The Chosen One Read online

  The Chosen One

  Marla Meyers

  To Tara

  Copyright © 2018 by Marla Meyers

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  Published by J.R. Hancock Book Publishing

  Printed in the United States of America

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Sample of Twisted

  Sample of Snatched

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Praise for Marla Meyers

  ABOUT TWISTED:

  “This story is scary sauce with a side order of quirky. Pure Entertainment.”

  ~ Lighthouse Reviews ~

  “A ghost story that bites back with humor.”

  ~ Fright Media ~

  “For readers who enjoy a cozy-frightful story—yes, that is an oxymoron, but true in this case. It's like the ghost stories we heard sitting around the campfire, but not so horrific we couldn't finish the story. The title is perfect. There are several great twists in this story. The plot reminded me of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947 B&W movie - an oldie but goodie) until a deeper layer of twists happened, giving this work it's unique spin. This short book is worth staying up to finish.”

  ~ Amazon Verified Purchase ~

  “This was a great read. I couldn't put it down. It isn't often that I can devour a whole story in one sitting. I loved everything about this story. The characters' personalities were very believable and realistic. I had such conflicting emotions while reading this book. It was heartwarming and yet so very disturbing. Some of the things I initially thought to be romantic and heroic were shockingly not at all. I'll be purchasing the next book in the series for sure. Thank you so much dear author for this wonderful story.”

  ~ Amazon Verified Purchase ~

  ABOUT SNATCHED:

  “A frightful and entertaining read that nips at your funny bone. Terrific read.”

  ~ Lighthouse Reviews ~

  “I loved this book! I was on the edge of my seat and read it in one sitting. Couldn't put it down! I hope to see a lot more from this author. I love the way she tells the story from the perspective of the ghosts. Great read! Humorous and suspenseful.”

  ~ Amazon Verified Purchase ~

  Chapter 1

  Armed with a flashlight, Marissa Dow questioned her sanity as she huddled behind stacked bales of hay in the far corner of the barn. It was almost dark, but she resisted the urge to go back to the house. Her eyes scanned the barn looking for a weapon of some sort. Even if she found one, she doubted she would use it. This trespasser was probably a kid who would be more frightened of her than she of him. Just the same, she was becoming more uncomfortable about this stakeout.

  She suspected teenagers were using the barn at night, soon after dark, as some sort of hangout. Innocent enough if she hadn’t seen a glowing light coming from within the dilapidated structure. She’d attempted to yell from the front porch a few times, but that had sent them running into the woods. She’d only seen one person flee, but she assumed there might be a group meeting there.

  Each morning after such an occurrence, she would go to the barn and inspect. There wasn’t anything worth stealing unless you were in need of old farming tools. Maybe a vagrant, someone who just needed a place to lay their head. That probably wouldn’t have been a big deal either. But, whoever it was, they shouldn’t be lighting matches in the barn. A couple of bales of dry hay and the splintered building would go up quickly, and it wouldn’t take long for a fire to reach the farmhouse. Marissa looked for used matches but never found any.

  There was another thing . . . the flowers. The stranger—or strangers—would leave a bunch of fresh daisies in an old tin coffee can each morning, the previous night’s daisies removed and tossed aside. This ritual of Marissa yelling from the front porch for them to stop, as they were jetting into the woods, had been going on since her arrival three days ago.

  Whoever it was, they were consistent. She would notice the glowing light about seven o’clock every evening and the next morning, more daisies. The farm would be sold soon, and the last thing Marissa needed was for it to burn to the ground. Picturing the farm going up in flames helped her to retain her courage.

  She took a deep breath as she crouched behind a bale of hay with the flashlight as her only protection. Dim moonlight shone through the open window of the barn and she could see a faint outline of the contents that surrounded her. A shovel, an old tire from her father’s tractor, and the workbench where her dad had built furniture for years before he died.

  If they’re on schedule, they should be here soon. She began to itch from the hay as she wondered what might be crawling on or around her. Maybe she should have just called the Sheriff. Something other than this. Too late. She might as well catch the little perps in action. Her mind raced as she reached up and brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen forward. If this turned out to be more than she could handle, maybe she would just stay hidden, for tonight anyway.

  As the struggle between bravery and cowardliness battled in her mind, her stomach was a mess. Her ulcer was reacting to this little stakeout. Spicy food, alcohol, and stress were her three no-no’s and took a toll on her stomach. She usually steered clear of spicy food and avoided stressful situations if she could. But she did enjoy wine from time to time, even though she paid for it the next day. She should have known this adventure might bring on a little stress.

  Her mother was gone now and putting up the farm for sale was something she hadn’t been able to face until now. It had been three months since the funeral, and as executive for her mother’s will, Marissa needed to settle the estate, which included selling the farm. Paul was overseas on business and wouldn’t be back for several months, so they had decided before he left that Marissa would put the farm on the market. Paul’s family lived too far to utilize the farm as a vacation spot, and Marissa, recently divorced and without children, was pouring herself into her job. Therapeutic, she assumed.

  Her mother had loved the farm. Even after Marissa’s dad died, she’d said the only way she would leave the family homestead was feet first. Paul and Marissa had tried to get her to move to Houston, or at least get an apartment in Grove Hill that was closer to town. She wouldn’t hear of it. And seeing the farm again, for the first time in over a year, Marissa could understand. Even now, overgrown with weeds where Mom usu
ally had flowers blooming this time of year, it was still beautiful. Eighty-five acres of peacefulness that consisted of the house, the barn, an old storage shack, a good-sized pond, and the original outhouse that still stood out back. The house was one hundred and twenty years old and totally renovated. It was an expression of her mother’s personality. It was cozy, warm, and never saw a stranger. It was beautiful, but it was never enough for Marissa. Having been raised on the farm, she longed for the excitement and fast life that the big city had to offer.

  Now, back home for a week or so, her tomboy days had gone by the wayside. She shuddered from the corner of a place that cows and rats knew as their home. Cringing, she slapped at her ankle when something crawled on her.

  If her assistant, Sheila, could see her now, she thought, amused. Marissa always maintained the executive image her advertising job required. Her faded blue jeans, scuffed up running shoes and ragged T-shirt would look somewhat out of character. But she was home. These were her roots, and she could still collect eggs, ride horses, and milk cows with the best of them if she had to. She’d just never wanted to make a career out of it.

  She glanced down at her cell phone and double checked that the sound was muted. She expected her guests—or group of kids—any minute. It was just almost seven. With a cramping tummy and itchy legs, she waited.

  A few seconds later, her heart raced when the barn door slowly creaked open. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Cowardliness had prevailed. She could barely see over the hay bale as her heart pounded against her chest, but what she saw was a surprise. It wasn’t a kid, but a man. Or was he a boy? She peered at him and decided maybe young man was a more accurate description. He looked maybe eighteen or nineteen. She couldn’t see him very well in the dark, but when he opened the barn door, a small amount of light coming from the lamp in the front yard, beamed faintly into the barn, displaying his build and youthfulness.

  He was tall and muscular with shoulder length dark hair. Sure enough, he was carrying flowers in his left hand, daisies. He was wearing blue overalls with no shirt on underneath. Besides that, Marissa couldn’t make out much in the dark. Her heart raced so loud she felt sure he could hear it.

  The stranger carefully removed last night’s flowers and replaced them with the flowers he was holding, as she supposed he had been doing each evening. There was no one else with him. Why? She wanted to ask him, but her first thought had been correct. She couldn’t move. What if he was dangerous, on drugs, in a gang, or something else that was weird? She had been expecting younger kids. Running for the door raced briefly through her mind, but it was out of the question since he was between her and the barn door. She would just have to stay hidden until he left, then come back tomorrow night with the Sheriff.

  The man looked over to Marissa’s right towards another stack of hay. He gazed intensely at the bales. She didn’t take her eyes off of him.

  Slowly, the haystacks began to glow. It was a brilliant light unlike anything she had ever seen. Marissa let out a gasp, an uncontrollable noise that she wished hadn’t escaped. Fearing he had spotted her, she prepared to run. But she wasn’t sure how to get around him and make a safe exit to the house. The stranger turned quickly towards her, and she screamed.

  Seemingly as stunned by her presence, the man made an about-face and ran quickly out of the barn and into the woods. Sensing his fear, Marissa ran out of the barn yelling after him.

  “Wait! Please wait!” she screamed towards the woods from where she stood just inside the barn door. But he was gone. She looked back at the hay bales that had glowed so brilliantly only moments before. The stranger was gone. And so was the glowing light.

  Chapter 2

  When Marissa arrived at the farm three days ago, she came prepared to stay a week, two at the most. It would take some time to get the house in shape for the real estate agent to show it, and she needed to get her mother’s personal belongings packed up. Besides, she needed a vacation. Maybe farming wasn’t her lifetime calling, but no one could deny that their farm was peaceful and a wonderful place to get in touch with ones’ self. Or, it should be, void of a strange man in the barn and an odd-looking light that wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen.

  Last night, she’d double checked that the doors and windows were locked, but she still didn’t get much sleep. And as she replayed the scene over and over again in her mind, she still couldn’t figure out what the bright light was.

  But, for now, she needed to focus on getting the farm ready to sell. There was plenty to do, but between the stranger last night and recent events in her life, it was hard to stay on task without her thoughts drifting.

  Her divorce from Scott eight months ago had left her in a dormant state, not ready to hit the dating scene, and not prepared to spend her life alone. Maybe getting away from the chaos was what she needed. Scott had been a good husband, she supposed. But after nine years of marriage, their lives had become too separate and communication had broken down, gradually, but it eventually became nonexistent.

  Scott didn’t seem to share her frustration. He had been content to come home, watch a little TV, and fall asleep on the couch night after night. They both had careers and lived comfortably. It was a safe and secure life. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough for Marissa. She loved Scott, but she wanted to be in love, even if only sometimes. That ‘in love’ feeling had come and gone for several years, as she assumed happened in most marriages, but the feeling had stayed gone for too long.

  Marissa stayed in their townhouse, and Scott had reluctantly moved out. Marissa thought things might have worked out differently if there had been children involved. They would have shared a common interest. Although, that wouldn’t have been the best reason to have a baby, to gain a common interest with your spouse. But Marissa had always wanted kids. After extensive testing, she found out early in their marriage that she wouldn’t be able to have children. Her ovaries had never matured to adult size, and according to the doctor her chances were slim and none.

  Scott was perfectly content to share his life with Marissa only, pouring himself into his job as a marketing analyst for an oil company. “Marissa, you are all I need,” he would tell her. Marissa wanted to adopt, but waiting lists were long, and Scott’s lack of enthusiasm about the idea kept her from pushing it.

  On her own now, an adoption agency wouldn’t consider her. There were too many couples waiting to adopt babies. She figured she would be too old by the time they got around to considering her. So, work became her life. For now. Maybe one day she would be a foster parent. She loved children, and little ones always took to her. She worked continuously and tried to take her mind off of her personal life, convincing herself that she could be satisfied.

  But being back at the farm filled her head full of wonderful family memories. She scanned through photo albums late at night, after her daily cleaning was complete, wishing her mother was here to reminisce with her. She tried to ease her guilt for not visiting more often. Her mother had died in her sleep three months ago. It had been a big shock to everyone who knew her since there didn’t appear to be anything seriously wrong with her.

  The house still smelled like Mom. It had a distinct aroma that Marissa used to find herself trying to recall when she was in Houston. A mixture of cedar, bread baking in the kitchen, Momma’s sweet perfume, and on a windy day with the windows open, of manure. But that smell, all rolled into one, was home.

  Marissa cleaned like a mad woman during the day, but she kept everything the way her mother had left it when she died. She wasn’t really sure why. The new owners would come in and change everything around. The furniture was being sold with the house. It didn’t matter though. While she was here, she wanted to remember her last time at the farm with everything the way her mother had liked it.

  She had taken a break and was sitting on the porch steps when Mr. Buck pulled up in the same red truck he’d had forever. Marissa’s heart swelled with more wonderful memories. She’d learned to drive in
that 1957 Chevy.

  Mr. Buck had tended the land for as long as she could remember. Marissa had just turned thirty-four, but Buck still called her ‘Child’, and she still addressed him as Mr. Buck. Daddy had hired Buck to take care of the property when Marissa’s brother, Paul, was just a baby. Mr. Buck was family. She wasn’t sure who was more upset when Marissa left to go to Houston, her mother or Mr. Buck. He’d tell her, “Marissa, Child, Houston is a big place. They got crooks and bad people in them big cities. Ya’ oughta’ just stay here in Grove Hill, find you a nice young man and settle on down. The country is a good place to raise yer family.” She’d respond with, “Mr. Buck, you’ll see me all the time. Houston isn’t that far. I’ll be visiting a lot.”

  If only she had kept that promise. She became so absorbed with her new fast- paced life that she hadn’t visited as much as she should have. She talked to her mother on the phone every few days, but Marissa knew it wasn’t the same. A regret she’d have to live with.

  “Child, you’re as pretty as ever.” He stepped out of the truck with a big smile on his face. “Sorry I missed you the past couple of days.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “Caught me some sorta bug. I coughed and ran a fever. Didn’t wanna give it to ya.”