ValentineDavis21

Lane Hardy carefully brushed the dirt and cobwebs off Aunt Vanessa's old rocking chair and sat down with a steaming mug of hot cocoa in his hand. He looked at the slate grey sky, where storm clouds had gathered, and found himself thinking of those rainy days when he would sit with Charlie and drink hot cocoa. What would he think if he saw me here? What would he think if he knew I own a lighthouse now, that I'm rich? Or at least I will be. With an aching pain, Lane missed Charlie, just like

Moira stood up from the table and stretched. Her throat was starting to hurt from all the endless talking. Her eyes burned with exhaustion and her head throbbed from where she had hit it while running through the woods. Enzo sat at the table just as patient as ever, as if it was just another day at the department, but she could tell from the way Carlos kept glancing at his father he was ready to get back to the crime scene. Moira sat back down. It was up to her to finish the rest of the

Back at Ramona’s house later that night. "...Mom's making her roasted chicken you like so well." She was dressed in a pretty red dress and wore a white pearl necklace. Lipstick and eyeshadow colored her face. Makeup turned Ramona from beautiful to stunning but it also turned her into someone Moira didn't recognize. Moira didn't have the energy to hide her reluctance like she usually did. Setting her purse on top of the dresser, she sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of the bed. "R

She drained the last of her coffee. Enzo asked her if she would another cup. Moira politely declined. “No offense,” she said, “but the coffee here sucks. I don’t know how you guys drink this crap.” Carlos laughed, a surprise given how his day was going. “You can blame that on Melvin, the dispatcher. No matter how many times we tell him the ratio of coffee grounds to cups he never seems to get it. But you know, we drink it so we don’t hurt his feelings. So you saw the dead roadkill on the si

Moira felt something wet touch her hand. It was a tear. She was crying and didn’t even realize it. Her mind was too stuck in the past, remembering what happened. Carlos pushed a box of Kleenex across the table. She thanked him, pulled one out, wiped her face. When she looked at the Kleenex again it came back wet with tears and smudged with dirt. She fought the urge to wipe the rest of her face off, get off as much of the dirt as she could. She sniffled and wiped her nose. Enzo got up from

"So one more time, would you take it from the top, tell us what happened?" Sheriff Enzo asked. "I already told you what happened," she said, her voice low but strained. “And you said you went out to the house so I know you saw the state of it”. She was trying to remain calm but couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She wanted to tell them to hurry up. You're wasting time asking me pointless questions when you could be out there looking for her. But what good would shouting do? Instead she ke

After a battered and traumatized Moira Compton gives her testimony on what happened to Moira, Lane Hardy teams up with the police department to track down the creature that took her.

There are more parts. I have the 4th part done and just started the 5th one today. I will start posting part 4 some time next week or the week after.

The Treasure Trove again. With the press conference going on outside, the diner was mostly empty except for the staff. Lane still had a good view of the townspeople gathered on the lawn of the courthouse. It looks more like a witch hunt to me, Lane thought. “Still in town I see,” Annabelle said when she saw Lane. “How are you liking this lovely little paradise so far?” “It makes more and more of an impression every day,” said Lane, looking through the window. “Hey, Carlos, how’s it g

For as long as Carlos could remember, his father had lived in the house on Maggerly Hill. To get there you had to take Donovan Road to the western parts of the island, turning right on Maggerly Road. The road rose slightly before careening off. If it wasn’t for the big PRIVATE PROPERTY sign Carlos suspected no one would have known the house was there. Enzo had always been a man who valued his privacy and prying eyes were the last thing he wanted. Now Carlos found himself driving up Maggerly Road

While Deputy Carlos Santino had not been sleeping well for the past few nights, Lane slept like the dead. Ted had graciously shown him around the cottage, taking him up the stairs to the second bedroom. Lane was able to put a load of laundry in the washer - he'd long since run out of clean clothes - and take a shower. He'd forgotten what it was like to be able to do these normal things. He wanted to give Ted a tearful hug; fortunately his pride and a healthy dose of trust issues kept him

For Carlos it was slightly odd and simultaneously endearing to see Ramona and Moira together; they were so different from each other, and yet it was those differences that made their relationship work. Ramona, Carlos knew, had grown up on a farm which her father, a man just as difficult to love and understand as Enzo, owned. She was the embodiment of the tough-as-nails, take no bullshit small town girl. She had never left Adermoor Cove and unless a miracle from God were to happen, she prob

The man who had bailed Lane out of jail looked close to retirement age with a round cheerful face, a handlebar moustache, and watery brown eyes. Lane had been in his cell, asleep, or at least trying to. It was impossible to do with all the noise and activity happening around him: phones ringing, voices talking and laughing, keyboards tapping away. This is what it must be like to be an animal at the zoo, he'd thought. And it was impossible not to imagine what his fate might be. No matter if

Carlos sat at his desk, watching the suspect. Ramona had left a half an hour ago after typing up a report; Carlos had elected to stay here so she could go home and be with Moira. “Thanks,” she’d said, obviously grateful. “I owe you one,”. Now the station was quiet. The only other person in the station was Melvin the dispatcher. The longer Carlos watched Lane the more perplexed he became. Lane was sitting on the edge of the bed now, looking at the walls. To Carlos he looked like a smal

Ever since he'd returned to Adermoor Cove, Carlos Santino hadn't been able to sleep. Hardly a wink. One second he was hot and then cold the next, and he couldn’t keep his eyes shut even when they were heavy. When he actually did sleep he'd wake up thinking there was someone in the house. It was a problem that had only existed in Adermoor Cove; as a kid, up until he went to Boston for law school and to become a cop, sleep hadn't been a problem. In fact he slept like the dead, without the h

After living in Boston for over the past fifteen years, Carlos Santino has returned to Adermoor Cove, working as a deputy underneath his father, the sheriff. After a month of being back he begins to have horrific nightmares/flashback of a traumatizing experience he's long since forgotten. Upon being called onto the scene of Vanessa Stanton's death, he encounters the enigmatic Lane Hardy, who has been suspected for Vanessa's murder. As the disorientation grows Carlos finds himself delving into a nightmare-mystery of secrets and suppressed memories.

The hour draws nigh to post the first chapter for the third part of Adermoor Cove. While Lane Hardy is still the main protagonist and focus of the story, this episode focuses on a secondary protagonist, as will the first half of the fourth one (the one I'm currently working on). These characters each have had their own strange experiences that causes them to question the life-is-perfect appearance of the island, and ultimately being drawn into the conflict. This episode focuses on Carlos Santino, a man who has returned from his hometown, Adermoor Cove, after spending a little over the last fifteen years living in the city of Boston. For most of those years he has worked as a homicide detective. He now works alongside his father, the sheriff, Enzo Santino. Upon returning he starts have dreams/flashback of a traumatizing event that occurred when he was a child. These dreams keep him from getting sleep, therefore making it more difficult for him to do his job and hold onto his convictions about the strange events happening on the island. This episode (and the next) are very personal for me. For the past week or so I'm lucky to be getting 2-3 hours worth of sleep. The last two nights I've had, what I'm pretty sure are sleep paralysis episodes. The first one happened Friday morning (I've been getting to sleep 4 and 7 a.m.) For those who don't know, according to Wikipedia: Sleep paralysis is when, during waking up or falling asleep, a person is aware but unable to move or speak. During an episode, one may hallucinate (hear, feel, or see things that are not there), which often results in fear. In my cases, and I've accounted for about three, I've thought there was someone in my apartment. I could literally feel them staring at me. This last Thursday (the 19th of July) I heard someone screaming - or laughing - outside my apartment door and then it sounded like it was in the apartment, coming towards the bedroom. I couldn't move a muscle. I just laid there paralyzed and helpless. I didn't sleep for the rest of my life. And then sometime this last morning (I'm getting my days and nights mixed up) I recall having a dream where I dropped something made of glass and saw a bright flash of light, and then jerked awake, just like when you jerk awake after dreaming you've fallen. While none of the characters have separated from sleep paralysis so far I do know how sleep deprivation can affect our moods and perception of reality. In a place like Adermoor Cove that can be a very, very bad thing.

Yes, it's finished for the most part, I just need to finish editing. I'll start posting chapters on the 21st.

Lane sat up in the chair. He’d dreamed of his father again, only this time his father wasn’t trying to kill him, his mother had killed his father and he’d helped his mother to do it. Help me, Lane, she’d grunted, I can’t do it by myself - he’s too heavy. And at the age of twelve he helped Nora throw his father down the stairs, and together they watched him tumble down the flight of stairs like a multi-limbed boulder. Lane had never had this dream before. Mom, what did you do to m

The front door was open. Lane stared at it from the armchair and wondered what it was doing open. He’d fallen asleep in the armchair with a blanket spread across his lap, but it didn’t stop the chilly morning air from seeping into his bones. “Charlie?” he said. Only eerie silence answered. Charlie hadn’t answered because Charlie wasn’t in the house. He stood up, bones feeling stiff. He was afraid. The front door shouldn’t have been open, but for some reason it was. Had Nora retur

Lane found himself in a bar called The Netted Eel. It had a deck which overlooked the docks. From the bar he could look out the window and stare at the water. It was a dark blue color. He could see himself falling in the water and trying to break the surface only to feel slimy dark tentacles pull him under. That’s what he felt like, a drowning man. A group of middle-aged men stood on a small stage, singing what might have been a Nirvana song. There were a few people inside, sitting next to t

I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm having fun writing it. The fact you want to binge read it I take as a compliment.

A cheerful honk sounded from the driveway. Lane’s heart immediately kicked into high gear. She’s here! He pulled the water stopper out of the sink and wiped the soap from the backs of his arms with a paper towel. For the past four hours he’d run around like a chicken with his head cut off, trying to make everything perfect for when Nora Hardy got here. Each passing minute, the second her arrival grew closer, the more he grew more excited and secretly dreaded the moment. When did this fear

Nurse Audrey gave Lane no time to grab hold of his surroundings. She led him straight up the staircase, a beckoning smile on her lips. An eye catching crystal chandelier hovered above their heads; as they ascended the stairs Lane grabbed glimpses of the framed pictures lining the walls. The photographs, formally taken judging from the way everyone stood shoulder to shoulder, followed a vague timeline, going from black-and-white to color. They reached the landing and came to a long h

Yo, where are all my readers at? I've started part 2 of Adermoor Cove. Needing some love and attention!😝