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Back in November 2014, I started a novel based on an idea I’d been nursing along since the previous spring. After a long break, I’m revisiting Silvern Voices and will post excerpts here and there as I write.
How a freelance food writer fell into the abyss of working on a horror novel is revealed here.
Previous excerpts may be found here, here, and here.

And a new clip, in which we join the hotel manager in his office as he comes to terms that something is very wrong.

Blundon stood at his office window, looking out over St. John’s harbour. He never got tired of this view, the magnificent spires of the Basilica, the ships tied up along the waterfront. It had changed over the years as bigger buildings like Atlantic Place sprouted up, cruise ships replaced sealing ships, and magnificent spires of the Basilica were overshadowed by the boxy behemoth of the Rooms, which Blundon (and a lot of townies) considered a blight on the landscape.
This morning though, he wasn’t seeing anything. The haunting rumours had long swirled around the hotel, as long as he’d been working there. St. John’s was an old city, a city of ghosts, and there weren’t many buildings of a certain age in town that hadn’t been rumoured to be haunted (and some with probable cause). Blundon was not given to flights of fancy though, and he’d never believed there was anything supernatural about the Constellation. A palpable sense of history, perhaps, a “souls’ footprint” left by past guests, maybe. He could go upstairs at midnight, on the banquet floor, and if he concentrated enough he could hear the laughter, the strains of an orchestra, the tinkling of glasses, of grand functions gone by.
But this was something different. This was the third death in a month, and the local press had jumped on it.
No secret that people died in hotels; suicides of the tormented souls who didn’t want loved ones to be the ones to find them; the odd heart attack from the mattress gymnastics played by older men with their younger diversion, but this, this was nothing that earthly.

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