Friday, June 30, 2017

Author Spotlight Featuring Angela Sylvaine

Today I'm so happy to feature Angela Sylvaine. I've known Angie for a long time, 
in fact, I used to work with her.  
And I was lucky enough to read some of her early work and was blown away.  

Thanks for having me as a guest, L.A.! I love all things spooky and was inspired to write The Bride when I learned of a haunted wedding dress on display at the Baker Mansion in Pennsylvania. Legend has it that the owner’s daughter fell in love with a man beneath her class and was forbidden to marry. She later died having never married and is said to haunt the wedding dress she didn’t have the chance to wear. 

My story is about what happens when the dress falls into the hands of Rose, a young bride-to-be preparing to marry her true love. If you enjoy a good old-fashioned ghost story, this one is for you, unless you’re a bride-to-be. You might want to wait until after the nuptials to dive into this one;)

Supernatural Horror Short Stories- This latest title crawls with the dark fingers of terror, the chilling sensation of another presence sitting alongside you while you read the tales of horror laid out before you. Contains a fabulous mix of classic and brand new writing, with authors from the US, Canada, and the UK.

Excerpt from The Bride:
I close my eyes and imagine myself as a bride, my auburn hair piled on my head, curls spilling down my neck and tumbling over my shoulders. The Victorian style gown of delicate golden lace and fine beading shimmers under the lights. The boned corset nips in at the waist, giving way to a full skirt that bursts over my hips and flows to the floor.
The vision fades and I sag against the wall, gasping for breath. The sweet taste of cake and pleasant sting of champagne bubbles lingers on my tongue.
“Rose, you’re losing it,” I say to no one in particular. I’ve finally cracked. My pre-wedding jitters are morphing into full blown psychosis.  
I lift the dress from its hook to check under each arm and inside the neckline for a price tag. My wallet holds fifty bucks cash and my bank account a measly two hundred, even with all the extra shifts I’ve been picking up at the restaurant. I clutch the dress to my chest and rush toward the front of the store.
A stick of an old man in a flannel shirt, unnecessary suspenders attached to his polyester pants, sits behind the counter. He runs a finger down the page of a ledger book, a pair of spectacles perched on his nose.
“Hello, sir? This doesn’t have a price tag.” I cringe at the frantic wobble in my voice.
He grunts and reaches toward me. I release my hold on the gown, letting him pull it across the counter. His hand shakes with tremors as he sweeps the dress for a tag.
“I already checked.” I rub my damp hands down the front of my jeans.
“Where’d ya get it?” he asks.
“Sorry?” Has the old guy gone senile and forgotten this is a store?
He glares at me over his glasses with eyes milky from cataracts. “Which stall?”
“Oh, right.” I point toward the back of the store. “The one with the dolls.”
“Widow Montgomery never was able to have kids of her own.” He tugs the ledger out from under the dress to flip through the pages. The binding of the book creaks with each movement and the musty smell of old paper tickles my nose. “Collected those damn dolls until they took her off to the home.”
I reach out, ready to yank the book from his hands and find the darn page myself, but stop myself. What in world has come over me? I paste on a smile.
He stops flipping and runs his finger down the page. “Nothin’ here.” His lips pull down at the corners, taking the rest of his face with them.
“Maybe it got moved from another stall.” I stand on my toes, craning my neck to see the ledger. “Could you please look in the other ones, sir?”
             “I don’t remember no dress, and I know this place inside and out.” He slams the book closed, releasing a puff of dust into the air.


Angela Sylvaine still believes in monsters, both real and imagined, and always checks under the bed. She holds degrees in psychology and philosophy. Her work has appeared in Every Day Fiction and Supernatural Horror Short Stories (Gothic Fantasy Series), and will be published upcoming in Disturbed Digest and My American Nightmare. North Dakotan by birth and Coloradoan by choice, she lives with her husband and three creepy cats on the front range of the Rockies. 

Find Angela:

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