Click on image to enlarge.

	Regular				Club
You Pay:	$2.99				$2.54

eBook Category: Historical Fiction
eBook Description: Gwen settles into the Civil War period antebellum mansion she is renting, hoping the unusual setting will inspire her to write again. The house is rumored to be haunted by one of the original Calhouns. The entity reportedly makes its presence known by writing messages in eerie glowing letters on all the mirrors. Gwen soon receives a mirror message: WRITE ABOUT ME, TELL MY STORY. She wonders who wants his or her story told. Hoping to learn the identity of her resident spirit, Gwen writes a message of her own in red lipstick: WHO ARE YOU? Will she be able to learn who haunts the lovely mansion, and why?

eBook Publisher: Forbidden Publications, Published: 2008, 2008
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2008

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [592 KB], eReader (PDB) [60 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [34 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [32 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [116 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [102 KB], hiebook (KML) [131 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [118 KB], iSilo (PDB) [28 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [35 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [101 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [52 KB]
Words: 10821
Reading time: 30-43 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

My features were not perfection like Katelyn's and Estelle's. I felt as far as physical beauty was concerned, I was lacking by comparison. Perhaps Katelyn and I did have something in common, though. We both were unlucky in love. I thought back to the time five years ago when I had been engaged. What a disastrous romance that had been.

I was crazy in love with the guy, and thought his feelings were the same towards me. I was proven wrong when he left me at the altar, heartbroken and humiliated. The experience permanently scarred me and made me wary of getting involved with anyone on a serious emotional level. I had dated two different men since my broken engagement. I backed out of each relationship the moment I felt my heart was getting too emotionally connected.

When it came to romance, I was nothing but a coward. I wished I could give myself some of the courage and romantic fortitude I was able to create for the heroines in my novels. The romances I created for them came from my imagination, and not from true-life experiences. I had just recently celebrated my thirtieth birthday, and I had never been married.

As I stared into my reflection, feeling sorry for myself, a movement at the top of the mirror caught my eye. I watched in fascination as a glowing, golden W appeared before my eyes. It was followed by the letters R, I, T, E. I could hardly believe my eyes as I watched an invisible gold pen spelling out words. I was spellbound. I waited for the message to be completed, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. A few minutes passed, or perhaps it was only seconds, with no further movement from the invisible pen.

I read the message before me. It consisted of six simple words written in capital letters.

WRITE ABOUT ME.

TELL MY STORY.

The message so piqued my curiosity, I forgot I should probably feel frightened. I suppose part of me was a bit afraid, but my writer's mind took over and got the better of me. Here was inspiration magnified beyond my wildest dreams. If I couldn't find a story in this setting, then I was in the wrong profession.

I felt excited. I was still staring at the golden message, convinced that some sort of presence, or entity, resided in the house. It could be any one of them: Douglas, Estelle, Rory, Joshua, or Katelyn. Who wanted their story told, and why? I sat there for a long while, puzzling over the mystery before me. An idea came to me and I acted on it.

Opening the little flat drawer that held my makeup, I found a tube of lipstick and opened it. I swiveled it up to reveal the red color. Then I held it to the mirror and wrote a message of my own in the lipstick. My message contained three simple words, written in capitals.

WHO ARE YOU?

I sat for what seemed an eternity, awaiting a reply. My nervous impatience made me fidgety, and I was back to stroking the brush through my hair again. Before long, I observed more movement in the mirror. The words forming the earlier message disappeared as if a magic eraser had quickly dispensed with them. The invisible pen was at it again, and letters began to form in front of me. I watched, barely daring to breathe, as the letters appeared slowly, deliberately. Scrawled across the top of the mirror in big, bold, glowing letters was my answer.