Excerpt 1
Summer ventured out the side pedestrian door, her gaze drawn to the moving activity. Three men were unloading furniture from the truck, one clearly in charge. As their eyes met, Summer felt a sudden rush of nervousness. 

She approached her mailbox, and one of the men raised his hand in greeting. She fumbled with a piece of junk mail. “Moving in?” she called out. 

He walked to the end of the driveway. “Hi, I’m Erik, the designer.” Without waiting for her response, he quickly asked, “Have you ever met the owners?” 

How odd. “Um. No. Why? Haven’t you?” 

“I hoped you might know them. We worked through an attorney who never disclosed their names.” He shrugged. “No harm in asking.”

“I love the house. Is there any chance I could peek inside?” Sure, it was forward of her, but it might be the only way to satisfy her curiosity.

Erik nodded. “This is our last load of furniture, so why not? I love showing off my work.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m posting the project online. I would appreciate it if you’d leave a glowing comment on social media.” His hands tented.

“Sure thing.” Summer hated social media but took his card anyway. 

She followed him up the painted plank steps through the open door. 

An elaborate crystal chandelier hung in the entry. In front of her, the rich mahogany staircase dazzled against a backdrop of blue-green textured walls. A baby grand piano was positioned in the living room corner to the left of a rock fireplace. The art over the mantel looked like a Renoir. She wondered if it was an original or a reproduction. 

Then something weird happened. The hair on her neck and arms rose. She had a deja vu feeling as if she had been there before. Trying to shake off the unsettling sensation, she turned in a slow circle and said, “It’s beautiful, better than I even imagined. I love it!”

Erik seemed pleased with her assessment, grinning from ear to ear. “I chose warm, rich colors. I can’t stand the fact that most designers are like sheep. The minimalists’ interior design with white is so overused and blah,” he said with an eye roll. “I updated the lighting fixtures and completely renovated the central kitchen. It’s three stories with the attic and a downstairs complete with a cookery and staff rooms.” 

A mover dropped one end of a very expensive-looking bureau. Erik shouted, “Do not scratch the floors or furniture.” Then he glanced apologetically at Summer. “I’ve got to work. I have a deadline with instructions to leave the house by seven o’clock this evening. Feel free to look around.”

Yippee—freedom’s call echoed in her heart, inviting her to explore uninhibited. Summer drifted through the library first. Its walls were lined with ancient, leather-bound books. The scent of old paper and the hushed tales of forgotten lore surrounded her, igniting a thrill only a true book lover could understand and appreciate. Each step was a dance with history as her fingers trailed over the spines, noting the weight in their textured covers. 

The library seamlessly gave way to an entertainment room, where contemporary met old-world design, asserting itself with an audacious flair. A large, ultra-high-definition television screen dominated one wall, surrounded by a state-of-the-art sound system. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from cleverly hidden sources, casting a glow that accentuated luxurious furnishings from the plush, angular sofa to the gleaming, geometric coffee table. 

The kitchen made a bold statement with its brand-new stainless-steel appliances, rustic oak cabinets, and white and gray marble counters. The walk-in pantry door was ajar, so she peeked inside to find it vast and orderly, a trove of culinary possibilities. She suspected exotic spices and gourmet delights filled the closed shelves and drawers.

Adjacent to this culinary haven, a set of narrow, almost secretive steps curled upward, their very existence a whisper of intrigue. She glanced furtively over her shoulder. Erik was absorbed in positioning the remaining pieces in the living room. 

Her pulse quickened with the thrill of undercover exploration. Memories of countless novels she had devoured over the years surged within her—a cascade of adventures, hidden rooms, and undiscovered treasures that had always seemed worlds away were now seemingly within her grasp. With each step into the unknown, her pulse quickened with anticipation, and her mind buzzed. What secrets and mysteries lay hidden in this century-old home? 

Summer hustled up the stairs, bypassed the second floor, and continued into the attic. She’d long fantasized about writing a novel in such a superb, renovated space with its black, charcoal walls and a shade darker woodwork, a cozy white sofa with black and gold accent pillows—and how she loved the black lacquer desk. The lighting included several sconces with candle-like bulbs that glimmered warmly. It was a nice touch. She murmured, “Totally jealous of the owners.”

She peered through the horizontally installed cameo windows, the view of which looked directly at her house. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shimmering swirling blue light materialized on the other side of the room. It formed a doorway of sorts, like beams of a hidden sun trapped within its frame, defying the laws of physics and reality.

What the heck? Summer cautiously approached, each step filled with fear and fascination. She reached out tentatively toward the opening, her hand trembling slightly. Was it a gateway to worlds unseen?

But Erik’s appearance on the top step jolted her back to reality just before her fingers could graze the pulsating energy. As if responding to his intrusion, the portal vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a blank wall devoid of any clue to its mysterious existence. 

She struggled to process what she had just witnessed. Was the ethereal light a trick of nature? A figment of her imagination? The silence that enveloped the room was heavy with unspoken questions, the air charged with the residue of the inexplicable.

Excerpt 2
Then, like a curious cat, she thought of the shimmering door in the attic, and it flashed in her mind. Her eyes darted to the steps leading upward. Maybe just one peek before returning to Rogan. Excitedly, she dashed up the flight of steps, her bare feet hardly touching the floor. 

Her arms and neck hair rose like before when she entered the attic. The mysterious door glowed again. Summer glanced downstairs and said, “Oh, don’t do it.” Then her evil twin said, “Oh, come on, chicken little, just do it.” Tapping her toe, she reached over and opened the door.

Light engulfed her. Summer gasped, instinctively raising her hands to shield her eyes from the blinding brilliance. The intensity of the light was overwhelming, and she felt a strange, almost electric sensation wash over her skin. There was a sudden whooshing noise, like the sound of wind rushing through a narrow tunnel, and the earth seemed to roll beneath her feet. She stumbled, losing her balance as the light continued to envelop her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and wonder coursing through her veins. Time itself seemed to stretch and bend around her. She could feel the fabric of reality shifting, pulling her through the unseen currents of time. The sensation was dizzying, and she fought to maintain her footing, her senses overwhelmed by the experience.

When the light finally began to fade, Summer found herself back in the attic, but it wasn’t the same. The attic was different this time. Gone were the beautiful desk, sofa, and finished walls. Instead, the space was barren, filled with nothing but dust, spider webs, exposed beams, and odd pieces of furniture. She blinked, trying to adjust to the dim light and the stark contrast to what she had expected.

Her mind raced, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. She felt a mixture of confusion and trepidation, wondering why the attic had transformed so drastically. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and neglect, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Her heart sank. Her hands trembled. Nausea washed over her. 

She shuffled past the old chests and crates and peered outside—no neighborhood—snow instead of summer. Several vintage cars left ruts in what appeared to be a snow-covered driveway. She heard music downstairs, something old and jazzy. She turned and caught her reflection in an old mirror. Oh, my lord. Her hand flew to her chest. 

She shook from head to toe, her entire body trembling with fear and disbelief. She gasped loudly, instinctively taking a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. The person in the mirror did not look like her at all. She cried out in fright, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

The reflection showed a beautiful, petite woman with dark brown hair swept high on her head and a single ringlet dangling over her right shoulder. She wore an Edwardian red velvet gown that looked like it belonged on the set of Downton Abbey. Summer’s breath came in short, panicked bursts as she stared at the unfamiliar figure, her mind racing to make sense of the impossible image before her.

She reached up, hesitantly touching her own face, her fingers trembling as they traced the contours of her cheeks and hair. The woman in the mirror mimicked her movements perfectly, confirming that this strange reflection was indeed her own. The shock and bewilderment left her paralyzed, unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror.

“What… what is happening?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with both awe and terror. The unfamiliar attire, the different hairstyle, everything felt surreal. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the sight of the Edwardian gown and the transformed reflection only intensified her disorientation.

She stumbled toward the door she had come through, but the light was gone. She flung the door open, and a balcony overlooked the woods. 

What am I to do? 

She was nearing a panic attack when she heard a familiar voice and maneuvered toward the steps. “What? Rogan? Are you here?”