Index

About Stacie

All  of Stacie's e-books
are available through
Amazon

What Demonic
Spirits Don't Want..
$9.95


Alien

Angels

Automatic Writing

Bloody Mary

Bogeyman

Books, Movies, and
Heavy Metal

Crystals

Demonic Spirits

Demonic Tattering

Divination

Easter, True Meaning

Fairies & Other
Magical Creatures

Imaginary Friends

Indigo Children

 Images
of Jesus

Is Jesus
The Only Way?

Items used for
Protection

Nocturnal Hypnosis

Nowhere to Turn,Promo

Open Doors

Ouija Board

Pentecostalism

Prayer

Psychic Kids

Psychics & Mediums

Sarah's Story Book 1

Schizophrenia

Spirit Guides

Talking to the Dead

True Meaning of Easter

The Truth About Santa

Things That Invite
Demonic Spirits

Voodoo

When Ghosts
Come to Call

Who Was Jesus?

Witchcraft

Word Curses


 

 




 

Stacie Spielman


Nowhere to Turn is the true story of my seven year marriage
to a man whose son hated me and wanted to see me dead.


A
vailable through Amazon for Kindle and in paperback

Excerpt from Nowhere to Turn:
(Note: I'm Eve in the book)

That night Eve lay awake in the sofa bed sleepily watching the dancing shadows on the walls, and listening to the rhythmic sound of Nick's breathing.  When at last she dozed, it was not for long. 

"Eve." 

The slow, heavy tread on the stairway echoed through the cabin.  "Nick," Eve whispered.  "Nick, wake up.  There's someone in the house!"

When Nick failed to stir, Eve nudged him and shook his shoulder.  But instead of waking up, he began to snore.  Eve's heart was beating so loudly she could hardly hear the sound of her own voice.  "Nick!" she whispered frantically.  "Nick, please wake up!"

"Eve."  The unfamiliar voice was deep and sonorous, as if the speaker were speaking directly into a microphone.  His tread on the stairs was growing louder...  eleven...twelve...  There were only thirteen steps.  I  In another moment, he would step into the firelight!

"There's Evil in this house," the deep voice thundered.

The ominous words sent a chill of horror down the length of Eve's spine.  Her fingers and toes felt like splinters of ice despite the down comforter covering her bed.  Immobilized by fear, she strained to see into the darkness

"Only you can do what has to be done, Eve." 

From the corner of her eye, Eve could see that Nick was still sleeping undisturbed.  The voice was so loud it filled the room.  How could he continue to sleep? 

"Only you can do what has to be done to rid this house of the Evil that dwells within it."

Eve heard a whimper, and realized it was her own.  Her nightgown was drenched, but her mouth felt parched.  Her heart was racing out of control.  She knew she must have dreamed the voice. There could be no other explanation.  But the sound had been as real as the sound of Nick's breathing, or the noise of the crackling fire in the grate.  It hadn't sounded in her head, as a thought would have done.  It had been an audible voice!

The message of the voice was clear: Evil had somehow entered her home, and she was on her own in fighting against it.  There was no point in trying to wake Nick now.  He obviously hadn't been meant to hear it.  She knew that if she forced herself to get up and check, there would be no one in the stairwell.  Whoever or whatever had spoken had come and gone. 

Trembling and breathing in shallow rasps, Eve lay back down and pulled the comforter up under her chin.  Even the warmth of Nick's body beside her could not dispel the chill now racking her body.  Afraid to sleep, she lay awake through the night, daring to doze only when the rising sun sent a soft ray of light to peek through the curtains...

A melted plastic cup and three sheets of half-burned paper lay among the Super Heroes and transformers in the closet.  The brown cup had been blackened, and one side had buckled, adhering to itself as it melted.  Apparently Michael had stuffed paper into the cup and struck a match to the paper.  Forcing herself to b breathe slowly and deeply in order to avoid hyperventilating, Eve reached for the ruined cup and the charred papers beneath it.  An attempt to set a bonfire in the driveway, a leaf fire under Sylvia's car, and now this.  Thinking back now to the tiny sounds she had thought she heard coming from Michael's room in the night  

Suddenly sensing she was not alone, Eve turned and made a startled gasp.  Standing over her, metal fork clutched in his fist, poised as if ready to stab, Michael forced a feeble laugh.  "Just kidding, Mom.  Just kidding."

"There is Evil in this house..." Eve's mind droned.  She knew Michael wasn't an evil child.  But where did one draw the line between the child and the evil acts that child was capable of committing?