The doorknob turned on its own.
To this day, I know it did. I know what I saw. Unlike everything else that had happened in that house, however, I couldn’t explain it away, shrug it off, assign the occurrence some mundane excuse, or attribute it to my young and overactive imagination. This time, I couldn’t just simply ignore it.
I hadn’t gone far away for Collage. Northern Kentucky University and Highland Heights weren’t much more than a two hour drive from my hometown of Louisville. That made weekend visits to see my parent’s easy and almost compulsory since my mom and I were and still are very close. I had lived in the house my whole life. And during my childhood, I’d been teased by unexplainable phenomenon, each incident always just short of being big enough for me to try and tell someone about. Being twenty years old and watching the doorknob to my bedroom turn slowly on its own, however, was quite different from being a small girl in her bed and wondering why I was hearing hard-soled footsteps in my room when I knew for a fact that shaggy orange-yellow carpeting covered my floor. At twenty years old, I didn’t have enough youth on my side to brush this off. I wouldn’t forget about his later. Or ever.
I’d been away for a week of classes and now that I was back, now that I had returned to my bedroom, the place where I slept and talked on the phone, drew and listened to music, I wanted to drop my things off, call my friends, watch a movie.
But, you see, before I could go in and do those things I had to stop. Because I saw my doorknob turn.
Braver then than I might be today, I stepped forward, grabbed that knob and opened my bedroom door. At the time, I felt beyond certain I would find one of my brothers (or even all three) lurking inside, hiding a bursting goofy laugh behind a hand.
Instead, I found my bed and furniture just as I’d left them, my covers pulled tight and my pillows stacked all too neatly, all too normally.There was no one inside my room. No one I could see, anyway.
The incident itself might have been bearable. It might even have been dismissible. But it wasn’t, if only for the reason that I knew I had seen it happened, and because it made all the other things I’d experienced as a child rise up in stark relief, each filed-away moment bubbling up like braille on my brain, separating from imagined fantasies, suddenly too real for comfort.
That night, uneventful as it was, I found myself missing my dorm room.
Author: Kelly Creagh
Publisher: Atheneum, 429 Pages (August 28th, 2012)
Add to: Goodreads
Synopsis: [From the back of the ARC] Varen Nethers is trapped in a perilous dream world -- a treacherous and desolate realm where the terrifying stories of Edgar Allan Poe come to life. Isobel Lanley, plagued by strange visions and haunted by the nightmares of Varen's creation, is the only one who can save him.
Isobel knows that her only hope lies within a Baltimore cemetery. There, in the early morning hours of Edgar Allan Poe's birthday, a mysterious stranger known as the "Poe Toaster" will make his annual homage at the legendary poet's grave.
Only the Poe Toaster holds the key to the way between worlds. But even greater dangers lie ahead for Isobel. An ancient evil, draped in veils of white, is watching, challenging her for Varen's affections. When Isobel finally finds Varen, he is no longer the quiet and brooding boy who once captivated her, but a dark force, powerful and malevolent.
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Kelly, thanks for sharing your scary story! I think that would freak me out just a tad. I bet I'm not the only one to agree with me there. Also, thanks so much for donating a signed copy of Enshadowed to giveaway. You ROCK!
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