ROMANCE
IN GHOST STORIES
I loved the movie Ghost.
I mean I LOVED
it!
And after all these years I still do (the movie came
out in 1990—twenty-five years ago).
That’s because paranormal stories create a sense of heightened anxiety,
and romantic stories do as well. Horror
and romance are perfect together because the two can create an awesome sensory
experience in a movie, as they did for me with Ghost, and they can also
create an unputdownable read. Writers
need to learn how to take advantage of this, because we readers and movie goers
eat up romantic horror with a big ole spoon.
In my latest novel, The Secrets of Love and Death
(White Whisker Books), I channel the spirit of the movie Ghost—pun intended. In the book I set out to create a ghost story
that while very different form Ghost, captures the same heightened
anxiety amidst a fantastic love story.
The Setup: A tragic young life turns joyous when 13
year-old Theo “Turtle” Dawson meets Rita Calderon. Love between the young couple blooms, and
we’re rooting for that love. Then,
Turtles older brother (whom he idolized growing up) returns from the grave
(Adrian died in a car accident two years earlier) in the form of a vengeful
ghost… or, is he something else all-together?
It’s a horror story, so things go south pretty quickly.
I won’t spoil it for you by revealing anything more.
The
Secrets of Love and Death is available today and tomorrow for just 99
cents (reduced from $5.99). Please go to the book’s Amazon page and see what
reviewers are already saying about it (seventeen 4 and 5 star reviews) and then
pick up your copy while it’s still available at the 99 cent bargain price.
I am also sponsoring The Sweet Chocolate Secrets of
Love and Death Giveaway featuting a prize worth
over $100. Why not check out both the book and the giveaway before time runs
out.
And, if you’re around today, August 14th at 6 pm Eastern, stop by my The Secrets of Love and Death
Virtual Launch Party on Facebook. #Virtuallaunchparty I plan to give a
prize away every 6 minutes, and the first drink is on me. The party will be hosted on my Facebook fan
page: https://www.facebook.com/author.e.vanlowe
If you can’t make the party, you can find me at my
usual haunts.
The Secrets of Love and Death
E. Van Lowe and Sal Conte
Genre: Romantic/Horror
Publisher: White Whisker Books
Date of Publication: July 12, 2015
ISBN: 13: 2940150851580
ASIN: B010IFNF2Q
Number of pages: 270
Word Count: 104,269
Cover Artist: Deb Daly
Book Description:
Theo "Turtle" Dawson is overweight, under-confident and unloved, that is until the arrival of Turtle's new classmate, feisty Rita Calderon. It's springtime in Foster City, and young love between the teenage couple begins to bloom, until...
...Turtle's best friend, big brother returns from the grave. At least that's what A.D. wants Turtle to believe. Is A.D. really back among the living, or is Turtle going loony-bin crazy? And if Turtle's loving brother has returned, why is he asking Turtle to do such murderous things? "The Secrets of Love and Death" is a ghostly tale of romance and horror, memories, and murder.
ebook On Sale for .99
Aug 14-16
“The
Secrets of Love and Death will tug on your heartstrings while simultaneously
scaring the pants off you. A triumphant coming-of-age tale with a dash of the
supernatural and a twist of gritty horror, The Secrets of Love and Death may be
Van Lowe’s best novel yet!”
– Anabelle Blume, author of Frozen Heart
and Melted Tears.
“E.
Van Lowe and his dark twin, Sal Conte, dig deep in The Secrets of Love and
Death and come up with emotional gold. Not for the faint of heart, The Secrets
of Love and Death will grab you by the throat and not let go until the horror-filled,
page-turning
ending.”
-
John Lansing, author of the bestselling thrillers, The Devil’s Necktie and
Blond Cargo
Prologue
Spring
1984
“I don’t wanna
go out!”
Marty McKenzie
was scrunching up his face, looking very much like that prune-faced old guy in
the Six Flags commercials. He’d been lying on the floor playing with his Legos
which were splayed out before him like the ruins of an ancient city.
“See, that’s the thing,” said Marty’s older
sister, Allison. She pushed her glasses up onto her nose. “You’re not goin’
with me.”
Marty’s
expression shifted, morphing from one of protest to one of concern—dire
concern. He stopped playing and sat up. They weren’t real Legos. His father had
bought the blocks for Marty’s fifth birthday when he visited almost a year ago.
He told Marty they were Legos, but Marty new better. He didn’t say anything. He
didn’t want his father feeling bad about being gypped at the Lego store. The
Legos were one of the few gifts Marty’s father had ever bought for him. He
treasured them.
“You can’t leave me,” he said, his voice going
high and whiny, like a baby’s. Even he heard it.
“I’m not leaving
you. I’m treating you like a grownup for once in your life. You don’t want me
treatin’ you like a little baby anymore, right?” Allison knew full well no
little kid wanted to be treated like a baby, especially one as close to being a
baby as Marty was.
“But Mommy says
I’m not to be left home alone,” Marty replied, his voice going even higher. He
tried keeping it level. Put some base into yer voice, I say! Yet the babiness
crept back in.
“That’s because
Mom thinks you’re a little baby,” Allison said, laying on the word—baaaby—extra
heavy. “But I know better.” She winked at him. “We both do, don’t we?” she
said, playing her six-year-old brother like a well-worn instrument.
Marty nodded. He
was ascared of being left in the apartment all by himself. But he knew if he
told Allison about the monster that lived in the closet, or the one that hung
out under his bed, she’d laugh and call him a scaredy-cat, or worse, a baaaby.
Even
at his age, Marty was wise enough to know that at twelve, Allison was too old
to understand there really were monsters out there, monsters that had their
eyes on tasty little kids.
A
few years ago she would have sympathized with him. A few years ago they’d both
hidden under the covers, quaking in the darkness and talking in loud voices
until the monsters went away. But somewhere between the sixth and seventh
grades the monsters stopped being real for Allison, around the same time she
started writing boys’ names on the inside cover of her notebook.
“Where’re
ya goin’?” Marty asked, trying to add some grownup to his voice and failing
miserably at it.
“To
the mall, with some friends. We’re shopping for something fun to wear to a
party next weekend.”
“Can
I—”
“No!”
the word exploded from her lips. “You can’t go to the mall with me, and you
definitely can’t go to the party. It’s at night, anyway.”
“Who
has a party at night time? That’s dumb,” Marty said, although the idea of a
night time party sounded pretty cool, as long as there were lots of lights
burning. It was darkness that was scary.
“You
are not to answer the door while I’m gone. Do I make myself clear?” she said in
a tone very much like one their mother might have used.
Marty
nodded again. He was happy for Allison. She’d made some friends. Allison had
had a hard time making friends during the past two years as the family bounced
from shelter to shelter. Marty knew from first-hand experience that Allison
made a wonderful friend. She was kind
and caring. Unfortunately, those qualities hadn’t been recognized in Allison’s
last school. In her last school, all they saw was the homeless girl.
“What
am I supposed to do the whole time you’re gone?” Marty asked.
“The
same thing you always do—play. And this time you’ll have our bedroom all to
yourself. How cool is that?”
Marty
looked toward the bedroom he shared with his sister, the only bedroom in the
apartment. Their mother slept on the pullout in the living room where he was
now playing. His thoughts again turned to the monster that lived in the closet,
and his pal lurking under Marty’s bed, and Marty could practically see the two
of them licking their chops at the thought of having him all to themselves.
“Think
I’ll play out here while you’re gone,” he told her with a resigned sigh.
“Suit
yourself.”
From
the look on Allison’s face, it hadn’t dawned on her that he’d be afraid. To
ease her guilt, she built the neatest pillow fort and stocked it with enough
books, coloring books, toys and puzzles to keep Marty busy until she got back.
She even brought the Captain Crunch cereal box from the kitchen and told him he
could snack from it right there in the living room—just like a grownup.
“These
are your rations,” she said, handing it to him. He smiled at that one, and it
eased some of the guilt that had been gripping her heart.
“Thanks.”
Allison
deposited Marty in the center of the fort, gave him a big hug, and reminded him
not to open the door for anyone.
“This
is just between you and me,” she said, her voice lowering dramatically. “I
don’t want you blabbin’ my business to Mom when she gets home from work. Got
it?”
Marty
nodded. His tongue was desert dry.
“I’ll
bring you some ice cream, you little con man,” she said, rubbing her hand
across the top of his head.
“That’d
be nice,” he replied with the shadow of a smile. “Chocolate.”
It
would be the last thing they’d ever say to each other.
The
sound of Allison moving away from the door, her footsteps retreating down the
stairs—away, away, away—died in Marty’s ears. “Good riddance to bad rubbish,”
he called. Of course, she couldn’t hear him. He laughed high and loud. It was a
fake laugh and when it died, Marty realized he was alone.
The
first thing he noticed about being alone was how quiet the apartment was
without Allison or his mother there. No chattering voices of the two of them
going at it again, no music from the radio filling up the empty spaces. Phoebe
kept the radio on whenever she was home.
“Dance
to the music!” Sometimes she’d sing along with a song on the radio, grab Marty
and dance him around the apartment. “You’re my new leading man,” she’d say,
twirling him.
“Stop,
Mom!” he’d cry out, but he enjoyed dancing with her. He especially enjoyed that
she was happy again.
With
both Phoebe and Allison gone, the apartment was nighttime quiet, even though
Marty could see the bright Spring sun streaming in through the living room
blinds, casting long shadows on the faded carpet.
He
looked down at the treasure Allison had dumped in his fort before she left.
Think I’ll read. I’m a big boy now, and that’s what big boys do. We don’t play;
we read.
Marty
picked up his favorite book, Tall Timber Tales, about Paul Bunyan and Babe the
Blue Ox. He decided to read the part about where Babe drank the entire Grand
Coulee River. He wasn’t sure how big the Grand Coulee was, but he knew it was a
lot of water.
He’d
gotten the book when he was small, picked it out himself off a table at The
Salvation Army. Allison used to read it to him at night back at the shelter,
back when all he could do was look at the pictures. But now that he was a big
boy, he could read it all by himself—sort of. He opened to the section with the
picture of Babe drinking the river and pretended to read… What was that?
A
sound. A soft, sliding sound had come from Marty and Allison’s bedroom. It
sounded to Marty as though someone or… something had slid out from underneath
his bed.
“Hello.”
No answer. Of course there wasn’t an answer. There’s nothing there. It’s just
my magination. Allison complained about his overactive magination all the time.
“I
know there’s no monster there,” Marty called out. “So you may as well get back
under the bed.” Nothing.
Marty
glanced down at the book in his lap. He folded it back to the picture of Paul
and Babe on the cover. He enjoyed staring at the picture on the cover because
when he did, he could magine himself hangin’ out with old Paul and Babe. He
could magine so good that sometimes it was as if he was right there with them.
Skreek!
Marty’s
attention was again drawn to the bedroom. He peered wide-eyed around the arm of
the old couch because this time he was certain he’d heard the closet door
opening, certain he now heard whispering—monster voices.
I
gotta get outta here. The thought drifted in like an early season snow, yet
stuck like the first big fall of the year. If I don’t leave now, all they’ll
find of me are bones and clothes. Monsters only eat the good stuff. Then,
another thought drifted in. Scaredy-cat.
That’s
what Allison would call him for being so afraid. And I thought you were a big
boy… I AM A BIG BOY!
Marty
began to rationalize: I’m a big kid. Big kids can go out all by themselves—just
like Allison did. The idea of him being a big boy was a lot more palatable than
thinking he was afraid. Marty clung to it like a lifeline. He wasn’t leaving
the apartment ‘cause he was scared, he was leaving because he wanted to go to
the mall, too. He wanted to hang out with his friends. Shoot.
Marty
gingerly got up off the floor and measured his footsteps to the front door. He
could hear the monsters gathering in the bedroom, their excited chatter no
longer whispered. Why whisper? He’s all alone. He knew if he tried to run
they’d get him. Monsters loved grabbing little boys as they ran. He needed to
move toward the door as if he wasn’t afraid.
The
shelter they’d lived in on Saul Road was a scary place, especially at night.
Allison had told him to count to ten whenever he needed to walk down the long
hallway all by himself. She told him whenever he was afraid to take a deep
breath, count to ten and let it out slowly. “Just keep telling yourself there’s
nothing there, and pretty soon you’ll be down the hall.”
Marty
had used the trick several hair-raising times at the shelter, and it seemed to
have worked, so he gently placed the Paul Bunyan book on top of a pillow and
sucked in a lung full of air. One. He took a furtive step over the pillowed
wall, one foot now resting just outside the fort, the other still in. Two. Now
the other leg came over, easy, easy. He let out a little bit of the air as both
feet rested outside the fort.
Gotta
get to the door. Gotta move to the door like I’m not afraid. If I’m afraid,
they’ll get me.
Three.
Marty
took a jangly step toward the door, then--four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,
ten. He bolted across the room. Arriving at the door, he flung it open and let
out the deep breath in a big whoosh! The monsters had quieted down. They only
bothered little kids, and he’d proven he was a big boy now.
Kathunk!
This
new sound came just as Marty was thinking he was safe. It caught him off guard,
and he nearly leapt out of his skin like a snake in shed-mode. He charged out
the front door, fleeing into the corridor of the apartment building.
It
was the sound of Marty’s book falling from the pillow and hitting the floor
that had alarmed him, but to Marty’s imaginative ears, it was the sound of a
monster exiting the bedroom, looking for a little boy to eat.
Marty
looked back at the apartment door hanging open, and decided to leave it open.
He surmised that if the door was wide open maybe the monsters’d leave while
he’s gone and never come back. He was too young to realize that leaving the
front door open in a neighborhood as iffy as theirs was an invitation for the
McKenzie’s precious possessions to walk away along with the monsters.
He
moved downstairs and out into the crowded street. It was broad daylight, and
the sun beat down on the top of Marty’s head feeling good. The street was
teeming with people, and Marty was no longer afraid. The people were passing by
as if he belonged there. Not one person said: “Hey little boy, where’s your
mother?”
Allison
is going to crap a brick when she sees me at the mall, Marty thought with a
grin. “What are you doing here?” “Oh, just came to hang out with some of my
boys. You know, Paul, Babe, the crew.” Hahaaa!
Yet
as Marty continued walking, it started getting scary out on the street all by
himself. Everyone looked as if they knew where they were going. But so do I.
I’m going to the mall.
As
he neared the Canal Street alley, his footsteps slowed. The Canal Street alley
wasn’t actually an alley. It was a narrow pedestrian walkway between two tall
buildings that connected Main Street with Fair Oaks. On any given Saturday the
alley was heavily trafficked. Call it a fluke, call it a moment in time, call
it a curveball, but when Marty arrived at the alley on Saturday June fifteenth
nineteen eighty-four, it was ominously vacant of foot traffic.
He
thought he remembered the alley being the shortcut to the mall. He remembered
going through the alley with Allison and his mother to go shopping. Or was that
his magination? No. He was sure.
He
stopped at the alley entrance. His first inclination was to wait for other
pedestrians to pass through and then mosey through along with them. With the
buildings being so close together, the alley was heavily shadowed; the shadows
were really scary.
But
Marty also remembered he was a big boy now. He waited another few minutes, and
when no one came along, he breathed in deeply and entered the ally all by
himself. One. The cobblestones of the
alley felt odd and slick beneath his feet. It was then he realized he was still
in his footsie PJs. He didn’t have on any shoes. Dumb! Allison is gonna crap a
brick when she sees me out here without my sneaks on. But it was too late to
turn back. He was closer to the mall than he was to the apartment. Who needs
shoes anyway? Two. There were several scary looking doorways lining the alley,
and a big marquee near the end that read Bijou Theater.
Three.
Marty moved past the first of the ominous doorways and, as he did, he let out a
little bit of the air. Not much further.
That’s
when he heard a door scraping open up ahead. It startled him, the scraping
sound in the quiet alley, like something out of a horror movie. His eyes grew
wide as something emerged from the doorway, stepping into the alley. At first
he thought it was a clown, but clowns are freakin’ scary and this thing wasn’t.
This thing seemed warm, and cuddly, and friendly. Out of the doorway, down the
alley, stepped a life-size blue teddy bear.
Marty
knew it wasn’t a real bear. It couldn’t be. Right? It was a person in a bear
costume, just like at the amusement park. Wasn’t it?
The
giant teddy bear looked at Marty. It stopped moving, eyeing him cautiously,
like a deer in the woods seeing a hunter for the first time.
Is it trembling?
At
that moment the teddy bear seemed real. The teddy bear also seemed to be afraid
of him. Marty started to call out It’s okay, don’t run, I’m not gonna hurt
you. But before he could speak, the
teddy bear began to dance. It was a silly teddy bear dance and Marty was happy
to see that the teddy bear had overcome his fear.
The
teddy bear was a lot like Marty. Hadn’t Marty been afraid not too long ago? Now
they were both in the alley, unafraid. The kindred bear danced his silly dance
up the alley toward Marty, and for the first time since Allison had left him in
the apartment all alone, Marty smiled.
About the Author:
E. Van Lowe is an author, television writer and producer who has worked on such TV shows as "The Cosby Show," "Even Stevens," and "Homeboys In Outer Space." He has been nominated for both an Emmy and an Academy Award. His first YA Paranormal novel, "Never Slow Dance With A Zombie," was a selection of The Scholastic Book Club, and a nominee for an American Library Association Award. Included in his many books are bestselling novels, “Boyfriend From Hell” and “Earth Angel.”
He is also, horror novelist, Sal Conte, author of the 80s horror classics “Child’s Play” and “The Power.” Sal’s short stories “The Toothache Man,” and “Because We Told Her To,” are available as ebooks only on Amazon.
E lives in Beverly Hills California with his spouse, a werewolf, several zombies and a fairy godmother who grants him wishes from time-to-time.
Website: http://evanlowe.com
Twitter: @Evanlowe @SalConte1
Facebook fan: https://www.facebook.com/author.e.vanlowe
Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/E.-Van-Lowe/e/B004IJHGQ0/
Sal Conte’s author page: http://www.amazon.com/Sal-Conte/e/B003ZLRXDI/
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25885956-the-secrets-of-love-and-death
Enter the
featuring a grab bag of goodies worth over $100.
The giveaway ends August 27th. The prize can be shipped anywhere in the US and Canada.
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