Here’s a creepy blog about the Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge by Lowry Wilson at Old South Images…click HERE if you dare.
The three-book trilogy is available exclusively on Kindle at Amazon. Happy Halloween and sweet dreams!
Category Archives: historical fiction
Saturday Snippet – Stuckey’s Gold
In case you missed the release of Stuckey’s Gold a few weeks ago, here’s a snippet to get you movin’. If you’ve read Stuckey’s Bridge, you’ll recognize this sheriff, although it’s been ten years since he retired. If you’ve read Stuckey’s Legacy, you’ll know exactly who they are talking about at the end. 🙂
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She knocked on the wooden frame of the screen door and the rattle reverberated across the screened porch. The kind face of a white-haired man with gray eyes greeted her warily.
“Yes, miss? May I help you?”
“Yes, sir. I’m looking for Sheriff Temple.” Penny gave him her biggest and brightest smile.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Well, that would be me, young lady, and who might you be?”
“Sheriff, my name is Penelope Juzan. I wonder if I might ask you a few questions.”
“Questions about what?”
“I’m interested in a man who worked for my father in 1901. He sent my father a message that he was staying at an inn in town, and we never heard from him again. His name was Carter Stuckey.”
The sheriff froze. He stared at her for a long time and didn’t respond.
“Sheriff? Please, sir. I came all the way from Vicksburg to speak with you.”
He sighed, turned away from the door, and walked into the house. “Oh, all right. Come on in.” He didn’t open the door for her and he didn’t sound very enthusiastic.
She opened the creaking screen door and followed him into the cool darkness of the modest home. The place smelled musty. A worn and dirty flowered sofa sat in the living room to her left, along with a big chair that had seen better days long, long ago. She stood in the middle of the room and watched him light the wood-burning stove and place a black teakettle on top. He finally turned to her and gestured toward the small dining table to her right, then turned back to the stove. “Have a seat, Miss Juzan.”
Penny pulled out a wooden chair that was covered with dust. She scanned the room to see if there were any feminine touches, as the house appeared to be owned by a bachelor. She saw nothing that would suggest a woman lived there. As the former sheriff stood at the wood-burning stove, she glanced at the back of his wrinkled shirt, hoping he wouldn’t turn and see her wiping off the chair before she sat down. She held her handbag in her lap, as she wasn’t sure if he would offer her some tea or kick her out in the next few minutes.
She was concerned when he began to cough violently. He pulled a cigarette off the shelf above the stove and lit it with a match. Penny remained silent and watched him exhale smoke between coughs. As his coughing spell subsided, the teakettle whistled. The sheriff used a pot holder to grab the hot kettle, and he poured two mugs of tea. He brought them to the table and placed one in front of Penny.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He turned back to the stove, snubbed out his cigarette on a plate, and then sat down at the table.
“Carter Stuckey, eh?”
Penny nodded and took a sip of her tea. It was extremely hot and just as weak.
Once the sheriff began telling her the story, he spoke for quite some time. She listened wordlessly, mesmerized by the tale. He told her the whole saga of the inn up on Chunky River and the innkeeper’s victims. She sat with her mouth agape at the heinous story, and was even more stunned at the way it ended.
“The innkeeper’s name was Stuckey—Thomas Stuckey.”
“Stuckey?”
“Yes, it appears he took the name of one of his victims.
“So, Carter Stuckey was one of the victims?”
“Yes, ma’am. Carter Stuckey had something in his pocket with his name on it when we uncovered his body, so we know for sure he was murdered at the inn. No one ever came looking for him, and we didn’t know who to contact about his death, so we moved his remains to Concord Cemetery and buried him in an unmarked grave.”
“Well, no one knew he was here except my father. My father died about the same time and I just recently found his journals, which led me here.”
The two sat in silence for a few minutes while Penny absorbed the gravity of the tale.
“Miss Juzan, why are you looking for Carter Stuckey now, a decade later?”
“Oh, um, well, he had something of my father’s, something of great importance. I’m afraid I didn’t know about it until a few weeks ago when I found my father’s journals.”
“And what was this item of great importance?” He wrinkled his brow at her.
“It was a trunk, sir.”
“A trunk?” The sheriff ran his fingers down his stubble and shook his head. “I don’t remember finding any trunk at the inn, but I’ll tell you who might know. The only survivor of the whole incident was a young boy. He was maybe twelve or thirteen years old at the time. He was a blond, blue-eyed boy named Levi Stuckey. The moment his father—the murderer—was hung, the boy disappeared. I searched for him for years but he’d simply vanished. If he’s still alive somewhere, he’d be about twenty-two now. Maybe he knows something about your missing trunk. Maybe he has it himself.”
She nodded. “Maybe he does.”
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It’s Monday! What are you reading? The Kiss of the Concubine
I just finished…
The Kiss of the Concubine
by Judith Arnopp
Blurb from Amazon
28th January 1547.
It is almost midnight and the cream of the English nobility hold their breath as King Henry VIII prepares to face his God. As the royal physicians wring their hands and Archbishop Cranmer gallops through the frigid night, two dispossessed princesses pray for their father’s soul and a boy, soon to be king, snivels into his velvet sleeve.
Time slows, and dread settles around the royal bed, the candles dip and something stirs in the darkness … something, or someone, who has come to tell the king it is time to pay his dues.
The Kiss of the Concubine is the story of Anne Boleyn, second of Henry VIII’s queens.
This is the same tale of Ann Boleyn and King Henry VIII we already know, but it’s told from Anne’s point of view, which puts a unique spin on her, personally. Looking at the story from a different angle was enjoyable, and I couldn’t put the book down. I don’t know what it is about these characters that intrigues us so, but Judith Arnopp fulfilled our desire to know more. Thoughts, yearnings, and motivations are brought to a new light as Ms. Arnopp reveals Anne’s side of the story. Bravo!
Books – 3 to be exact
Just in time for my favorite holiday – Halloween
I put together my three creepy books into one trilogy.
Stuckey’s Bridge, Stuckey’s Legacy, and Stuckey’s Gold are now available as
The Complete Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy
Release date is October 1, 2014, but you can pre-order at Amazon if you CLICK HERE!!
Available exclusively on Kindle at Amazon
“The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge”
Legend has it, he was so evil, he was even thrown out of the notorious Dalton Gang. Years later, he opened an inn near the river, and on foggy nights, boatmen witnessed him pacing back and forth across the bridge, waving his lantern, offering travelers a hot meal and a soft bed. Those unfortunate enough to take him up on the hospitality were often never seen again. In 1901, the Virginia Bridge and Iron Company began rebuilding a fifty-year-old Mississippi Bridge. In the middle of the project, they began discovering bodies buried on the banks of the river. Would Old Man Stuckey get away with murder?
“Stuckey’s Legacy: The Legend Continues”
The end of Stuckey’s story left only a legacy – one of murder, treachery, and an intense game of cat and mouse. Young Levi left Mississippi with a wealth of gold, but he found his time in the world of the social elite ending quite differently than it had begun. Was she only after his money? Occasionally, it seemed to him Penny Juzan only wanted him dead. Or maybe it was the other way around.
“Stuckey’s Gold: The Curse of Lake Juzan”
With the gold finally in the hands of the Juzan family, will Penelope Juzan break the seventy-year-old curse, or will she suffer the same tragic fate as her forefathers? In the final installment of the trilogy, we may find the victims in the original tales were merely bit players in a story that is far darker and more sinister than one could imagine.
Saturday Snippet – Culpepper Saga Preview
I usually post blogs about books that are already finished, but I’m having such a good time with my work in progress, I’d like to share a piece of it with you. The Culpepper Saga will be four books about one of my ancestors named John Culpepper.
John was born in England in 1606. As a young lad he was trained as a lawyer, but he decided to be a merchant instead. He bought a ship and sailed back and forth between the colony of Virginia and England, delivering immigrants to the colonies and bringing back cotton and tobacco. His life wasn’t spectacular, but the cast of characters surrounding him were pretty intriguing, the political and religious climate of his homeland was so volatile, one could lose a head if one wasn’t careful, and the vast expansion of the new world set the stage for quite an amazing adventure. The first installment will be about his childhood, the second about the English Civil War where King Charles I was executed and the royalist Culpepper family scattered like rats, the third about his adventures in Virginia and rise to family patriarch, and the final story will be in his later years during Bacon’s Rebellion and his son causing the Culpepper Rebellion in North Carolina and being charged with treason (good thing daddy was a lawyer!).
I’ve decided on the title “I, John Culpepper” for the first book.
All that being said, here’s a bit of the scene from the day John was born….
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1606, Blackwall, London
“Master Culpepper! Master Culpepper!” the servant boy shouted over the bells clanging from the church steeple. He pulled the scratchy scarf tightly around his neck to ward off the chill as he pushed his way through the masses gathered on the foggy banks of the Thames.
The crowd had been gathering on the wharf for nearly two days to witness the departure of the ships, and they were prepared for a spectacle unlike any they had seen before. When the tide came in, the three ships carrying one hundred forty passengers and sailors would depart England on an exciting adventure. The air smelled of salt and tar and sweat. This was a remarkable place, a magical place, where the preparations were as exciting at the coming voyage. The anticipation in the air was nearly as thick as the fog.
The boy stopped for a moment as a wooden cask was rolled across the cobblestone in front of him. He watched as workers carefully rolled the barrel up the tilted gangplank. He remained frozen in the middle of the bustling crowd, staring at the ship. He had never seen anything so majestic in all his twelve years, and his jaw dropped at her sheer size. She was an enormous castle-like structure, at least eighty feet in length, her belly bulging at the side where the last of the cargo was being loaded in. Crates and boxes were continually being carried up the gangplank, where they disappeared into the ship’s dark interior. The deck above the cargo area was much narrower and the boy imagined that’s where the sailors would remain during the voyage, climbing masts and hoisting sails. Circling the spiderweb of hemp ropes and yardarms, seagulls cawed as if singing along with the rhythmical clanging of a nearby metal object. The boy scanned the scene for the source of the sound and noticed a blind beggar sitting on the cobblestone near the bow of the ship, tapping a stick on a metal bowl.
Behind the ship floated a second ship, nearly as large as the first, and behind that loomed a third. Each hosted its own cast of sailors, supplies, vagrants, and gangplanks. As wavelets gently raised and lowered the vessels, moans of protest arose from the taut ropes, and the weathered wood creaked with each stomp of a sailor’s boot. Nearby, two mangy hounds barked and growled over some fish scraps, bringing the boy’s attention back to his task at hand. Remembering why he had come, he yelled, “Master Culpepper!” He spun around and around looking for the man, weaving between horses, carts, trunks, and sailors shouting commands. He darted in and out of the crowd, making sure he didn’t bump into any wealthy gentlemen, recognizable by their long cloaks adorned with colorful silk threads.
In April, King James had created the Virginia Company, which would finance sailings to Virginia and Plymouth with the aim of settling colonies and profiting from the land’s abundant natural resources. The aristocracy funded the expeditions with the expectation of making an exorbitant profit. The three ships embarking from Blackwall on this day would sail to Virginia and bring back riches. There were rumors of gold, silver, and gems merely washing up on the shore for the taking. If nothing else, there was surely timber to be harvested. The trees in England had long been felled and the rising price of timber would certainly bring the investors a hefty return.
After they finished loading supplies and the morning fog had dissipated, the ships would raise their sails and ride the tide down the Thames. They would enter the English Channel and cross the great ocean and return by summertime.
The boy bobbed in and out of the crowd, searching for his master.
“Who are you searching for, lad?” a man in a ruffled collar asked.
“Master Culpepper,” the boy replied, removing his hat and revealing his dirty blond hair, which was sticking this way and that like a wheat field in a mighty windstorm. He twisted the wool hat in his hands.
“Johannes or Tom?”
“Johannes Culpepper, sir.”
“I saw him down by the front ship—the Discovery—only moments ago. He was standing right on the dock.”
“Thank you.”
The boy nodded, replaced his cap, and shoved through the workers and onlookers toward the front ship. As he passed the first ship, he looked at the name written on her side and sounded out the letters. He couldn’t make any sense of the words Susan Constant, but when he reached the second ship, he could read God…speed. He wondered if the Godspeed was true to her name. If he were to sail, he would rather sail on the Godspeed and get there faster. From what he understood, it was a two-month voyage if the weather was bonny, maybe four months if the ship ran into rough seas.
He had once spent a morning in a small fishing boat and instantly became green with sickness that lasted for days. He didn’t think he would be able to survive the time it would take to sail to Virginia. He gawked at the bow of the Godspeed as he ran past, witnessing a young lad about his age. The sailor dripped with sweat, even in the chill of the damp morning air, as he coiled ropes and folded sails. What a great adventure it would be to sail to Virginia, but alas, the boy would never get to do such amazing things. He was a servant, a gift from His Majesty King James I to Johannes Culpepper. He would always be a servant, but perhaps someday he would be fortunate enough to serve the king. Even though Master Culpepper was good to him, he wished to someday live at court and be somebody. At least he had the slimmest of chances. His sister had been placed in the kitchen of some castle in Wales. She would never be anything more than a scullery maid. Women would never hold a place in society. They were not welcomed on this voyage, either.
He hopped up and down, unsuccessfully trying to look over the crowd. “Master Culpepper!” he called.
A man turned and pointed. “Culpepper is right over there, son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The boy sprinted in the general direction, and when he pushed through a couple workers conversing on the dock, he saw him.
“Master Culpepper!”
The boy ran up behind Johannes Culpepper and patted the back of his master’s arm, hopping up and down. “Master Culpepper!”
Johannes turned and looked down at the boy, his square jaw set and his blue-gray eyes burrowing into the lad. “What is it, boy? Why are you making such a commotion?”
The boy panted, out of breath from running. “Master Culpepper, m’lady is havin’ the baby, sir!”
Johannes’s face turned red as he glanced around the crowd to see if anyone was eavesdropping. When he saw no one was, he folded his arms across his chest and stroked his beard. “You came all this way to tell me that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good, boy. You run along home now.”
The boy didn’t move. How could his master not be excited about this news? Did he not want to return home and see his wife and child? Was there anything the boy could say to convince the man to accompany him back to the house?
“Go on. Run along.” Johannes waved the boy off with a flip of his ringed fingers and abruptly turned his back.
“Yes, sir.” The lad backed up, keeping his eyes on his master, wondering what he would tell the governess when he returned home without his master in tow. He had ridden nearly four hours to get to Blackwall this morning, most of it in the dark as the sun had not even risen when he left. He would have a four-hour return trip to think of something. He turned and walked back in the direction from which he had come.
The Backstory of the STUCKEY’S BRIDGE TRILOGY
Here’s a little background on the Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy.
My childhood: I grew up in Meridian, Mississippi and heard the legend of Stuckey’s Bridge my whole life. It actually began in a book about the area written in the 1970s. The local paper, The Meridian Star, picked up on the legend from the book and the story spread like wildfire. The bridge instantly became THE place to party on the weekends, searching for ghosts and frightening girls into cuddling closer. (If you want to go there: head south out of Meridian on Interstate 59. Turn right at exit 142, then a quick left onto Meehan-Savoy Road. Travel 2.2 miles until you see a dirt road on your left. That is Stucky Bridge Road. The bridge will be about two miles down the dirt road. It is now closed, so you’ll have to turn around to leave. After you read the following legend, you may not want to go.)
The legend goes: In the late 1800s, a former member of the Dalton Gang came to Lauderdale County, Mississippi to find his fortune. He opened an inn near the Chunky River and stood on the old wooden bridge at night, flagging down merchants with his lantern, offering them a warm bed and a hot meal. Supposedly, he murdered his victims in their sleep and buried their bodies on the banks of the river. In 1901, the Virginia Bridge and Iron Company began rebuilding the old bridge and the bodies were discovered. The innkeeper, Old Man Stuckey as he is known to the locals, was hung by a posse from the iron rails of the new bridge.
If you know me, you know I couldn’t stop searching until I figured out who this Old Man Stuckey really was…that became the first book in the Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy, THE LEGEND OF STUCKEY’S BRIDGE. (Check out the book trailer…creepy!)
While writing the story, I didn’t want Old Man Stuckey to be alone all the time, so I had him run across a young boy named Levi. In the story, young Levi took on a creepiness all his own, and I received tons of emails and messages asking what Levi’s past was. As usual with my overactive imagination, I was more interested in his future than his past, so I wrote STUCKEY’S LEGACY: THE LEGEND CONTINUES. At the end of that book, Levi “got his” and the story focused on the young woman he met during the story, Penelope Juzan.
Back to my childhood: There was a second legend around the area where I grew up. Supposedly there was an inn on Lake Juzan in the 1840s where an innkeeper murdered his guests for wealth, much like Old Man Stuckey. The man’s name was Pierre Juzan, and he dumped the bodies in the lake with the help of his Indian sidekick. Toward the end of the legend, one of them killed the other for the wealth of gold they had confiscated.
Side note: There were also a couple different accounts of trunks of confederate gold disappearing as they traveled through the area during the Civil War.
I thought all these stories had a similar thread, and I wondered if I could separate them.
Back to the trilogy: I came to the conclusion that these legends were indeed different stories, but thought they were probably connected in some way. Those crazy ideas in my head became the third book in the trilogy, STUCKEY’S GOLD: THE CURSE OF LAKE JUZAN.
These tales tickled me pink while writing them, and I hope you enjoy them too!
Update: October 1st release of – The Complete Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy available exclusively on Kindle at Amazon. Click HERE!
Saturday Snippet – Stuckey’s Gold
Here’s a snippet from my coming release:
STUCKEY’S GOLD: THE CURSE OF LAKE JUZAN
Blurb
In 1840, Pierre Juzan was an innkeeper on the shores of Lake Juzan. His business was successful, but he wanted more. One day he got wind of a coach transporting a trunk of gold near his home, and his actions on that fateful day would spark an Indian curse that would haunt his family for four generations. Seventy years later, can Penelope Juzan break the curse, or will she suffer the same tragic fate as her forefathers?
“The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge” and “Stuckey’s Legacy: The Legend Continues” told tales of the gold leaving a trail of destruction from Meridian, Mississippi to Jekyll Island, Georgia. In “Stuckey’s Gold: The Curse of Lake Juzan,” we may find the victims in the original tales were merely bit players in a story that is far darker and more sinister than one could imagine.
“Stuckey’s Gold: The Curse of Lake Juzan” is the final installment in the “Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy” and is the tale of four generations struggling to escape a curse caused by greed.
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The sun had already reached its highest point and was slowly beginning its descent behind them. By the look of the shadows, Leon guessed it was around three o’clock. He knew the traveling distance from the county line, so he figured the coach would be arriving at any moment. As he recalculated its arrival time, he heard horse hooves on the road. The two sat silent and still on their horses and watched the man from last night trot past them. Their plan was to let him travel by unharmed as to not warn the drivers of impending danger. They would take care of him later.
Not more than a few minutes had passed before they heard the grinding of wagon wheels. Two men sat in the driver’s seat of the wooden coach. One was whistling a tune. Leon was feeling anxious and wanted to get on with it, so he decided to make the annoying whistler his first target. He pulled out his bow, armed it with an arrow, took aim through the trees, and let his arrow fly. It hit its intended target and the whistling abruptly stopped. The whistler slumped in his seat, an arrow through the left side of his neck. The horses didn’t flinch, but the man’s partner looked over at him and his jaw dropped. Leon quickly pulled out another arrow, aimed, and put it through the chest of the second man as he still stared at his partner in disbelief. The second man slumped in the seat.
From higher up on the hill, Pierre rode his horse out of the woods and fell in line behind the wagon. He gave Leon a nod. Leon nodded back. Leon tucked his bow away and emerged from the woods, trotting alongside the wagon. The wagon’s team kept pulling the wagon forward, oblivious to the fact they no longer had a driver. They began to pick up speed as the road began to slant downhill. Leon grabbed the side of the wagon and pulled himself onto it, abandoning his own horse on the road. He crawled across the canvas back and climbed over the rail, into the driver’s seat. He grabbed the whistler by the shirt and pushed him over the side. The man plopped onto the road like a sack of potatoes, and Leon felt the coach jostle and heard bones snap as the back wheel of the wagon ran over some part of the whistler’s body. He grimaced at the sound.
Behind him, Pierre grabbed Leon’s abandoned horse’s reins and continued down the hill, pulling Leon’s horse along with him. Leon glanced back and saw both horses neigh and rear up when they approached the whistler’s body unexpectedly sprawled in the middle of the road.
He turned his attention back to the coach’s horses. They were now nearing a gallop down the hill. He reached down on the floor of the wagon and fumbled around until he found the reins. He grabbed them and was about to pull back on them when the butt of a gun came down on top of his head. He saw stars as he fell to the floor of the coach. He turned his head and saw the whistler’s partner pointing a revolver at his face. As the driver clicked the hammer back, Leon kicked the gun out of the man’s hand. He heard it bounce off the edge of the wagon then discharge as it hit the ground. The sound echoed through the trees, startling the wagon’s horses who took off at full gallop.
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STUCKEY’S GOLD is available at Amazon!
Saturday Snippet – Stuckey’s Legacy
This snippet is from the second in the Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy, STUCKEY’S LEGACY. Last week, I posted a snippet from the first book. You can see it HERE. Next Saturday, I’ll post a snippet from the coming book, STUCKEY’S GOLD. It is scheduled for release on August 25th!
STUCKEY’S LEGACY: THE LEGEND CONTINUES
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Levi was so elated at his good fortune, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he stopped off at the King Street Pub near the old Charleston Orphan House. He wandered into the musty-smelling place, with its plank floor and wood tables, and ordered a whiskey at the bar. Ragtime music filled the room from a piano player in the corner, and the air was foggy with cigar smoke. He always thought he’d like to partake in the habit but he just couldn’t stand the smell. He pulled the silver lighter from his pocket and flipped the top open and closed over and over without pushing the ignition button. He gazed around the room. The place was quite lively for a Monday night. A handful of men sat at the other end of the bar and a few played cards around a large table in the center of the room.
“Where are all the women?” he asked the barkeep.
“Not much business for them here on a Monday, but I can send for some ladies if you’d like.” The husky man wiped down the bar top with a dirty cloth and then shoved it back into his stained apron. “You’ll have to make it worth their time, though, if you know what I mean.”
Levi grinned. “I can certainly do that. I’m having a celebration of sorts tonight. It’d be nice to have some company.”
“Louis!” the barkeep called over his shoulder.
Levi downed his drink as a dirty, young boy dressed in knickers, with long curls sticking out of his sailor hat, appeared from around the corner. The barkeep told him to run down to Miss Mabel’s place and ask her to send over a couple ladies. The boy nodded and ran back the same way he had come.
The man turned to Levi. “They’ll be here shortly. Miss Mabel runs a tight ship.”
The word ship made Levi smile. He flipped the lighter open and closed again.
“Why don’t you get in on a couple hands of poker and a good cigar while you wait,” the barkeep said, gesturing toward the game.
“No, I’m not much of a card player and not really in the mood for a cigar. I’ll just have a refill and wait for the ladies.” Levi pushed his empty glass toward the barkeep, who refilled it and sloshed it back toward Levi.
Levi downed the whiskey and listened to the piano player for a few minutes. When the man started playing “Camptown Races,” Levi started humming along. “Doo dah, doo dah, camptown racetrack’s five miles long, oh…”
His singing was interrupted by the jingle of the brass bells on the front door. He spun around and saw two women enter. They glanced at the barkeep, who nodded toward Levi. One of the women was a thin brunette, wearing a light green dress that gave her body more of an hourglass shape than she probably had. The other was a blonde, wearing a loose-fitting blue dress that sloppily drooped off one shoulder. She caught Levi’s eye and dramatically pulled the neckline back up to its proper spot, raising her chin as if she were royalty and he a mere peasant. He smiled at her pompousness.
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Saturday Snippet – Stuckey’s Bridge
In celebration of the coming release of the third book in the Stuckey’s Bridge Trilogy on August 25th, I’m posting a short snippet of the first book today, the second book next Saturday, and the third book the following Saturday.
This is from THE LEGEND OF STUCKEY’S BRIDGE.
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He staggered down to the river to inspect the boat, carrying the ax in one hand and the lantern in the other. He realized as he walked that he may have consumed one too many swigs of whiskey, for he didn’t remember the path being this difficult to navigate. He giggled as he stumbled toward the bank. The cool mist of the fog felt good on his face, but the lack of visibility made him a little disoriented. He wasn’t sure if the feeling was caused by the fog or the whiskey.
He reached the river, placed the lamp on the dirt next to the boat, and crawled aboard. He searched around the deck, under the seats, and down in the hole, but found nothing.
“Damn it. Why do they always keep the money on them?” he griped.
“Hey! What are you doing there?” called the skinny boy, who surprisingly emerged from the woods and neared the boat.
“I was making sure your boat was tied up securely.” The words sure and securely came out in a slur, but Thomas ignored it and climbed out of the boat, back onto the bank. He still held the rusty ax.
“Why do you need an ax to check on the boat?”
“Oh.” He looked down at the ax. “Just in case I run into something out in the woods. You can never be too careful out here, you know?”
“Don’t you have a gun?”
“Well, yes,” he said as he neared the boy. “But guns make noise.”
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The Creation of a Creepy Trilogy…by accident.
Last year, I wrote “The Legend of Stuckey’s Bridge.“ If you haven’t read it, it’s based on an old Mississippi legend and is the story of an inn keeper who murdered his guests, confiscated their wealth, and buried their bodies on the banks of the river. When a nearby bridge was rebuilt years later, the workers began uncovering bodies, and Old Man Stuckey was eventually found out. I had a blast getting inside the head of a serial killer and writing the story. While creating the tale, I decided Old Man Stuckey couldn’t be alone with his thoughts throughout the entire story, so I had him run across a young boy named Levi. I guess being in psycho mode at the time of writing, young Levi became quite a creepy character himself.
Following the book’s release, I received a bunch of emails and messages asking me what the deal was with Levi. Apparently, he captured everyone’s attention.
So, I gave it some thought and penned the second book in the trilogy, “Stuckey’s Legacy: The Legend Continues.” It was released May 2014. In that book, which takes place a decade after Old Man Stuckey paid for his crimes, young Levi is 22 years old and living off the wealth of the Old Man. He’s hobnobbing with the rich and famous on Jekyll Island off Georgia’s coast. When he meets the beautiful and mysterious Penelope Juzan, he is mesmerized, and an intense game of cat and mouse begins.
In the great state of Mississippi, not far from the real Stuckey’s Bridge, lies the black, swampy waters of Lake Juzan. It is surrounded by its own legend of an inn keeper who murdered his guests, confiscated their wealth, and buried their bodies in the depths of the lake. Well, who wouldn’t grab that and run with it? 🙂
The legend of Lake Juzan became the basis for the third in the trilogy, “Stuckey’s Gold: The Curse of Lake Juzan.” Penelope Juzan’s great grandfather was Lake Juzan’s inn keeper and the original holder of the trunk of gold that made its first appearance in “Stuckey’s Bridge.” When all is said and done, Old Man Stuckey and Levi are only bit players in a story that is far darker and more sinister than even they could have imagined.
“Stuckey’s Gold” is the tale of four generations trying to escape the curse that is Lake Juzan.
Lori Crane 