For a time during my childhood, my family lived in Ireland. My parents managed a hotel and we lived on the property. The hotel had begun its life as a hunting lodge in the lat 1700s. It later became a boys boarding school before evolving into a hotel during WWIIish. While I never saw anything that I would be willing to swear was supernatural, I definitely felt something (blog post about this here). You can chalk it up to a hyperactive imagination, but it doesn't really matter. What matters right now is that it felt real to me and that gives me a great experience to draw upon when writing about a haunting.
Of course, I was never possessed by a horny ghost, or by any ghost - so that's all new to me.
I introduced my first 250 months ago while I still more in developing stages than real writing (you can compare the two here if you like). Now I'm actually starting the story where the story starts (my mantra). Here are the first 292 words of Possessing Karma. Please let me know your thoughts regarding the hook, the character, setting, etc... Thanks in advance. :)
“What on earth…”
Kay’s voice echoed through the empty room. Where was she? Looking around she took in the polished oak floors, the elaborate crown molding at the ceiling, the Ikea boxes and bags stacked by the wall.
Her new condo in New Orleans. “Home,” her voice echoed through the almost empty room.
She mentally retraced her steps. She remembered the airport in Los Angeles, stepping into humidity in New Orleans. The taxi driver speaking gibberish, one way streets, construction, then finally the bright yellow painted bricks of her new home. She remembered putting the key in the lock, stepping inside to the scent of fresh paint… then nothing.
How had she ended up half naked and dripping wet on the floor?
Sitting up, she ran her hands over her hair. It was damp but not soaked through. Slicking it away from her face, she tied it in a knot on top of her head. Her bra, white cotton and perfectly serviceable, was spotted with water drops, her nipples a dark contrast through the damp fabric.
Maybe she’d passed out. Air conditioned air port, hot parking lot, air conditioned taxi, steaming streets, jet lag, airport food… it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. But then what had happened to her clothes?
“Was I assaulted?”
Refusing to panic, she stood barefoot in a puddle on the waxed wood. Though undone, her jeans were still on. Running her hands over her body, she felt no injuries. There was nothing outside the norm, well, not really – but her underwear was uncomfortably askew. Kay ran her fingers along the elastic at her thighs, putting everything in place. What should have been a perfunctory motion sent shivers through her, her body tightening, aroused.
What the hell was going on?