DUNSTABLE PARK HOUSE
Book one in the English Time Travel Series
I am working on my next British Historical that will be a three book time travel series--a sort of Downton Abbey with supernatural twists! I thought you might like to read a bit of what is to come...
As Brenna walked further down, well beyond
her travel companions, she rounded the corner to the middle section of the York
Minster. She stepped up into a semi-circle shaped alcove that overlooked the
rear of the English church. Right in her line of vision, was a small, wooden
door.
With a glance over her shoulder, she gave
the aged door a gentle tug. Poking her head in, and peering up to the left, the
smell of dank, musty drafts filled her senses.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she
saw a set of narrow, wooden stairs. Dust and glistening particles hung in the
air, illuminated by a shaft of light coming down from the top where there was
an opening.
As Brenna continued to gape at the
stairway, it was as if, for a brief second, she could hear the tread of shoes
and the rustle of skirts climbing up the wooden corridor. She had the sense of
touching time, if one could do such a thing.
She glanced behind her find only a few
tourists taking pictures in the distance, none of whom were paying any
attention to her. Adjusting her purse further up her shoulder, she licked her
lower lip. A compelling longing to climb the stairs overcame her normal reserve
and fear of doing the wrong thing. She pressed forward. The door closed behind
her with a thud. The passage was a tight fit, but she could just make it
through. The smell of countless days gone by seemed engraved into the space. If only these walls could talk…
Each wooden step creaked and protested her
unfamiliar weight as glistening particles swirled around her. She ran her hands
along the roughhewn sides—the same walls where people from centuries ago had
touched. The enclosed area made her heart race as the sound of her careful
tread echoed around her. An excruciating sense of destiny beckoned her forward.
What was at the top of these stairs?
She wiped the moisture from her forehead. Further
and further she continued on. Something important waited for her, some
discovery. Curiosity propelled her up the cramped steps...to what? A secret
passage way? A hidden room? She cast a look behind her and the stairs behind
her disappeared into the darkness. She swallowed. Was this a good idea?
Once she reached the top, she stepped out
onto a choir loft that overlooked the back of the church. Brushing off some of
the dust and smudges from her jeans and dark grey sweatshirt, she grinned at
her fertile imagination. Those stairs were simply how one got to the choir
loft.
For a moment, she imagined herself singing in
the church. But as she looked over the rear of the Minister, her breath caught
in her chest. The area she had just been in was empty. Everyone had vanished, except
for one cleaning woman, sweeping the floor between rows of wooden pews. The
scrape of a straw broom was all that could be heard. Where had all the tourists
gone?
She craned her neck, leaning over the
balcony to get a better view of the front of the church, trying to see her
sister, Jacob, or any of the tour group. The place was vacant and deathly quiet
except for a few people dressed in some sort of Victorian costume just coming
down the walkway.
Where they getting ready to put on a play?
