Ebook only, as part of the Daily Dose or individually.

There is still a contest running for this one through my newsletter. So far I have one entry! If you want in, email me at heidi.cullinan@mac.com.

Blurb:

Pete Eason’s been hit by the downturn in the economy just like everyone else, so when he gets the word that some guy named Mike Clarke needs a day laborer to clear our a rural Missouri house, he doesn’t ask too many questions before he takes the job. But Pete quickly learns that there’s something funny going on at this site. For one, Pete’s the only laborer Mike hired, and from what Pete can see, this place needs a bulldozer, not a Dumpster. Mike doesn’t so much as hand Pete a shovel, either—he seems to be hinting that the place is haunted. Pete doesn’t feel any goose bumps, and he sure as hell doesn’t see any ghosts. He’s dying, though, to know what all the gashes in the walls are about.


Mike can’t see the gashes, and he’s frustrated that Pete can’t see the ghost standing right beside him, because the whole point of bringing Pete here was to release the trapped spirit in this place, a spirit that by rights Pete should be able to see better than anyone. Maybe, Mike thinks, he’s made a mistake. But before he can nudge Pete a little harder, the front door disappears, the walls begin to heave, and the ghost which has always been nothing more than a shade is suddenly aggressive flesh and blood—and Mike doesn’t think he’s made a mistake anymore. He knows he has.


Excerpt: http://web.me.com/heidi.cullinan/Site/The_Wounds_in_the_Walls.html


Teaser:

***

There was a ghost standing beside Pete.

He tried to tell himself he was just seeing things, but after what had happened first in the dining room and now to the front door, hallucinations were a hard sell. Either these things were actually happening, or hallucinations had taken over to the point they might as well be.

The ghost’s hand was cold on Pete’s arm, but it was definitely there. It squeezed gently in reassurance. “Can you carry him? Because we need to get out of here, and we’re going to need him.”

Pete nodded and hefted Clarke up. He was a big guy, but Pete was no slouch, and it was only a little strain to heft the man over his shoulder. Clarke groaned, but other than that he stayed quiet. Feeling only marginally bad for knocking him out, Pete turned back to the ghost, waiting for further instructions.

It was looking at Pete, impressed. “You’re stronger than I thought you’d be.”

“You said you knew a way out?” Pete prompted.

“Of the house? No. That’s not going to happen now. But I can get us somewhere safe. Can you get him upstairs?”

Pete looked in apprehension at the dilapidated stairway.

“They’re in better shape than they look to you, I promise,” the ghost said. “Can you?”

It wasn’t just the construction that was upsetting Pete. There was… something. Something waiting. He felt silly, even with all that had happened, and he couldn’t look at the ghost while he said the words. “There’s something bad up there.”

The ghost didn’t seem to find him silly at all. “Yes. There’s something very bad up there. But I promise I won’t let you go to those places.” He held out his hand. “Will you trust me?”

Pete did, almost completely, and that unsettled him. “Why couldn’t I see you before?”

“Because I was hiding.” He looked sad but also curious as he tipped his head to the side. “You can really see the wounds?”

Wounds? “You mean the gashes in the walls?” The ghost nodded, and Pete looked around him. The walls were heaving, moving in and out like lungs. And yes, the gashes were here too, though they weren’t as deep and not half as upsetting as the ones in the dining room. They were random like the ones in the parlor, and they barely cut through the paper. “I see them. How’d they get there?” Why do you call them wounds?

 The growling started up again, and the ghost reached out and took Pete’s hand. “Come on. We can’t stay here. It’s mostly bluster, but it can do damage enough.”

Pete wondered what “it” was, but as soon as the ghost led him forward, the feeling of foreboding increased. He stiffened, and the ghost glanced over his shoulder to give him a gentle smile.

“Just up the stairs and down the hall.” He tugged and ran a cold thumb across the back of Pete’s hand. “Come along, Peter.”

“Pete,” Pete whispered, but he came along, cold sweat breaking across his brow.

The stairs did hold them just fine, but Pete did notice that the ghost didn’t touch the railing or the walls. In fact, he kept very firmly to the middle. Pete decided it would be best to follow his lead.

“Do you have a name?” Pete asked.

“Everybody has a name,” the ghost said. But it was five more steps before he said, “Call me Ara.”

The careful phrasing caught Pete’s attention. “Is that your name?”

“You have some pointed thinking for someone who wants everyone to think he’s just a clumsy laborer.” The ghost paused on the stair and gave Pete a rather focused look over his shoulder. His thumb moved absently over Pete’s hand, and he smiled a slow, knowing sort of smile that did funny things to Pete’s insides.

“How come I can feel you, if you’re a ghost?”

“Because you’re special,” the ghost replied, “and after Michael’s stunt downstairs, I suppose I am too.” He squeezed Pete’s hand. “Come. We’ll speak more when we get to safety.” He turned and started back up the stairs. “No, Ara isn’t my name. But I like it, and it will do well enough.”

“But why can’t I call you by your own name?” Pete dogged.

“Because we can’t both be called Peter,” Ara replied.

The newsletter is live! Which is to say that to my knowledge it has gone out to all who signed up for it. If you did and did not get it, shout. If you did not sign up and now feel a hole in your heart in the place it should be, holler too (somewhere with your email, maybe at mine: heidi.cullinan@mac.com) and I will send it your way. There are two ebook contests in there, just so you know.

I was going to say, "Well, that's about it," but this is actually quite a lie. In the past three days I've written 11k of All the Lovers, which is so far the name of the Sam and Mitch novella. Or maybe novel. Don't get too excited there, though. This now means I have THREE active works-in-progress, which is not my idea of smart thinking. Not the least of which is that Sam and Mitch are trying to steal all the shiny from Two to Tango, which isn't hard to do, since Two to Tango thinks it needs to progress like a glacier. It's progressing, but it's just... slow as hell. Even with the kick from the field trip, yesterday I sat down to give a half hour to both manuscripts, made the mistake of starting with S&M because it was shiny, and POOF. There went eight hours. Which let me tell you, was hell on my hand and wrist.

And speaking of field trip, I didn't tell you about that either.

Did I say I was going to Minneapolis/St. Paul? Well, I did. I went to the Twin Cities Wednesday, which feels a bit like yesterday because most of actual yesterday was spent in a bedroom in Middleton. Mostly it was a driving tour of all the places I keep writing about. Which was odd because several of them don't exist, but I wanted to see where they would go. I wanted to know what Lake Minnetonka looked like. I wanted to see the area around Medina. I wanted to drive downtown and see the sculpture garden. I wanted to go to St. Paul, because I've never been there. And I did all this, and went to Matt's Bar too, where I learned where the bathroom is (not where I'd put it) and also that I was misspelling Jucy Lucy.

Anna and Dan came along as my escorts, and it ended up becoming a fantastic if quick family trip. We got wet at Spoonbridge and Cherry and listened to the wind chimes in the trees. We ate ate Matt's Bar, and Anna went to two meccas at the Mall of America: Hello Kitty store and American Girl. At 4PM I declared, "I'm done," and Dan just looked at me, stunned. "That's it? That's all? Just driving around?" But yes, that was mostly what it was. I just needed to feel it, and I did, and now the muses are appeased. And apparently thinking about it, because they keep letting Sam and Mitch drive.

That's all for me. Now I need to go try to keep up with the day that has already gotten well away from me. At 7AM, this is quite an accomplishment, but the fact that I still think I'm at midafternoon Thursday helps it a bit.

The link to the email for the newsletter in the post below does not appear to be working. If you want in on the virgin run newsletter, email me at heidi.cullinan@mac.com. If you think you sent me an email, it turns out you didn't. Stupid technology.

You don't have to say anything clever. "I want the newsletter" will do.

As you were.

A few different times this spring I posted that I was going to try and go quiet and find my Zen or something like it. I think I may have finally managed the quiet part. Ish. I had a few weeks there where not much happened. I wasn't reading, wrote just barely, and as you can see here (and even on twitter) there wasn't much posting. Some of this is that I have been RL busy. I only have one kid, but we've been weekending at horse shows and piano and violin recitals and other things I've already forgotten. The other thing that has happened is that my PT guy (at my request) doubled my fitness routine. Tripled, actually, but I haven't fully integrated the third part yet. That meant a lot more time off the computer and doing exercise things and being in the pool. And because of the way these things go with me, that meant a few weeks of amplified pain. It's funny how there's a pain where you kind of bitch, a pain where you howl, a pain where you cry, and then there's a pain after that where you really don't feel like talking about it. Every now and again I talked about it in a few places, but mostly I just wanted to barrel through. I think I've come around the corner. Still ironing out some kinks, but basically I feel near to where my body was last October (which wasn't perfect, just wasn't as bad as it got by January). I bought our family pool pass over the weekend, and to Anna's joy we will be spending a lot of time now at the pool this summer, and on the bike.

I have been writing, though. I did my restart/edit/rewrite/finish on Two To Tango, and so far it's going pretty well. I'm about mid-way through the previously drafted material. Not sure how many words I've added. Less than 10k, I think. It has more shape, though, which was needed. I can feel the plot threads forming this time, which is a relief. Sometimes I have to stop, though, because I've basically given Ed a lot of my pain, and sometimes I'll finish a scene and need to go think for a bit. I think I'm officially putting it down until Wednesday too because the family C is taking a field trip to Minneapolis/St. Paul to help give me a finer eye for detail. I wanted to do this for Las Vegas with Double Blind, but it wasn't practical. The Twin Cities, though, are very doable, and I can't resist. Besides, we haven't had a road trip in a long time. To be honest, we haven't really had one since the Go West trip.

Speaking of which, we are finally putting the scrapbook together for that trip. I have this plan to make an iMovie of it as well, but that may be wishful thinking. We're having fun reliving those thirteen days, though.

One last thing: I have two releases coming up in the first week of June, and to that end I think I may finally put together the newsletter thing I've been meaning to put together since December. It will be digital, and I'll probably put it on my website as well, but if you want to get it in email, let me know. The idea is to make it clever and witty and fun. But we'll see. Anyway, if you want in, sign up.

That's about it. Well, other than the fact that my daughter won third place in her horse show this morning. Which is highly awesome.

Off to take a nap.



*"Terrible Love" from High Violet by The National