The Wayland Manor Haunting (Gulf Coast Paranormal Season Two Series Book 1)
Page 11
I pulled them close and whispered, “They’re coming!” Carrie Jo prayed, I cried, and Macie stared at the shadow sailing down the hall. I saw him too!
A man with an old-fashioned hat sped past us, lifting papers and cords as he traveled toward the front door. Would he break that too? It swung open, and as the shadowy man vanished out of the house, a parade of translucent children hurried after him. Whispering and laughing. Yes, they were laughing. They were so loud, so boisterous.
Happy. They were happy. The house shook again, a door upstairs and the front door slammed shut, and then everything went quiet. As silent as the grave. You could breathe in here, and there was plenty of light. It was no longer a musty, scary old building. Just a nice space, a historic home. A home without its ghosts.
“Carrie Jo, you know what I have to do,” I said as I stood up.
“I’ll help you,” she said as she got to her feet.
“Well, I don’t have a damn clue about what we’re doing, but you are not leaving me here,” Macie said in a determined tone.
“Fine, let’s go. The sooner, the better.”
The three of us went back upstairs. I expected to see a pile of debris on the ground, evidence of the broken door, but there was none. Not even a splinter.
That wasn’t going to work for me. I opened the closet door and stepped inside. Carrie Jo and Macie were with me.
“This portal is closed. Let nothing but love, light and peace remain. Nothing shall ever open it again. Not a living man, not a spirit, nothing and no one. Let peace be on this house forever.”
Macie ended my declaration with the sign of the cross. Carrie Jo said, “Amen.” What else was there to add?
Somehow or another, the Caretaker had found the strength he needed for what he needed to do. He set the children free. Wayland Manor would not be a home for trapped souls anymore. It would always be a good place, if Amanda did the right thing. There were many wrongs that needed to be righted.
The first would be dealing with the crematorium, setting up a memorial for those who had been unjustly disposed of there, but those were concerns for tomorrow.
Tonight was for the living.
Author’s Note
Here we are, y’all. Back in the paranormal trenches, digging up old Gulf Coast legends and living vicariously through our favorite fictional paranormal investigative team. I had a blast! Now that The Wayland Manor Haunting is done and in your hands, I am on to the next book in the series, The Beast of Limerick House. (I love investigations that lead our team into strange places. Limerick House, a wax museum in New Orleans, is definitely a strange place.)
I must admit, when I closed the chapter on the first season, I wasn’t sure there would be a second one. Just as Midas, Cassidy and the rest of the crew were dealing with heartache and loss, so was I. It hit me hard, y’all. And I’m not talking about Covid.
You know all about my troubles—you’ve all been so kind to me. Thank you again for all your cards and letters. You encouraged me more than you will ever know.
In case you haven’t had the chance to read my other author’s notes, I’ll recap a little before getting to the heart of what I want to say. The past few years have been cruel. I had to say goodbye to my youngest sibling, my father and my mother. I had a heart attack, and my business crumbled around me as I tried desperately to deal with events that were out of my control. It was an exercise in futility. Thank God above that my sweetheart stayed by my side as I dealt with these many tragedies. Up until 2017, I had led an uneventful life, at least for the past twenty years or so. I’d done all my misdeeds as a teenager (who hasn’t?), but life was good.
Until it wasn’t, and it all kind of snuck up on me. But that’s what I learned, sadly. The smooth patches in life, the easy rides, they lull you into believing that you are safe and in control, but you never really are, my friends. You never really are at all. Maybe that’s a bit too cynical, but it’s the attitude that serves me right for this moment. But at least, at the very least, I have proven to myself that I am a survivor.
I have abandoned the idea of control and embraced the ideas of fate and destiny. I let go of things that were not mine to carry. I kiss my sweetheart every morning and say I love you before bed each night. We are not guaranteed tomorrow. I remember to treat my friends—and everyone—kindly.
But back then, I was in survival mode. I canceled preorders; I took time off from writing. I quit working in the paranormal community altogether. I gave up everything just to make sure that I felt it all. I wanted to feel the grief. I think grief, although it is painful and unwanted, keeps us connected to those that have passed on. That have left us too soon.
And grief likes launching surprise attacks. One day you are okay, and the next you are standing in line at McDonald’s crying for no reason. That’s why I wanted to give Midas, who is a piece of me, all the time he needs to grieve and search out his own answers. Give him permission to love Cassidy and exist without worry of more heartache. It’s the least I can do for Big Brother, right?
It’s okay, though. Midas will be back. He can’t help himself. At the end of the day, he is what he is, a man with a big heart. The guy willing to run into the paranormal fire to save a soul. To help the hopeless. And let’s face it, although most of what I write in this series is fictional (some, at least), people struggle with these kinds of problems every day. The paranormal is real, folks.
In the real world, it is not often that paranormal teams can quickly come in, identify the activity and prescribe a solution. Sometimes there are no solutions. And for those of us working in the paranormal field, let us all be a little careful not to cast aspersions on other teams. We all have our own methods, experiences and skill sets.
That is why I am thrilled to bring new characters to our team. Jericho, Macie and the others you will meet have their own stories. They will certainly bring them into their work, like all the Gulf Coast Paranormal team does.
In 2021, I plan to release at least two more Gulf Coast Paranormal books. I hope you stay with me throughout the entire season. It’s going to be a great ride!
You probably will not see Midas for a few books, but I promise you will eventually. And we all know Cassidy won’t be able to hold back on the sketching, painting and charcoal work.
A lot of my readers are curious about how I got interested in writing ghost fiction. I have written over eighty books, many of them paranormal in nature. It’s true that I love the genre, but my interest started by accident. It’s a long story, and you may have heard some of it already, but I decided to write about my experiences. From that first haunting to the poltergeist years to the negative attachment that tormented me for over a decade. I’m putting it all out there, the good, the bad and the ugly. My book, Delivered Me from Evil: A True Story of Paranormal Deliverance, is written under my real name, Monica Bullock. You can find the book everywhere, y’all.
I hope it helps someone. If you are someone like me, someone who couldn’t find help and suffered for years, this book should provide you with some answers. It will take work, but you can learn to deal with your gifts (if that’s what is happening), and you can break unhealthy ties too.
Please let me know what you think about my books. I love hearing from you. Visit my blog at MLBullock.com or connect with me on Facebook. You can email me and catch me on Instagram.
I wish you all the best, my spooky friends.
Monica Leigh Bullock
March 1, 2021
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