Scroll down for Chapter One.

Notes on Writing MacGregor’s Curse (former title “Shattered”)

2017 - summer-

I'm excited! It was one year ago that I was sent the manuscript for Haunted Journey to the printer. The following months have been very rewarding, as I received feedback from readers of all ages. In fact, the first was from a nine-year-old who read it with her mom and sister before it was printed. She literally bounced with excitement as she told me what must happen in the sequel she thought I should write! Since then, many readers have offered similar suggestions. Most insisted there simply must be a wedding, perhaps two or three!
Ideas have been percolating in my brain, and I now have several chapters of a sequel. Most of the same characters will show up again, but I also want this to be a stand-alone story, so that a reader who hasn't read Haunted Journey will enjoy it, so new characters will be introduced. .
Below is most of Chapter One. Any more would be a spoiler, and I don't want to give away any surprises !
If you feel like it, I'd welcome your critiques and suggestions. Thanks for your continuing support and encouragement!.

UPDATE: June 3, 2018. It's finished!!!!! Well, I think I've written the final chapter, anyway. There is much editing to do. However I hope to have it ready for the printer by August, Now, if only I could come up with a title!

UPDATE: January 22, 2019 Well, August came and went, as did September, October, November, and December! The new novel didn’t get to the printer, but I believe I do have a title. I am back at revising “Slingshot Justice” and hoping for a late spring publishing date. I needed a few months to contemplate several changes, which I hope have improved the story greatly.

UPDATE: September 18,2019 Remember the saying, “Don’t count your chickens until they’re hatched”? It may sound trite, but it’s a good one. After consulting an editor, whom I trust for her greater knowledge than mine, it appears I have the makings of two novels, not just one. This means I’ll be splitting what I’ve written almost in half and completing one story about Jamie, my main character, and one day, expanding the part I’d written about Francis, a second compelling character. So, instead of a sequel to Haunted Journey, I may have two, and in the end, there may be a trilogy. Who’d have believed that? Stay tuned for more about these two sequels.

UPDATE FEBRUARY, 2020 Final version might be ready. I’ve learned it’s better to not be quite so definite!

UPDATE: November 20, 2020 Well, it’s trite to say this, but 2020 has been quite a year in so many ways. Although I believed this new book was ready for publishing in March, because of the state of the world, battling Covid-19, among other things, I seemed to lose interest in proceeding and set it aside for several months. By late September, my enthusiasm returned and, after a bit more editing, arranging for cover design, ISBN numbers, and other details relating to publishing, I was able to send the final copy to my printer in Quebec yesterday.

At this point, I am waiting for a date when I might expect the first copies, but I’m expecting that to be mid-December. I will shortly set up this page to take orders for MacGregor’s Curse, so stay tuned. While I may not be able to guarantee a Christmas delivery by mail, I can arrange local delivery or porch pick-up.

MacGregor’s Curse

Chapter One

The Outsider

Jamie MacGregor was on a mission. Call it revenge. Call it justice. He didn’t care about words. He needed to act. In the tiny village, the handful of cabins and sheds he surveyed lay as silent and deserted as a cemetery at midnight. The occasional drip of melting snow from their roofs provided the only sound, aside from his own breathing. No dogs barked. No wagon wheels creaked along the still frozen track. No farmers gossiped outside the general store. He noted its drawn window shades. The business was closed, a rare occurrence indicating the importance of the day. Until recently, the surrounding trees had bowed low under the weight of heavy snow. A recent thaw had laid bare their branches, allowing him a clear view of the area. However, he would also be more visible. Moving forward, he avoided the muddy, main route and passed through a small woods. In the far distance, he noted an unusual shape rising along the riverbank, and the soft sound of rushing water identifying it as the new mill.

Emerging from the thick trees, he approached his planned destination from the rear. The imposing two storey, clapboard residence had always impressed him, as it stood in stark contrast to the simple log cabins most people occupied. After a few minutes surveillance, he was able to confirm the doctor was not seeing patients on this day. Instead, most of the villagers had already gathered inside, waiting for the special occasion to begin. He had come for the same event, but with a different purpose: he would wait alone on the outside.

In front of the house, a patient horse, hitched to a carriage, also waited. Close to a side window, Jamie spied a tree thick enough for his purpose. He approached it with stealth, keeping an eye on the horse, not wanting to spook it and alert others to his presence.

Reaching the safety of the tree, he flattened himself against it. He was grateful for its size and ideal location. With his height and broad shoulders, he’d be well hidden. Despite winter’s chill, nervous sweat poured down his face, blurring his vision and stinging his eyes, but he didn’t dare try to wipe it away. Even though he was sure he couldn’t be seen, it wasn’t worth risking someone might detecting the movement.

He held his breath and listened. A deep grunt and the scraping of wood on wood indicated someone pushing up the lower half of a stiff window, releasing a mixture of merry voices onto the still air. At that happy sound, a white hot rage shook his body. What right did they all have to be so happy? But he couldn’t afford to lose control now. He’d planned for so long and chosen his moment carefully. He would only have this one chance. He had to get it right.

The voices had stopped. His heart raced. He’d lost track of time. How long had he been standing there? Had he missed the moment? No! He couldn’t. He had to do this. Leaning closer, as far as he dared without being seen, he strained to listen until at last a man’s voice rang out, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Unclenching his fist, Jamie hefted the sizeable rock he’d been squeezing so hard his fingers ached, placed it in his slingshot, pulled back hard,…and let it fly! The shattering sound of the missile smashing through the glass at the top half of the window provided a fleeting moment of satisfaction before screams erupted inside.

He ducked back behind the tree as the familiar, red face of his neighbour, Jim Whylie, leaned out the window scanning the surrounding bushes. “Who’s out there?” he shouted, shaking a fist. “By God, you’ll pay for this, whoever you are! Bastard!

Quick! He only had a moment to crouch down and half-run, half-crawl into the bush and get as far away as he could before the others, now pouring out the front door, could spot him. He was fast on his feet and with a bit of a head start, he knew he could outrun any of the others. Even if one or two mounted up, he knew the paths and trails where a horse couldn’t get through the underbrush.

*****

As most of the men rushed to give chase, their stunned wives and daughters gathered around the newlyweds.

“ Who would do such a thing?”

“At a wedding!”

“Shocking!”

“Disgraceful!”

“No respect!”

Beatrice Lawson stared at the offending rock laying amongst shards of glittering glass on the dark carpet. She noticed strange, dark red splatters on some of the broken glass. In a strangely disoriented state of mind, she wondered how they got there.

“Oh, my dear. You’re hurt!” Dr. Joseph Paul, her new husband, placed an arm around her trembling shoulders and guided her towards a small sofa. “You’d best sit down.”

Her panicked eyes searched the room. “The children! Where are the children?”

“They’re right here. Don’t worry. They’re fine. ” he soothed her.

Before she could sit down, her two younger girls threw their arms around her, while Samantha, her eldest, clutched her mother’s uninjured hand.

”Oh, Mama. Are you all right?” Worry lines creased Samantha’s pale face.

“I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Truly.” She tried to soothe her girls, hugging each one in turn. Then, casting a worried glance around the room, she asked, “Where’s your brother? Where’s Caleb?”

“He’s gone with the others,” Samantha replied. “ They’re after whoever broke the window.”

“Oh, dear. He shouldn’t have.”

Heather Paul, the doctor’s daughter, spoke up. “Please don’t worry. I’m sure whoever did this is probably way ahead of them by now.”

Beatrice was grateful for Heather’s calm demeanour, so much like her father’s.

Joseph Paul had removed a starched, white handkerchief from the pocket of his vest and applied it to his bride’s finger to staunch the bleeding. “It appears you were the only one hurt, my dear, but this cut doesn’t seem to be deep, thank goodness. And Heather’s right; don’t worry about Caleb. He knows how to take care of himself. ”

“I hope so,” she replied. At that moment, Samantha let out a gasp and stared, horrified, at her mother’s blood-stained wedding dress, as if noticing it for the first time . Beatrice, too, regarded the lovely, deep blue, embroidered fabric, the finest cloth she’d been able to afford in years. She’d put so much patient effort into sewing something lovely and suitable for this occasion, it would be a shame if the blood didn’t come out. But it was, after all, just a dress. Her biggest concern was her children, and thank goodness, they had not been injured.

Samantha bit her lip, “Who could it be, Mama? Who would do such a thing?”

”