Experiences of the Paranormal... Or Not
I love writing paranormal fiction, and more than once I've worked on stories where characters attempt to investigate paranormal occurrences. So I thought it was only fair that I try this out in real life.
However, I'm too chicken to attempt these things in my own house, so I booked myself in with a paranormal investigative company who sets up events people can join. All safe, surrounded by organisers who know what they're doing, right?
It didn't start off too well, as my satnav got confused and dumped me in the middle of a scary-looking council estate. One quick knock on someone's door later I found myself at the location, which had accidentally had its heating left on and was skin-meltingly hot. I was hoping a ghost would turn up just to cool the place down. Even a spooky breeze would have helped.
After a quick session with the resident medium - who had a lot more luck on Most Haunted than he did here - we began some table-tipping. And here came the problems. We had a group of four girls who had been whispering and giggling throughout - I had a sneaking suspicion they had only come so they could try and fake something. They surrounded the table and, a few minutes later, it zigzagged across the carpeted floor.
Either that was real or they had planned it, because if one of them had pushed the table on their own it would have fallen over. My guess is they did it as a group, because when other people - myself included - took over the table it immediately stopped working. Rather a disappointment.
Which was a theme for most of the night, unfortunately. We tried moving a glass - nothing. A few people went into a side room to try scrying and got nowhere. And then they pulled out the ouija board.
I've used these a few times in stories, but had never used one myself. To be honest, I don't like them. But anything for literary research. We gathered around the board - me, a friend I had brought along for support, and three of the four girls I mentioned earlier - and asked "Can you move the planchette to the first letter of your name?"
It moved to NO.
"Are you attached to the house?"
"Are you connected to one of us?"
"Would you like us to leave?"
Oh well. I suppose if someone came into my house and started asking me silly questions I'd want them to go away too.
So my own attempt at paranormal investigation wasn't exactly a success. Fortunately these things are a lot more fun to write than they are to do, so my heroine will have a much more exciting time talking to the vardoger than I had talking to my Bradford ghost...
Echoes of Love
Genre: Paranormal erotic romance
Publisher: Totally Bound
Date of Publication: 18 July 2017
Number of pages: 52
Word Count: 13,845
Cover Artist: Posh Gosh
Tagline: Kala wants to catch a ghost. The ghost wants to catch her. What does Tor want?
Paranormal writer Kala Westenra, staying with her best friend Vika in Norway, is hunting for a new subject for an article, and finds it when she hears footsteps in the hall twenty minutes before Vika's hot brother Tor Viitanen arrives home. This, Vika tells her, is the vardoger - a Norwegian ghost, a future echo which always precedes a person's arrival.
Kala plans to stake out the hallway to catch the vardoger in the act - and is shocked when, on its arrival, it kisses her. Her feelings for Tor have been hidden ever since she first met him two years ago; could it be that the vardoger is acting on Tor's secret desire for her?
As Kala and Tor work together to understand what is happening with the spirit, their longing for each other begins to overtake them - but the vardoger has more to show them than they expected...
Tor reached over the arm of the sofa, pulled up a cushion and threw it at her. Vika threw it back, knocking over her wineglass at the same time.
“Here, let me get you a refill.” Kala reached for the bottle, but it was empty. Vika stood and made for the door, picking up her jacket from the hook on the back on her way past.
“I’ll run out and get another one. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Kala launched the cushion after her, hitting the door instead.
“I can see why you and my sister get on so well.” Tor raised an eyebrow. “You’re both drunks.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m still technically a student. I can drink if I like.”
“Soon to be a writer and they drink a lot, too, I’ve heard.”
Kala laughed. “I don’t know about journalists, though. Although I’d quite like to be a writer, too—novels or something. I don’t know what kind yet.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open for your hot new release.”
Kala held his gaze, her insides stirring strangely. Maybe it was the alcohol, but there was something in the words hot release that made a rush of heat flow through her body, her skin tingling.
After a long moment, Tor spoke again. “So, Vika thinks you need a man.”
“I don’t need a man. I may want a man.”
“Oh, yeah?” Something flickered across Tor’s face, his eyes glowing. He shifted onto his knees, leaning over the arm of the sofa, his face close to hers. “What sort of man do you want?”
“Oh, you know. We hotshot journalists don’t like to be tied down.” Kala gave him a taunting look, leaning closer to him so that their faces were almost touching. “Tall, dark, commitment-phobic. That’ll do me.”
“I can help you there.”
A sudden rush of movement and Tor’s mouth was on hers.
This is a bad idea. He’s Vika’s brother.
But somehow she no longer cared and Tor was right here and he was moving, moving over the arm of the sofa as they were still kissing, then his body was pressing down onto hers and they were still—
To hell with it, she thought and arched up against him, tangling her fingers in his hair.
She felt his hard cock through his jeans as it brushed against her leg, sending a dart of wet heat straight to her cunt. His hands ran down, caressing her neck, her shoulders, cupping her breasts and rolling his thumbs over her nipples through her bra.
Then the sound of the lock clicking.
Immediately, Tor rolled off her and onto the floor, twisting round to position himself back at the side of the sofa. Kala sat up and ran a hand through her hair.
Shit, that was close.
“Here's the wine,” Vika announced as she came through the door, shopping bag in hand. “I got back as fast as I could.”
About the Author:
Tanith Davenport began writing erotica at the age of 27 by way of the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Scheme. Her debut novel "The Hand He Dealt" was released by Total-e-Bound in June 2011 and was shortlisted for the Joan Hessayon Award for 2012.
Tanith has had short stories published by Naughty Nights Press and House of Erotica. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado.
Tanith's idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side.