Carly Ruth Laden headed for the big city of Carmingden, leaving behind the small town of Burl, where she had been born and been raised. Where she and her older brother, Decker, ran about in those woods surrounding Laden Lane. Where Daddy Drew built the hut in the woods for his children to have a sanctuary, a place to go and play, to escape. At the tender age of 22, Carly met and fell in love with Dorian Shiffer; a man every woman wanted for their very own. Some years later, Carly suspected her husband was harboring a dark secret. One, which Carly unearthed by chance. A secret which shocked not only Carly, but Carly’s parents, Babs and Drew, and her older brother, Decker, the townsfolk of Burl and Helmsdale. Strange occurrences and unanswered questions to the disappearance of Carly Ruth Laden Shiffer set in motion a series of events that would forever haunt the residents of the small towns of Burl and Helmsdale. Versions of the truth gathered together and everyone had their own opinions. What happened to Carly Ruth, her brother Decker, and husband, Dorian. Carly’s seemingly perfect marriage begins to crumble and suspicions reveal a shocking truth no one was prepared for. Situations turned from bad to worse. Carly vanishes without a trace. Babs, Drew, and Decker Laden endure the agonizing loss of one of their own, then events no one thought possible, rose from the grave. Past nightmares took revenge. The Laden’s found themselves inside a tornado of changing degrees, where hope had become a lost treasure, buried in an unknown grave where darkness is the norm. No one was aware of the evil lurking in the woods surrounding Laden Lane until Carly informed them of a mysterious orange and white truck parked along Thurston Road. Those who know Carly, knows Carly’s over-active imagination, her crazy-head, folks called it. Carly became the boy who cried wolf. Only now, everyone’s beside themselves, confused as to what really happened to Carly Ruth Laden Shiffer.
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I am a storyteller of fiction; mystery suspense thrillers without the fairytale endings. I love spinning a tale, adding a dash of thoughtful insight. No ranting or raving, merely a subtle hint of WTF. I don’t believe in fairytales, but do believe in leaving my readers wondering, what if. I test my readers not to peek ahead and discover whodunit, so I leave the plot opened until the last word, the last sentence. I was a wanderer, a nomad of sorts, and met a lot of different people throughout my time. I come to discover we all have in one common attribute, separated by two categories, and that there is no thin gray line or any in-between. There’s only good and evil and I have met both, believe me you. The old adage (most people are good, they have just had a rough go) Hogwash. Bull. What a bunch of malarkey. You are good or you are evil. Night and day. Up and down. In and out. Under and over. Ying and Yang. Life is a consistency of twos. So get your SHE-IT together and make life on this planet memorable for the better part of what your existence is for. Stop making excuses and blaming everyone and everything. Okay, so I can rant a bit, but I wanted to get that off my soul. The short of it is; I love telling stories. Wherever it takes me, so be it. I was born to be a storyteller, so I am fulfilling my dream, my way. Born and raised in a small town in upstate New York, I contracted and managed to survive Tuberculosis in the 50s, Polio in the 60s, all before the age of thirteen, when I moved with my mother and stepfather to a 75-acre farmland where life took on a subtle hint of strange changes. I have enjoyed tales of mystery suspense since a very young age. Way before the internet ever was even heard of. I would write stories on scraps of paper. Then, mother gave me a typewriter she bought at a garage sale. I mailed query letters, synopsis, chapters back when you had to go to the post office, and waited, and waited, and waited some more, only to receive rejection letters. Time passes, reality sets in. As with any youth, pressed times and lack of funds, along with dissatisfactions, tend to build a wall, and finding the gate is key. Our choice is a choice we make, and at times we make the wrong choice and we get lost in the confusion of the world’s wonders. We lose our way along the path and we take that mistaken turn at the fork. But if we are true to ourselves, and keep searching along that path, we just may finally find our way back to the gate, and with the key in hand, can step on through. That key is to establish oneself if not in success, merely being content with oneself if nothing else. Doing and living and finding in your self the true end to it all, realizing what really was important in the beginning remains to be as true as if it never left us in the first place. Live your dream if only in your mind, and be thankful you have a mind in which to live your dream.