Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Dead of Winter by Sean Harris


Allysen Coles has run from traumatic events in her Texan hometown. Wanting to put plenty of space between her and the past, she and her son Drew move to Fairbanks, Alaska.

When Allysen was fifteen, she was in a horrible car accident. When she awoke, she was able to see and speak with the dead. She’s tried to keep this knowledge to herself as most folks aren’t receptive to the idea. Her husband, Dave, died in the line of duty. Shot in the midst of a robbery, the cop wasn’t even on duty. Just in the wrong spot at the time. Dave could have “gone to the light”, but decided to stick around and watch his young son grow up. Hence, Dave travels to Alaska to be with his family in corporal form, unbeknownst to his son.

Recently Allysen has been having dreams. The same dream every night of a red-headed woman being brutally murdered in the dead cold of winter. She keeps watching, hoping something in her dreams will change or give her a clue of what the dreams mean.

Allysen makes a friend with a local man named Harry. Harry seems to attract ghosts and Allysen tries to help coax them to their finished business. They become fast friends. One day, Harry enlists Allysen’s help. It seems a local house seems to be experiencing some paranormal activity and the owners would like Allysen and Harry to check it out.

Allysen and Harry meet with the owner and he explains what has been happening in the house as well as the visions he has at night. It chills Allysen as her dreams and his are almost the same. Unraveling the mystery of the decade old murder soon has Allysen making friends in the oddest places as the ghostly activity around her escalates.

Dead of Winter beckons with its long cold fingers. The plot is sound and had me up late turning the pages. The characters were so well fleshed, I even felt for those I didn’t like. The beauty of Alaska is detailed simply, but beautifully. I look forward to more from this gifted author.

1 comment:

The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about.

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