Did his book raise the dead?
Outraged when The Post Gazette overlooks him for a promotion, 39 years old Sports Writer Christian Kane quits and moves to the country to write fiction. Inspiration flows from a grave he stumbles upon in the woods. He compiles The Legend of Rachel Petersen, a fascinating story revolving around the dead twelve year old girl lying beneath the weathered tombstone. His book becomes a Best Seller; then Hollywood makes it in to a blockbuster movie. Kane becomes rich and famous, but only to have Rachel rise from the grave to seek revenge on him for slandering her name! Or does she?
Seth heard the kitchen door fling open and bang off the wall, causing more glass to shatter. Rachel was now in the house! He took the steps two at a time going upstairs. Bocephus was lying at the top landing. Gutted. The buck raised his head, and never took his eyes off of Seth as the wide eyed boy cautiously crept by those dangerous antlers on his way to his mother’s room; keeping his back tight to the wall. The buck snorted. Then in an extremely deep, raspy voice, sounding like the devil himself, the deer spoke, “Now you see why I led you to Rachel’s grave? . . . She’s going to put you in yours! . . . Run Boy! . . . She’s going to track you down, like you did to me. Run! . . . Run fast! Run till you can’t run no more!” Then the deer let go a low chuckle that slowly turned into deep laughter. The gutted deer laughed hard and loud, and louder, until it was ear splitting. But even through the insane laughter, Seth heard Rachel stomping up the stairs. Only now, she was giggling like an escaped mental asylum patient.
He ran down the hall, following a blood trail from the deer to his mother’s doorway and went in. She was sitting in front of her dresser’s mirror. Her sewing basket was on her lap; using white thread, she was stitching the giant gash in her throat. In her reassuring voice, she told her son, “Don’t be afraid, Seth. I’ll stitch you up too . . . after Rachel slices your throat!”
A reflection of Rachel standing in the doorway came into view in his mother’s mirror. His mother continued in an excited tone, “Look, Seth. Here’s Rachel now! Doesn’t she just have the prettiest red hair you ever did see?”
An impish smile slowly appeared on Rachel’s blood streaked face when she realized Seth was trapped. With a scream like that of a banshee on the warpath, she raised her knife high in the air . . .