N is for Nick


Nick is a secondary character in my story Bewitched. He is a man that relies on himself. Coming from the wrong side of the tracks, he finds there is no easy way to climb out of the hole he grew up in. But he is resourceful and knows when to make a turn in life.

 An Excerpt from Bewitched by JK Candlen

In the butler’s pantry Nick opened a drawer. He lifted the lid of the wooden box and his hands lingered on the sterling silver flatware. Nick knew he could get a couple of hundred dollars for it. He hesitated then shook his head. No, he said to himself, he liked Iris. She was good to his mother when she was alive.

A slow shuffling noise above Nick’s head made him pause. Was someone home? He waited and listened for several moments but silence met his ears. Closing the drawer, he felt something brush against his legs. He looked down and found a calico cat staring up at him, he grinned. Nick picked up Trixie and scratched her behind the ears making her purr.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy to find Carol’s book, even if it was here.  But it had to be found, otherwise they would all be in big trouble. Nick put Trixie down in the dining room before searching the drawers in the sideboard.

Standing in the hallway he stared up the stairs. The noise of boots scraping against the floorboards drifted down. Damn, someone was home. He walked across the hall into the music room and looked around. He had to get out of the house fast but stood still as he listened to the heavy footsteps. It wasn’t Iris he was sure of it, but who?

Nick crossed the room heading to the pocket doors leading to an office. He looked for a place to hide. The color drained from his face when he saw the man in the blue regimental frock coat with sparkling brass buttons standing in the doorway to the hall. What was he? Nick had never seen anything like him before.


G is for….Ghosts


Some like to read a good story with ghosts in it. Some can see and communicate with the dearly departed. Me, I live with them and love to write stories about my friends.

I live in a 200+ year old farmhouse where I’m sure many lives walked the floorboards and took their last breath. But depending on how you look at it, it can be a good or bad thing. When I was newly married and I moved in, I always felt someone was watching me. You know the feeling, the skin on your back will crawl and tingle. And if you quickly turn around, you might see something out of the corner of your eye.

That’s me. I started to lose things too. I would put something on a shelf, only to have it show up in the oddest places. I finally asked my husband about what I’ve been experiencing and he said that he felt it too.

Most of the activity is in the kitchen where doors would open in succession, light bulbs would pop and an all-around feeling you are not the only one living in the house. I call the kitchen ghost, Les, since he is the only one that I know that died in the bathroom doorway. Though there are others here, quiet and you won’t notice them for long stretches of time.

The ghosts in the house are not the menacing type, but just going about their own business, maybe reading the paper or walking up the stairs.

I could go on but I’ll let you read more in my story, Bewitched, which has one of my ghosts’ in it. In my post yesterday, you read about Aunt Alice. She was a real person who lived here. She liked to collect alarm clocks, sheets, and of course pressure cookers. When my husband bought the house and moved in, her room was filled with her obsession.

So the next time you feel you are being watched and turn around to see who is there, make sure you say hello. You never know, they may say hello back.