Ghost Hunting

By Mychael Black

As the resident medium for Southern Kansas Haunts, Caleb Ryan is used to overacting for the camera. He hates it, but the show pays well. The small city of Tory, Kansas, doesn’t have much more to offer, even though he longs for something… real.

Scott Pennington, heir to an aging farm on the outskirts of Tory, desperately needs help. When no other groups will talk to him so close to Christmas, he turns to the crew of the local ghost-hunting show, Southern Kansas Haunts.

Caleb hopes this “investigation” pays off, but he quickly finds more than he bargains for at the old Pennington farm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Dec 1, 2018

Mychael Black

Alter ego of Katherine Cook, Mychael focuses on gay erotic romance stories in many genres. She lives in the eastern US with her family.

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farm.

Prologue

December 18

Scott Pennington sighed. He hadn’t expected to come back here. Ever. He’d left Tory, Kansas, nearly thirty years ago, a young man chasing an education far away from his family. Hell, he hardly remembered the uncle who’d once lived in the sprawling farm Scott now owned.

The farm covered almost forty acres, mostly forest. The house rose from the center of the acreage -- three stories of aging, almost condemnable wood with a foundation of irregularly-shaped stones. The whole place, land and home, had been in his family for generations, spanning back to before Tory’s founding as an actual township in 1885. Now it was his.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

A bark beside him was his only answer. He glanced down at the Golden Retriever staring back up expectantly at him.

Not helpful. He scratched Joshua behind his right ear and looked back at the house, Joshua trotting beside him. When they reached the porch, however, the Golden whimpered. Scott turned, one eyebrow lifting. Joshua backed away, tail tucked between his legs.

Come on, boy, Scott urged. Joshua simply sat down on his haunches. Scott shrugged. Suit yourself. Stay. He continued up the steps. Old age. Had to be. Joshua was pushing twelve.

Wooden boards creaked under Scott’s feet with every single step. He prayed they didn’t split and drop his ass into the middle of the porch. He fished the key from his right jeans pocket and unlocked the weathered door and pushed it open. Dust sprinkled from overhead around the doorframe, and he peered into the darkened foyer.

Well, foyer was a fancy word. The entrance was more like a tiny space dominated by a staircase to the right. To the left, a hallway disappeared further into the gloom. From the scant light leaking through cloth-covered windows, he watched dust float around the stale air immediately in front of him. Nothing a little cleaning can’t fix, right?

He glanced down and dragged the toe of one shoe across the wooden floor, creating a trail in the dirt and dust that layered it.

Cleaning. Right.

He had his work cut out for him.

Looking back over one shoulder, he called out to Joshua, who’d decided to nap on the prairie grass. You plan on staying out here forever? It’s just a house. Perfectly harmless.

Reluctantly, the Golden stood and cautiously climbed the steps. He sniffed the doorway and growled softly.

Scott chuckled and patted the dog’s head before stepping inside. Let’s check it out, boy.

The entire place appeared as his uncle had left it. Scott had no clue if his uncle had even lived here. Every available surface lay beneath grime and only God knew what sorts of bug carcasses. The furniture seemed as if it would crumble under the weight of a feather. No way had someone actually lived here recently.

Sighing, Scott started carefully -- very carefully -- up the stairs. He’d only been here once as a child, but he remembered absolutely nothing of it. The second floor held four bedrooms, plus the door leading up into the attic. That much he recalled from the description he’d read in his attorney’s office.

Floorboards creaked under every step. Scott whispered