I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Début

The world struggles around It, a back and forth seesaw of demand and denial. It flops inside its box as the world spins, turned upside down. One of the shining, pearl-topped pins jabs Its leg. The pain is a shock. But It is unable to do anything about the agony. Gravity lets go and It floats for what seems an eternity before crashing into something hard.

The box remains intact, at least. Its home, Its safe haven.

Still, It has no fear, only confusion and need. Where is the girl in whose image It was created?

Silence. Darkness. Waiting.

All the while, the pin. And the pain. On and on forever.

Alice isn't popular. Alice isn't pretty. Alice isn't likable--at least, that's what she's been told most of her life. Moving to a new town hasn't helped any, not with her nasty brother torturing her almost daily and her too-cool, uber-popular cousin making her life miserable. When Alice finds an old doll in her grandmother's attic, she feels an unusual connection to it. She just can't bring herself to feel bad when horrible things start happening to the people who are cruel to her...

Pins and Needles

Alice saw the glow from the wardrobe sheeting out from the seams before Rose threw the doors open and the light from the etched words poured over her.


   For a moment, Alice thought it would be enough. Rose sang, the words in the wood pulsing in time with her song, the light pushing the doll back, making Alice feel stronger. But the doll reached for her again, pulling her with it, draining her to keep its power alive and Alice knew, then, as she sank to her knees before the glowing wardrobe while the voodoo priestess above her sang and wept, there was no hope.


   Rose knelt, pressing the scissors into Alice's hand. Her eyes begged forgiveness as she moved Alice's fingers, pushed the blades against the doll's left arm.


Chapter 41: Destruction