Holly Bristol Spirit Hunter (Volume 1)
Jennifer Lang Boehl
Author Bio
Jennifer Lang Boehl was born in Upstate, New York. Her passion for writing came at an early age, but it wasn’t until recently that she shared her talent. She jokes that she finally knows what she wants to be when she grows up. Her hobbies include: Singing, dancing, writing, and spending time with her friends and family. She has been married to a firefighter for twenty years, and together they have twin daughters who were her inspiration for her first book, That’s Mine, Sissy. This vividly, colorful book delivers a cute, funny message about siblings and sharing. Her next venture was to publish a short, children’s picture book about her nephew who has autism. Why Does Davey Do That is intended to provide a kind, loving message and a general understanding of the disorder. She donates $1 for every paperback sold to Autism Speaks. Jennifer also traveled into the young adult world with her first paranormal novella, Holly Bristol Spirit Hunter. She plans on writing two more Holly Bristol novellas, and she dreams of making the series into a movie. Jennifer hopes that everyone will fall in love with the character just as she did. You may visit her website at www.jenniferlangboehl.weebly.com.
Description
I wasn’t expecting to spend my summer vacation with my dad and his clan of paranormal investigators. I’d already made plans to run around with my friends, go to parties, and lay on the beach until dusk. When my mom received an opportunity to teach summer courses at the University of Buffalo, I knew my plans were going to change.
When sixteen-year-old Holly Bristol learns that she’ll be spending the next six weeks on the Clark Plantation with her dad and his team of paranormal investigators her summer vacation is ruined. Only after she falls in love with Ryan, a young hunter, do her circumstances begin to look up. After Holly befriends some ghostly siblings from the mansion’s past, she must uncover the truth to save them from the evil that has entrapped them. The paranormal entities she encounters will unravel the path to their salvation and force her to unveil the curtain between the living and the dead. Only then will they all be free.
The plantation was built in August of 1818. It was owned by the Clark family. Edmond, the youngest of the Clark males, took over the estate in 1838 when he was only twenty. He was a second-generation master. By the time he was forty-three, he was predominant in his community. His strict business sense was very respected by the other plantation owners. They looked up to him for his wealth and his ability to control so much land. Edmond had over three hundred men, women, and children who worked the plantation day and night. They didn’t look at him with respect, but with fear. He was cold, uninviting, and vicious.
Over the years, there have been many sightings of the family members. This property has been turned into many different ventures before. At one time it was a museum. And then briefly a hotel. Visitors were so frightened by the ghostly appearances they stopped coming. Eventually the hotel had to be shut down. The land was turned over to the local historical society owned by the state.
Holly Bristol: Spirit Hunter is the first novella in a brand new series that follows the adventures of a teenage girl and her journey into the paranormal world.
Book excerpt
I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. I felt so grateful. I was so tired from the trip and meeting everyone. I was amazingly comfortable and my mind was at rest. Haunt was stretched out next to me in the bed. He loved to cozy up to me under the covers. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to protect me, or if he just thought he was human. As the darkness set in, I began to dream. It was more of a false awakening. I don’t remember ever fully falling asleep.
At first the dream was pleasant. I was standing in my bedroom at the plantation. The windows were open and blowing the shutters back and forth in a methodic pattern. It sounded like an even beat of a drum. A small yellow bird with black markings had landed on the sill. It tilted its head and was looking at me. We stared into each other’s eyes. As I reached out to touch the bird, it suddenly melted into a fleshy pool of blood. I backed away in terror. Behind me I heard my name called out in a whisper.
“Holly.”
When I heard her voice, the same déjà vu came over me. I HAD been here before. I knew the room. I knew the furniture. I knew everything. I whipped my head around in one swoop. There, in front of the fireplace, stood a young African American woman. She was beautiful and wearing a long, pale blue, ragged dress with a white ruffled collar. She reached her hand out towards the fireplace and pulled out a journal from behind a loose brick. She started floating toward me. The tips of her toes were skimming the floor as she got closer and closer. She was holding out the journal to me as if I should take it. Her face suddenly became horrified and she rushed for me. I tried to move, but I couldn’t. I looked down to see why I was so paralyzed, and I noticed that my feet were submerged in a muddy clay substance. I tried to scream, but the sound would not come out. A panic rushed over me. I braced myself for the worst. The woman came face to face with me and let out the loudest most powerful sound. I closed my eyes tightly as she passed right through me. I could feel every inch of her soul. I could smell her skin and hair. I could feel her fear and sadness. I fell to the floor in tears. The room went silent. I worked up the courage to lift my head and open my eyes. The woman was gone, but in her place were a boy and a girl. They were standing side by side and staring at me. I focused on them a bit before I heard the bird back at the window. It moved its head up and down, giving me an odd glance. It chirped out a dominant command and then flew off into the night. I looked back at the children, but they had vanished.
I woke up to the warm sun shining on my face. I heard the birds outside bickering like they were trading at the stock exchange. Everything seemed so strange after the dream, but surprisingly I was well rested. THE JOURNAL! I whipped the covers aside. As my feet hit the floor, my heart sank right down there with them. They were covered in clay. It was the same clay from my dream. How was this happening? Did I sleepwalk? I quickly went to the fireplace. If the clay was real, the journal had to be too! Sure enough it was there behind the brick where the woman showed me. How cool was this?
The journal was really old. It was leather bound and had the letter W on the front cover. The edges were worn, and there was a tassel that marked one of the pages inside. I sat back down on the bed and opened the cover. I ran my fingers over the words that were written so long ago. Whose journal was this? Who used to stay in this room? I flipped to a random page and began to read.
The master spoke with me in the fields again. He has told me that I am ready to become his house servant. He believes that I have had enough schooling. His hand was soft as he stroked my arm. His eyes were intent on receiving an answer. My feelings for him are forbidden, but his intimidation allows me to forget my beliefs. I must speak with my brothers, Ben and Grafton. They cannot know of my sin, but they must know that I will be moving into the mansion.
I was interrupted by the sound of my dad yelling from downstairs.
“Holly. It’s time to come down. The morning meeting is in five.”
I hid the journal under my pillow for safekeeping. I wasn’t ready to share my newfound treasure. I quickly scrubbed the mess off of my feet.