In the historic heart of Marion’s streets,

Stands Holliday House where past and present meet.

With brick washed in white and a door painted black,

A place where the echoes of footsteps come back.

The windows are eyes that shimmer at night,

Reflecting the moon in ghostly light.

Stories are whispered in the autumn breeze,

A symphony sung by the ancient trees.

They say once a family lived here with glee,

Laughter would dance through the halls wild and free.

But time wove its spell, as time often will,

And now all is quiet, so eerily still.

Does the house dream when the world is asleep?

Does it sigh with the weight of the secrets it keeps?

Or does it just stand, watching years drift away,

A relic of moments now lost to decay?

Yet come the first snow, when the lanterns glow,

The Holliday House puts on its show.

A flicker, a light, a voice on the air,

Or just the wind playing tricks with despair?

Step inside, if you dare to believe,

For magic and mystery are all that it weaves.

The past never sleeps in this house by the trees,

It lingers in whispers, it hums in the breeze.

The Shadow in the Hallway

Late one evening, as Jennifer was locking up The Holliday House, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing from the second floor. Thinking it was Zackery or Kenneth, she called out—but no one answered. The air grew heavy, and a chill crept down her spine.

Slowly, she ascended the staircase, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. As she reached the top, she froze. A tall, shadowy figure stood at the end of the hallway, motionless yet menacing. Before she could react, the figure melted into the wall, vanishing as if it had never been there.

But Jennifer knew better. The Holliday House wasn’t empty. And whoever—or whatever—was there was watching.

Haunting Susurrations: Tales from the Shadows is a chilling collection of short stories that lingers in the mind long after the final page. From eerie whispers in forgotten corridors to shadows that move just beyond the edge of sight, each tale is a journey into the unknown—a place where the line between the living and the dead blurs.

These stories weave together the psychological and the supernatural, exploring themes of grief, isolation, and the ghosts we carry within us. Whether it’s a lost soul trapped in time, a house that refuses to be forgotten, or a voice calling from the darkness, Haunting Susurrations will pull you into a world where the past never truly stays buried.

Perfect for fans of gothic horror, eerie folklore, and spine-tingling suspense, this collection is an invitation to listen closely… because some whispers are meant to be heard.

Margaret “Maggie” Bishop stared at the sprawling, crumbling Victorian house before her, its gabled roof and faded grandeur framed by the soft glow of the South Carolina sunset. Holloway House had been built in the 1880s, a masterpiece of its time, but the decades—and its past as a funeral home—had left it scarred and abandoned. Its windows, shattered and empty, stared back at Maggie like hollow eyes.

She gripped the keys in her hand, the weight of the decision she’d made bearing down on her. This wasn’t just a house; it was her last shot at something resembling a fresh start.

At 55, Maggie felt like her life had unraveled. She had moved to South Carolina from her native North Carolina ten years ago, following a husband who had promised a better life near the coast. But the marriage had crumbled, leaving her adrift. The divorce had gutted her emotionally and financially, and her once-bright dreams had dimmed under the weight of depression and anxiety. Starting over felt impossible, but the voice inside her head had whispered that it wasn’t too late.

Holloway House was that whisper made real.

The House and Its Secrets

The purchase had been impulsive, almost reckless. Maggie had stumbled across the listing late one night, scrolling through real estate websites in a haze of insomnia. The price had been shockingly low, the history tantalizing. A Victorian home that had once been a funeral parlor, left to rot for decades? It was as if the house had been waiting for someone like her—someone who could see its potential beneath the decay.

When she stepped inside for the first time, the air felt heavy, carrying a mix of mildew and something harder to place, like old grief. The walls were peeling, the floors creaking, and the grand staircase sagged under its own weight. But Maggie didn’t care. She saw the wide archways, the intricate moldings, the hand-carved banisters. She imagined it restored to its former glory, a testament to her own perseverance.

But as the days turned into weeks, her resolve wavered. The isolation of her new life gnawed at her. The renovations were overwhelming, her budget stretched thin, and the house seemed to resist her efforts. Tools disappeared. Lights flickered even when the electricity was off. And at night, she heard noises—footsteps where there should have been none, faint whispers that sent chills down her spine.

Whispers in the Dark

One night, Maggie woke to the sound of muffled sobbing. Sitting up in bed, her heart pounding, she strained to listen. The sound seemed to come from the floor below. Grabbing a flashlight, she crept downstairs, her anxiety prickling her skin like static. The sound led her to what had once been the embalming room. She hesitated before opening the door. The air was colder here, and her breath fogged in front of her. Inside, the room was empty save for the faint outline of a figure in the corner—a woman, her face hidden in her hands.

“Who are you?” Maggie whispered, her voice trembling.

The figure didn’t respond but faded into the shadows, leaving behind only a sense of profound sadness. Maggie stood there for what felt like hours, her flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. For the first time, she wondered if buying the house had been a mistake.

A Connection to the Past

In the days that followed, Maggie couldn’t shake the encounter. Determined to understand, she dove into the history of Holloway House. Records revealed its dark past: during its years as a funeral home, there had been rumors of malpractice, bodies mishandled, and grieving families swindled. The original owner, a man named Thomas Holloway, had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, leaving behind a legacy of whispered horrors.

But there were other stories, too. Stories of kindness, of lives celebrated, of the house as a place of community and healing. Maggie clung to those stories, determined to honor that part of its history. She began documenting her experiences, setting up cameras and voice recorders in the rooms where she felt the strongest energy. The house spoke to her—through flickering lights, cold drafts, and whispers caught on tape. The spirits weren’t hostile; they were lost, like her.

Finding Purpose

The work of restoring the house became a form of therapy. As Maggie patched walls and sanded floors, she felt a connection growing—not just to the house but to herself. She realized that every creak and groan, every ghostly encounter, mirrored her own struggles. The house was broken, but it could be healed. And so could she.

One night, while reviewing her recordings, Maggie heard a voice that made her pause. It was faint but unmistakable: “Thank you.”

Her heart swelled. She began holding small séances, not to banish the spirits but to understand them. Each session revealed a new piece of the house’s story—a grieving mother, a forgotten child, a man seeking redemption. Helping them find peace became her purpose.

A Dream Realized

Months turned into years, and Holloway House transformed. The peeling paint was replaced with a fresh coat, the broken windows with gleaming glass. Maggie turned the house into a bed-and-breakfast, a sanctuary for travelers and a haven for those curious about the paranormal. The spirits lingered, but they no longer felt oppressive. They were part of the house, part of her story.

Maggie still had hard days. Depression and anxiety didn’t vanish overnight. But as she stood on the porch of Holloway House, watching the sun rise over its restored beauty, she felt something she hadn’t felt in years: hope.

She hadn’t waited too late to chase her dream. She had simply arrived at the right time, in the right place, to find it.

A New Chapter for Holloway House

Holloway House quickly gained a reputation as more than just a bed-and-breakfast—it became a destination for the curious and the grieving. Paranormal enthusiasts visited to experience the lingering spirits, while others came for the beauty of the restored Victorian home. Maggie found herself at the center of a community she hadn’t realized she was building.

Guests shared their own stories of loss and struggle, drawn to the house as if it offered something intangible: connection. Maggie listened, always ready with a kind word or a knowing nod. The house had become a place of healing, not just for her but for everyone who walked through its doors.

The Spirits Speak

One evening, after all the guests had retired, Maggie sat in the parlor, sipping tea and reflecting on how far she had come. The house, once heavy with despair, felt lighter now. But she knew not all the spirits had moved on. Some still lingered, tethered to their pain or their secrets.

She decided to conduct a final séance—not to banish them but to offer them a chance to tell their stories. Setting the table with candles and her trusted voice recorder, Maggie called out, “If anyone is here, you’re welcome to speak. I’m listening.”

The air grew colder, and the flames flickered. Then

came a voice, faint but distinct: “Thomas.”

Maggie leaned forward. “Thomas Holloway? Is that you?”

The response was delayed, as if coming from far away. “I stayed… to protect them.”

“Protect who?” Maggie asked, her heart racing.

“Those they forgot.”

Uncovering the Final Secret

Maggie couldn’t sleep that night, her mind racing

with questions. The next morning, she began searching the property again. Though she had already explored much of the grounds during the renovations, she had a feeling there was more to uncover. Thomas’s words echoed in her mind: “Those they forgot.”

In the farthest corner of the backyard, near a cluster of overgrown azaleas, she found it: a small, weathered marker hidden beneath years of moss and dirt. Clearing it away, Maggie revealed a simple inscription: “For the Forgotten.”

Her chest tightened as she realized what she had found. This was no ordinary marker; it was a mass grave. Thomas had stayed behind not as a tormentor but as a guardian, protecting the memory of those whose lives had been discarded by the funeral home’s darker days.

Maggie contacted local authorities, and together they unearthed the site. The remains of six individuals were found, each one a testament to the house’s shadowy past. She felt a wave of sadness but also relief. They had been found. They could finally be honored.

A Farewell and a Promise

That evening, Maggie held a small ceremony in the garden. Guests, neighbors, and even a few members of the historical society gathered to pay their respects. The names of the deceased were unknown, but Maggie spoke for them, her voice steady and full of conviction.

“We honor you today,” she said, “because every life matters. You are not forgotten.”

As the ceremony ended and the crowd dispersed, Maggie lingered by the marker. The air felt warm, almost comforting. She closed her eyes and whispered, “They’re safe now, Thomas. You can rest too.”

For the first time, the house felt completely still. No flickering lights, no whispers, just a profound sense of peace.

A Legacy of Light

Holloway House thrived in the years that followed. It became more than just a home for Maggie; it was a symbol of her resilience and a sanctuary for others.

She continued hosting guests, leading paranormal investigations, and sharing the stories of the house and its spirits.

Though she was now surrounded by people, Maggie still valued her quiet moments. On warm evenings, she sat on the wraparound porch, watching the fireflies dance and listening to the distant hum of cicadas. In those moments, she felt a deep connection to the house and its history—a history she had helped heal.

At 55, she had felt lost, wondering if she had waited too long to pursue her dream. Now, at 60, she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be. Holloway House had given her purpose, and she had given it life.

And in the soft rustle of the garden’s azaleas, she sometimes thought she heard a voice—a whisper of gratitude, carried on the wind. “Thank you.”

The Unexpected Visitor

Life at Holloway House had settled into a rhythm. Maggie balanced her days between running the bed-and-breakfast, hosting small paranormal tours, and maintaining the house’s upkeep. The spirits had grown quiet since the garden ceremony, and for the first time in years, Maggie felt a sense of stability.

But one morning, as she was setting up breakfast for her guests, a knock on the door shattered her routine. It wasn’t the casual knock of a curious tourist but a firm, purposeful one. Maggie wiped her hands on a dish towel and opened the door.

A man in his late 30s stood on the porch, his expression a mixture of nervousness and determination. His clothes were rumpled, and he clutched a worn leather satchel.

“Mrs. Bishop?” he asked.

Maggie nodded. “Yes. Can I help you?”

“My name is Daniel Holloway,” he said. “I think this house belonged to my family.”

A Family Connection

Daniel explained that he had recently started tracing his family tree and discovered that his great-great-grandfather was Thomas Holloway. Though he had known of the name growing up, his family had rarely spoken about him, and the details surrounding the house were vague. Intrigued, Daniel had traveled to South Carolina to see it for himself.

Maggie invited him in, offering him coffee and a seat at the long dining table. She shared what she knew about the house’s history and her experiences since moving in. Daniel listened intently, his face pale as she described Thomas’s lingering spirit and the mass grave in the garden.

“Do you think he’s still here?” Daniel asked, his voice quiet.

Maggie hesitated. “No,” she said gently. “I think he’s finally at peace. But his presence left a mark on this place. He stayed to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Daniel nodded, his eyes misting. “That sounds like the man my grandmother used to describe—a protector, but someone burdened by guilt.”

Unlocking a New Mystery

Before leaving, Daniel handed Maggie a bundle of old documents and photographs from his family archives. “These were in my grandmother’s attic,” he said. “I thought you might find them interesting.”

As Maggie pored over the papers that evening, one item stood out: a handwritten map of the house and its grounds, dated 1901. It showed features Maggie hadn’t seen before, including what appeared to be a hidden cellar beneath the carriage house.

The next day, armed with the map, Maggie set out to explore. The carriage house had been little more than a storage shed since she moved in, filled with old tools and rusting equipment. Following the map, she cleared away debris until she found a trapdoor hidden beneath a tattered rug. The door creaked open, revealing a set of narrow stone steps descending into darkness.

The Cellar’s Secrets

The cellar was cold and damp, its walls lined with shelves of jars and boxes. Maggie’s flashlight revealed faded labels: herbs, ointments, tinctures. It appeared to have been used for apothecary work, likely connected to the funeral home.

But in the far corner, something else caught her eye—a wooden chest bound with iron. Her hands shook as she pried it open, revealing its contents: letters, ledgers, and a small, leather-bound diary. The name embossed on the cover sent chills through her: Thomas Holloway.

The diary chronicled Thomas’s life in the funeral business, his dedication to providing dignity for the dead, and his growing unease as his partner, Silas Croft, began exploiting grieving families. Thomas described his efforts to stop Silas and his eventual discovery of the man’s horrifying practices.

The final entries were frantic, detailing threats from Silas and a plan to expose him. But they stopped abruptly. Maggie realized that Thomas had likely vanished before he could carry out his plan.

Setting the Record Straight

Maggie shared the discovery with Daniel, who was deeply moved. Together, they worked to publish the diary’s contents, finally bringing Thomas’s story to light. The truth about his bravery and the circumstances surrounding his disappearance were revealed to the community, casting him not as a villain but as a man who had tried to do the right thing.

The revelations brought renewed interest to Holloway House, drawing historians, journalists, and paranormal enthusiasts alike. Maggie used the funds from the increased tourism to continue restoring the property, ensuring that its legacy would endure.

Finding Belonging

For the first time in years, Maggie no longer felt lost. Holloway House had given her a purpose, a connection to others, and a sense of accomplishment she never thought she’d achieve. She often spent evenings on the porch with Daniel, who had become a regular visitor, sharing stories and dreams of what the house could still become.

Though the spirits had grown quiet, Maggie sometimes felt their presence in the stillness of the night. She imagined Thomas watching over her, satisfied that his story had finally been told.

At 55, Maggie had wondered if she was too late to start over. Now, she knew the truth: life didn’t have a timetable, and it was never too late to rebuild, to find hope, and to leave a legacy. Holloway House wasn’t just a home—it was a second chance, for her and for everyone it touched.

Restoring More Than a House

As Holloway House blossomed into its new role as a historic landmark and paranormal research hub, Maggie found herself surrounded by a network of people who cared deeply about its story. Volunteers helped her restore more of the property—polishing the grand staircase, repairing the delicate stained- glass windows, and even rebuilding the crumbling carriage house into a charming event space.

Maggie found joy in hosting gatherings, from historical lectures to small paranormal conventions. The house, once a place of isolation and sorrow, had become a lively center for education and connection. She often marveled at how different her life had become. The sense of belonging she once thought was out of reach had finally found her.

A Whisper in the Garden

One summer evening, as Maggie tended to the azaleas in the garden, she felt a familiar chill. It wasn’t the oppressive cold of an angry spirit but the light, soothing presence she had come to associate with Thomas Holloway. She straightened, brushing dirt from her hands, and turned toward the marker where the forgotten graves had been uncovered.

The air seemed to shimmer, and a faint voice reached her ears. “You’ve done well.”

Maggie smiled, tears prickling her eyes. “Thank you, Thomas,” she said softly. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

There was no reply, but the warmth that settled over her felt like an embrace. Maggie stayed there for a while, the scent of blooming flowers and the hum of cicadas surrounding her. She had done what she set out to do—honored the past, given the spirits peace, and created a new life for herself.

A New Venture

With Holloway House thriving, Maggie felt ready for her next challenge. Daniel, now a close friend and collaborator, suggested they expand their efforts beyond the house. “There are other places like this,” he said one evening as they reviewed inquiries from curious visitors. “Other places with stories that need to be told.”

Maggie loved the idea. Together, they formed the Holloway Society for Historic Restoration and Paranormal Research, dedicated to preserving forgotten landmarks and uncovering the hidden truths of their pasts. They began traveling to nearby towns, investigating old houses, forgotten cemeteries, and even an abandoned asylum.

Every project brought new challenges, but Maggie approached them with the confidence she had gained at Holloway House. She found that her experiences had given her not only expertise but also a deep compassion for the stories tied to each place.

Legacy and Peace

By the time Maggie turned 60, she had transformed more than just one house. Her work with the Holloway Society had brought new life to forgotten places and new purpose to her own life. She was no longer just a woman rebuilding after a divorce and personal hardships—she was a leader, a healer, and a storyteller.

One crisp autumn morning, Maggie stood on the porch of Holloway House, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise. The property was alive with activity—guests milling about, researchers setting up equipment, and volunteers tending to the garden. She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

The house, once her symbol of despair, had become a place of hope and renewal, not only for her but for everyone who crossed its threshold. It had taught her that it was never too late to start over, to dream again, and to create something meaningful.

As the sun climbed higher, warming the aged wood of the house and the vibrant colors of the garden, Maggie smiled. She no longer questioned whether she had made the right decision all those years ago. She had. Holloway House had given her life back— and in return, she had given it a future.

*********************************

Genre: gothic horror, paranormal thrillers, and ghost stories

Age range: 16 and over

Word count: 3,194 (One short-story out of Haunting Susurrations “Tales from the Shadows")

Author name: Jennifer VanBoskerck

Why The Holloway House is a Good Fit

The Holloway House is a blend of psychological suspense, gothic horror, and emotional healing—perfect for readers who love atmospheric, character-driven ghost stories with a strong emotional core. The novel aligns well with Trident Media Group’s focus on bestsellers in commercial fiction, particularly in the genres of supernatural suspense, gothic fiction, and paranormal mysteries. Fans of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, Simone St. James’ The Book of Cold Cases, or Jennifer McMahon’s The Winter People will find much to love in The Holloway House.

The Hook

A woman seeking a fresh start buys a long-abandoned Victorian funeral home—only to uncover its tragic and sinister past. As she restores the house, she realizes she isn’t alone. The spirits within whisper their stories, some seeking help, others warning her to leave. When she unearths a secret mass grave, she must unravel a century-old mystery before she becomes part of the house’s dark history herself.

Synopsis

Maggie Bishop, a 55-year-old divorcee struggling with depression and uncertainty, impulsively buys Holloway House, an abandoned Victorian funeral home with a dark past. Hoping to restore it into a bed-and-breakfast, she quickly realizes that the house has secrets—whispers in the night, vanishing tools, and shadows that move without explanation.

Determined to uncover the truth, Maggie dives into the house’s history, discovering a tale of malpractice, lost souls, and a vanished owner, Thomas Holloway. As she begins to communicate with the lingering spirits, she realizes they are not here to haunt—they are trapped, waiting to be heard. When she uncovers a hidden graveyard on the property, she pieces together a cover-up from over a century ago.

As Maggie races to bring peace to the spirits, she finds healing in herself. But not all ghosts wish to move on—some want her to stay, forever.

Target Audience

This novel will appeal to:

Fans of gothic horror, paranormal thrillers, and ghost stories

Readers who enjoy atmospheric, slow-burning mysteries

Women’s fiction readers who connect with themes of reinvention and second chances

Paranormal enthusiasts intrigued by real-life ghost stories and supernatural investigations

About Me (Bio)

I am a seasoned paranormal investigator and the owner of The Holliday House, a renowned haunted location. As a new writer, I have a deep passion for crafting eerie, atmospheric stories that intertwine the paranormal with psychological depth. My writing delves into themes of grief, redemption, and the unseen forces that shape our lives. With a strong background in research and firsthand experience in the supernatural, I strive to create compelling, character-driven narratives that evoke emotion and keep readers on edge.

Platform

I am working towards publishing my work and engaging with readers through various platforms. While I have attempted to publish on Amazon but encountered challenges, I remain committed to sharing my stories. My future plans include:

Building an online presence with a website featuring short stories, behind-the-scenes insights, and reader discussions.

Connecting with the bookish and paranormal communities through social media.

Exploring online forums focused on gothic literature, haunted history, and supernatural research.

Developing book club partnerships and hosting paranormal-themed events after publication.

I am determined to bring my stories to readers and create an interactive, immersive experience around my work.

Education & Experience

· Deep knowledge of folklore, haunted locations, and historical accounts of paranormal phenomena.

· Firsthand experience with the paranormal, haunted locations, and personal emotional turmoil.

· Strong grasp of pacing, suspense, and character development, ensuring The Holliday House delivers both a chilling ghost story and a profound emotional journey.

Personality & Writing Style

I bring a deep emotional resonance to my writing, blending atmospheric, immersive storytelling with rich character development. My prose is vivid and cinematic, capturing eerie, haunting moments with a poetic touch while maintaining a compelling, fast-paced narrative. My goal is to make the supernatural feel unsettlingly real, immersing readers in a world where ghosts linger and the past refuses to stay buried.

Mira stood in front of the antique mirror, her breath shallow. The dim glow of her bedside lamp cast flickering shadows across the room. It had started a week ago—the reflection moving when she didn’t. At first, it was subtle. A blink out of sync, a twitch of the lips that she hadn’t made. But tonight, it was undeniable.

She tilted her head to the left. Her reflection hesitated, then mimicked her a second later. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

“This isn’t real,” she whispered, forcing a laugh.

The reflection smiled. She hadn’t.

Mira stepped back. The reflection didn’t. It stood there, watching her, its grin stretching unnaturally wide. A deep, guttural sound crawled from its throat, something between a chuckle and a growl.

Her stomach churned. She turned to run, but the lamp flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness.

A whisper came from the mirror. “Let me out.”

The glass cracked.

Mira stumbled backward, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The whisper slithered through the room, pressing against her ears like cold fingers.

The crack in the mirror spread, jagged veins creeping outward. The reflection—her reflection—tilted its head, but the movement was wrong, jerky, almost… inhuman.

Then it moved forward.

Not just closer in the glass. It pushedagainst it. The surface of the mirror warped, stretching like old, brittle skin. A hand—her hand, but pale, lifeless—pressed against the glass from the inside.

Mira turned to flee.

The bedroom door slammed shut.

Her reflection—the thing—giggled. “Don’t run. You’ll only make this harder.”

The hand pushed through. The glass bent and peeled like melting ice, and then an arm, impossibly long, crawled out.

Mira grabbed the lamp and hurled it at the mirror. Glass shattered, shards raining across the floor. For a moment, there was silence.

Then… a breath behind her.

A whisper, so close it brushed her ear:

“That won’t stop me.”

The lights flickered back on. The mirror was gone.

But the reflection remained.