Would you close your eyes, pretend to be asleep? That’s what I would do. And that just might work. But Chelsea suffers from panic attacks that leave her gasping for breath. And that’s what gets her into trouble.
Read a snipit from Chapter 3, the stranger in Chelsea’s bedroom below:
available on Amazon, summer 2013
Chelsea squinted into the grainy, grey air and tried to bring sense to the grotesque shapes that hung there--her dresser, her grandmother’s rocker--ordinary things made extraordinary by the loss of light. But sense would not come, only formless darkness layered upon more darkness, one amorphous shape overlapping another.
She closed her eyes and then cautiously opened them again. And in that split second, something changed. Within her room the night air had shifted subtly, shrouding a presence.
A sense of gathering danger enveloped her. Her heart leveled a single deafening thud and abject fear stole her breath. On her palms moisture gathered and a tremble touched her fingertips.