Stevie-girl and the Phantom Pilot excerpt

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The Phantom Pilot has been renamed Stevie-girl and the Phantom Pilot. Book one in The Phantom Series. http://tinyurl.com/crr5kry #goodreads

To see the Book Trailer go here:http://youtu.be/zSoqxHOY-Hw

  It was the late 60s. The Beatles had washed across America like a British tsunami, Vietnam was a grainy, green and black dose of unreality on the evening news, a bunch of hippies had taken over San Francisco, and there was a heck of a rainstorm pouring down on Woodstock. But I didn’t know all that then.

I was a little bit lost, looking for something. I swear I didn’t go looking for a ghost…well, okay, maybe I did. But I didn’t expect to find one. Heck, I was just a kid. I didn’t expect much of anything.

Chapter One

  I was twelve years old, standing knock-kneed in pigtails and ripped denim in front of a haunted house, trying to dig up enough courage to go inside. But I was terrified. I’d read the books and I’d seen the movies on Shock Theater. No matter what, you don’t go inside the spooky old house. No matter who dares you, no matter what lures you. You do not go in.

Hand trembling, I opened the door.

The warped wood screeched when I pushed it. I expected that. But I didn’t expect the dusty floorboards to moan with my every step. I tried not to think about it. I was in. I’d lived around the corner from this house all my life and today I’d finally garnered enough willpower to walk inside.

The light was dim, murky with dust motes and cobwebs. The curtains were little more than yellowed rags hanging in tatters. The windows themselves were so filthy the light coming through was leached of its goodness by layers of grime.

I’d been in the grocery store buying a loaf of bread for supper. The store was only a block from our house. They knew me there almost as well as they knew my Gramps. On my way to the check out, I saw old Mr. Pearcy in the frozen food section, reading labels. Probably trying to figure out which one might taste the most like his wife’s cooking. It had been only a couple of weeks since I’d seen Mrs. Pearcy’s obituary in the newspaper.

I read the newspaper almost every morning over breakfast. I loved reading of any kind. As a joke, Gramps once wrapped my new cereal box in duct tape so I couldn’t read it at the kitchen table. I could tell you the nutrition information for almost every kid’s cereal known to mankind. Reading’s just my thing. It always has been.

“Get the smothered steak,” I whispered as I walked by Mr. Pearcy. “It’s yummy.” I hurried on and got in line to pay for my bread.

“Thanks, Stevie-girl,” I heard him reply.

When I glanced back over my shoulder, I saw that he’d stuck his head back inside the stand-up freezer. The open door facing me had fogged over, but I could make out his silhouette. As I watched, he backed out and held the flat rectangular box in front of his face so that I could see it. He’d replaced the turkey and dressing with the steak. I raised my hand to give him a thumbs-up as he lowered the box into his shopping basket.

All the breath suddenly drained from my body. Mr. Pearcy was gone. On top of his plaid shoulders sat an oozing skull. Wisps of thin gray hair clung to the patchy flesh.

I closed my eyes and sucked in air. When I looked again, it was just Mr. Pearcy standing there with his hand raised, looking at me as if I’d slipped a cog.

“You okay, honey?” The voice came from the woman next to me in line. “You look awfully pale.” She laid her hand on my shoulder as if to steady me. It was obvious she hadn’t seen anything unusual except for me pale and shaking.

“I—I’m okay,” I replied. “Dizzy for a second.” I smiled my best white-liar’s smile. “Just got over an inner ear infection.”

She nodded the sympathetic nod of a grandmother.

I paid and hurried toward home keeping a sharp eye out for Mr. Pearcy, but I didn’t see him again. Must’ve been my imagination. Or a trick of the light. Maybe it was just a reflection off the frosty door.

Now, looking at the steep, dark staircase in front of me, I inhaled slowly, feeling my lungs expand all the way down, moving my diaphragm just like Mr. Morrow, the music teacher, said we should. The image of Mr. Pearcy’s raggedy skull kept trying to creep into my mind, but I wouldn’t let it.

“Lalalalala,” I sang under my breath. Singing always calmed me down and made me feel better. Besides, I knew I hadn’t really seen anything. Stopping here on the way home had been in the back of my mind ever since Gramps had asked me to run down to the store. Just the idea of going in the haunted house was probably the reason I’d seen that awful thing. Over-active imagination, that’s what Gramps always said.

I started forward again. The house was deserted. No one had lived here for ages, and that made it spooky, as if it were holding in a breath, waiting for something. But what if someone else was here? Someone, or something, living upstairs where no one could see? A bum, or a bandit hiding out from the law? I knew it was possible because my Gramps was a semi-retired cop. He said the worst monsters were not under the bed or in the bedroom closet. Instead, they walked among us. I believed him. Gramps was all I had left. I had to believe him. Guess that’s why I didn’t really put much stock in things like ghosts. I was too smart for that, too worldly. But man, was it spooky!

Introducing The Phantom Student!

The Phantom Pilot http://tinyurl.com/6uk5cp2 is the prequel to THE PHANTOM STUDENT which will be released Tuesday, October 16th.  Great Halloween read. It is also getting ★★★★★ in the early reviews.  I've added another preview of the book, just scroll down to read even more! The latest review of The Phantom Pilot says: What a brilliant story.  I loved it and so did my daughter!  Five Stars! 

October!  Yay!
The Phantom Student, part two of The Phantom Series, will be published on October 16th by Cool Well Press.  And as a surprise, they are including Book One, The Phantom Pilot, in the same volume.  Previously, The Phantom Pilot was only available as a digital book because it was novella length rather than novel length.  So now you can own both books in one volume, for one price!  I will post the purchase links as soon as they are available (it will be available through Cool Well Press, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble).  But for now, I will settle for teasing you with a new snippet each week.  Here is the introduction to

Book One, The Phantom Pilot:

What would you do if a phantom needed your help?  Would you run screaming into the night, or would you enlist the aid of your best friend and wade right into the ghostly fray?  Find out what happens when you read THE PHANTOM PILOT.

Synopsis

When a plane crashes behind Jason Lee’s house in 1969, he finds himself being haunted by the ghost of the pilot.  Unable to communicate with the phantom, Jase asks his classmate, Stevie, for help.  Jase thinks Stevie-girl is brave because he saw her entering the local “haunted” house alone.  Together, they discover a way to “talk” to the pilot, and they learn that his fiancée is the one whose spirit is trapped in the haunted house.  Now they must find a way to free her from the malevolent shadow-man who is holding her captive so that she and the phantom pilot can cross over to the other side, together.

Reviews:

I just finished reading THE PHANTOM PILOT and it was such a great book! It's a fast read and beautifully written. The characters are interesting and compelling and in Ann Swann's heroine, "Stevie," we meet a dynamic character who reminded me of a young Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games (sans the emotional instability and psychosis!). 

The book zips along and is exciting and scary at times and has a really great ending. I recommend this for all ages. Really looking forward to reading more of Ann's work!

“Ann Swann took me back in time! The characters were so easy to identify with. As a retired Jr High reading teacher, I would have loved using The Phantom Pilot as a class novel. So many teaching and learning activities could be used with this novel. I loved it and cannot wait for the sequel.” 

I loved this book. My son read it first and told me it was REALLY good! So I bought it for the Kindle App on my phone. From page one it was so hard to put down. It was very well written and the story line left me wanting more! I was so sad when I finished the book. I can't wait to read more books by Ann Swann!

Now, here is the introduction to the second book in the series, The Phantom Student (remember, both books are in this volume):

Evil never skips a generation. . . 

When Stevie and Jase befriend Derol Pavey, a new student with Tourette Syndrome, strange things start to happen.  The phantom of a little girl begins haunting Stevie.  But the little phantom never sticks around for long.  She seems to be showing Stevie something, but by the time Stevie and Jase figure out what she is trying to show them, it is almost too late.  They are forced to follow the little girl to school--the abandoned Crossroads Elementary School--where they discover that the phantom student has been trying to protect Derol who is being tormented for being different.  What goes around, comes around, and on a dark and desperate Halloween night, Jase and Stevie learn just how deadly bullying can be.

Prologue

To us, 1970 was a time of beginnings, but to the country, it was a time of endings. National guardsmen ended the lives of four students at Kent State College.  A hundred thousand marched on Washington to end the war in Vietnam, and in England, Paul McCartney announced the end of The Beatles.  It was also the year Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin both ended their lives through drug overdoses.  It felt as if the whole world was in turmoil.

            Our homeroom teacher said not to let the weight of the world stop us from being open to new experiences.  In fact she said it was more important than ever that we should be open-minded.  I wondered if she’d gone radical on us.  For a moment I thought she might pick up a sign and start chanting.

            Come to find out, she was simply prepping us for a new addition to our eighth grade class at Crossroads Junior High.  His name was Derol Pavey and he had something called Tourette Syndrome. 

Chapter One

            “What’s up?”  Jase’s voice was low, but then he was never very loud.  Guess that’s why we got along so well.

            I smiled up at him.  “Not much.”  I shifted my books from the crook of one arm to the crook of the other.  “What’s up with you?”

            Jase grimaced.  I could tell he wanted to say something. 

            I elbowed him in the ribs as we made our way across homeroom to our desks in the back corner.  “Why are you making that face?  What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing really,” he replied, his usually clear green eyes clouded and mysterious.  “It’s just that, well.  Have you heard about Janis Joplin?”

            That got my attention.  I loved Janis Joplin.  Jase had accidentally caught me wailing away to one of her records one afternoon when I was supposed to meet him in front of my house.  When I wasn’t outside, he just opened the screen door and came on inside.  He said he could hear my yowling as soon as his feet cleared the threshold.  After that, I always locked the front door before singing my Janis tunes.

            “What about her?”  I asked, a pang of unease settling in my stomach like the cherry pit I’d accidentally swallowed when I was about five.  Jimi Hendrix, who had electrified Woodstock only thirteen months earlier, had overdosed on a combination of drugs and alcohol just a couple of weeks ago.  And everyone knew Janis was every bit as wild as Jimi.  Maybe even wilder.

            Jase looked up as several other students entered the classroom.  “They found her in a motel room yesterday.  She overdosed, too.  Just like Hendrix.”

            I looked at the psychedelic pink and purple swirls decorating my notebook.  Snippets of my favorite Janis song, Piece of My Heart, swirled through my head in patterns very similar to the ones decorating my notebook.

              “Oh.”  My voice was small.  I couldn’t seem to say anything else.  Janis was a big star.  She wasn’t a friend or an acquaintance, but she was young and famous.  She shouldn’t have died.  She and Hendrix were both only twenty-seven years old.  I hated when people just up and died without warning.  It happened all the time in my little corner of the world.  I guess I thought famous people should be immune to death or something.  Irrational tears started in the corners of my eyes and began a lazy trek toward my chin.

            Jase reached across the aisle between our desks.  His hand was large and firm when he grasped my shoulder.  I’d taken hold of that hand on more than one occasion when he had to help me across a ditch or even the time I had to help him up after he fell down the stairs in the old haunted Taylor mansion.  But this show of concern right in front of everyone in the class, this was something altogether different.

            I shrugged my shoulder so he would take his hand away.

            He didn’t get mad or upset.  Jase didn’t get mad.  He understood me pretty well.  He knew I didn’t like to be the center of attention.  I smiled at him to let him know I appreciated the gesture of friendship, but I felt silly sitting there crying over someone who had caused her own demise by doing things that were illegal and stupid.

            Somehow, I’d identified with Janis, that’s why I’d admired her.  She succeeded even though she was different—maybe because she was different.  It was as if she had taken her outcast image and made it larger than life.  I could never do that, even if I did feel the same way.  But I could relate to her, and I could admire her for it, and now she was gone, so I guess now I could grieve for her, too.

            I might have sat there wallowing in grief for the whole twenty-minute class period except that Derol Pavey chose that moment to make his entrance.

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Continued from last time ...

When he stepped through the door and stood hesitantly in front of the class waiting for Mrs. Flint to acknowledge him, the excitement in the room was as thick as cream, but not nearly as sweet.  In fact, there was a sour feeling, as if every student had just run a dozen laps at P.E. and then skipped the showers.

            Mrs. Flint took a deep breath.  She’d tried to prepare us, but maybe that was part of the problem.  We could sense her uncertainty and it transferred to us as if by electrical current.  “Class,” she said.  “This is Derol Pavey.  He is the new student I told you about from The Philippines.” 

            Ahhh, so that explained it.   Not only did the kid suffer from something called Tourette Syndrome, he also suffered the dreaded curse of being from “somewhere else.”  His skin was a dusky bronze color and his night-black hair was shiny and razor-straight.

            He peered at us from eyes almost as black as his hair and then the oddest thing happened.  His left arm flew up and he barked like a hoarse dog.  Rarf.  Rarf.

            Mrs. Flint grabbed his arm as if to hold it in place, but that only made his other arm fly up.  His notebook hit the floor and popped open scattering loose-leaf paper everywhere.

            Susan Jansen and Juanita Silva were in their customary front row seats.  They immediately jumped up and began to gather the paper.  They attempted to stuff it back into the sprung clasps of the blue canvas-covered notebook, but Derol, still barking, suddenly began to pirouette like a stout canine ballerina.  Mrs. Flint was dragged around in a circle a time or two before she got wise and turned loose of his arm, but it was too late.  The class was in tatters, some giggled, others gasped in shock, and some of us simply sat in stunned and silent disbelief.

            Then as if summoned by magic, Mr. Terrance, the assistant principal, arrived and took hold of poor Derol and ushered him, still twirling and waving his arms, from the room.  We could hear them out in the hall, Derol barking and Mr. Terrance shushing. 

            Janis was forgotten.  Jimi was forgotten.  My sadness was forgotten.  Mrs. Flint flopped down heavily in her tri-wheeled teacher’s chair and mopped at her forehead with a crumpled Kleenex from her sweater pocket.

            “That didn’t go as planned,” she muttered.  Then she seemed to remember where she was so she leapt to her feet and clapped her hands together smartly.  “Class!” she said.  “Come to order.” She motioned toward Juanita and Sally who were still clutching handfuls of paper.  “Girls, bring me all that and let’s try and get back on track.”

            The two girls hurried to the front of the room and turned over their treasure.

            “Now,” the teacher continued.  “I must apologize.  I’m certain I could’ve handled that better.  Poor Derol.  I’m afraid I made things worse.  He really can’t help himself.  We must all remember that.”  She patted at her short, fluffy hair.  It was obvious to all of us that she had no idea how things had gotten so squirrely so quickly.

            “Going to be an interesting year,” Jase whispered with a wicked grin.

            I couldn’t help it, I laughed in spite of myself.

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That's all for now, folks.  More next time.  Don't forget, THE PHANTOM PILOT http://tinyurl.com/6uk5cp2 is free this weekend, Oct. 13-15.  And THE PHANTOM STUDENT comes out on Tuesday, the 16th!