Haunting at Remington House 

www.lauravkeegan.com

lauravkeegan@aol.com

Luxlane Press. LLC

Copyrighted Material. Nothing on this site can be duplicated or copied in any form without permission of the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haunting at Remington House is Laura V. Keegan's debut novel. Laura is an award winning author, speaker, President of the Poetry Society of Colorado and is active in local government.

 

She has written numerous poems and short stories. A collection of her poetry, Dark Side of My Soul, is scheduled for release soon. She’s currently working on a sequel to Haunting at Remington House. Laura resides in Edgewater, Colorado.

In addition to being a writer and poet and active in her city government, Laura V. Keegan is a psychic medium. She’s had a unique connection to the spirit world since she was a child. She communicates with people on the psychic level and communicates with spirits through clairvoyance (clear seeing), clairaudience (clear hearing) and clairsentience (clear knowing). Her ability to connect to those who have passed has brought about many unusual and seemingly unexplainable readings. Her ability to read emotions and bring messages from the spirits to their loved ones has been a comfort to her followers. To go to her Mediumship Information page please follow this link:

Haunting at Remington House is Laura V. Keegan's debut novel. Laura is an award winning author, speaker, Psychic Medium, President of the Poetry Society of Colorado and is active in local government.

She has written numerous poems and short stories. She’s currently working on a sequel to Haunting at Remington House and a collection of her poetry, Dark Side of My Soul. Laura resides the greater Denver Metro area of Colorado.

                          An excerpt from Haunting at Remington House :

 

The knob felt uncomfortably cold in Harry’s hand. He twisted it and jerked the door inward while at the same time letting out a loud whooping sound. Hundreds of ravens took flight, turning the sky black as midnight. Harry shouted, shrill piercing sounds coming from his throat. Running out into the woods just beyond the house, he chased and ran in circles underneath the birds. He took his jacket off and began whirling it over his head, striking out at the ravens. They continued flying in circles, then one by one, dozen by dozen, they began diving at Harry. He swatted at them as they attacked, felt their sharp beaks tear into his skin. As one retreated, another and then another bird flew at him, diving, pecking, screeching.

     Harry yelled at the top of his lungs, turned and started running back to the house. Reaching for the knob, he shoved the door open. As he turned to face the angry murder of ravens, he froze. They had retreated.

     Upon the hill, barely visible in the trees, stood a woman. She was facing away from Harry, her long blonde hair blowing about her in the winter breeze. Her hands were raised skyward toward the retreating flock. Her shrill screeching echoed the language of the ravens. Slowly she turned to face Harry, yelling words impossible to understand. Then, spinning around, she disappeared into the woods.