HorrorAddicts.net Press Presents:
Dark Divinations edited by Naching T. Kassa
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/ilQ-BfW6BRs
It’s the height of Queen Victoria’s rule. Fog swirls in the gas-lit streets, while in the parlor, hands are linked. Pale and expectant faces gaze upon a woman, her eyes closed and shoulders slumped. The medium speaks, her tone hollow and inhuman. The séance has begun.
Can the reading of tea leaves influence the future? Can dreams keep a soldier from death in the Crimea? Can a pocket watch foretell a deadly family curse? From entrail reading and fortune-telling machines to prophetic spiders and voodoo spells, sometimes the future is better left unknown.
Choose your fate.
Choose your DARK DIVINATION.
**********
An excerpt from Dark Divinations
Ghost of St. John Lane
Daphne Strasert
Haverford, Pennsylvania, 1874
Eleanor Prim stood at a third-floor window of the house at St. John Lane, and watched as her guests congregated on her porch. Although the week had been clear, a sudden storm brewed. The leashed fury of the tempest hung heavy in the air.
It had been years since any person save herself and her servant, Samuel, had seen the interior of her home on St. John Lane. Eleanor recoiled at the idea of others intruding on what she considered hallowed ground, but the prospect of seeing the medium, Mr. Moses, outweighed her reticence.
In her younger years, Eleanor had prided herself on her level-headed nature. She had scoffed at mesmerism and mediums, laughed at the concept of divination and spirits. Yet, since Richard’s death…
Perhaps superstition came with age, like the silver hairs streaking her raven locks and the creases around her eyes on the rare occasion of a smile.
“Ma’am,” said Samuel from behind her.
“Yes, I’ll be right down.” Eleanor smoothed her hands down the front of her black dress and went to meet her guests. It was up to Mr. Moses to put such notions to rest, one way or the other.
Mr. Moses was accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Gladney and their friends the Brownings. That made for a seance of six, the number the medium required. After years of solitude, so many people gathered in her house made Eleanor tense, but with more witnesses, she’d be less likely to be fooled by chicanery.
Eleanor met her guests in the entrance hall as Samuel ushered them in. Mrs. Gladney and Mrs. Browning looked around as if committing every detail to memory with their greedy eyes. Eleanor had never been able to tell the two women apart. Both were as plain as wallpaper paste. Their only distinguishing features were their husbands, who were never far from their sides. Mr. Gladney was wider than he was tall, while Mr. Browning had a skeletal frame with a shiny bald head.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Prim.” Mr. Moses strode forward from between the group and offered his hand.
Eleanor declined his hand shake.
Mr. Moses was a tall, thin man with a crooked nose and a sparse collection of gray hairs dusting his head. His eyes had a sharp quality, like a falcon watching for a twitch in the grass.
“Welcome to my home,” she said.
The gas lamps warmed the parlor room as the gloom outside intensified. Thunder cracked in the distance. Eleanor’s guests gazed restlessly about them as if the walls would speak.
The guests settled around the table with Eleanor between Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Gladney. The air itself seemed to thicken with anticipation. A chill crept through Eleanor, although the room was warm.
They sat in silence as Mr. Moses closed his eyes. For a long while, nothing happened. The guests around the table looked at one another.
A loud knock sounded on the ceiling and Eleanor startled.
“Remain calm,” Mr. Moses said. “They’re with us now.”
Another knock came from the ceiling, then a series of raps ran across the wall to Eleanor’s left.
“I am listening.” Mr. Moses called to the room. “We seek to understand.”
The table rattled. Mrs. Browning’s hand tightened around Eleanor’s and she gave a small whimper.
Mr. Moses’ eyes snapped open and he stared at Eleanor.
“There is death in this house. Tragic death stalks you.”
Eleanor’s breath stilled in her lungs.
“Someone is coming. Someone who wants to speak with you.”
“Richard?” Eleanor asked, voice barely audible over the continued rattling and shaking of the room.
A booming knock echoed through the room, though Eleanor couldn’t tell from which direction it came.
“You carry a grave sin on your soul,” Mr. Moses said.
A clap of thunder shook the windows and Mrs. Gladney screamed.
“My God!” cried Mrs. Browning. “There’s something trying to get in!”
Outside, the world roiled. The storm thrashed against the windows, rattling the panes with each crash of thunder. Momentary flashes of light illuminated the garden in turmoil as trees swayed against the howling winds, the wood groaning against the strain. In between was only darkness. The room rumbled and Mrs. Browning squeezed Eleanor’s hand in her bony fingers. Another flash lit the world outside in sharp contrast.
Eleanor’s heart stuttered. In the momentary light, she’d seen a figure in the window-pane doors, the perfect oval of a face in sharp relief against the glass.
She extracted her fingers from the death grip of Mrs. Browning and crossed the room to the patio.
“For God’s sake, woman, don’t go out in the storm!” Mr. Gladney grasped her elbow as she passed.
“There’s someone out there,” Eleanor said, undeterred.
She unlatched the doors and they swung back with a bang, propelled by the gale outside. The full force of the storm entered and Eleanor flung herself out against it.
Squinting against the dark, she shielded her face from the onslaught even as the rain soaked through her bones and into her soul. Where there had been a figure moments ago, only the dark and wind and rain remained.
To read more, go to: Amazon.com or order the special edition, signed copy with hand-painted tarot cards at HorrorAddicts.net