When I was pregnant with our daughter, I backed away from book reviewing and the writing industry. I slowly came back when she was closing in on three years old. She’s grown up with me reviewing, writing, and reading.
She even started to write her own stories for mama to review. I have a pile of them.
Now she’s watching me edit, along with everything else. And, yes, she’s talking about writing her own books for me to edit and MuseItUp to publish. Scarier still, she’s looking over my shoulder and catching edits before I do. Have I mentioned she’s only in grade five.
When Andrea Pelleschi’s The Carousel Ghost was released my daughter saw the cover and asked if it was one she could read. She still is…yup, writer/reviewer’s daughter who reads more than one book at a time…along with other MuseitUp books.
It’s more than a mama’s pride that I say, you’ll be seeing more of this child of mine.
After a terrifying ride on a haunted carousel, Kate sets out to solve the mystery of the carousel ghost.
Back Cover:
Fourteen-year-old Kate’s traditional first day at Wildwood Lake Park couldn’t get any worse. Besides problems with her best friend and the obnoxious, but cute, boy from school named Tommy, there’s the new haunted carousel ride. When Kate goes for a spin, she finds herself transported back in time and into the body of a ghost named Isabelle, circa 1928. Isabelle’s husband carved the horse, and the rumor is that he also murdered Isabelle.
Back in the present, Kate teams up with Tommy to solve the mystery of how Isabelle died, even if it means more terrifying rides on the carousel. As the investigation goes on, Kate finds herself growing closer to Isabelle than she is with Meghan. So when the carousel is slated to be dismantled for the park museum, Kate hurries to solve the mystery before Isabelle is doomed to wander the park–and Kate’s dreams–forever.
Excerpt:
When we got to the turnstile, Tommy squeezed past the kids in front of us and ran straight to the carousel horse, getting there right before a mother could hoist her toddler up on him. I was stuck behind some kids as they handed their cotton candy to their dad. By the time I got to Tommy, he was on the black horse, his sneakers tucked in the stirrups. He was twisted to the side, running a hand across the jewels outlining the saddle and across the sword sticking out of a sheath on the back of it. I climbed on the smaller, plainer horse next to him.
“Well?” I asked.
Tommy grasped the center pole and shook the horse back and forth. It rattled and clanged against the linkage above. I didn’t hear anything from inside the horse. Tommy grinned.
I rapped on the back of his horse with my knuckles. “It’s solid wood.”
He shrugged, smiling. “Okay, there aren’t any bones in it, but it might still be haunted.”
We waited as the ride filled up. A few high school girls grabbed the horses in front of us. A tall boy with a big Adam’s apple took the third horse in our row. A few other people ran to empty horses, feet banging on the metal floor.
Once everyone settled down, the music started.
Our horses slowly rose up and down as the carousel picked up speed. “Hey, ghost,” said Tommy, bending low over the horse. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” When nothing happened, he called, “Ollie, ollie oxen free.”
I hung onto my pole and turned to him. “Do you really think that will bring the ghost to you?”
“Hey, how many ghosts do you know, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “None.”
“Then how do you know what ghosts would say? Maybe ollie, ollie oxen free is exactly the right thing. Maybe the reason why no one ever sees her is because no one ever says ollie, ollie oxen free to her.”
“Uh huh.”
He patted the horse on the neck. “Don’t let the nonbelievers bother you,” he said, glancing at me pointedly. I stared at him. I tell you, if I were a ghost I would come out and scare Tommy so bad he’d never come back to the park again. Apparently, the ghost didn’t see the need because nothing happened.
After a couple of rotations, we made sure we were out of Warren’s sight and switched places.
“Ollie ollie oxen free,” I said, as I settled myself in the saddle. The pole was still warm from Tommy’s hands. “Coochie coochie coo.” I bit back a smile.
“Now you’re being silly,” said Tommy, twisted in his seat to look at me. “No self-respecting ghost would come to ‘coochie coochie coo.’”
“And how many ghosts do you know?” I asked him. “Hmm?”
Tommy opened his mouth to retort but no sound came out. I peered at him closer as his mouth moved. It was like someone had pressed the mute button on a Tommy remote control. Instead, I heard this tapping noise to the right of my horse. I turned and saw nothing except the park. For a second, I thought it might be bones inside the horse and Tommy had lied to me. The sound was too regular, though. Tap-tap, tap-tap.
I smelled wood, freshly cut wood that reminded me of shop class.
The tapping became louder and louder until I couldn’t hear the music anymore. And the smell of wood got a lot stronger, so strong I had to breathe through my mouth. I tried glancing at Tommy again, but I couldn’t move my head or any other part of my body. In fact, I couldn’t feel the saddle anymore, or the pole or the stirrups. I knew my heart must be pounding in my chest, but I couldn’t feel it. What was happening? Was I dying?
My eyesight started to go next. The world grew blurry, as if I were looking at it through a funhouse window. I couldn’t make out the rest of the carousel or the sky or the people outside the ride. The weird thing was I could still see the horse I was on. He was as clear as ever: head thrown back, gleaming nostrils, mane caught in the wind. Then that too finally blurred.
Finally the tapping receded, and the smell of wood diminished. I still couldn’t feel the stirrups or center pole, but I could make out the shape of a horse in front of me and another one to the left even though everything else was still blurry. The only problem was they were made of bare wood, not the brightly painted wood of the horses Tommy and I rode.
I felt myself move toward the horse in front of me and saw my hand touch its rough surface. I hadn’t wanted to step forward, though. And how could I if I were still sitting on the carousel?
As everything came into focus, I made out a few more details. The horse in front of me wasn’t whole. He was just an unfinished head sitting on a thick wooden table. And it wasn’t my hand stroking its mane. It was another person’s hand, a slim hand with long fingers and a gold wedding band on the fourth finger.What was going on? Where was I? What had happened to the carousel? I tried to say something, but I still couldn’t move my mouth or the rest of my body, at least not when I wanted to. “Help,” I yelled inside my head. “Help.”