Gina Shafer (4:47)

Are those sheep?

Mary Kay Savaris (4:49)

Dante tried to inch closer, but his feet refused to move. He was glued in place behind the drapes. The ghostly objects disappeared into the paper and he trembled in terror. The shadows formed into a miniature print, each arranging itself according to the direction of the evil man. The man was painting a distressing scene through the movements of his symphonic hands. The wizard swiped along the floor and the girl was jerked into the air. She hovered for only a moment before spinning as easily as a spinning wheel. Then, as if no friction ever existed, the girl screamed. The wind sucked her into the clothes cloth paper. The girl was gone.

Renita Hora (5:42)

Next, my interview with Gina Shafer. Gina is a paranormal writer whose stories are inspired by real life events. She shares about her personal contributions and how she pulls them into her stories, as well as her experience with capturing ghosts. Yes, Gina is not a ghostbuster, but definitely a ghost tracker of sorts. She reads an excerpt from her book the Pied Piper's Prince, which was inspired by the Candyman, and this is the portion of the story when the veil is lifted and a woman is trying to understand what happened in her home in the past. So keep listening. It's pretty chilling.

Gina Shafer (6:28)

I have worked as a paranormal investigator, so I do pull some of my own personal elements into the story. Obviously you can get a lot from the imagination. However, what I have found with readers, especially with young readers, if they can connect to something that they know, then even though there may be a lot of fiction and a lot of fantasy in there, having that tangible piece that they can connect to and it makes them want to read more, it draws them in further and maybe even want to do some more research on their own. I have a lot of interest in crime and so I will go and visit those sites and even though I'm not necessarily telling their full story, there are pieces in there, so there's a lot of research that goes into it, but there's a lot of interest as follows the words falling on the pages. It just happens. Come join in on the party, willie says in a friendly voice, like he was for real. He wanted to hang out with Tommy. He even invited Tammy, Tommy's friend, who was thinking of running away on account of her stepdad's temper. Run, run, run. What's happening? Molly whispers, looking around. This looks different. Sometimes we bounce. What do you mean we bounce? Now growing accustomed to her dream companion, we see things happening at different times, but not necessarily in order. Then looking at the teens, that's Tommy and Tammy. Corrie only wanted Tommy to come over, but Willie felt bad because she wanted to get away from home and away from her stepdad. Of course, she's never seen a temper like that. Of course Cory. I've seen Cory get mad even when he thought nobody was watching. But somebody is always watching. Sometimes I think it's the devil himself, poking at him, trying to get him mad. When I see Corrie strangle those boys, I swear I hear a wicked laugh vibrating through the house. Corey, Willy, and Boozer. They don't hear it, but I do, and I know it's pure evil. Is he going to kill them? Eventually, Maybe not right now, but the playmates always die. That's the game. They have to die because it's part of the game. Molly Shoulders shudders. Jeez, I wonder if I am talking in my sleep. Only pure evil causes a person to call people. You know that, trust you, come over to party, be their friend, only to leave them to a malicious torture and death. What's worse is I think Willie may have liked Tommy too. Look how pretty she is. Molly examines the girl for a moment. Long blonde hair, dark eyes, slender frame. She smiled at Willie, exposing perfect teeth. I think I would have liked to have dated someone like Tammy. Molly barely heard her dream escort as Cory stomps through the house. Cory's not happy about Tommy being here. I think he likes Tommy all right. I think Tommy wasn't normally his type, seeing how he had dark hair and a tan. He likes guys like me, with light hair and light eyes. Tall but not strong. He never wants anyone to be stronger than him. The two watch Corey as he grabs Willie by the collar and yells. I don't want no girl hanging out here. Girls are nothing but trouble and drama. Willie panics. Look, her dad kicked her out. She has nowhere to go and besides she's hot. Can I have someone to play with once in a while? Besides, look at her. She's gotta be out in no time and then you can have your fun. Corey seemed to calm down at that and goes out to the living room, tossing a few beers at the kids. The girl missing hers tumbled to the floor beside her. Cory snorts and pulls out a box of weed and papers. Tommy and Tammy hadn't tried this stuff before stared at him wide eyed. Stupid fools. Drugs are bad. They should listen to their moms and not some stranger they just met. Molly thought with a panicked urgency. Willie smoked and drank with them while making small talk. Corey sat back observing with an anger stare, waiting until the three passed out. That's his M.O. you know, David whispers to Molly as she watches the scene unfold. What a coward. I don't follow. Stupid piece of shit is such a huge guy and yet he lets drugs and booze weaken their reflexes so he can subdue them easier. Won't even let them have a chance to fight. What a plus.

Renita Hora (11:01)

And last but not least, here is Emma McDonald's interview for this special episode with the spooky authors of season five. Emma is a storyteller of witch fantasy and in our conversation we talk about all things witches. She shares what inspired to write her novel Whispers Most Foul, about a college student who cannot cast spells but can see ghosts. You'll hear an excerpt when the main character, Rose, is visited by a ghostly sinister vision in the bath. You won't want to miss this bone chilling story.

Emma McDonald (11:41)

I think fantasy as a genre has a lot of magic involved in it and I think when we talk about.

Gina Shafer (11:46)

Involving witches in fantasy it is a.

Emma McDonald (11:48)

Little different because I think it plays on the magic systems that have kind of decorated the folktales of our world a little bit more. So you might delve into types of magic that might be a little bit more familiar, so to speak, to people in our world or based in certain traditions, things like that. Whereas I think fantasy as a larger genre, while it does include a lot of magic, doesn't always necessarily carry that component.

Gina Shafer (12:13)

Witchcraft historically has been used sort of.

Emma McDonald (12:16)

Pejoratively in the same way that paganism.

Gina Shafer (12:18)

Was used as a pejorative term.

Emma McDonald (12:20)

I think it really is when we're looking at Western largely Christian societies, it is anything that doesn't fit that standard of Christianity. And so it has been used to weaponize anything that is a little bit different. Different. Any rituals that are different, any practices that are different, and that encompasses all over the world. Because there are a lot of different forms of witchcraft, or what people would consider witchcraft now. And I think that's something that people are starting to kind of revisit in recent years, and it's gaining a lot.

Gina Shafer (12:48)

More momentum now as something that's a little bit outside of tradition. Rose glared at the bathwater below her, glimmering in the cloud glow of the candles lining the bath's edges. Warm and inviting. Steam curled off its surface in smoky tendrils, filling the air with the soothing scent of lavender. Hot baths had always had a way of soothing scars upon the heart, raw and aching, or sewn up and sore beneath the weight of time. They all melted away in the water's scalding embrace. But now she could think of nothing less appealing. A shiver crawled down her spine. As horrific as the first week of classes had been, nothing pulled so sharply at the dread coiled in her stomach. As this. Her eyes flickered to the dark cloth hanging over her mirror like a shroud. A useless precaution at this point, but a habit she found hard to break. She'd covered the lancet windows above the tub, too, repositioning her many hanging plants in front of them's protective wall with overgrowth. Still, it wasn't enough. She knew now that none of it would protect her. Aveline was always there, no longer confined to mere reflections and growing ever stronger, angrier yet. What choice did Rose have? She could hardly keep from bathing indefinitely. The wind howled lightly against the windows, nearly covering the screams from the forest beyond. Pulling loose the tie of her robe, Rose sucked in a sharp breath and gingerly tipped her toes into the water. The heat crept across her skin like a warm embrace as she sank into it, but she found no comfort in it. She squashed her water up and down her arms, scrubbing her washcloth over her rosemary soap and then across her pink, freckled skin. She just needed to get in and out, then make it down to the pub for the first week. Drinks for Fen's sake. He hardly expected her to show up, she was sure, but for the first time she almost wanted to. He'd been watching her all week as if she were made of cracked glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

Emma McDonald (14:31)

And perhaps he was right.

Gina Shafer (14:32)

But there was a desperate, broken part of her that wanted to pretend, just for one night, to watch his eyes spark with delight for the sight of her not concern, as they so often did these days. She swallowed hard, washing away the last of the soap. The weight of it all ripped her apart, but she would keep it from reaching him if she could. Setting her washcloth aside, Rose was reaching for her towel. When the water at the edge of the tub splashed, she froze. A few rebellious curls stuck to the back of her neck in damp tangles as a cold sweat crept across her skin. Gripping the edge of the tub, she clenched her jaw. Seconds ticked by with agonizing leisure before the water sloshed again. This time, the candles beside Rose flickered almost in warning. The soft hair on her forearms stood upright as a chill swept over her despite the steam still curling up from the bathwater. All at once the water seemed tepid and stale. What little joy it had held snuffed out in an instant. Rose reached for her towel once more, suddenly desperate for the safety of her bed. But the candles flared again as she did, singeing her skin before they all went out at once. Rose's heart pounded against her ribs in the darkness, fast and featherlike, like a bird trying to break free from the cage of her chest. Her breath coiled in her lungs, throat so tight she could barely swallow. Water lapsed softly against the porcelain tub. Then, with a start, the first of the candles leapt back to life. But the light brought no relief. Grey, bloated fingers curled around the sides of the tub. Crack nails caked with grime screeched against porcelain, dug deep and dragging, dragging, dragging, ever so slowly. Rose trembled, tears picking her eyes as the water parted.

Emma McDonald (16:02)

But she couldn't look away, couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.

Gina Shafer (16:06)

Soaked tangles of ragged blonde hair crested.

Emma McDonald (16:08)

Slowly through the suds.

Gina Shafer (16:09)

Then pallid flesh marked by dark spidery veins carved up a spart's brow. Then finally, her eyes, bloodshot and sunken. They fixed furiously on Rose as Aveline's cracked lips pulled free of the water. Blood pooled at the corner of the girl's mouth, spilling down her throat. For a moment they just stared at each other. Rose redeemed to the spot, and Aveline simply waiting, watching. And then she lunged. Slick fingers clamped around Rose's throat and squeezed hard. With a cry, she wrenched away from Aveline's grip, scrambling back. Water cascaded over the edges of the tub as Rose slept free of it, soaking the rug beneath and snuffing out the one lit candle. She stumbled in the darkness, reaching desperately for her towel, then the counter, then finally the door. The glow of her dormitory greeted her as she flung herself toward her bed. She sagged onto it, towel wrapped tight against her bare skin and trembling in the cool air. For several moments, all she could do was watch the doorway, but it remained empty. No bloodied eyes peered at her out of the darkness. No wretched figure crossed the threshold. Then, all at once, the candles flickered back to life, filling the washroom with a soft, inviting glow. She was gone. Numbly rose, lifted her knees to her chin, released the breath sheet burning in her lungs, and simply wept. Great aching sobs tore through her, hot tears pooling onto the satin wet duvet as she rolled onto her side. She couldn't bear this any longer, this terror, this torment. If she stayed here another moment, she would simply unravel, shatter into a million pieces or fade away with so much sorrow. All of a sudden, she craved the comfort of other bodies, even if the safety they offered was only an illusion. For the first time in memory, she didn't want to be alone. And so, dressing quickly and freeing her tangled curls from the rep do, she fled from the confines of her room. It wasn't until the cool night air pressed against her skin that she noticed.

Emma McDonald (17:53)

The heat beneath her collar.

Gina Shafer (17:54)

Swallowing hard, she reached under her blouse and traced five angry bruises blooming along her throat.

Renita Hora (18:03)

I hope you enjoyed this look back at the spooky authors of Season five and remember, the visual renditions of all of these stories are available for paid subscribers on Substack as well as on Patreon. Here at the True Fiction Project, we are always looking for great stories that make for compelling fiction. So if you have a great story or know somebody who does, or if you are a writer who would like to contribute, then please do get in touch with us@renita.com contact.

Renita Hora (18:41)

Thank you for listening to the True Fiction Project with Renita Hora. Be sure to subscribe to the newsletter to receive more inspiring stories showing how fiction is born from our everyday experiences. For more information, visit www.TrueFictionProject.com.

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