It’s Shanon Grey!


So much fun was had Friday night at the book signing. For those of you who couldn’t make it out to meet her in person, you can still enjoy all of Shanon Grey’s novels, available in digital and print. Also, remember, she would love hearing from you, as well as having your reviews.
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Twitter – @ShanonGrey

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Anyone near Newnan, GA. I’ll be at the Barnes and Noble in Ashley Park, this Friday night, April 29th, starting at 7:30 p.m. I’ll have 3 of my novels there for signing. I write as Shanon Grey – weaving suspense with threads of the paranormal. I would love to have you stop by and visit! If you can’t make it, all of my novels are available in digital and print.
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Ruthorford Is Waiting

ruthorford 2016 03 28aRuthorford, an irresistible small town with an overabundance of pure southern charm. Be advised, things aren’t always what they seem. Add some suspense to your Spring ~ enjoy a taste of the paranormal with The Shoppe of Spells, Meadow’s Keep, and Glynda’s Dare by Shanon Grey.

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Glynda’s Dare


Everything taken from her, Glynda heads north, to a new world and a new life, taking a chance that fate might be kinder to her this time around. As she settles in to her job on one of the many farms just outside of a small southern town called Ruthorford, she discovers that southern charm does extend as far north as Georgia, as do good-looking men.

Befriended by Tom, a farm hand she met when he rescued her from the hooves of an angry stallion, Glynda begins to believe that her shattered heart might have a chance to heal after all and her life become what she’d always longed for – normal.

But, her past is coming back to haunt her and, from the looks of things, it just might get her killed. Luckily, she finds that she’s landed in the one place that takes care of its own and she has become one of them, whether she wants to be or not. Rutherford and its descendant have taken her into their fold, and life promises to be anything but normal.

Glynda's Dare Cover 300

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A Ruthorford Valentine

 Finding Your Valentine

by Shanon Grey

     It’s February and, as is the case everywhere, love is in the air. Even more so in thValentine dancee quaint southern town of Ruthorford, with one exception. In Ruthorford, descendants are hoping for a match-mate connection that will result in a “blended” offspring. To encourage this, the townsfolk of Ruthorford have created an event perfect for their purpose–a Valentine Day’s Dance. Everyone who is a descendant of the original Native Americans, whose farms surround and protect Ruthorford, or the descendants of the Scots, who settled and formed the core of the town, is invited. Not everyone will “match,” but generally one or two will find their mate and, hopefully, that union will produce a blend, who in turn will match with another blend and that couple will be trained as Gatekeepers, whose powers, when combined….

     This is the story of one such Valentine’s Day Dance and how things are not always as they seem.heart     “Okay,” Brenda, the town’s long-lived post-mistress, said, as she pulled the large box of invitations through the open grill, “is that everyone?”

   “Of course it is,” Miss Alice intoned, sniffing indignantly. “I’ve been doing this for…forever,” she stated, careful never to give away her age.

      Brenda let the smile broaden as she flipped through the invitations, not looking up. She lifted one. “The Hamiltons? They never come.”

      “I won’t be leaving anyone out. Just because they don’t come doesn’t mean they don’t deserve an invitation.” Alice’s narrowed her eyes.

      No one knew for sure why, but the Hamiltons had broken away from the town, moving the farthest out. They married outside as well. It wouldn’t be long before they were all but gone. Nevertheless, as one of the first Scottish families chosen by the Native Americans to settle in Ruthorford, they deserved the respect as such and an invitation went out.

      The same with the Merciers. They came from a Canadian tribe and had settled with the tribe surrounding the town. They also didn’t attend, which was just as well, since their longstanding feud with the Hamiltons generally erupted into a brawl whenever they attended the same functions.

      Brenda shook her head and stamped the envelopes. She gave a little smile. Miss Alice might be sending out the invitations but Brenda had managed to get on the decorating committee and she’d seen the huge Davis barn transformed into a red, pink, white and silver fantasy. Of course, Abbott Bed and Breakfast was catering the affair and Brenda had managed to “taste test” several of Teresa’s creations. No one would go hungry, that’s for sure. They’d nixed the idea of a live band this year since so many of the young men where away at college. Even if they made it home for the party, they’d arrive late with little time to practice. Rowe Davis and Kateri Chance (now Davis) were in charge of music. They were young enough to make sure everyone got something they liked.

    Across town, Alice’s sister, Grace, was not making much headway with her visiting god-daughter.

      “Tante Gracie,” Alexanne, moaned, her voice pleading, her French accent heavy for effect. “But, I really don’t want to go to that dance.” She threw in a pout for good measure.

      “Now, Lexi,” Miss Grace said, using her nickname, “it would mean so much to Miss Alice. She’s worked so hard on the invitations. Grace reached over and gave a loving tug to the sable brown hair that flowed about Lexi’s shoulders. She hadn’t seen her since she was eleven and now, at nineteen, she was stunning. “Besides, Teresa sure could use the help.”

     Lexi’s light green eyes sparkled as she turned to her godmother. “For Tante Alice and Teresa, though I would rather stay with you,” she acquiesced. “I’m still not sure what the emergency was—that it was all so important that I come now. I’ve never been before. It’s a good thing I’m on winter break, because you know maman and papa would not have agreed.”

       Miss Grace just smiled.hearts and ribbon

     The crowd overflowed out from the open barn doors of the transformed barn. The heavy rhythm poured from perfectly placed speakers, letting the music flood into the night. Almost everyone was dancing. If they weren’t dancing, they were eating. Laughter drifted outside along with the music.

      Grant Hamilton made his way through the throng. He’d just arrived from Scotland that afternoon, his graduation present after finishing med school. It had been a wonderful break before starting his residency. He’d fallen in love with the land and the people, his family’s people. Now he was back and thrust into the thick of a Ruthorford gathering. Even though he’d never attended one of Ruthorford’s functions–his family making a point of avoiding them–tonight he found himself delivering the Scottish pastries he’d brought for Teresa Abbott, his god-mother and the owner of the Abbott Bed and Breakfast, per her request, to the Davis’ barn. He figured he could drop them off and be gone before he ran into a Mercier and they ruined the party.

    He headed straight to the table, keeping his blue eyes forward, trying not to draw attention. Teresa saw him, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ruffled his windswept blond hair, moving before he could hand her the box. “Take that on down to the end of the table for me, will you?” She turned him and gave him a gentle push toward the end of the long table, already laden with every type of food, leaving little room to place his box. He moved a couple of plates around and lowered the box.

      “Don’t you dare set that box down!” A heavily accented female voice came at him from the side.

      He jerked the box back up and turned toward the voice, only to find himself staring into the green eyes of a goddess. Thick brown hair swept her shoulders, a fringe of bangs offsetting the pale green of her eyes. His response to her beauty was so visceral he nearly dropped the box. Perfect white teeth worried her full lower lip as she reached to catch the box.

       Her hands closed over his as the both clasped the box. A current coursed back and forth between them. Their eyes locked.

     “Hey, Lexi!” A young man came up and put his arm around her waist, breaking the spell. “You haven’t danced with me yet.”

        She gave Grant a quiet smile, let go of the box, and turned to the young man holding her, “I would love to dance with you, Jimmy.”

        Her French accent washed over Grant like warm cognac, setting fire to his nerves. Still holding the box, he watched her disappear into the crowd.

      Out of nowhere, Miss Grace appeared at his elbow. “Let’s put that right here,” she said, taking the box from his hands and setting it in the exact same spot he’d aimed for in the first place. “Now, would you offer an old lady a dance?”

       “I’ll love to,” he flashed his blue eyes at her and followed her to the floor.

     She let his arm slip around her as she hit him with a flurry of questions–about his family, school, and Scotland–barely giving him a chance to breathe in between his answers. She was also leading, or rather pushing, him around the floor. He stumbled slightly and bumped into a warm body.

       “Mon dieu.”

      The contact sent a spark through his back. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, when Grace stepped around him. “Jimmy,” she exclaimed, taking hold of the young man’s arm. “Just the man I was looking for. Will you excuse us a moment, Lexi? Grant, this is Lexi. Lexi this is Grant.” They stood, staring at one another. “Well…dance with her,” she said and pushed the two together.

      His hands slid around her as though they were meant to encircle her small waist. The curves of her body melted into him as if welcoming him home after a long absence. The current ran from one to the other and back, pulsing—until their two hearts began to beat as one.

     Grace directed Jimmy, ignoring his whimpered complaints, out to the parking lot on some trumped-up errand and stopped next to Teresa. She turned and watched as the two young people swayed to the music, oblivious to the world around them.

      “There’s going to be some upset families tonight.” Teresa nodded toward the couple and let a smile play across her lips. “What were you thinking, putting a Mercier with a Hamilton?”

      Grace let her old green eyes close in a slow blink, opening them to see the blended aura surrounding the young couple. She smiled at Teresa. “We do what we must.”

enveloping heart

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A Ruthorford Mardi Gras

      It’s time for Mardi Gras. For many of you (and me, until a few years ago), Mardi Gras holds little meaning. When I moved to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, not only was I thrust into the warmest, most absorbing lifestyle, I was also thrust into Mardi Gras. Folks on the Coast take Mardi Gras very seriously. So, I thought I would tell you a little about it and share some of the fun!

Mardi Gras begins on January 6th and runs until Ash Wednesday. I mean ~ it ends at midnight on Ash Wednesday. The day before is Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday—the literal translation. And, let me tell you the season is something to behold. It is parties, parades, and every kind of festivity until midnight—when the streets are deserted and swept clean and there is no evidence of it—until the next year. This year Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras, is February 9th, putting Valentine’s Day in the full swing of things. Trust me, celebrating has been in full swing since January 6th.

I thought you might enjoy having me share some fun facts about Mardi Gras:

PARADES:  Contrary to popular belief, the first Mardi Gras parade did not take place in New Orleans. It occurred in Mobile, Alabama in the 1700’s. And it still goes on today allparade along the Gulf Coast. The traditional colors for Mardi Gras are: Purple for justice, Green for faith, and Gold for power. Cities, homes, shops, and people drip with color. You will find every sort of Mardi Gras adornment available everywhere. And if you can’t, you can go to one of the many warehouse size stores that specialize totally in Mardi Gras goodies. The most famous—or infamous—parades are in New Orleans. But the parades, in many ways are just the culmination of all the fun that takes place getting ready them. Krewes, or parade organizations, will host Balls as well as create fabulous floats. From atop these incredible floats, beads and other goodies are thrown into the crowds. You’ll hear shouts, “Throw something at me, mister!” (which generally is not accompanied by exposing one’s chest—but you never know) from hordes of people lining the parade route to get the attention of the passing floats. People become weighed down with beads and doubloons, colored coins, and keep these mementos in their homes for years for good luck, displaying more and more each year.

BALLS:  The Kings and Queens preside over the Balls, where food, fun, drink, beads and trinkets abound. Each Ball will have its own theme and its own King and Queen. Themes can run from the sublime to the ridiculous and anywhere in between. Everyone brings food and King Cakes adorn the tables.

Drinks have been made famous by Mardi Gras. Dishes have been created for Mardi Gras. Costumes can be simple or elaborate.

Most costumes are usually designed  to reflect the theme of the ball, be it an 80’s theme, a Redneck Ball, or one dedicated to the Roaring Twenties. Don’t worry, you are welcome at the ball, no matter what you wear. It’s the fun, food, and friendship that counts.

KING CAKES:  These are traditional fare of Mardi Gras and are generally shaped in an oval with the traditional colors of purple, green, and gold stripping it. Inside is a little plastic baby and whoever finds the baby is anointed King or Queen of the party (not so for the bigger balls, where much tradition goes into choosing the presiding King and Queen each year). But, the lucky person finding the baby is responsible for providing the King Cake  the next year.

New Orleans has become famous for its Mardi Gras parades and celebrations. Don’t be fooled—there’s one everywhere you turn along the Gulf Coast. Even Hurricane Katrina couldn’t stop the festivities. So, if you can’t make it to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, just stop along the way and as they say—let the good times roll!


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~ Ruthorford’s Holiday Greeting ~

Ruthorford’s Holiday Traditions

by Shanon Grey

Welcome to the small town of Ruthorford, Georgia, where the residents take the winter holiday season very seriously.

      It’s December and Ruthorford is already dressed for the holidays. Wreaths of red and green,frontdoor silver and gold adorn the doors. Garland, dripping with berries and bows, outline windows and swag from post to post. Trees, encircled with shimmering lights, grace the median as cars slowly cruise by to enjoy the sparkling displays. Poinsettia decorate steps with broad leaves of red and white. Every manner of adornment has covered every coverable surface in town. There is now as much glitter for the adults as there is fantasy for the kids. The Post Office, trimmed in candy canes and gingerbread, awaits customers. Shop windows beckon with displays to entice browsers. This year Chapters is particularly inviting with candlelight flickering from boughs of green, sending soft light across the faces of holiday books. As if by command, the temperatures have dropped and flurries of white have replaced the rain that’s normal for this time of year in the south, dusting the small town in powdery magic.

     The season gets off to a lavish start with the annual production of The Legend of the Snowy Owl, IMG_1587-1honoring the beautiful bird that warned the early people of danger, allowing them to traverse the sacred ground in search of healing herbs. The play is written, produced, and performed by Ruthorford’s children. Costumes, designed by the children, are furnished by Abbott House and have become more elaborate each year. Each summer, a drawing selects the lucky boy or girl who receives the honor of playing the magnificent owl—and who gets to fly in warning and drop the basket of herbs at a maiden’s feet. This year, Bonnie’s little brother, Trevor, won that honor. The audience waited with bated breath as he swept across the stage on invisible wires, laden with what had to be fifty pounds of feathers. The basket landed a bitSnowy Owl harder than expected, as Trevor realized he couldn’t slow his momentum and he took aim in the general direction of Julie’s feet. Fortunately, Julie jumped right over the careening basket, reached back and caught it with one long sweep of her hand. The audience leapt to their feet in collective applause.

     The second celebration is a two-day affair. On the day of the Winter Abbott Bed and BreakfastSolstice, the people all gather on the lawn behind the Abbott Bed and Breakfast to tell stories to the sun, giving it reasons to remain with the earth and not leave. The Legend tells of ancient people watching the days shorten, as the sun remained gone from the sky for longer and longer periods of time. They became afraid it would eventually go away completely. The whole town will sing songs and tell stories, trying to entice the sun to stay. The stories vary from year to year and take on individual interpretation. Children favor stories about the plants and animals. hamster1One year, someone’s hamster took center stage, literally. Luckily, they caught him before he escaped completely. Musical accompaniment is encouraged. Ruthorford boasts quite a fine assortment of handmade drums and flutes. Everyone’s invited to attend and perform. Over the years, however, it has become prudent to organize the event slightly so it doesn’t run all the way into the Celebration of the Sun’s Return on the next day.

     The Celebration of the Sun’s Return is a feast celebrating the sun’s decision to stay, offering a variety of foods grown under the sun. Grains, vegetables and fruits are the bounty of the feast. What started as simple offerings has evolved over the years into culinary masterpieces. Visitors have repeatedly asked AA022337for the cookbook. The Misses Alice and Grace have offered to coordinate the compilation of the many recipes. Of course, they are particularly fond of this idea since they have mastered quite a variety of pies produced specifically for the celebration, and have suggested a cookbook themselves.

   During the week before Christmas, the Abbott Bed and Breakfast holdswrapbear free gift-wrapping services in the front parlor, sponsored by Abbott House.

It has been necessary to close the doors and the drapes to the parlor, as kids have been known to go to extreme lengths to find out what is being wrapped. Actually, it’s not just AA023922the kids. Teresa has developed a system of drop-off and retrieval, using claim stubs, to ensure anonymity. The children are kept busy making gingerbread houses. The houses are proudly displayed about town for everyone to enjoy. Of course, a few are missing a shingle or two. For those not8ÃÀ interested in culinary architecture, the is always Santa’s helpers available to help the little ones with a letter to Santa or treats for the big night.

     On Christmas Eve, residents gather for caroling on the median of Main Street, later congregating at the Abbott Bed and Breakfast. Hot chocolate and cider fill the cups and tasty treats fill the tummies as the children receive presents Abbott Bed & Breakfasttreefrom beneath the tree. Usually, families from the surrounding farms don’t venture into town for long periods. However, since this time of year is low on “portal” activity, downtown is the favorite gathering place for all.

     On Christmas Day, the residents return to Abbott Bed and Breakfast for dinner. This is the one time of the year that Teresa and Bill are forbidden to do anything.buffet Throughout the rest of the year, the beloved owners of the bed and breakfast are innkeepers extraordinaire, making the Abbott B & B the recipient of ten five-star ratings in as many years. However, on this special day, the staff takes over the operation of the B & B for the day. Townsfolk bring dishes, everything from appetizers to desserts, sweet tea to wassail, and all manner of sumptuous offerings, to complete a grand buffet. On this day, Teresa and Bill become the guests of honor, with their only tasks to visit and dine. Of course, getting these two people to do this has proven to be more than a little difficult over the years. Throughout the rest of the year, Bill is a virtual recluse of the kitchen and it generally takes a bit of early imbibing to ensure his participation. As it is Teresa’s nature to attend to others’ well-being, there have been times it has taken subtle threats to tie her to the chair to keep her from serving.

    The last week of the year the town of Ruthorford celebrates quietly, with families visiting one shoppinganother and sharing stories of the year. On January 1st, the residents come to town and make a very small token purchase at each store to ensure a profitable ensuing year. Of course, this being a tradition, each store has set aside special items available for a pittance to ensure the tradition continues. The final stop is to the Abbott Bed and Breakfast to drop off a story or writing for the Abbott House repository of family history. Kristoffdiary Bask, CEO of the Abbott House Foundation, is in attendance to meet and greet each family and offer good wishes for the New Year.

       So, if you find yourself in Ruthorford for the holidays, stop by, say hello, and enjoy a bit of tradition. If, by chance, The Shoppe of Spells sign is glowing, you might consider continuing on your way and come back some other time.

     From our families to yours, Ruthorford sends greetings and wishes for a joyful and memorable holiday season.

The fun doesn’t end here. Don’t miss A Christmas Village on the bar above. Then, for a some holiday suspense, enjoy Pennyroyal Christmas:

Pennyroyal Christmasad

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A Cup & Author Afternoon

The Moreland Cultural Arts Alliance is hosting a tea tasting, author reading and book signing, and shopping this Sunday, Dec. 6, from 2 – 5 pm, at the Historic Moreland Mill, 7 Main Street, Moreland, GA 30259. What a great way to start the holidays! Come by and join me as we herald in the season!!! I’ll have my books, ornaments, and bookmarks!

Moreland poster2

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Thanksgiving Feast

 Ruthorford Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving in Ruthorford is a very special time. It is a time for the blending of cultures and the sharing of traditions. From the earliest times, when the surrounding tribes allowed a chosen few to settle the sacred area, these families have looked after one another, protected one another, respected one another and enjoyed the fruits of their friendship.

In remembrance, it is at this time that the Tribes and the Townfold come together at the Abbott Bed and Breakfast for the traditional Groaning Board Feast. The foods are a blend of Native American, Scottish, and what they like to call the traditional/transitional fare of the South.

It is a “By Invitation Only” affair, so consider yourselves lucky to have a peek at what’s on the menu.

Come One, Come All!

It’s Time for the Ruthorford Thanksgiving!

The Abbott Bed and Breakfast, its Groaning Board laden with sumptuous fare, will begin serving at noon, Thursday, November 26, 2015. Munchies and beverages will be available starting at 11.

If you are planning a contribution to the Groaning Board, please contact Teresa so she can ensure the proper setting is available.

The Back Room will have the big screen on for all you football fans.

Of course, the back lawn will see its fill of games as well.

We have so much to be thankful for this year, please come and share in the festivities.

Don’t forget the Ruthorford Black Friday extravaganza: Snacks and beverages will be available all day at the Abbott Bed and Breakfast, as well as free gift wrapping. Start the day off with a light breakfast fare available from 6 am til 9.


What’s on the Groaning Board at the Abbott Bed and Breakfast:

Of course, the traditional turkey, prepared by the new chef on site, Sandra, who is also doing the giblet gravy.

Dressing and herb rolls by none other than Teresa Abbott Ruthorford.

Roasted Pork with Gooseberry Sauce by Rowe Davis, as well as his famous stuffed trout.

Roasted root vegetables, Baked Acorn Squash, and Three Sisters Soup by Brenda Garrett.

There will also be Clapshot, Haggis, Black Pudding, and Apple Butterscotch Pie, provided by the Caldwells.

And of course there will be the traditional butternut squash soup, black cherry gelatin salad, green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese, and many more delicacies.

Relishes and raw veggies abound for munching.

Don’t forget the beverages are flowing in the parlor manned by none other than Sassy.

Pumpkin, apple, sweet potato, buttermilk, pecan, chocolate coconut, peanut butter, cranberry/raisin, and lemon pies by Misses Alice and Grace.

~ From Ruthorford to you ~

May your blessings be as bountiful as your table!

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Trick or Treating in Ruthorford

Teresa took one last look around. The bed and breakfast was, by far, the hauntingest AbbottVictorian around, and that was saying a lot, given the Abbott Bed and Breakfast sat in the middle of Ruthorford. With help from “the boys,” Dorian and Eryk, though they were far from being boys, the bed and breakfast had been transformed into quite the haunt. Of course, Eryk had contributed all sorts of special effects from his Magic Shop, which was now in Merlyn’s Roost, not far from Ruthorford. She’d had no idea how much technology went into an illusionist’s performance, even when that illusionist had magic of his own.

She stepped forward and looked out the double doors, getting ready to flip a switch, which would turn on a light show across the front of the old painted lady. Main Street was dressed all in her Halloween finest, from the tiny Victorian Cottage post office across from the bed and breakfast all the way down the fountain1street. The median burst forth with vapor rising from the fountain, which had been scrubbed and filled with fresh crisp apples bobbing in the frothing water. Jasmine was manning the median, with her cousins, Bonnie and Claire, in charge of the boutique and the goodies they were handing out. All the shops were outfitted for the night, for kids and adults alike.

Chapters, the bookstore, had gone all out in their window decor and was showing continuous runs of the old scary movies from the set-up they’d had Dorian and Eryk fix from the second story over the shop. Chairs dotted the median so people could stop and watch, taking a themed break as they made their way down Main Street.

The art gallery wasn’t quite up to opening its doors to sticky fingers, so they were serving treats and apple cider out front and had decorated their windows with some of the scariest art she’d ever seen, the lighting casting just the right amount of eerie light across the masters’ works.

Elements, the Native American shop, had the perfect contribution, fashioning treat bags, masks, and noisemakers so fine that they would be saved to hand down for another generation of trick or treaters.

The old sisters, Alice and Grace, were as enthusiastic as anyone, dressing in witches’ costumes, with grand hats, adorned with purple and green veils and feathers. Capessisters billowed out around them as they stirred the giant cauldron in front of their decorated Victorian. Thanks to Eryk, eerie music floated from speakers on the porch. For the kids, they had bags of candy, candy apples, and trinkets. For the adults, they offered fresh fruit tarts and homemade fudge, along with their own special witches’ brew.

However, the greatest treat of all, for young and old alike, was The Shoppe of Spells. The downstairs had been transformed into stations of eerie meesharactivities, from talking heads to a fierce beast from beyond, safely restrained by a golden chain. Everyone wondered how Dorian had trained Meesha, the sweetest of border collies, to play the role. But, for Halloween, she was all in—as long as you didn’t see the wagging tail. If the guests didn’t flee in fright, they made their way through a very dark corridor of uneven floors and spooky moans and groans, out the back, and along hand sparka path where zombies popped up and giant spiders leaped, until they reached the cottage, where the Dutch door stood half-open in invitation. Who else was there to give out treats but the beautiful witch with the glowing green eyes, Morgana. Of course, having received their reward, the visitors would turn only to be surprised by Dorian and spiderhalloweenEryk, displaying their magic at its finest—green and purple lightning shooting over the visitors’ heads. Squeals, screams, and laughter erupted as they ran around the side of the old mansion, right into spider webs and fog.

By the time they reached the bed and breakfast, they were ready for a respite and something wholesome to eat, unaware of what Teresa had in store for them. I’d tell, but that would spoil the fun ~

From all of Ruthorford to all of you ~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Happy Halloween

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