Genre: Short Stories/Horror/Occult
Three supernatural stories. Three character sub-plots, from Three of my paranormal novels.
What horrors does a lonely inn offer? What relationship do you have with your mother? Is it difficult letting go of an old relationship? You decide.
Karen’s Book Buzz Review
The Lonely Inn is the first of five stories, despite the title and description of the book. Apparently, though it is three stories plus three character subplots from three of the author’s novels.
The three stories were The Lonely Inn, Mother, and Three’s A Crowd. They were very enjoyable. The first one started normally enough, then went a little dark, then turned to horror, and finally a real twist at the end that took me completely by surprise.
Mother, was next, and I’d half guessed the ending but that didn’t matter. It was a great story and I enjoyed seeing how it would reach its conclusion.
Three’s a Crowd, again, it started off normally, although I was wondering why the main characters were making such a fuss over lost keys. Not so much fuss, but fear. Gradually the story unfolded. Yes, okay, it does say horror as the genre but when stories start of normally, it’s easy to forget what you were told. There were a few surprises in this one, I was asking the questions before I got to the answers.
The other three stories were the character subplots from the authors novels, I didn’t get those as all. For me, they were situations out of context. When I came to the end I wondered if I had missed something, or not them read it correctly. Although, I must say the final story Ayleth was intriguing. It seemed like a reverse time travel story, so I guess I would have to read the book to find out.
I liked the way P. J. Roscoe writes. She has a nice way with words and writes descriptively.
Three is the latest release from Electric Eclectic Books. These are novellas and particularly good if you love reading but don’t have a lot of time. It is also a good way to find new authors, too.
You might want to read one of P. J. Roscoe’s other books. She has a great selection.
About P. J. Roscoe
P.J. Roscoe is the award-winning author of four supernatural historical novels and faerie books for children, also having a variety of short stories accepted within various anthologies and historical articles published. She lives in North Wales with her Husband of twenty-six years and their cats and dog. Paula is a medium who is currently working on her first non-fiction book titled, Thirteen Hauntings which involves investigating haunted locations around England and Wales.
She is also a qualified counsellor, holistic therapist, Angel voice healer, Chakradance facilitator, drumming therapist to name but a few! Paula firmly believes in grasping life with both hands and enjoying every moment.
Connect with her on Social Media
Excerpt from The Lonely Inn
The inn was known to me. I had frequented this place many times growing up, either with family for Sunday meals, or later as a teenager, we’d hide in the corner with our cokes and lemonades, hoping the landlord wouldn’t notice. I had my first legal drink here. My older brother’s sixteenth birthday was held here and my father’s retirement party. By the time I’d learned to drive aged twenty, it had closed. Now, I saw it rarely, but when my journey did pass by I would send it a smile, if not a kiss, and quietly say how sorry I was that like many other old inns, it had closed due to lack of customers and higher rates.
I suppose the closure was inevitable. It squat in the corner of a secluded crossroads, as if it were part of the scenery. Its black and white exterior slowly turning green with ivy and moss as Mother Nature reclaimed it.
If you blinked, you may miss it, but it had always been there; centuries before I was born. No flashing games took up space. No music filled any silent moments. The dull sound of conversation, fine ale and warmth from the open fire had a charm of its own.
I hadn’t been sure that I would head out that way. I just needed to drive, to think, to get away from my situation. I had to make some hard choices, and Jonathan wasn’t making it any easier as I questioned my position. I didn’t take much notice of which direction I was headed, but found myself on the road to the crossroads. I hadn’t intended to stop, but when I saw the old inn, I found myself pulling over into the small area at the front and got out.
The paint on the black timbers had all but peeled away from the Welsh weather and years of neglect. Parts of the white plaster had come away, revealing the stone beneath. All the windows had long since been boarded up as they’d become the target of bored teens, who likened the sound of breaking glass to some sort of release. The beautiful old oak door that had needed a good hard shove to open had not escaped brutality. It lay on the floor, warped and broken beneath a pile of glass, weeds and bricks. A cheap plaster board now blocked the way in. I roamed around to the side nearest the road, and saw that someone had decorated it with colourful graffiti of a fist, along with various swear words and initials.
I heaved a loud, sad sigh at seeing such destruction on this beautiful building and wandered back, past my car and around to what had once been the small car park. I was surprised to see a static caravan parked at its furthest end, but of people, there was no sign. I shrugged and continued my exploration, I wasn’t doing any harm.
I shielded my eyes against the glare of the late afternoon April sun as I gazed up at the boarded up windows, the rotting wood and the slate roof that beggared believe that it was still intact. The small chimney also looked intact, and I was recalling the smell of the wood fire when I saw him watching me. I hadn’t noticed the back door was not boarded up and he stood within the dark doorway, a smile on his face.