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Category:
Young Adult/Teen
Type: Fiction
Pages: 185
Copyright: July 30, 2017
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Child paranormal investigators try to rid an old lake house of ghosts where they encounter many dead spirits and a shadow man.
Teen paranormal-investigator siblings Dylan, Mike and Sarah McCauliffe, investigate the hauntings at an old lake house in rural Kentucky. To get to the property, they have to paddle a couple skiffs through haunted waters where many people have perished. And to make matters worse, there are ghosts from many different time periods on the property, including a black shadow man who may be demonic. In a book that may force you to sleep with the lights on, find out if the McCauliffes can solve an age-old mystery, send the spirits on to where they belong and get back home safely. Ghosts of Lake Dread is a stand-alone sequel to Ghosts at Drayson Schoolhouse and Hauntings at Black Shadow Ridge because it takes place a couple years earlier.
Excerpt
“Who’s there?” I said.
I heard some whispering but was unable to decipher the words.
“Who is that?”
No answer.
On shear impulse, I extended both oars as far as I could behind me and gave the boat a big thrust backward. I continued paddling through the curtain of fog until I hit land about eight minutes later. But as I pulled the boat to shore and groped around for the outriggers, I couldn’t find them. I then felt a sudden sense of dread when I realized I may not be on the right shore.
I kept looking around me but couldn’t see anything. A loon warbled in the distance, sending chills up my spine. Moments later, the fog started clearing in the middle of the lake as its wispy talons pulled apart, revealing the dark water. And as I gazed into the distance through the thinning haze, I saw the security light near my car. But it was at least a hundred and fifty yards away on the adjacent shore.
I should’ve realized that I was heading the wrong way, but the fog caused me to lose my sense of direction. That’s what the spirit had intended. But why?
For a second, I felt relieved because some of the homes were on this side of the lake. But when I turned around, I could see nothing through the fog.
I started to shove the skiff back in the water. Just as I had the prow in, something grabbed my shoulder from behind and pulled me down. I landed on my butt. I quickly turned to see what it was but couldn’t see anything. Meanwhile, the boat slipped into the water and started floating away from the shore.
“Who’s out there?” I said, as I got to my feet. But all I could hear was the water lapping against the shore.
I continued staring in the direction of the homes, but the fog was still too thick. I could barely see the dark ground through the cloudy masses beneath my feet. Seconds later, I heard something shuffle amid the weeds. Then someone moaned.
I gazed out into the lake. The boat was now fifteen feet from the shore. I had to get it before it got too far away. Just as I started to dash into the water, I took one last look behind me. I couldn’t believe what I saw.
The fog was starting to clear to mere wisps, giving way to honeycombs of darkness. But deep inside the woods, dozens of figures were floating toward me—some between trees, others on the outskirts.
I ran toward the lake but something tripped me a couple feet before I reached it. I fell into the cold water, arms first, and then my head went under for several seconds. Just when I tried to surface, a hand thunked across the top of my head and forced me back under the water.
I was writhing and pinwheeling my arms in all directions as I tried to free myself. I really thought I was going to die because I couldn’t move my head. In a last-ditched effort, I lowered myself deeper into the water, bent my legs and shoved myself forward with my shoes. When I surfaced twenty seconds later amid the black water—as it appeared to me in the moonlight—I was six feet from the boat. I quickly swam over to the skiff, pulled myself up into it and dropped down to the floor.
My clothes were soaked as I leaned against the boat seat, panting like a rabid dog. My heart thudded beneath my ribs; I now thought I was dying of a heart attack.
“Oh, God,” I whispered, as I tried to catch my breath. I then pushed myself up with both arms.
I sat down on the seat and grabbed both oars, which were fortunately still attached. The handles were thickened just enough to prevent the sculls from slipping through the button rings.
I turned the boat around, paddling with the right oar, and positioned it toward the main shore. Seconds later, I regained the cadence of my previous strokes, pulling and gliding across the water, and landed at the outrigger dock eight minutes later.
I quickly secured the boat on a short bole with the boat rope and hustled to my Jeep. I found a change of clothes and pulled the wet ones off. My shoes were still soaked but I’d just have to wear them that way. I hadn’t brought any others along.
I found the bag that Sarah had dropped on the floor behind the driver’s seat. I reached for the pin light I had in my glove compartment and shone it inside the bag. I was surprised that I’d left it there as I usually took it inside on investigations. I fished the light around in Sarah’s bag and located the smudge sticks. I then grabbed the bag, locked the jeep and hustled back over to the boat.
As I paddled toward the middle of the lake, I heard some more moaning from the other shore. Though I couldn’t see the spirits that I’d seen earlier, I saw dozens of orbs. Orbs were round lights that were believed to be associated with ghosts and even demons. The orbs stretched the length of the far shore. Some started moving into the lake.
I reached the shore of the Fromm property without any more bumping incidents. But when I walked inside the house, I couldn’t find Mike or Sarah. All the rooms were dark again, except the thin stream of light spewing from the kitchen. I donned my night vision goggles and walked around the bottom floor, searching for my brother and sister.
“Mike . . . Sarah!”
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