The Secrets of Hawthorne House
by Donald Firesmith
Genre: Teen Paranormal Mystery
Matt’s life changes forever when a family of druids moves into the
dilapidated Victorian mansion next door. The story of an unlikely
friendship, the clash of two completely different cultures, secret
magic, and a search for the lost Hawthorne treasure.
Fifteen-year-old Matt Mitchell was having the worst summer imaginable.
Matt’s misery started when a drunk driver killed his mother. Then his father moved
him and his twin sister to the small town of Hawthorne in rural
Indiana, as far as his grieving father could take from the ocean that
Matt’s mother had loved. At the new high school, three bullies are
determined to make Matt miserable. And to top it off, Matt learns
that the recluse who lives in the ‘haunted house” next door is
none other than Old Lady Hawthorne, the town’s infamous witch and
murderer. Matt’s terrible summer is turning into an awful autumn
when something quite unexpected happens. Old Lady Hawthorne’s niece
and her three children arrive, and Matt meets Gerallt.
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A geek by day, Donald Firesmith works as a system and software engineer
helping the US Government acquire large, complex software-intensive
systems. In this guise, he has authored seven technical books,
written numerous software- and system-related articles and papers,
and spoken at more conferences than he can possibly remember. He’s
also proud to have been named a Distinguished Engineer by the
Association of Computing Machinery, although his pride is tempered
somewhat by his fear that the term “distinguished” makes
him sound like a graybeard academic rather than an active engineer
whose beard is still slightly more red than gray.
By night and on weekends, his alter ego writes modern paranormal
fantasy, apocalyptic science fiction, action and adventure novels and
relaxes by handcrafting magic wands from various magical woods and
mystical gemstones. His first foray into fiction is the book Magical
Wands: A Cornucopia of Wand Lore written under the pen name Wolfrick
Ignatius Feuerschmied. He lives in Crafton, Pennsylvania with his
wife Becky, and his son Dane, and varying numbers of dogs, cats, and birds.
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He is right, I didn’t. I have never told him how I felt, or that I didn’t think I was going to make it without him. But I would have done anything to have him there that first couple of months. I can’t even count how many times I pulled up his number to call him, but it did get easier, and I made a couple of friends and made it through the four years.
Taking a step back, I turn my back to him. The artwork before me brings back so many memories. Looking at each image, I realize many of them I had watched him draw. I used to sit next to him on the bed and just watch for hours as those images came together. It used to fascinate me how anyone could make something look so real, with just the use of a pencil, but Micah’s talent was mesmerizing and relaxing.
On the counter is the snowflakes he drew for my tattoo. I run my finger over the paper, expecting to feel the coldness under my touch because of how realistic they look. It’s beautiful, but I expected nothing less from him.
“You know, the one thing I missed the most would be the nights I would lay there and watch you draw. It would take away the ugliness that I lived in every day.”
Turning with the picture of the snowflakes in hand, I run my fingers across it a couple more times. “This is beautiful, by the way.”
He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there, his arms now crossed over his chest, but he does nod his head. One thing about Micah I always envied, he never doubted himself. I always wished I had that kind of confidence. Maybe then, I would have been able to tell my father and brother where they could go. Instead of hiding behind Micah for two years and allowing him to risk so much just to take care of me.
“Why haven’t you been with anyone in the last four years, Aspen?”
I instantly feel my cheeks warm up from embarrassment. I never meant to admit that to him, but something about having this man wrapped around me makes the world a different place. Makes me a different person, and words just fly out. I’m still not sure how I never let it slip that I was in love with him. Actually, that’s a lie. I know why I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure if I’d make it back from that heartbreak I would have had, if he told me he didn’t share those feelings.
“I’m not going to take a shrug of your shoulders as an answer. I made the mistake four years ago of not making you talk to me, and it seems from tonight’s conversation, that was a very big mistake on my part. So now, I’m going to learn from those mistakes. Why Aspen?”
“Would you believe me if I said I buried myself in my school work, and just didn’t want to get misguided by throwing a relationship in there?”
Those brown eyes that I have had some very pleasurable dreams about bore into me. He isn’t buying it, but I really didn’t expect him to, either. My eyes focus on the snowflakes. I need to just tell him how I feel. It hasn’t changed in four years; tonight definitely didn’t change those feelings, and I’m no longer a stupid teenager. I’m a woman, with a degree and an amazing career ahead of me, I need to start acting like one.
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