Friday, February 05, 2016

Supernatural Friday: “eBay Purchase” by Pamela K. Kinney

Enjoy my original short story. Share the link with friends and not the story itself, as it is copyrighted by me. Thank you. 

“eBay Purchase”


Pamela K. Kinney

         Judy Linnea watched as her husband set down the jack-o-lantern on the front porch. He stood up and stretched, then sauntered back inside the house. Peter took his dark hooded sweatshirt out of the hall closet and slipped it on. He turned to her. She saw nothing on his face but a blank page, a few wrinkles and a graying five-o’clock shadow the only thing written on it.
“Heading out again, Peter?” she asked sarcastically. “You never stay home with me anymore.”
A strange little grin flitted across his lips. For a minute a chill raced up her spine, but she shook it off. No way would the man hurt her.
“What’s the matter, Judy? Do you think I seeing another woman or something?”
She snorted. “You? Magic would be a more real possibility, then your lazy butt cheating on me!”
The strange smile grew wider, as if only he got the joke. Not even pausing to give her a kiss on the cheek, he stepped past her and went outside. The door slammed shut with a loud bang.
Judy stared at the door, shocked. Least he’s always gave me a kiss before. What’s the matter with him these days?
Actually, he’d been acting strange ever since he had brought home that pumpkin the day before Halloween a week ago, carved a face on it and set it out on the porch on Halloween, all lit up. Funny thing, he removed it the day after, and didn’t throw it in the trash as usual, but took it indoors. Until today when he put it back out. Very strange behavior, even for him.
Well, whatever’s up his butt would have to be puzzled out later.  She had cookies to bake. Just before she could head to the kitchen a woman’s giggle came to her ears. The sound came from outside, just outside the front door, if she thought about it. Frowning, Judy opened the door and stared through the screen door.
Empty. Only the porch furniture and the damned pumpkin. Judy was about to shut the door when someone giggled again. 
“What the . . .”
Puzzled, she realized the sound came from the top of the porch steps. Except no one stood there, only the pumpkin. Judy shoved the screen door open and stepped out. 
She stood next to the jack-o-lantern, staring down at its face that Peter had carved into it. Eyes like mirthful crescents, the nose, an upside down triangle, and the mouth was a slash so malignant that for a moment she shivered and took a step back.
Another giggle filled the air. In dawning horror, she realized that it came from the jack-o-lantern. Something slithered up one side, long and black-green.
“Oh God, a snake!” Where was freaking Peter when she needed him? She hated snakes.
Judy tripped over her feet and landed on her butt. Her face was close to the slithering thing that curled around the orange flesh of the jack-o-lantern. She noticed that the ‘snake’ had tiny red horns that rose from the top of its head and as its yellow eyes stared into hers, a tiny red flame issued from its opened maw.
She screamed, trying to scramble to her feet and failing. The creature hissed, more flames filling the air along with the sound—the thud-thud of something pounding from inside the pumpkin.
The jack-o-lantern split apart, and pieces fell onto the top porch step in front of it. A miniscule body, dressed in a tattered crop top, denim shorts and green sandals staggered out, a tiny sledgehammer gripped in her minute hands. I was a woman with orange eyes and blonde hair, all in a Barbie doll face. She gazed up at Judy.
“What the hell are you?” asked Judy, unable to move a muscle. Had this creature hypnotized her?
The woman gave a nasty smile.
“I’m Peter’s new wife.”
“Excuse me?”
“Peter realized that your software program that came with the package of tomato seeds he had bought last spring was defective. But the seller on eBay who sold him this pumpkin said to carve it and insert the new software program, then right-click, and I would come alive. I’m to replace you.” 
“Come on, we have to hurry, as Peter is expecting a dinner of steak and mashed potatoes with home baked pumpkin pie tonight when he gets home. I need to get to the store.” 
Judy’s vision wavered and she tried to stand, but found that her legs wobbled like rubber. Her vision dimmed but she saw another odd thing about the jack-o-lantern that she hadn’t noticed before. A long, white line attached to a two-button computer mouse snaked from behind the jack-o-lantern.
That’s when she fell into a long dark corridor of nothingness.
Judy regained consciousness and found herself lying on something red. In fact, everything looked red from top to bottom and side to side. The whole room seemed circular and empty of furniture. She stood, her legs still shaky.
To her horror, she saw a giant, feminine face with pumpkin orange eyes staring at her through a large, gaping hole in the red wall in front of her. 
“Oh God, where am I?” asked Judy.
“Why, in the jack-o-lantern, of course!” said the face in a booming voice.
The face vanished when Judy heard the thunderous footsteps of some giant. 
“Peter! It worked!” The female voice.
“It did?” Peter’s voice hit the air like a sonic boom.
The next moment his dove-gray eyes peering through the hole at her. 
“Comfy?” he said. “Good.”
She ran to the hole and poked her head out to look up at him towering over her like a skyscraper. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer, but he leaned over to pick up the mouse she had seen earlier, only now it was way bigger. “I have to save you into the program.”
He right-clicked the mouse and all went blank for Judy.
Peter took the CD and shoved it into a drawer full of other CDs, each with a woman’s name on it. He turned to his new wife. 
“The program better work right this time, or I’ll not be buying any more programmable wife software off eBay. Understand?”

His new wife flashed him a nervous smile and patted her hair with a shaking hand before she leaned over to give him a kiss. 

Sunday, January 31, 2016

Interview I Did With Paranormal Underground Now on Podcast

If you did not listen to my interview with Paranormal Underground live January 21st, the podcast for it is now available HERE. They mentioned it will also be on iTunes soon, if not already available there.

Friday, January 29, 2016

Supernatural Friday: Women Writers of Horror

Why would women write about monsters or ghosts? I am sure there are readers who say stick to writing romance or fantasy. But women have just as much right to write the scary stuff and about monsters as does their male counterparts. After all, in the long run, it is all about the story. 

At, an article mentioned how women writers “often found the supernatural a way to challenge and condemn their role in society.” It seems male writers have dominated supernatural fiction, those like M R James, Edgar Allan Poe, HP Lovecraft, Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Oliver Onions and others.  But female writers have been on the horror scene in the past, too. Shirley Jackson, for instance. She wrote, The Haunting of Hill House, the only story to this day that scared me in the daytime, in a room full of people. Others had to do it at night, with me in a room alone. Susan Hill who wrote Woman in Black, is another. A classic ghost story from 1892, is Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper. Her nameless narrator, suffering from post-natal depression, is confined to bed rest under the care of her doctor husband and begins to lose her mind.  Confined to an old nursery with ghastly wallpaper, she sees strangled heads and unblinking “bulbous eyes” in its pattern. Eventually, a skulking female figure appears, seemingly trapped behind the bars of its design. Is it the narrator’s own hidden self? When her husband enters to find her tearing down the wallpaper, she tells him “I’ve got out at last. And I’ve pulled off most of the paper so you can’t put me back!”

Do women authors use ghost stories to exorcise their resentments over societal restrictions? After all, it can be said that the ghost is the ultimate outsider – an absent presence, all-seeing and yet unable to partake of life in any meaningful way. Do we have insight differently from male writers? Can what a woman writes be more downright frightening than what a man writes? Is the way we pen the words on paper or type onscreen haunt the person as they read? Maybe we even make the monster sympathetic. Still horrifying, but a monster the reader just care about. Or not.

With February coming around and Women in Horror a theme for the month, this may be the time for readers to discover female horror authors. There are those I am sure readers already know about; Anne Rice, Sarah Pinborough, Laurell K. Hamilton and Caitlin R. Kiernan.  Others are Tanith Lee, Elizabeth Massie, Lisa Morton, Yvonne Navarro, Carrie Ryan, Cherie Priest, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, and much, much more. A good place to check for women horror writers is at Horror Writers Association. Try someone new today. 

So instead of picking up that Stephen King or other male horror authors, try several feminine writers instead. We just might bring "SCARE" to a whole new level.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Paranormal Petersburg and Stories in Top Ten of Preditors and Editors Readers Poll 2015!

Final tallies of winners for the Preditors and Editors Readers Poll 2015 are up, and my nonfiction ghost book and two short stories made the top ten of their categories! 

Paranormal Petersburg, Virginia, and the Tri-Cities Area made #3 in the Nonfiction books category.  

My short horror story, "Silence," that appeared in the Nightmares and Echoes II: The Return anthology made #10 in Short Horror Story category.  Nightmares and Echoes II: The Return itself made #10 in Top Ten for Anthologies category.

The erotic horror short story, "Pick Up Date," I wrote under the pseudonym, Sapphire Phelan, and that appeared in the anthologyShivers and Lace,  made #6 in All Other Stories category. 

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Supernatural Friday: Snow Angel (Original Story)

Since a nasty snowstorm is suppose to hit my area, I thought to post again my short fantasy story, "Snow Angel." 

You never know what a snowstorm may bring with it.

(This story is copyrighted, so just share the link if you want others to read it.)

Snow Angel
          Pamela K. Kinney

I remember that winter night when I saw the snow angel. It had just started to snow after supper, about six o’clock. Thanks to the weather, when the sky would have been just turning dusk, instead darkness covered the scene like a shadow.
Pressing my face against the ice-cold glass of the large picture window in the living room, I watched the snow falling in the dark. It was illuminated by an eerie kind of ghost-light. At least that’s how I thought of it.
Silence. The only movement came from a lone cat struggling through the drifts to disappear down a storm drain across the street. 
I sensed rather than heard someone behind me. I blew out my breath, fogging the glass.
“Mom, it’s time for bed.”
My daughter, Marie. Of course, who else would it be, since I lived with her and her husband, Andy?
I looked over my shoulder at her. “This feels like a reversal of when you wanted to stay up later. Remember those days?”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom, but the doctor gave me strict instructions that you get enough rest.”
Grumbling, I moved away and headed down the hallway to my bedroom, Marie close on my heels. Not caring, I shrugged off my clothes and flung them to the floor. Marie flashed frustration on her face, but stooped and picked up the clothing, tossing it in a hamper nearby, snatching my nightgown and slipping it on. I ducked beneath the soft pink blanket on my bed. My daughter leaned over to give me a kiss on my cheek. Feather-soft, her lips tickled my skin.  
“’Night,” she said, her voice a whisper, “and dream of snow angels dancing in the snow.”
“That’s silly,” I said. “I only told you that story when you were a kid to get you to sleep during the night. It was my way of getting you to not worry about monsters in closets or under your bed.”
“There are all kinds of angels in Heaven, Mom. The snow angel is God’s own special answer to make sure that snow falls just right so that children will have a wonderful winter world to marvel at.” She stroked my hair. “Least that’s how you explained it to me. Now go to sleep.” 
She left me alone. I didn’t feel somnolent.  Instead I never felt so wide awake.
I slipped out of bed and sat on the window seat by my bedroom window. I peered through the glass and tried not to smog it up with my breath, hoping the snowflakes were still lit up with that odd glow. Thank goodness, they still were.
Just then, I noticed a dark shadow moving in the distance, outlined by the glow, too. Flickering off and on like a shorted bulb, it appeared to be gliding closer and closer to the house. I rubbed my eyes, thinking they were playing tricks on me. But when I took my hands away, something peered back at me from the other side of the window, and it was not my own reflection! 
Heart pounding, I toppled off the window seat. Its head—at least I assumed that was its head—popped through the glass as if it were water and looked down at me. Twin orbs of icy-blue glowed from that dark visage. The glow grew brighter and brighter. Unable to move or speak, I fell into that glow and a sense of peace and warmth filled me. I stood. 
“Who are you?” I whispered.
Silence.  It slid its head back through the window. I got the feeling that it wanted me to join it outside. Not even stopping for a robe or shoes, I unlatched my window and shoved it and the screen up. Frigid air invited itself in and I shivered, but I still climbed out. I dropped down into a soft drift of snow piled beneath my window. To my surprise, I didn’t feel the cold snow squished between my toes and the freezing wind of the blizzard biting into my exposed skin. A warmth filled me, and, feeling giddy, I danced through the snow, laughing. 
My visitor took my hands, and I stopped dancing and looked up at it. It loomed over me, the ghost-light revealing a long figure of ice and snow. Its wings, made not of feathers but icicles, chimed like church bells. The being was glorious and terrifying at the same time. I wasn’t frightened. 
“You’re a snow angel, aren’t you?” I asked breathlessly. “A real snow angel.”
It just pressed me against it. Together, arm in arm, we danced a waltz through the snowflakes. We seemed to be floating on air. Magical, like Christmas morning or that first kiss. 
There was nothing to fear, and, when the angel offered, I let it fly me up, up, through swirling snowflakes, high above the neighborhood.
At first I never gave a thought to my family. But when I heard the screaming and crying from far away, it drew me back. I peeked at the scene below. Morning had dawned and the snow stopped. Something small and indistinct dressed in a pink nightgown lay blanketed by snow right under my bedroom window. 
The window was still propped open. Marie dropped to her knees in the snow and snatched up that still form, screaming and crying. Andy stood over her, talking on his cell phone. 
Marie stared up at the sky. She acted like she couldn’t see me. But I saw her tear-stained face and the pain in her eyes. “Why, God, why?”
I wanted to go to her, but I felt a touch on my shoulder and I looked to see the snow angel hovering beside me. It held out a hand. I took it.
I looked back at Marie and said, “It’s all right, everything’s all right.”
Ready now
I nodded with a smile. We rose higher and higher and passed through a tear in the sky that appeared.  The tear closed behind us and I passed through shining gates, entering the snowy fields of Heaven.

My Live Interview Tonight on Paranormal Underground Radio

Tonight, I will be interviewed by Paranormal Underground, a paranormal radio show.

It begins 9:30 p.m. Eastern and ends at 10:40 p.m. For Pacific it will be 6:30 p.m., Mountain: 7:30 p.m. and Central: 8:30 p.m. You can listen live at

If you wish to do the forum chat, you must sign up to do that at the Paranormal Underground Radio's Mixlr page.

It will not just be about my latest ghost book, Paranormal Petersburg, Virginia, and the Tri-Cities Area, but also two of the Paranormal World Seekers DVDS, Return to Fort Magruder and Investigation at the Bistro in Petersburg.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Two Appearances This Week: Chesterfield Historical Society and Marscon

I am doing two author appearances/signings this week.

I am doing a talk about ghosts of the Tri-Cities area, selling and signing copies of my book, Paranormal Petersburg, Virginia, and the Tri-Cities Area and selling copies of The Bistro in Petersburg Paranormal World Seekers DVDs afterwords. It will be this Wednesday, January 13th, at the Colonial Heights Historical Society meeting from 7:00-9:00 p.m. The meeting will be held at the Colonial Heights Library, 1000 Yacht Basin Drive, Colonial Heights, Virginia 23834. For directions, you 

can call the library at 804-520-0384.

I will also be a guest at Marscon, a science fiction,fantasy and horror convention at the DoubleTree Williamsburg, 50 Kingsmill Road Williamsburg VA. 23185. It will be from January 15-17th.  For more information  and to see what panels and programming will be held: