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move on. But as Mason continued to walk down the hallway, he sensed another presence, one he hadn’t felt on his earlier visit, and he realized that the father and daughter remained not only because they felt a connection, but also because they were being prevented from leaving. The additional presence was stopping them.

Mason paused at the entry to a guest bedroom and eyed the closet. In his research, he’d found little to justify any lingering evil spirits, but he could never rule out the land itself. He could only go so far back in his search. Most history was lost to time, and would never be known. Mason sensed that there was more to this property that had nothing to do with the home itself.

Stepping into the small room, he eyed the bed, a sitting table with an attached mirror, and a bureau with a chest of drawers. Nothing seemed out of place and Mason studied his reflection in the mirror. He wore his boots, jeans and pressed long-sleeved forest green shirt. His groomed handlebar mustache dusted his cheeks, and not having shaved that morning, he sported a slight five o’clock shadow on his jawline. He’d left his cowboy hat in the front room and he noted again when he saw his longish hair reaching his ears that it was time for a cut.

But now was not the time to worry about his appearance, because in the reflection, he saw and heard the closet door creak open behind him.

Mason turned, his heart beginning to thump, and allowed himself to open up to the presence. Curious, but also careful, he approached the closet door, and nearing it, he reached out and touched it. He pulled on the knob, opening the door more, and peered inside. The closet contained little other than a few items of clothing hanging from the bars and a couple of boxes on the floor.

Taking a steady breath, he moved closer, mentally asking who was present, but got no response. Reminding himself that fear never solved any problems, he took slow steps and entered the closet, asking again for the presence to make itself known. He sensed that whatever had beckoned him held the answers as to why the father and daughter remained. Mason wanted those answers, and he asked again.

A cold breeze became a sudden drop in temperature, and a chill ran up Mason’s spine. His body tingled, and Mason had the sudden understanding that perhaps he’d made a mistake. That what had lured him into the closet had not done so in kindness, but in malevolence. Realizing his mistake, he turned to leave, when he heard a low growl, the light went out, and the closet door slammed shut.

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Copyright © 2021 by J. T. Bishop

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Eudoran Press LLC

6009 W. Parker Rd. Su. 149, #205

Dallas, TX  75093

www.jtbishopauthor.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Author Photos by Nick Bishop and Mayza Clark Photography

Book Editing by P. Creeden and G. Enstam

Cover Design by J.T. Bishop

Lost Souls/ J.T. Bishop -- 1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-955370-10-3

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A Note from J.T.

Other Books by J. T. Bishop

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Enjoy an excerpt from Lost Dreams, Book Two in

The Redstone Chronicles.

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