Fiction Sampler

An audio clip from An Unbidden Visitor

A short story inspired by Northern Ireland’s famous poltergeist, the Cooneen ghost.

Family, friends and fear…and the unnatural force that threatens everything…

Have a listen: Click Here

Excerpt from The Snow Job:

Lois smiled thinking about her house. She had only moved into it six months ago but she loved the historic grey stone cottage. It had been built just over a hundred years ago and therefore qualified for the designation ‘century house’. The house she was looking at right now was probably a similar age to her own so it would also be a heritage property. Before she moved to Fenwater last summer she knew little about heritage houses but she had done a lot of research into the history of her house and became fascinated by the architecture of the period when it was built.

At the end of the block, she emerged onto Haughton Road, a wider thoroughfare that bisected the residential street. Glancing in both directions, she prepared to cross the larger street, but as she looked to the left, she heard a voice coming from the opposite direction.

“Bit nippy tonight, Lois.”

A middle-aged woman wrapped in a deep royal blue parka strode up to her, pulled along by a white terrier.

“Hi, Connie. It certainly is. But I don’t really mind it. I love the way the snow glistens under the streetlights. It’s so pretty.”

Her neighbour Connie Harris stopped beside her, nodding agreement as she inclined her head toward the dog who was still pulling at its leash, intent on continuing its walk. “Yeah, and slippery if you’re not careful. This one has almost pulled me off my feet a couple times tonight. He doesn’t give me much time to enjoy the scenery. It flies by.”

Familiar with the energetic dog, Lois chuckled. “Yes, I can imagine.”

“Do you want to finish our walk with us? It would give us a chance to catch up. I haven’t seen you since Christmas.” Connie nodded toward the next intersection. “I’m just going to cut down there to St Andrew’s, head along the main street and then back up our street to home.”

Lois shook her head. “Thanks for the invitation but I’m going to take the direct route home tonight. Any other time I’d say yes, but I’ve been at Marge’s all evening and I really should get home. I’ve got a few things to do and the cats will wonder where I’ve got to.” Lois laughed self-consciously at herself for letting her two adorable pets dictate her activities.

“That’s okay. We’ll catch up another time. How’s Marge?”

“She’s fine – her usual self. She’s all fired up about the Burns Night supper.”

“I’ll bet. It’s always fun. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I promised Marge, and besides, I’m playing with the pipe band. I take it you’re going too?”

“Oh, definitely. I never miss it. Snowy, sit.” Connie jerked the leash and gave the dog a stern look before she returned her gaze to Lois. “What’s your family tartan?”

Lois shrugged. “Uh, I don’t have much of a Scottish connection. I doubt I have a family tartan.”

“If you have Scottish ancestors, you probably do. You should check it out. I always wear my Harris Royal Blue tartan skirt to the supper.”

Lois shoved her gloved hands into her pockets, nodding without replying. She would prefer to avoid discussing anything to do with her Scottish ancestry. If she just kept quiet it shouldn’t be long before Snowy did something to distract its owner and rescue her from the topic.

As if the dog could read her mind, at that moment Snowy tugged at the leash again and Connie raised her eyebrows in an apologetic gesture. “I better get going.”

“Sure. Pop over for a coffee whenever you like and we’ll catch up.”

“Will do. See you later.” Connie raised her hand in farewell and continued along the street, pulled along by the dog’s unflagging energy.

Lois watched Connie and her dog until they were halfway down the block. Then, shivering in the chilly night air, she turned and checked for traffic once more before she hurried to the opposite side of the road.

“Snowy, stop that. Come here!”

Connie’s sharp cry made Lois glance over her shoulder at her neighbour. Connie was struggling with her dog. It frantically pulled to the left to head up the next street as Connie tugged the leash to turn the animal in the opposite direction. Lois chuckled. The little dog was surprisingly strong and determined. It was unlikely that Connie’s quick circuit of the block would go as planned.

As Lois watched, the dog jerked the leash and pulled Connie off balance. She stumbled after the dog onto the side street. Lois wondered if she should offer to help but the dog hadn’t escaped its leash so there wouldn’t be a wild game of tag up and down the street tonight. Connie should soon get the situation under control again without her help.

Still chuckling, Lois entered the section of Maiden Lane where she lived. Connie certainly had her hands full with that dog. It made her glad that she had cats. With half a block left to go, she would be home to them soon. She wouldn’t be surprized if Ribbons were sitting in the front window watching for her return. The sleek calico cat was highly intelligent and seemed to anticipate her actions.

Behind her, Lois heard a shriek followed by frantic barking. What on earth has Snowy done now? She stopped walking and listened. The noise continued. I better go and see if Connie is alright.

Lois spun around and raced toward the street where her friend had disappeared.

Excerpt from Dancing Shadows, Tramping Hooves:

Much More Than A Dancer

Catherine pushed through the crowd, away from the bar. She balanced the drinks with both hands. Shying away from a group of youths, laughing and jostling each other, she passed a compact, middle-aged man with short, greying hair. He was chatting with the man beside him.

Kevin Sullivan was the new bank manager, a widower who had moved to town a few months ago. Flustered, Catherine looked away, unsure whether she wanted him to notice her or not. She rushed past, keeping her eyes straight ahead and her face an inscrutable mask.

“Look at yon one,” the man beside Kevin said, nodding at Catherine. Kevin glanced at her, trying not to show any interest.

“Catherine Flannery. A rare sighting – she’s not often in McMahon’s,” Kevin replied. His square, lined face showed no expression. Many years in management had taught him how to avoid betraying his thoughts.

“Look at the set of her. Haughty. Heart like a stone,” Sean continued. Kevin sipped his drink without replying. His thick, wiry eyebrows rose slightly as his eyes followed her.

Catherine hurried back to her table, wishing she could disappear. Why am I so nervous, she chided herself. I’m nearly fifty and run my own farm. I should have more sense. But I really fell for Kevin at the Hunt Ball last month. He’s brilliant company and a great dancer. I get goose bumps when I think about how I felt when he held me and looked into my eyes. But I’m sure he barely remembers dancing with me.

“What?” Catherine realised that Mary was speaking to her. She set their glasses on the table and listened to her friend.

“Did Kevin not ask you to keep a dance for him?” Mary asked.

“Why would he?” Catherine replied, the flush spreading up from her neck to her entire face.

“I think he might have a notion of you,” Mary grinned.

“Don‘t be daft!”

“You could ask him for the Lady’s Choice. Or just be bold. Drag him away from Sean. Sure, he’d rather have you in his arms than stand chatting to that ould fella.”

Catherine was spared from answering. The band’s energetic introduction to their next number drowned out the women’s conversation. Her eyes scanned the hall, stopping when she spotted Kevin stepping onto the dance floor. Moving effortlessly, he began jiving with a thin, stylishly dressed woman, deftly pulling her towards him and out again. His firm arms spun her around then clasped her back to him in time to the music.

Wouldn’t you know that Eileen’s nabbed him, Catherine thought, with a quick stab of envy…