“You are a listener too, child. The tree chose you for that.”   Elspeth blinked. “Chose me?”   “You hear what others forget. You believe in what breathes beneath the bark and behind the veil.”

This week, I invite you to step inside the misty world of Greystone Hall and spend a few moments with Annabelle Greystone.

Annabelle’s fingers fumbled for the matches. She lit a fresh candle with trembling hands and turned to face the figure forming in the mist.

March 1852 Portland , Oregon Eliza Whitmore stood at the edge of the cabin porch, her shawl drawn tight around her shoulders, staring...

Johnathon's nightmares are back. What will they be tonight?

Thick fog shifted and swirled between the walls of the large stone house. A weak sun was feebly attempting to shine through