Written in the Stars (A Short Story)

by Carroll, Francene

  His walk started off well enough, and he was enjoying the fresh air in his lungs, when a loud crashing sound from the jungle behind him made him jump. It was probably just a branch falling down, he told himself. It happened all the time in the jungle. It was no big deal. He continued walking up the sand for another five minutes as he remembered all the great times he’d had on beaches in the past, playing football, surfing, jogging, camping, screwing. What right did she have to tell him that he was soft when he’d roughed it plenty of times, in much harsher conditions than this? It was true he hadn’t done anything physical for a while, but how hard could it be for a seasoned outdoorsman like him?

  “This is going to be a piece of cake,” he said out loud. “How can Allie hope to beat me when I was practically raised on the beach and she’s hardly set foot on one in her entire life?”

  At that moment, he heard the loud sound from the jungle again, but this time it seemed much closer. It was followed by a low wailing noise, like a very large cat that had just spotted its prey.

  “Maybe it’s time I headed back to the house.” He turned around and made his way back in the direction he’d come. He tried to look like he was in no hurry by sticking his hands in his pockets and whistling as he strolled up the sand. The moon had gone behind a cloud now, and the beach was much darker. Then he heard the crashing sound again, but this time it seemed to be right next to him. Something screeched, and he heard a flapping sound, like wings. He pictured a huge prehistoric bird swooping out of the jungle, and he gave up all pretense of trying to look cool as he ran back toward the house as fast as he could. He was already winded from the walk, and before long, his legs began to feel like lead. He could feel his muscles burning as they tried to cope with the unfamiliar exertion, so he made his way down closer to the water, where the sand was firm, and slowed down to a walk. The cool night air had irritated his lungs, and he gave in to a coughing fit that seemed to last forever.

  “Looks like I need to do some work on my fitness,” he said with a laugh when he’d managed to recover himself. He pulled his shoulders back and tried to look confident, but after a few minutes of walking, he stopped and scrutinized the tree line uneasily. He hadn’t walked too far up the beach, he was sure of it, but he still couldn’t see the house. He remembered how difficult it had been in broad daylight for them to spot it through the trees, and his panic started to mount. He had turned on a couple of lamps in the living area while he waited for Allie, but the house was so high up that it would be very hard to see them, and he vaguely remembered Tye saying something about the eco-friendly lights switching off when no one was in the room.

  “Stupid greenies,” he muttered. After the noises he’d heard coming from the jungle, he really didn’t want to get any closer to the trees, but he realized that he had no choice. The wind had risen, and it was getting cold.

  “I should have brought a sweater,” said Jack out loud as he folded his arms across his chest and shivered. He felt another coughing fit coming on as he headed back toward the tree line, and despite his best efforts, he was unable to suppress it. The last thing he wanted to do was alert any wild creatures to his presence, but the hacking noises from his throat seemed to reverberate through the jungle.

  “God, this is ridiculous!” he yelled after the coughing had eased. “Who in their right mind builds a fucking house that is impossible to find? If I catch pneumonia out here, I’m going to sue you bastards.” He shook his fist at the sky, fully aware that he was making an idiot of himself, but he had to do something to vent his frustration, and there was no one else around to yell at. This was his idea of hell. Not only was he suffering from major withdrawal symptoms on a deserted island with a highly unpleasant woman, but now he was lost, hungry, and being stalked by a jungle creature. To top it all off, the entire world could see his humiliation. He could just picture Pam and the rest of them rubbing their hands together with glee because this would be ratings gold for them, and exactly the kind of publicity he didn’t need. They would sell the scoop to the trashiest magazines to create hype for the show, and it would take him years to live it down. The footage would be shown at every interview he did, and every smart-ass talk show host in the country would have a field day with it.

  “Okay, Jack, pull yourself together,” he said under his breath, trying to get his temper under control. With one last scan of the trees, he was forced to accept the fact that he really was lost and that there was nothing else for it but to try to get Allie’s attention. She was the only one who could help him now.

  “Allie!” he called, realizing it was the first time he’d ever actually said her name out loud. “Allie, it’s Jack.” He paused for a moment, but there was no answer. “Allie, I’m on the beach, and I can’t find the house. Allie, can you hear me?” His voice was growing louder as his desperation mounted. “Allie, where are you?”

  He wouldn’t put it past her to ignore him, but he was sure she wouldn’t want to look bad in front of the cameras after making out that she was a saint a short time ago. As he continued to call her name, there was another loud screech from the jungle, and all of Jack’s anger melted into abject fear.

  “Allie!” he yelled as loud as he could. “Allie, can you hear me? I’m lost, and I need you! Please help me! Allliiieeee!”

  To his horror, it was almost a sob.

  Shadows of Yesterday

  Madeline Hart is torn between two men—and one of them is lying. Who should she trust, and why does Ravenswood exert such a strong hold over her?

  Madeline has turned her back on her past to pursue her dream of opening a real estate agency in the country. When she is called out late one afternoon to look at a property called Ravenswood, she has no idea that her life is about to change forever.

  As Madeline is caught up in a bizarre love triangle between Michael Denver, the mysterious owner of Ravenswood, and handsome Daniel Eastman, her business rival, strange things begin to happen to her. She becomes convinced that both men have something to hide, and despite her horrifying experiences within its walls, she cannot break the spell that Ravenswood has cast over her. When she hears of a ghost story involving a young woman who died at the house a century earlier, Madeline feels compelled to dig deeper.

  Her search for answers uncovers a shocking crime and rekindles a love that even death could not destroy.

  EXCERPT

  Madeline sat in the silent room for what seemed an eternity trying not to think about where she was, or how she might have just upset Michael with her careless remark. The light from the electric heater had faded quickly, and she was left in almost total darkness. He must have forgotten the candle, she thought, expecting the lights to come back on any minute, but nothing happened. She was slightly apprehensive when she heard the door open again and Michael's footsteps approaching.

  "Thank goodness you're back, I was getting worried. Couldn't you find the torch or candles?" The footsteps continued directly toward her and stopped a few feet away, but still Michael said nothing. She could just make out the dim outline of him in the darkness.

  "Michael, please say something, you're scaring me," Madeline said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. When there was still no response the panic began to set in. "I have a torch in my car. I'll just go and get it and bring it back." She groped her way off the lounge and found her handbag on the coffee table before heading in the direction of the entrance hall. She just wanted to get outside and had absolutely no intention of coming back with the torch. If this was Michael's idea of a joke it was stupid, not to mention inappropriate, and despite his apparent normal behavior tonight she was having serious doubts about his mental state.

  To her horror, the footsteps followed her all the way down the hallway to the foyer and the figure stood there as she struggled to open the door. Madeline quickly discovered it had been locked from the inside, and without a key she had no way of escaping. Michael had not dead bolted the door when they came in, she realized, so he must have gone back when th
e lights went out. He may have been planning this all along and only been warm and friendly to lure her in, she thought with a growing sense of dread.

  "Michael, this isn't funny," she said with a sob. "Please let me out so I can go home. Casey knows I've come here, and she's expecting me to call her soon to let her know I got home safely." Things had gone far beyond a silly prank now, and as the figure took a sudden lunge toward her. Madeline found herself running down the hallway with tears streaming down her face. Thankfully she had a fairly good idea of the downstairs layout and managed to avoid injuring herself, but the silent figure remained a few steps behind her the whole time. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck, and she expected to feel his hands on her body at any moment.

  Just as she passed one of the large front windows, the moon came out from behind a cloud and illuminated the hallway for a moment. Madeline turned her head so she could get a look at him, and she was stunned by what she saw. Instead of looking into the crazed eyes of Michael Denver, she saw a flash of blonde hair and a face she recognized from the photo before the moon disappeared behind a cloud again. It took Madeline a moment to comprehend that the person hunting her down the darkened hallways was not Michael Denver, but his missing wife Laura.