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About the author
Solya
Novel: The Cabin
Genre: Horror & Thriller
25,000 words so far  

About Solya

Location: the Netherlands

Home Region:
Europe :: Holland & Belgium

Age:20

Website: http://elayim.livejournal.com

Favorite novels: Ash: A Secret History

Favorite writers: Jacqueline Carey, George R.R. Martin, Frank Herbert, Juliet Marillier, Tad Williams, Chris Wooding

Favorite music: Instrumental/soundtracks, metal

Non-noveling interests: Music, movies, discussions, religion, symbolism, spirituality, reading, philosophy, dance

Joined: October 13, 2007

This Year: Official Participant

NaNoWriMo History:
'07 '08

NaNoWriMo posts: 198

NaNoWriMo buddies: 18

 

Synopsis: The Cabin

Jonathan Tucker must die.

This is the message written on the wall of the cabin in which a gruesome murder took place. Events take a turn for the worse when a man believed to have been possessed by an evil spirit is found dead not far away from the cabin. Inspectors Wilkes and Rivers must not only investigate this case, but also find Jonathan Tucker before he, too, turns up dead.

As they investigate the case, Wilkes and Rivers come face-to-face with a woman who says she knows Jonathan Tucker. Psychic Nora Sterling is viewed by others in the town of Porterstone as 'the wicked witch', but may be able to provide valuable information in the case. The two investigators and Miss Sterling are soon pulled into the deepest, darkest secrets of Porterstone and its strange inhabitants... and when Jonathan Tucker finally shows up, the fear that nobody is going to make it out of there alive arises...

Excerpt: The Cabin

"Why would people be afraid of you?" asked Gabrielle as she sunk back down in her chair. "You don't seem all that frightening to me."
A loud laugh to her right almost made her jump back out of her chair again. Miss Portia was now laughing quite maniacally while still refusing to look at the woman who'd just professed to be the nature of her fear. Gabrielle shot a look at Thomas, indicating mentally that all the town had probably gone insane overnight, and wondered if she just hadn't had a severe lack of sleep. This could not be happening. "My dear, sweet girl," laughed Miss Portia, "she's a witch!"
Silence followed her words. Even the conversation further away from them had now fallen silent. It took all of Gabrielle's willpower, and probably also Thomas's, to not burst into loud laughter right then and there. This was absolutely preposterous. The worst people she had ever questioned seemed to keep popping up like toadstools out of the forest grounds. She had certainly heard stories that bordered on the fantastical before, but this just took it one step too far. Nora Sterling could not be a witch. Witches were meant for fairytales and crazy things. They weren't meant to pop up in a serious murder investigation that'd left two people dead with one killer still on the loose.
"You're kidding me," came the moan from her partner as he, too, slid back down in his chair. He put his head into his hands, which was something she felt the urge to do as well now that she thought of it, and moaned again. He echoed her thoughts every step of the way. "This is just ridiculous."
"It doesn't matter if I am a witch or not," said Nora Sterling with a sigh, "because nobody here is going to believe otherwise. They see the advertisement in newspapers concerning my services to the general public and automatically assume the worst."
"What services?" Gabrielle pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the headache that was now setting in earnestly. "Excuse my ignorance, but I usually don't confront myself with any type of newspaper. I have missed the ad."
Nora Sterling's laugh sent chills down her spine. It was the tinkling kind of laugh that didn't hold any kind of amusement, but it carried on for quite a long period of time. "I am a psychic," she proclaimed amidst such laughter, "and apparently that's the same as being a witch. Mind you, I am pretty limited in my abilities."
"This just keeps getting better," spat Thomas sarcastically. Gabrielle eyed him with some degree of surprise. It wasn't often that he lost his temper with anyone. "Care to tell me, Miss Sterling, where your friend is?"

Solya's Writing Buddies

Fenyx
0 / 50,000
queenofblank
9,028 / 50,000
Feolan
6,701 / 50,000
Realmosa
0 / 50,000
baronbrady
0 / 50,000
Terrortitan
0 / 50,000
musicwmnvla
10,159 / 50,000
Tanwen
9,113 / 50,000
Memorial Graveyard
6,010 / 50,000
Windwatcher
0 / 50,000
world_of_blade
0 / 50,000


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