I got the idea for “Sample Sunday” from one of my fellow authors, namely Scarlet Black. She is the author of “Wisdom Of Evil”, “Salem Moon” 1 and 2, “The Last Gift” and most recently “E-Vamp” which is taking the European market by storm. I strongly recommend checking her out on Amazon folks, you won’t be disappointed.
Anyway, today I decided to give you all a brief glimpse into a scene in “THE BRIDGE”. I thought it might be nice to show you some of what goes on during one of my lead characters psychic visions. Once you’ve read it, remember the book is available for all e-readers and in print. You can find all these versions at my new webpage:
http://allankrummenacker.wix.com/allan-krummenacker
. Just click on the one you want and the link will take you to where you need to go for it.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this snippet:
Alex, blissfully unaware of all that had taken place, boarded a train at Grand Central station, eager to go home. He had been in the city all day and was glad to be leaving. He had met with clients, visited contractors, and then checked on a couple of jobs his office was overseeing. Then he’d met up with his sister and her husband for lunch.
And as usual Sharon was in top form, going on about how tired he looked and that he needed to spend more time back on Long Island. Maybe go to the beach. Of course he could bring Veronica, but she’d heard that too much sun was bad for older skin, and so on and so forth.
Now, he was comfortably settled in a seat on the train and allowed himself to lean back and relaxed. The gentle swaying and clicking sound of the wheels were soothing, almost hypnotic. His eyes slowly lowered and he fell asleep…
… and once again found himself in the strange hallway with the four doors waiting for him. How had he gotten up here?
Up here? Yes, this was an upper story that was rarely used anymore. A thin layer of dust covering the carpet was testimony to that fact. No one had been up here in some time.
Brushing aside a cobweb he went over to the nearest door and tried the handle, it was unlocked. Suddenly it swung inwards, revealing a bedroom furnished in Colonial style. Though he was no expert, he was sure the furnishings were originals, not modern copies. And unlike the hallway, everything in here was immaculately clean and well cared for. There was some clothing laid out on the bed which indicated this room belonged to a woman.
Instinct told him not to enter, so he decided to make his way towards the next room. As soon as he turned away, the door behind him slammed shut. Then the unmistakable sound of keys in a lock could be heard. Looking back, he saw the door was now bolted shut and thought he heard movement inside. Looking down at the lighted crack at the bottom of the door, he spotted the shadow of feet pacing back and forth from the other side of the barrier. He quickly went over to the other doors and saw no light or shadows coming from them.
Coming back to the locked door he found wooden slats now covered the portal. At first he felt panic for the owner of those shadowy footsteps, but then he realized the room was now empty. He could sense no one within.
From behind him came the sound of creaking. Turning he saw the door opposite this one slowly opening.
He took one final look at the barred doorway and found it was now bricked up. And half of the brickwork was already covered by dark paneling that matched the rest of the corridor.
There was nothing more he could do here. And the room behind him waited patiently. Taking a deep breath, he turned and headed over to the room across the hallway. He didn’t bother looking back, knowing that any sign a room had been there would be gone.
On the old stone bridge over the stream, a woman stood silent and motionless. In her arms she cradled what appeared to be a small bundle. Her eyes were fixed on the line of tall trees surrounding the rear half of the great mansion. Their many branches practically obscured the entire third floor.
Nearby, at the foot of the bridge a man wearing a white wolf skin knelt. His head was bowed as he chanted in a tongue not heard in centuries…
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