Hello Readers : )
The book spotlight I have for you today includes a review, which I’m sure you’ll all find quite interesting.
First, I would like for you to have a glimpse of this novel so continue reading for more information.
Did his book raise the dead? Outraged when The Post Gazette overlooks him for a promotion, thirty-nine year old sports writer, Christian Kane quits and moves to the country to write fiction. Inspiration flows from a grave he stumbles upon in the woods. He compiles The Legend of Rachel Petersen, a fascinating story revolving around the dead twelve-year-old girl lying beneath the weathered tombstone. His book becomes a Best Seller; then Hollywood makes it in to a blockbuster movie. Kane becomes rich and famous, but only to have Rachel rise
from the grave to seek revenge on him for slandering her name!
Important Note: Please Read.
Author J.T. Baroni is donating a portion of the book’s proceeds to The Leader Dogs for the Blind, located in Rochester Hills , Michigan . This organization has been training Leader Dogs and sponsoring them to blind people, free of charge, since 1939, and they have achieved this amazing feat all from donations.
For more information please visit the author website.
“She’s been… talkin’ to you?” he interrupted once again, looking at Thaddeus as if the boy was certified mentally ill. “No, Boy. She ain’t talkin’ to you. That’s your conscious tellin’ you that you did something really awful. Your conscious won’t let you sleep at night. Will it, Boy? Every time you close your eyes, you see her beautiful little face with those big green eyes an’ her red…”
“No! Please hear me out, Mr. Woodley. Please, sir,” Thaddeus interrupted loudly. Then he talked fast, hoping the old man would not interrupt him anymore, allowing him to explain why he was there. “She spelt out the words help me in my vegetable soup. Then me an’ my brother Seth were playin’ Monopoly, an’ she turned the dice over to a two. I figger it was two people that hung her an’ she didn’t hang herself like everybody says. Then an owl showed Seth an’ me pieces of rope on a beam in my Pa’s barn that is too high for a little girl to throw a rope over. I even seen her, Mr. Woodley…standin’ by your mailbox an’ pointin’ to your house every day this week goin’ to school.
The old man leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, slowly shaking his head from side to side.
“It’s not in my head, I tell ya. My brother seen all what she did too. My Mom an’ Pa seen when she blew the candles out on my birthday cake. She ain’t restin’, Mr. Woodley. I’m tellin’ ya she won’t rest in eternal peace until the truth is spoken. She kinda told me in school today that everything said about her is all lies. I think she knows…that you…know the truth. If you didn’t know her like you say, Mr. Woodley…then how come you knew she was buried with a rosary?”
“Because my Mother put it on her before my Daddy an’ me buried her!” the old man hollered out, leaning forward as far as he could into Thaddeus’s face. The boy leaned back and tottered on the bike.
Then Mr. Woodley slumped back in his rocker and closed his bad eye but resumed squinting through the other one. Then he spoke in a lowered voice, as if confessing on his deathbed to a priest, “Ain’t a day goes by…that I don’t think of that poor little girl.” He raised his hand to wipe away a tear, and then continued, “I was maybe twelve, an’ so was she. Her Daddy sent her here to live with her aunt when her mother died. It musta been pure hell for that little girl. Rachel wouldn’t talk to anybody, except for me, that is. My daddy said it was cause I reminded her of her brother back in Ohio, but it made me feel special like anyways.”
Thaddeus leaned closer so he could hear better.
“I would go to her house, your house now, just about everyday. We would play hide an’ seek in the barn or catch frogs by the pond. Some days we would just sit an’ talk. But I always brought a couple of apples, an’ we’d feed the horses. She really liked this one big black stallion in particular that Josef Tremont owned. It was a magnificent horse.”
Thaddeus sensed the old man had softened up a bit, so he laid the bike down and sat on the top step. He also sensed that this was the first time Mr. Woodley ever spoke about Rachel. To anyone.
The old man closed the squinting eye and laid his head on the back of his rocking chair. “I went over there one day…an’ the place was…quiet. Too quiet! The men folk weren’t workin’ the fields…her Aunt wasn’t hangin’ clothes or making soap outside. I looked for Rachel…an’ I went in the barn.” He choked up and tears came to his eyes. He needed a moment to continue, and then he swallowed real hard. Then he cried out between sobs, “I found her…Dear God, yes I did!” He pulled his hanky from his rear pocket and wiped his eyes and blew his nose.
Tombstone that inspired The Legend of Rachel Peterson.
A thrilling and creepy journey into the world of a very angry ghost!
Have you ever grabbed a book, sat down to read it, and half way through it (during the scary part) realized that you’re reading in total darkness with only a small lamp illuminating the pages and had a cold chill run down your spine? Or had the feeling that someone was staring at you? That’s exactly how I felt when I stumbled upon The Legend of Rachel Petersen. Needless to say, I kind of freaked out a little.
The spook however, was much welcomed because it’s been a while since I was sincerely spooked by a story and this one did for me. There were times when I actually felt as if I was watching a movie instead of reading a book.
The author did a fantastic job describing each scene and building up anticipation. Although Rachel’s story is a sad one, the fact that she can’t rest in peace makes it even sadder.
The Legend of Rachel Petersen is the perfect Halloween tale (not for underage children though so keep that in mind).
As a fan of stories that are scary with a hint of humor and even downright creepy at times, I give this one two thumbs up.
About the author:
Jim, his brother Gene, and Gene’s Leader Dog, Valor.
Living in Western Pennsylvania all my life, I have been an avid Whitetail hunter since I was old enough to tote a rifle, which is also about as long as I’ve had a fondness for word games and literature. While hunting last year, I actually did stumble upon a weathered tombstone in the middle of the woods. Waiting patiently for any deer to cross my path gave me plenty of time to think about that lone grave’s inhabitant and ponder her story, which I was then driven to write. Eerily enough, this is the premise of The Legend of Rachel Petersen, my first published novel. I have also composed several songs that are currently signed with a music publisher. My home is Johnstown, Pennsylvania, a small town outside of Pittsburgh, where my wife Becky and I are both proud members of the Lions International. We share our home with our son, Skyler, and an AKC boxer, Butkus.