Southern Gothic Horror – Our Fearful Roots
Co-writing a novel with Faith Marlow, despite having an ocean between us, was a thrilling and inspiring experience. The story is about a Seattle family moving to a small town in Alabama when the mother, Mary, inherits her aunt’s house. But the house and Mary share a terrible secret, and her family are in grave danger both from the neighbours and the strange roses that climb the walls of the house.
“RUN!” The breath that accompanied the voice in Mary’s ear felt colder than the recycled air blasting through the dashboard vent.
She was smothered by darkness, unbroken except for needle-points of blinking stars far above the towering treetops. Her nose burned with the acidic perfume of conifers while her ears caught the sharp sounds of pine needles snapping underfoot.
Adrenaline spurred her onward as she sprinted between ancient trunks, knowing that if she were caught, she too would die. Not a dream— she wasn’t asleep. Was it an exhaustion induced hallucination?
Mary was in the passenger seat of their minivan— her husband, Chuck, behind the wheel and her children in the backseat. She shivered uncontrollably while staring in disbelief at the superimposed woodland which obscured the road ahead. Her desert-dry eyes pulsed.
“What?” she asked out loud.
Chuck glanced at her briefly, his forehead furrowed by a frown before returning his concentration to the road ahead. “I didn’t say a word,” he snapped.
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