My writing style:
I am a firm believer in the 'keep the dialogue simple' method.
Instead of saying, Jennifer screamed and excitedly yelled, "...", I prefer to write like the professional authors' and use my text prior to the dialogue to indicate what she is feeling. Therefore, I write dialogue as 'he said, or she said'.
I do not like the way it reads but that is the first thing an editor looks for when editing a book.
This story:
This story (Haunting Naomi) is based on true events. Now, obviously I am a 37-year-old man and I have never experienced anything like what my story entails but the thumping sound that is constantly referenced in my work happened to me one night on a sixteen second interval. That was all it took to bring this tale to life.
Feedback:
I welcome ALL feedback. If I put something that does not make sense or something that just does not flow with the story as a whole, PLEASE feel free to message me on Facebook or anywhere you can find me. I do not take offense and will correct anything the reader wants to keep them engaged and to keep the story cohesive.
Finally:
Thank you for taking the time to read this work. I wrote chapter 5 last night (2/20/2021) and it literally took fifteen minutes. After I finished, my body and mind were severely drained. I had frightened myself and upset myself with what took place. That is what I want to happen with ALL my works. I want to feel emotion, even as the author, because I know you as the reader will feel that same emotion, only magnified to a greater extent.
Please check out my other works. 'The Christmas Darling' won an award even though it was not "good" enough to earn an exclusive contract on GoodNovel, I still have it in a shadow box above my computer telling me that I am good at what I do, and it motivates me to continue to push the limits. One day you will see my name as one of the best authors of our time. I can promise you that.
I love you all and appreciate you.
PART 1Do a dead girl a favor would you?This is for your own safety, so I suppose you would be doing the both of us a service. Sit where you are, turn off all your coma inducing electronics, and exist in the silence. This will not take long, honest. I do understand the number of withdrawals you will have to fight off without your precious Twitter or Facebook, I understand. Fight those demons as they come but you need to be very attentive during this much appreciated moment of silence.If at any point during this exercise you notice a rhythmic or repeated sound occurring repeatedly, stop reading immediately and get out of your house. I know, it is your home, this wooden castle is what you work sixty hours a week to afford but this is a warning from a victim.The noise is how it starts.This is my story.When I was sixteen, I began to experience
Jackson and I arrived at the jailhouse style front gate of Yankee Gifted School. Despite the large age gap between myself and my little seven-year-old brother, our school housed all its students from Kindergarten to Senior year of high school. Every single time we turned the corner to face the bland concrete building, Jackson’s hand would lock down on my hand. He had a deep distain for this place, ever since three bullies trapped him in the bathroom and forced him to cry before they would let him out. Each nail dug a deep burrow into the top of my hand. He trembled as if he had found a dead body that had been sweltering in the hot sun for ten days stinking up the area and building a colony of flies. “Calm down Jackson, it’s just school kiddo,” I said. The courtyard contained random students lounging around waiting for the warning bell while being guarded by a few staggered adults. A full-on riot of h
Face to face, woman to woman, I stood in front of Tannell the Terror. Her hair was cut and formed into the typical fifty-year-old bob, low maintenance and out of her face. The Terror’s eyes cut through me like a hot blade through your favorite childhood barbie doll. Their blue was deep and divisive, gave one the feeling that there was more going on behind the scenes then there actually was.She said, “That was a very interesting piece you worked up. Was that the truth or did you take certain liberties with that work?”My nerves had made themselves known in the form of goosebumps and fluttering butterflies in my stomach. I suddenly had the odd feeling that there was something disgusting on my face, like a booger that free fell from my nose to my chin or a ton load of rheum in the corners of my eyes. My self-esteem had dropped to the lowest it could without a full system meltdown, but she needed an answer and there was no reason not to tell her the trut
Jackson met us at the front door of the school, his hair was impersonating an electric shock and his cheeks were bright red. Jennifer and I instantly got the most intense belly laughs. Kindergarten cannot be that rough, can it?“Rough day with the finger paints Jacks?” Jennifer said.He shook his head but maintained a lifeless face free from emotion. His body was warm, and we had a good mile to walk before we would be home. It seemed as if he may have come down with something while swapping germs with the other little booger pickers.I said, “You want a piggyback ride or something? We still must walk home. What happened to you?”It took a good thirty seconds for Jackson to register we were talking to him. His head slowly turned to face me, creepily slow, like how I thought sluggish death worked. He dropped his bookbag and proceeded to stand li
My mother joyfully hummed to herself as she cleaned the dining room and kitchen. Her humming resonated through the house only broken by the clanging of pots and pans as she dismantled the mountain of dishes from the delicious meal she had prepared.Jackson sat in front of the television digesting every bit of comical genius the Simpsons had to offer. His shirt, hell, his entire wardrobe was covered in lasagna stains but that just showed how much he loved it. Every now and then he would impersonate Ralph, the silly kid from the Simpsons, and yell ‘I ate the purple berries!’ in his goofy voice. That was the best.Poor kid had no idea his entire life may depend on Jennifer spending the night. What if an emergency came up and she had to rush home or she fell ill and had to be rushed to the hospital? Judging by the seriousness of the ghost boy voice, I was not willing to test him and his omi
Before grabbing for my cell phone, I stared into Jennifer’s eyes. Her glorious blue eyes had remained dead gray. She seemed alright, but something was off. There was no doubt about it. The sun that used to add sparkles in the light blueness of her eyes now reflected from her dull, dead eyes in search of some sort of excitement.“Jenny bug, how are you feeling? Everything running like normal? You look different, less vibrant than usual,” I said.She chuckled, brushed her mangled hair from her forehead and turned to grab her bottle of water that she always carried with her. As she turned, just the slightest rotation, the side of her neck grabbed my attention like a hot guy slowly climbing out of a swimming pool. My jaw literally sitting on the floor was all she needed to see to cause he
The world around me went dark, deep rich dark. Not a sound could be heard no matter how hard my ears stretch to grasp at any sound near or far. My family and best friend had just been burned to death in a house overtaken by licking flames and heavy smothering smoke. Nothing was left to see, the house rested in a pile of what used to be and in it, my allies rested.The demon boy had vanished from the roof when it collapsed and seemingly decided to rest his case with this nightmare he left me stuck in. I had never experienced screams like those that had come from the inside of that house. The panic on their faces, the pain, agony, it was nauseating.Trapped in that universe of despair had left me still unconscious in the corner of my room with an even tighter grip around the letter opener that I clutched think
Mrs. Tannell worked her way out of my bedroom, reminding me to call her again if I needed anything. She was going to send the Paranormal Specialists over this weekend when my parents went to the Yankee Gifted School football game.That would buy them a three-hour window.As she bounced down the stairs with the youthful exuberance of a teenager, Mrs. Tannell locked eyes with Jennifer and then Jackson. She recoiled ever so slightly as to not frighten anyone. The dual set of gray eyes peered questioningly back at my English teacher. She hugged Jennifer and whispered something in her ear. Next, she high fived Jackson and carefully examined him, careful not to draw attention but she did note the offset his tongue now had.Latest Chapter