suddenly groceries and rain seemed better than staying where she
was. Had Aunt Marge said anything about high turnover, or infestations, or
anything? She set a quick pace and tried to recall, but nothing came to mind.
The turnover was high, but that was just because students only stayed for a few
years. Still, she would email Marge tonight.
her arms aching slightly from the weight of them, the eerie feeling was gone.
Relieved, she took her time putting away milk, bread, cereal, and everything
else. The deli sandwich came last and she took her time eating it.
been a long trip and she hoped for a less grey day tomorrow.
sensation of being watched returned. “Who’s there?” she asked, feeling stupid.
Who was going to answer her?
squeaked on its hinge, swinging in slightly. She closed her eyes and told
herself it was her imagination. One thing was certain, she would be thrilled
when her roommates arrived. This place was too empty, just like the large bed,
filled with only herself.
Angelica Dawson, bestselling Naughty Nights Press author, has been writing for several years and having sex a lot longer than that. Angelica is a wife, mother and environmental consultant. Her love of plants and the outdoors is not diminished by the bloodsucking hoards — mosquitoes and black flies, not vampires.