Teaser Tuesday!

Teaser Tuesday!

Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy
Rebekkah Ford draws you in and holds you so tight you feel breathless~Chloe Thurlow author of Katie in Love

Ameerah is a ghostly paranormal with a historical twist. Well-researched, well-written, and fun to read~Amazon reader.

In life, Ameerah is a rebellious flapper gal from the 1920s. In death, she's a vengeful ghost~Amazon reader.


After the horrid bath, Norma threw a towel at me, along with a gray and black checkered cotton dress, white undergarments, gray socks, and black slippers. I put the clothes on, refusing to look at my tormentors. Afterward, Florence took a comb to my hair. Closing my eyes, I endured the rough tugging the best I could, but when the teeth of the comb touched the sore spot on the back of my head, along with Florence’s rough pulling, I hollered, “Ow!” and my hand automatically knocked her hand away, my palm covering that sensitive area. The next thing I knew, I was being yanked backward by my hair.
“You will not disrespect me,” Florence said, gripping my tresses harder. “You will take what I dish out. Period!”
Something snapped inside my brain. The fear of all the consequences I’d have to bear for my actions was gone.
I had enough.
I backed into her in quick steps, and with all my strength, I shoved her into a wall, driving my elbow as hard as I could into her stomach. She let out a sharp gasp and released her grip. Norma charged me, her manly features contorted into a mask of anger. I dodged her and went to grab a wooden chair near the tub. I could have run out of the room, but then what? I had no way of unlocking the doors, so my plan was simple: knock Norma and Florence out with the chair, take the keys and everything else from them, and bust out of here. But when I picked it up, I could hardly lift it. I hadn’t realized how weak I was from the lack of nutrition. I turned and was met with a hard blow square in the face. A loud crunching noise came from my nose, and blood poured out like a running faucet. My hands immediately went up in front of me, and I couldn’t see anything because my eyes were watering from Norma’s punch. The sudden pain almost blinded me.
“We need to teach Sixty-four to respect her elders,” I heard Florence say.
I was roughly shoved backward into the bathtub. The sound of water splashing onto the floor surrounded me when I fell in. I was sitting sideways in the middle, my feet sticking up, my clothes soaked.
I swung my feet in while flinging water at them. “Get away from me!”
“It’s too late for this one,” Norma said, pushing my shoulders down into the soiled liquid and then my head.
My arms flung up to stop her, but Florence snatched my wrists and locked them to my sides. I kicked my feet as hard as I could and in panic, my body twisted back and forth in a struggle to survive. I ran out of breath, and my mouth opened, allowing the water to pour inside me. My chest and lungs were on fire, and everything became yellow and started to fade.
Some birds cannot be caged, and I’m one of them.
A sudden blackness followed, along with a fierce hate that swelled in my heart toward humanity. I detested humans, and mark my words, I would get my revenge on those who wronged me.  
I was in a black void.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
Three seconds later, everything turned bright white, but it didn’t harm my eyes. Silhouettes of people stood in the distance. There were a couple fellas wearing top hats among the group. I could hear them inside my head; their voices were much clearer and brighter than on earth. It was as if the sun shined on each spoken word. They were talking about my arrival. Curious. But then someone said murder when another asked how I died. The anger in me boiled when sharp images of my demise took hold of me, and the thread of communication between us distorted. The air swirled around me. A grayish, black funnel formed, encasing me inside its belly.
Don’t be afraid.
I wasn’t, I told the phantom voice. The resentment I harbored was too intense to bother with such frivolities. My state of being was wound tightly with sinews of hate, revenge, disgust, and the like.
 In a matter of seconds, I found myself in a dreary realm, standing on a wooden bridge. A wrought iron lamp post was positioned on both ends. A golden hue lit its glass case. Mist rose from the dark water below, and tall ebony trees stretched across the landscape, their bare limbs webbing the greenish, yellowish sky.
“Where am I?” I wondered out loud, more intrigued than scared. In fact, I felt a sense of elation rather than doom, like I was on the cusp of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that could elevate me in ways I’d never imagined.
“You’re at a recruiting station.”
My eyes darted around me, looking for the owner of the voice I heard. A tall fella appeared through a break between the trees. I crossed the bridge and met him halfway. His attire reminded me of the bartender at Slim’s speakeasy: brown trousers, matching suspenders, newsboy hat, and an off-white long sleeved button-up shirt—a familiar sight that warmed my heart. I instantly liked him.
“Recruiting station?” I was off the trolley, because I didn’t understand what he meant. “I see no one here but us?”
His welcoming smile reached his deep blue eyes. “I have a lot to teach you, lass, but before my manners run away from me, I’m Aidan Cain Logan to be precise. If you accept my offer, I’ll help you along.” I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but he spoke before I could, his Irish accent sprinkling each word. “Ameerah Arrowood. No middle name. I know all about you, so there is no need for you to layout your biography.”
“How?” I was dumbfounded he had knowledge of my existence and wondered if he really did know everything about me and my life on earth or if he was fooling me.
He moved his hand above his head clockwise. The trees vanished, revealing a vast, endless field of crushed wheat. Groups of shadowy figures in pairs were scattered across the planes. He repeated his gesture; only, this time his hand went counterclockwise instead. The image disappeared, replaced by the prior one.
“Just because your eyes cannot see what’s around you, doesn’t mean it’s not there,” he simply stated. “On the matter of me knowing who you are, the best way I can explain it is each recruiter is assigned a certain area on earth. When a spirit harbors and emits an energy, much like our own, we’re drawn to it. We watch it.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about his admission. Was he the cause of all the turmoil in my life? “Did you have a hand in my demise?”
His brown hair brushed back and forth against his collar when he shook his head. “Nah, I’ve never toyed with your life. I like your spunk. Besides, recruiters can’t possess soulless humans or humans who allow us passage into their bodies unless we’re on duty with a newbie.”
“Soulless humans?”
“There are people born without a soul,” he said as if it were old news. “Dark spirits can dwell in these soulless humans, live the life they desire, and enjoy the pleasures of being back in the flesh, such as sex, alcohol, drugs, food, and whatnot. It’s quite fun actually. I’m looking forward to jumping into the game again.”
My thoughts spun.
Dark spirits?
Soulless humans?
Normally, I would think he was full of baloney, but considering where I was and what I’d seen thus far, I had no reason not to believe him.
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