Monday, February 9, 2015

Wicked Intentions

Excerpt from "SUMMER WIND" one tale from "Wicked Intentions" a paranormal anthology

The summer of 1971 was a new beginning for Ginger Duncan, a mother of

two girls. Eight year old Betsy liked to paint and dreamed of becoming a

professional artist. Ten year old Daisy loved animals and wanted to be a

veterinarian. The girls had a pet raccoon that they kept in a cage. The animal

was a gift from their maternal grandfather, Ralph Weisman.

Ginger had recently wed businessman Mike Duncan. It was her second

marriage and his first. The couple wanted a new start and decided to move to

the small town of Destiny, located in northern Wisconsin, and buy a home.

“We’re almost there, dear,” said the realtor, Lucille Keefer. “It’s just the

right size for a small family unless you and your new husband are thinking of

having more children.”

“Oh no,” laughed Ginger, cutting off the nosey woman. “Mike is content

with being a step-father.”

“Another two miles, and we’ll be there,” said the realtor just as a large

ominous looking house overlooking the bay caught Ginger’s eye.

“Who lives there?” she asked, pointing out the car window.

The realtor stopped in the middle of the road and looked. “Oh, that white

elephant,” she said with laugh. “I own it, too, but you said a small home for


“I’ve changed my mind,” said Ginger flippantly. “I want to look inside. Do

you have the key?”

“Yes…but…” said the realtor.

“Let’s check it out,” said Ginger, interrupting without bothering to look at

the realtor.

“Okay, if you insist,” said Lucille, steering her Cadillac in the direction of

the two-story white mansion.

As the car pulled into the horseshoe driveway, Ginger marveled at the

structure, as if hypnotized by an uncontrollable and unknown force. “This place

has great potential. I can feel it.”

“It has something alright,” mumbled the realtor.

“What did you say?” asked Ginger, exiting the vehicle.

“Oh, nothing, dear. Here’s the key,” said the realtor, handing the item out

the window.

“Aren’t you going in?” asked Ginger, accepting the key.

“I never go inside that home. I always wait outside.”

“Suit yourself,” said Ginger, ascending the steps onto the front porch. The

boards beneath her squeaked with each step. As she inserted the key in the lock,

the heavy wooden door mysteriously opened. “That’s odd,” she whispered

before entering.

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