Possessed By The Poltergeist

By Alana Church

Author Mark Watford didn't expect to fall in love when he moved into the old farmhouse. But Brianna, his landlady's beautiful daughter, quickly captured his heart.
But Mark and Brianna are not alone. A presence has been watching them. One fateful night, it makes its presence known. Will Mark and Brianna's love be able to survive when she's been...POSSESSED BY THE POLTERGEIST?

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

~One hundred years,~ her long-dead aunt whispered. She stopped beside Bree's chair, looking down at her as she shrank away in fear. ~One hundred years of waiting, hoping that the next generation would give birth to a woman who would not throw her maidenhood away like a broken toy. One hundred years, until you came along, Brianna. It is time. I lost my life in anger, furious that my virginity could not be given to my one true love, dead and buried half a world away. Now, through you, I will experience that joy. And if God is kind, he will allow me to leave this world to be reunited with Jimmy in Heaven.~

Brianna's throat worked, caught between pity and terror. “Wait, what?”

Mark was looking at her worriedly. “Bree, are you all right?”

She held her hands up, trying to fend off his questions and a world which was suddenly moving too quickly. Her Aunt Hazel, on the other hand, had no such qualms. As easily as she would step from one room to another, she moved towards her and let her ghostly body merge with Bree's.

~Oh, God,~ a voice sighed in her ear. ~To have a body again. And such a fair one. Thank you, Grandniece.~

To her horror, she heard her voice, sounding thick and slurred when it emerged form her lips. “Mark, I'm tired of waiting. Let's go upstairs and make love.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. His eyes, reflecting the flames of the candles on the table, were wide and panicked. “What? No. No way. Bree, what's wrong with you? You sound terrible.”

-No!- Her head rang with the echoes of her silent shout. -I won't let you do this to me!- Caught between opposing forces, her body lurched back and forth in her chair. One moment it tried to rise to its feet. The next it settled back with a thump as one woman or the other gained a momentary advantage.

Mark pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tried to dial, his fingers shaking. He looked at the screen with disbelief as it refused to follow his commands. Swearing, he jumped up and picked up the land line, finding that completely inoperative as well.

~No electronics.~ Hazel's voice was grimly amused. ~None of the tools or toys you use in this decadent age. Only two people, and their love. And me.~

-No! How can you do this? How can you violate me by forcing me against my will? Have you no humanity left?-

~But I need to!~ Hazel's voice wailed. ~Please! I don't know how much longer I can stay sane! You have no idea how terrible my existence is. How much I hate it. Please, I just need to make love one time, then I can move on. Would you have me become a spirit of anger and hatred, haunting this house until no one is willing to live here? Until it becomes a tottering wreck, filled with rats and vermin, fit only for a bulldozer?~

-Then work with me, not against me,- Brianna countered. -Do you think I don't care about you? God, Aunt Hazel, you're my own blood! And if you have been watching us, you know how much Mark and I care for each other. We are in love. It was only a matter of time before I decided to give myself to him. I chose tonight. If you hadn't blighted the mood, we'd probably be in his bed right now.-

She took a deep breath, ignoring Mark's frantic dithering. -If this is what you need to move on, I will help. But you are going to be a passenger in this body. Not its operator.-

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311435521

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

Book preview

Prologue

September, 1916

Hazel Martin! Come down here and help me make dinner for your father and brother and the farmhands!

I can't, Mama, Hazel shouted cheerfully down the stairwell. Someone is on the way up to the house. I have to see who it is. I think it might be Maggie O'Leary and her brother John! Maybe she has news from Jimmy.

She turned around, ignoring her mother's aggravated snort echoing up from the ground floor, and walked back out onto the widow's walk surrounding the second floor of the farmhouse. Solidly built of good Canadian brick, it loomed over four hundred acres of prime Ontario farmland, just south of the village of Brantford, on the north shore of Lake Erie. It had been in her family for three generations, ever since Luther Martin and his wife and infant son emigrated from England nearly a hundred years ago.

She shielded her eyes, looking west, as the horse-drawn wagon slowly made its way up the lane. In a moment she smiled, certain that she was right. Even though she now wore it in a fashionable bob, she could recognize the black cap of Maggie's hair, so like her brother's, from a mile away. Her younger brother John, too young to go fight in France, held the reins of the placid carthorses, Devil and Demon.

Hazel waved down as John brought the wagon to a rumbling stop on the flagstones of the dooryard. Come on up!

Maggie looked up as she climbed out of the wagon. Even from twenty feet up and thirty yards away, Hazel thought her face looked pale. A shiver passed down her spine. Had she received bad news from France? Had Jimmy been hurt?

She had begged her fiance not to enlist. And when he did, she had prayed to God that he would not be sent overseas. But they had stood together on this spot a few months ago, with Jimmy tall and proud in his khaki dress uniform. His regiment had received orders, and would be sent to France to fight the Germans.

Why? she had demanded, soaking the front of his uniform with her tears. Why is it so important that you go? Can't you...can't you tell them you've changed your mind?

The army doesn't work that way, Hazel, he said, his gentle voice rumbling against her cheek. The soft whisper of his breath stirred her hair. And even if it did, who would ever trust my word again, if I broke my oath? Besides, he continued, his words gaining the lilting brogue he had inherited from his immigrant father, You know how some people around here talk about my family. About whether an Irishman can be a loyal member of the British Empire. When I come back, they will know I'm every bit as good as they are. I can hold my head up anywhere.

They're idiots, she sniffled. You know my family doesn't think that way. They love you almost as much as I do. She snuggled in closer, trying to memorize the feel of him in her arms, to hold onto for the lonely days and nights to come. She smiled to herself as she felt him harden against her, and an answering heat bloomed in her belly. We could get away, she whispered. She let her hand sink lower to cover his groin. I'm sure Mama and Daddy would understand if I took you to the barn and gave you a special farewell.

He pulled away slightly, and she could see his lovely smile. One lean hand reached up to stroke her cheek, and he curled a lock of her brown hair around his finger, just like he used to do when they were both children in primary school.

No, Hazel. What if I got you with child, and something happened to me? Would you have him be born a bastard, and me not even able to give him my name?

Or her, she corrected. Besides, Fawn Shephard told me that Sonny Sawyer told her that you can't make a baby the first time.

Then Sonny Sawyer is a damn fool, Jimmy replied. And so is Fawn for believing him. Think sense, Hazel. You're a farmer's daughter. Have you ever heard about a heifer not being able to catch pregnant because it was her first time with a bull?

Hazel giggled. Is that how you think of yourself? She stroked him, feeling him shiver under her hand. Please, Jimmy. I want you. I want something to remember you by. And I don't want to wait months or years for you to come back before we can finally be together.

If you come back. The unspoken fear hung between them.

Stop, he said hoarsely. One strong hand caught her wrist. I don't want to shame myself our last night together. And that's what will happen if you keep that up. He bent and kissed her softly. Virginity is no sin, Hazel. I love you. I am willing to wait for you. Are you willing to wait for me?

*****

Maggie opened the screen door that led out onto the walk, and terror gripped Hazel's heart. Her friend's normally cheerful face was an open wound, her blue eyes red and raw from weeping.

Jimmy? she asked.

Maggie nodded. Two weeks ago. At a place called Courcelette. She held out a letter.

Courcelette, France

19 September, 1916

Mr. and Mrs. Joseph O'Leary

Brantford, Ontario

Sir and Madam:

It is with great regret I must report to you the death of your son, Corporal James Francis O'Leary. With his unit, he was involved in an attack on the village of Courcelette. He fought bravely, but was struck and badly wounded by a shell fragment on 4 September 1916. He died in hospital several days later, on 17 September. The company chaplain was with him in his last moments, and reported to me that his thoughts were of his family and his fiancee, Miss Hazel Martin.

May God grant you strength in this trying time.

I have the honor to be,

Your obedient servant,

Lieutenant Colonel John G. Hattray

Commanding Officer

10th Battalion

Canadian Expedition Force

There was a form, too, Maggie said. Over her shoulder, Hazel could make out her mother standing in the doorway, tears running down her cheeks. She held out the envelope in a shaking hand. "And a lock of his hair. I suppose for us to remember him by. And some...some ghoul included the bit of shrapnel that killed him." Her voice trembled with grief and rage.