Monday, May 2, 2011

Thomas Smith's Something Stirs

Thomas is award winning writer, newspaper reporter, TV news producer, playwright and essayist. He writes The Writing Life column for The Christian Communicator magazine. He was named the American Christian Writers Association Writer of the Year in 2004, 2005, and again in 2006. He is a regular faculty member at American Christian Writers Association conferences and also teaches at other writers’ conferences. He was on the writing team responsible for Zondervan's New Men's Devotional Bible.

He has written jokes for Joan Rivers, his comedy material has been used on The Tonight Show, and he was a comedy writer for the award-winning Steve & Kathy Show.

An ordained United Methodist Minister, Thomas is a contemporary worship leader/musician, and worship consultant. For 15 years he served churches in the North Carolina and North Georgia. While in Georgia he taught a special section of Sermon Preparation and Delivery and co-taught Communication for Ministers at Emory University.

You can find Thomas online at
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Something Stirs

Some houses are only haunted … this one is worse.

Ben Chalmers is a successful novelist. His wife, Rachel, is a fledgling artist with a promising career, and their daughter Stacy is the joy of their life. His novels have made enough money for him to provide a dream home for his family. But there is a force at work in their lives. A dark, chilling, ruthless force that has become part of the very fabric of their new home.

A malevolent entity becomes trapped in the wood and stone of the house and it will do whatever it takes, to find a way to complete its bloody transference to our world.

Local Sheriff, Elizabeth Cantrell, and former pastor-turned-cabinetmaker, Jim Perry are drawn into the family’s life as the entity manipulates the house with devastating results. And it won’t stop until it gets what it wants. Even if it costs them their faith, their sanity, and their lives.

Here's an excerpt of Something Stirs:


The house looked down on Pike’s Crossing like a headmaster observing a group of unruly schoolchildren. It stood silent, watching the town from the top of Grant’s Ridge through glittering lead glass eyes.

Errant patches of moonlight played along the roofline, then disappeared. A weather vane, more for decoration than any real purpose, pointed west, then east. In the woods beyond the back yard, nocturnal creatures stirred, scavenging for food and scouting new scents carried on the night air.

A field mouse scurried across the clearing between the woods and the relative safety of the space beneath the deck, its dash for freedom cut short by a sharp-eyed owl. Talons lifted the dying rodent as lightning arced across the flannel sky.

The night groaned in the wake of the coming storm. Rumbles of thunder echoed and died away, replaced by more of the same. The house stood in dark relief against the darker sky, illuminated by sporadic celestial fire.

Hours earlier workmen had collected their tools, climbed into their vehicles, and sped away toward the coming weekend. Soon electricians would come to run the wiring, then the crew would be well on the way to wrapping up the project and handing the keys to the developer.

But for now the house was content to hold its silent vigil over the town below.

And inside, something stirred.

Shadows twitched and writhed across the floor, given life by two large flickering candles. Three figures huddled together along a partially constructed knee wall. They watched a solitary figure at work in the center of the room.

Rodney Hardwick checked the circle on the floor. Satisfied that it was as close to perfect as he could draw it, he put the wide tipped marker in his pocket and placed a series of glass votives around the circle. Next, he took a box of kitchen matches from his shirt pocket and scratched a match across the side with no results, repeated the action, and snapped the wooden shaft.

A half-muted snicker skittered through the gloom, and was cut short when Rodney looked up. Robin Davis met his gaze for a second, then looked away. Rodney tried a second match and the head sputtered to life. The flame flickered, caught, then he lit the candle in the first votive. Flame danced on the wick, eddied by unseen currents, and settled itself into a dull glow.

“This is so cool.” Myra Webb giggled and folded her legs up under her. Kenny Randall, sitting just to her left on the plywood sub floor of the living room, shushed her as Rodney lit another match.

“Don’t tell me to shhhh,” she said and punched him on the arm.

Thomas is giving away a copy of Something Stirs. To be entered in the book giveaway, leave a comment. You can enter the book giveaway twice--once on each spotlight post.


ann said...

Interesting. I would like to win this book.

lgm52 said...

I'd love to win this book to read and pass along!

Anonymous said...

Would love to have this book to read....thanks for offering it.

Linda Kish said...

Sounds great. Count me in please.

lkish77123 at gmail dot com

karenk said...

would enjoy reading this story...thanks for the chance :)

kmkuka at yahoo dot com

Meredith said...

Interesting story. I'd like to read it.

meredithfl at gmail dot com

Thomas Smith said...

Hi everybody. Thanks for the interest in Something Stirs. Since you all posted to the blog, I'll give you a hint about the book. The butler didn't do it!

Hey ... I didn't say it was a good hint. But there IS something in the house, and it's not very nice.

Thomas Smith

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