BLOG TOUR – The Society
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THE SOCIETY by C.G. Abbot, Suspense/Thriller, 301 pp., $1.99 (Kindle)
Author: C.G. Abbot
Publisher: Blazing Sword Publishing
Genre: Suspense Thriller
Loralie. When she returns to the small town of her childhood, she’s
unaware that she’s walking into the middle of what killed her friend.
Unknown to the rest of the world, The Society for a Restored America
has been preparing to seize control of the government through
manipulation of a national crisis. The Society’s membership has already
infiltrated the government and military at the highest levels. The only
thing between them and success is Elizabeth Grant.
Elizabeth must accept her special gift and stay alive long enough to
uncover the Society’s dark plot to seize control from a nation that
blindly supports them.
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nightstand. Her eyes darted around the
room aglow with moonlight, out of breath from the nightmare. Where was she?
ratty stuffed bear that sat on the white dresser, the white lace curtains that
rustled from a whispered breeze heavy with scent of Magnolias, and the chorus
of many crickets that she remembered.
She was in Mississippi, hundreds of miles away from her Denver
apartment. Her grandparent’s house,
well… grandma’s ever since gramps had passed a few years ago.
stomach, beyond what the vivid dream had produced. Loneliness assailed her and settled in her
heart. Her first night back in Cyprus and her nightmares returned. Thought I was over all that.
steady her nerves and slow her breathing.
Her muscles ached as she stood, legs like rubber and hands shaking. The recurring dream always produced such a
couldn’t, fall back asleep after her fight-or-flight response had kicked into
overdrive. She made her way downstairs
with care at each step.
shrill whistle could disturb the tranquility; she was accustomed to living with
a roommate and being quiet. Hopefully,
some tea would help to calm her nerves… and her nausea. Another physical result of the nightmares. She poured the water over her waiting tea bag
in a mug.
her aching shoulder from falling out of bed as the tea steeped. Her long chestnut hair was still disheveled
and her pallor made the sprinkling of freckles across her face and cheeks stand
out. Her heart was approaching a normal
living room, last decorated a few decades ago when brown and gold country
fabric patterns with heavy oak touches were all the rage. The scent of lemon furniture polish clung in
the air. She breathed deeply the steam
from the tea and let her breath out slowly.
The subdued light from the one lamp created a cocoon of safety and
comfort. Now that the adrenaline rush
was fading maybe she could get another hour or two of sleep after all.
them head-on like you would a bully.
crocheted doily. She used to spend every
summer with her grandma and grandpa. It had been like a second home. Her first summer spent here she was lonely,
until she met Loralie, a local girl, in the park. She was only six and Loralie barely five
then, and they had been like sisters from that moment. They were both raised by single moms and
didn’t know their dads. Elizabeth’s life
had changed in that instant in the park.
again, all because she didn’t come to visit over the summer. Her world shifted because of that simple
decision. Loralie, the closest thing to
a sister she ever had, disappeared the summer she didn’t come to visit, and
worse – they had fought terribly only weeks before she vanished.
predictable path of school, and eventually college. When they had fought over Loralie’s brother,
Jeremiah, she couldn’t have known that would be the last time they would speak,
the last memory of her would be words of anger.
again? It had been over a year since the
last one. But, this was her first visit
to Mississippi since the night Loralie had gone missing.
her night terrors again. Shouldn’t it be ancient history and the nightmares
long gone? Okay, she still felt guilty
for not visiting that summer, as if she could have prevented whatever happened
had left town touring with a band or something and got out of Cyprus. One day her friend would call and share her
adventures, and she’d be happy.
understandable, but seeing things – visions or hallucinations – was a whole
night she swore she saw a vision of Loralie in her bedroom in Denver,
Colorado. An image of a beaten and
bloody Loralie, who was physically in Cyprus hundreds of miles away, appeared
right there in her bedroom, frantically reaching out to her. Then Elizabeth passed out. When she regained consciousness her mother
was holding her in her arms and dabbing her face with a cold washcloth.
that her mother called Mississippi in the middle of the night to ask a groggy
Mrs. Carter to put Loralie on the phone.
She remembered taking the phone, waiting for Loralie to talk to her so
she could get that image out of her mind, only for Mrs. Carter to come back
with ragged breaths and exclaim; “She’s not here. I can’t find her!”
vision of Loralie which really changed her life. But she had seen her and was
inconsolable for hours, so she was labeled “fragile”, “over-sensitive”, and
“over-wrought”. Being at grandma’s was
bringing it all back.
Loralie. Then the nightmares had started
– and hallucinations of Loralie regularly over the last seven years. The nightmares terrified her, but the
hallucinations… visions… whatever you called them – they left her doubting
could cause hallucinations and was convinced she had a brain tumor or something
for the first year. Still, she told
nobody about her continued visions. As
far as everybody else knew, her mother included, the night Loralie disappeared
was the only time she experienced such a visual aberration, rather than the
continual problem that plagued her still.
thoughts. It was disconcerting to be
here again. She wasn’t the same person
who had last run happily through the house.
clearing her mind. She stiffened when
she heard a car pull into the driveway.
Every cell in her body listening.
Cyprus were asleep at this hour. Maybe
some were doing chores on the surrounding farms, but nobody was out visiting in
the wee hours of the morning.
floorboards and a soft knocking at the door made her heart race. Just that quickly the feeling of a secure
cocoon vanished – replaced by dread. She
scanned the shadows and saw Loralie, forever sixteen, like an animated
photograph, motioning with a degree of urgency for her to go answer the
door. She swallowed, shakily set her tea
down, and stood up.
But, she felt like she was on the very edge of a cliff and everything in
her life was about to change… again.
rolled her shoulders back, crossed the living room to the door and slowly opened
elderly black woman with her hand poised to knock again. She lowered her hand and smiled. It was wide genuine smile that made her eyes sparkle. In the illumination of the porch light, her
coifed white hair looked more like a halo.
She wore a turquoise cotton dress, was of average height, but stood
proudly and with composure. Another time
and place one might think she was Egyptian royalty.
Shreveport, Louisiana. You must be
Elizabeth. I’ve been driving all night
to talk to you, hon.” Her voice was melodic with a reserved southern
drawl. She watched expectantly as
Elizabeth blinked a few times.
felt the need to be quiet. A dog barked
in the distance, then howled – a long mournful baying filled the air.
on the street. All were dark and
quiet. Returning her attention to
Elizabeth she whispered, “I must speak with you about Loralie.” Looking around again she added, “I had to
visit when it was least likely to be seen.”
a degree in business administration as well as a degree in Sacred
Theology. While working in large companies and even Department of
Defense, she dreamt of writing. She still resides in Colorado and
enjoys creative outlets like scrapbooking, card making, photography, and
painting in watercolor and acrylic. She inherited a love for reading
from her family and grew up talking about books at the dinner table.