Some said the portrait, painted weeks before Grace’s death, had been a prophecy of the tragedy yet to come. Others swore up and down that the girl didn’t show up on the wall until after Grace died. Many attempts were made to locate the artist, but the person appeared to have vanished into thin air. Over the days that followed, the manor’s servants became convinced that Grace’s restless spirit remained in Louth Manor. They claimed she would emerge from the painting after dark and roam the halls. Then, late one night, Fredrick Louth was found dead in the rose room. The doctors said he’d suffered a heart attack trying to pry the plaster off the walls.
Blog Tour ~ The Mary Shelley Club by Goldy Moldavsky ~ Review (5 stars) + Giveaway
Grandma turns to her junior picture. The girls all wear black dresses with pearls. Grandma’s freckles pop out in the black-and-white picture. She’s adorable, but her hideously high hair finally makes me understand the term rat’s nest. It’s a less flattering style than I’ve seen on sixties-era TV shows, and looks especially bad on Grandma’s corkscrewed locks.
“What’s with the hair?” Ginnie asks. “Mallory, I won’t let you do that to yourself or the ozone.”
“It’s a bouffant,” Grandma says. “That was the style. My mother would do it for me every other day. I grew it out after high school, wore it really long and wild.”
First Chapter First Paragraph Thursday Intros ~ Perfect on Paper by Sophie Gonzales
Everyone in school knows about locker eighty-nine: the locker on the bottom right, at the end of the hall near the science labs. It’s been unassigned for years now; really, it should’ve been allocated to one of the hundreds of students in the school to load with books and papers and forgotten, mold-infested Tupperware.
Instead, there seems to be an unspoken agreement that locker eighty-nine serves a higher purpose. How else do you explain the fact that every year, when we all get our schedules and combinations, and lockers eighty-eight and ninety meet their new leasers, locker eighty-nine stands empty?
I used Random.org and it selected page 157.I nod, soaked to the bone and shivering now. I’ve had enough for one day. I just want to get out of these clothes and sink into a hot, bubbly bath. I don’t even wait for Ryder to leave with the dogs – I start stripping down to my underwear right then, and there and race down the hall to my parents’ room.
I’m still in the big Jacuzzi tub when the power flickers -once, twice- and then goes out, leaving me in total darkness, chin deep in lukewarm water. I don’t know why, but it all hits me then -Nan’s surgery tomorrow, shooting that mocassin, this stupid never-ending storm. I start to cry, deep, gulping sobs. I know it seems childish, but I want my daddy. What if things get worse? What if the house starts to flood? Or the roof blows off? As much as I hate to admit it, I’m scared. Really scared.