fuonlyknew

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 Discover the enigmatic secrets of Carter’s Grove, a seemingly
ordinary logging town that harbors extraordinary mysteries.

Gabriel
Carter arrives to attend the funeral of his estranged father. He left
as a child, though the call of home has always piqued his
curiosity.

Special Agent Teagan Walsh arrives to assist
the local police in unraveling a perplexing murder investigation that
has left the town in turmoil. But Carter’s Grove has many dark
secrets, and she’s only scratched the surface.

Meanwhile,
Joe “Spontaneous” Santino seeks to uncover the truth behind
the small town horrors. Armed with a successful ghost hunting YouTube
channel, he fully intends to unearth mysteries better left alone.

As
the Curse of Carter’s Grove takes hold, these visitors will find
their lives changed forever.

Join us on this journey of
suspense, intrigue, and revelation, where the boundaries between the
ordinary and the extraordinary blur, and the destinies of these
individuals intertwine in ways they could never have imagined.

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Cassivale took my breath away from afar. The splendor changed when we started up the drive, leading to a dilapidated fountain forming a roundabout. A statue of a cavalryman took up the center of the fixture, a heroic figure holding up a saber over his head with the steed rearing in a classical pose.

I assumed the water normally came from the beast’s mouth though it clearly hadn’t produced anything but mold and moss for several years. The murky water took on a green hue, the stonework cracked and brutalized by Pacific Northwest storms. Despite the fact it stood more than twenty feet tall, it seemed diminished. Diminutive even.

The fact I could not remember it at all bothered me. I wanted to have some vision of it in full glory. Sun beaming down from behind the head of the horseman, water cascading out into the crystal clear pool. As we drove around it, I doubted it had been cleaned since long before I was born.

Maybe my parents kept me away from the thing.

The front of the estate loomed over us nearly four stories. A flight of wide stairs led up to a porch stretching around the house with Greek style pillars holding it up. Those looked sturdy enough, though time definitely had a go at them. Cracks in the wood were apparent long before I got out of the car.

Rodney stopped directly beside the steps. I hopped out, taking the full brunt of a stiff breeze from the left. I drew my coat tight about me, taking a moment to look over the arched windows dotting the surface of Cassivale, some lit while others remained dark. Like the upper stories, none of them appeared to be broken, which surprised me.

Considering the state of the fountain at least.

The house boasted twenty-five bedrooms. It sprawled to the left and right, at least a block in each direction. How had I been allowed to roam freely through those halls as a child? Getting lost in the labyrinthine corridors, the secret passages and dusty spaces no longer occupied.

It seemed like a fantastic dream.

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Robert
Hazelton has been writing short fiction, novels and music his entire
life. As the founding member of Deadly Nightshade Botanical Society
and a long time member of the band Abney Park, he has traveled
extensively and performed countless shows in exotic locales.

Robert writes in a variety of genres but keeps drifting back to
modern fantasy/horror. He considers Elizabeth Moon, Frank Herbert,
and Steven Pressfield to be his biggest influences.

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