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Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Romance
Description: When a beautiful red-haired girl appears to him in a haunting dream, Keon is perplexed. Why does she arouse him so? Why does she persist with her promises, her teasing laughter? She seems so real, reminds him of someone from long ago. Yet it is more than just a girl that Keon cannot understand. According to the calendar on his wall, he must be close to a hundred and fifty years old. Yet, when the girl from his dreams appears every month at the new and at the full moon, he feels so alive, so excited, so aroused... And when he travels to town, the girl at the local pub, the one he is attracted to in the Session Band, she looks surprisingly similar to the girl in his dreams. What's real and what's not he just can't put his finger on. In time, Keon comes to wonder if he is a ghost haunted by a ghost himself. But if that is correct, if he must come to grips with this fact, then why can't he sleep like the others in the graveyard? And, why does the beautiful red-haired girl point to the ash grove behind his ancient home each time she disappears in a puff of smoke and laughter?
eBook Publisher: Excessica Publishing/Excessica Publishing, 2012 2012
eBookwise Release Date: March 2012

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [172 KB]
Words: 41376
Reading time: 118-165 min.

Keon sat in a high-back rocking chair on the front porch of what had once been a magnificent and stately farmhouse deep in the lush green of southern Ireland's sheep country. Yes, once magnificent, for the two-hundred fifty year old manor home had remained uninhabited--except for Keon who had only a passing interest in its upkeep. The wooden porch creaked and groaned as if complaining each time the rocker plied back and forth on the half-rotten, unpainted planks. Keon stopped the rocker and leaned over to glance with concern as one particularly loud cracking sound caught his attention.

"Crap, not again." He cursed as he moved the rocker a foot to the left. He crossed his legs and looked from one side to the other as he resumed his rocking. He thought he had been careful to pick a solid spot, for he remembered when only two weeks prior, the rocker had fallen through the moment he sat and leaned back in order to start the rocking sequence. Unshaken by the three-foot drop, yet perturbed by the inconvenience, he had moved his usual rocking spot to a more solid section--or so he thought.

He stopped rocking long enough to turn and look at the gaping hole through which he had fallen. He shrugged his shoulders with indifference, for he didn't care about the hole or the repairs needed to make the rotten porch safe. In fact, he rarely thought about any of the numerous repairs, which were needed and had been needed for the last hundred years. At least, the pipes didn't leak, yet it didn't bother him to worry about why the water had not been turned on for fifty years--having no need or desire for the pleasures of a bath or a cool drink during the warm summer days.

Strange as it might seem, he rarely thought about the house at all. He had more important things on his mind to worry about than a leaking roof or a few broken windows. Thus, he purposely put the creaking porch out of his thoughts and thought about the red-haired girl whose uncanny beauty and soft white skin filled his every waking and sleeping moment.

"Soon," he said with a deep sigh. "Soon I'll have you. You'll be mine and we won't be playing these silly heartbreaking games."