Sandra C. Lopez's Blog, page 299

Review: NOBODY ELSE'S BUSINESS by Beverly Hurwitz

Image Graphic designed by Sandra Lopez
It's the 2008 election season and the war between Pro-Life and Pro-Choice factions has become so intense, that one organization is scheming to cause unintended pregnancies in the families of Pro-Life politicians, while another encourages its followers to bomb clinics and cut off the hands of doctors who perform abortions.The conflict gets much more personal for the family of Congressman Mark Wagner. His fourteen-year-old daughter, Pamela, fending for herself while her parents were preoccupied, had insufficient knowledge to avoid pregnancy. Senator Roger Evans's seventeen-year-old daughter, Vivian, faithfully took her birth control pills, but as can happen, they failed.Both teenagers have fathers who are staunch Pro-Lifers. Both teens and their associates wind up in grave danger when conspirators expose their private dilemmas to the world.This political thriller explores the medical, religious, economic, and historical aspects of the abortion issue, as it draws the reader onto a frightening battleground where powerful forces resort to extraordinary weaponry to both preserve and eradicate the rights of humans to fully understand and manage their ability to procreate.
 
Available on Amazon



My review: Eliza was a nurse in the OBGYN ward. Pamela was a young, sweet teen that just gave birth to a dead baby.
Vivian was a college kid in the middle of a pregnancy scare. There was no way that she could tell her academically driven boyfriend. They weren’t prepared for this. Maybe she could get an abortion? But she wasn’t brought up that way.
When I started this, I was hoping to find a story in the array of contractions, C-sections, and premature abortions. It can be quite detailed in the schematics of pregnancy and labor (it was almost nauseating.) The action and drama parallels what you’d find on ER.
Ultimately, this was about Pro-Choice activists A.K.A. “NEB” (Nobody Else’s Business) waging against Anti-Choice politicians. The lives of various characters are intermingled in a political debate of Pro-Choice.
I’m not much into politics, but I can certainly value the complexities of women’s fiction and this book was definitely complex. First of all, there were too many stories in one, even though each character’s perspective brought a little something to the mix. I’d say the best story was with Vivian and Greg—their love triangle and pregnancy problem.  The whole thing had that dramatic flair and tension between the characters, but it was much too complicated. There were actually too many characters. You almost lose track of who’s who. This book was leaning toward a political thriller, but I didn’t quite get that feeling; it felt more dramatic than anything else.
My rating: 2 stars

Review: MANHATTAN CINDERELLA by Kate O’Keefe

“ONCE UPON A TIME IN Manhattan, I lived in a huge mansion with my hideous stepmother and her two frightful daughters.” (7) Yep, it’s a Cinderella story.


“It’s hard to believe that Sylvia Tremaine gets to a term that includes the word “mother.” She is nothing like our mother. She’s like the total opposite. She’s the anti-mom.” (5)


Gabriella , a 22-year old college dropout,  whose “sticky trust fund situation” left her with no other choice but to live at home with her wicked stepmother. The story follows the Cinderella tale to a T with having to do the household chores and putting up with the (verbal) abuse. To me, this felt a little artificial, not to mention superficial. Yes, there was a refreshing wit and an endearing quality, especially when dealing with abandonment issues from the father and a mother that died. But I couldn’t quite get into this rehash of the classic fairy tale, which is an okay story for me. I mean, I’ve read other Cinderella stories before, so I wanted to give this little number with the Manhattan spin a shot. But it just wasn’t the greatest.


My rating: 2 stars

Review: GETTING TO REAL by Doris Rangel

Viva, San Antonio!


At her reluctance, Jennifer decided to take her mother in, which, therefore, made her hire a contractor to remodel and expand her home.


“Until her mother moved in, her life was perfect. She loved her job. She loved her house. She loved the things in her house. What more could she ask?” (11)


Gabriel Trujillo, one of the crew members working on the house, never could figure out “what was it about brown skin that made some Anglos judgmental and afraid?” (14)


What surprised Jennifer the most was that Gabriel didn’t seem to recognize her. After all, she hadn’t seen him in 10 years.


Story was easygoing, quaint, and relatable. As a Latina, I enjoyed the Hispanic culture as not much of it is featured in works of fiction. For me, it is a real treat. I am forever always seeking out Latino themes and characters in books.


Writing was well-versed and modest. The pace was rather slow as the two engage in bi-cultural jabs and racial misconstructions. Although I wasn’t that captivated by their story, it was still nice to see them get along despite their differences.  I think most Latinos would be able to relate to Gabriel—the directionless “bad boy” that actually showed potential and a real gift. Reading the past events showcasing Gabriel’s academic challenges and a teacher that never gave up on him was reminiscent of Jaime Escalente and his calculus class. Gabriel needed to “stand and deliver.”


Full of drama and quiet emotion. A touching, multicultural tale on the two-edge sword of pride.


My rating: 3 stars

Review: DEAREST CLEMENTINE by Lex Martin

20-year old Clementine is trying to figure out her next book idea to pay off her college tuition bills, so that would make her a creative writing major. Her first book was a national bestseller. She takes a romance writing class, which forbids the use of penis or clitoris. Oy! It was funny that she takes this class considering she doesn’t like to date and pretty much despises the male species all together. She pretty much has one gear: bitch mode. Funny! Her semester-long assignment is to write a romantic novella. Interesting.
“I feel weightless and a little buzzed from the euphoria of breaking through and being able to write again.” (66)
Then she meets Gavin, a guitar-playing hottie who is majoring in journalism and isn’t afraid of her bitchiness. The two writers connect. Gavin is able to help Clementine break through her guy issues and inspires her to write a killer romance story. He basically allows her to use him as a main character (they touch, they kiss, etc.) Oooo la la! Clem and Gavin are great together.
Story is in the POV of Clementine, who is a witty and candid. The fact that she is an accomplished indie author makes her a relatable character and, like me, she was published while in college.
Good New Adult Romance.

My rating: 4 stars

Review: DUE DATE by Nancy Wood

Image Graphic designed by Sandra Lopez
Surrogate mother Shelby McDougall just fell for the biggest con of all: a scam that risks her life … and the lives of her unborn twins.

Twenty-three-year-old Shelby McDougall is facing a mountain of student debt and a memory she’d just as soon forget. An ad in Rolling Stone for a surrogate mother offers her a way to erase the loans and right her karmic place in the cosmos. Within a month, she’s signed a contract, relocated to Santa Cruz, California, and started fertility treatments.

But intended parents Jackson and Diane Entwistle have their own agenda — one that has nothing to do with diapers and lullabies. With her due date looming, and the clues piling up, Shelby must save herself and her twins.

As she uses her wits to survive, Shelby learns the real meaning of the word “family”.

Available on Amazon

My review: Shelby is pregnant with twins. And when the due date comes, she would be giving them away to the intended parents. Not many people would consider being a surrogate, but Shelby was facing a mountain of debt and the couple was willing to pay her. She thought she was helping a nice, loving couple. She never expected to fall for the one of the biggest cons of all.

A frightened woman, a major scam, and a looming due date.

This story certainly had a captivating premise. I was hoping to learn about Shelby’s financial struggles and how she came to be a surrogate. Instead, the book starts off with her already being pregnant and getting lost in the woods. It felt like I was kind of thrown in the mix there. 

The writing is very heavy on description. You could tell that it was striving for a literary and reverent style with its emphatic focus on character emotions and pastel scenery. Although the words were lovely, I also thought that it was a tad too wordy. It just became very stifling. I wanted the story to move on, to keep going, but it just wasn’t moving fast enough for me. 


My rating: 2 stars



---Excerpt---


Chapter One
The Beemer driver, right on our tail, tapped his horn a few times, and sat on it. My brother Dexter swerved the SUV toward the dented guard rail separating the gravel shoulder from a steep drop into the Santa Cruz mountain valley below. But the BMW driver didn’t take the hint. He just edged closer, veering in and out of the lane, still trying to pass. “What the...?” shouted Dexter as the Beemer’s right front fender hooked our left rear with an explosive crunch.Suddenly we were sliding out of control, skidding across the narrow road as if it were black ice. Dexter fought the wheel and pumped the brakes, but the pedal plunged to the floor. Yelling “Hold on,” he yanked the parking brake. Metal screeched and our CRV fishtailed to the right, jerking to a halt inches from the cliff. Dexter turned the ignition off and there was welcome silence.  He whacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.“I am so dead,” he groaned. “Jessica is going to kill me.”He reached over to unclip my seatbelt then looked at me, horrified. “Shelby, we need to get you to a doctor.”“I’m fine,” I said, cradling my substantial belly with both hands. “Thank God the airbag didn’t go off.”  “If I ever catch that idiot...” Dexter tried to start the car but the engine just whirred, clicked, and died. He swore, wiggled his phone out of his pocket, pressed the on button, and swore again. He shook it, as if that would help. “Can I try yours?”“If you can find it,” I said. I gestured behind me, where my entire life was crammed into boxes, suitcases, and duffel bags. “Don’t have that much time. Gotta get you and those babies to a doctor.” He opened the car door. “I’ll be back in a half hour, tops,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.” He grinned at me. We both knew I wouldn’t.  I watched his bright red t-shirt disappear through the redwood grove up the twisting road, under the blue California sky. He’d be at least an hour. Dexter never could tell time. I angled the seat back and was rewarded with the familiar poke of a baby foot between my lower ribs, then another on my left side. See? I wanted to tell Dexter, we’re all fine. All three of us. And just because you’re my big brother, you can’t always tell me what to do. I reserved that privilege for Jackson and Diane Entwistle, the intended parents of my unborn twins. Although we didn’t know each other that well yet, Diane insisted on taking me in now that Jessica, Dexter’s pushy wife, had kicked me out. So instead of being shoehorned into an all-purpose office-guest-craft room, I’d have my own cottage. Six hundred square feet all to myself on their expansive Santa Cruz mountain ridge top estate. Even though the arrangement would only last a few months, until the babies were born, I was looking forward to quiet country living.I locked the doors, twisted around in the seat for my purse, and busied myself in a fit of organization. I excavated gum wrappers, used movie tickets, wadded up tissues, balls of hair from my brush, bits of broken shells I’d collected on my morning beach walks, keys to Dexter’s house that I wouldn’t be needing anymore, and a dangly red and white African beaded earring I’d assumed was long lost. The trash went in one pile, the earring in my coin purse, and I stashed the keys to my former life in the glove box. I’d just have to remember to tell Dexter they were there.
* * * *Forty-five minutes later, I was flipping through the Sunset magazine I’d found under the passenger seat when I smelled smoke. Campfires weren’t unusual up here in the hills, where there were at least three state parks, and at first the tendril of what looked like mist winding through the upper redwood canopy didn’t worry me. I was reading about kitchen makeovers, something I couldn’t yet imagine at twenty-three, but maybe someday, after the babies were born, after I finished graduate school, after I found that perfect guy. Then I started coughing. And I looked up again. The smoke was as dense as beach fog on a summer morning. This was no campfire. I felt a sudden surge in my throat: on the side of the road, near the hairpin curve where Dexter had disappeared, licks of red and orange flame were traveling lazily up the trunk of a spindly shrub. I jumped as it ignited with a crack, sparking in fiery traces like a welding torch. As quickly as I could, I unlocked the door and eased out, trying not to look down at the slope as steep as a ski jump that dropped off beneath my feet. Only an inch of slippery gravel lay between the toes of my flip-flops and the lip. I baby-stepped around the car, taking peeks up the hill, hoping I’d see Dexter running toward me, arms outspread in a victory lap. If you wanted something enough, the universe would provide, right? But only a backdrop of flames glowed through the swirling smoke. Now whole trees were hissing in the distance as they burned. A power line sparked in a deafening pop. I looked around for my best escape route. I couldn’t follow Dexter. No one could navigate that path, not even a fully-suited firefighter with an oxygen tank. I knew Dexter was somewhere safe by now. Probably as worried about me as I was.I waddled fast downhill, and ten minutes later, I was in almost-clear air again, the blaze just a memory clinging in sooty, sweaty rivulets to my hair and clothes. My eyes still burned and my tongue felt singed, but a familiar blue sky arched above and the feathery ash only floated down occasionally, gentle as mist. I knew it would be just a matter of time before the fire caught up to me, though, and I couldn’t walk forever. As if my prayer had been answered, the faint whine of an engine percolated the still afternoon. Gears ground as the vehicle labored up the grade. I dodged off the road and crouched behind a tree. Maybe it was the hormones, but paranoia had been a constant companion since I signed my surrogacy papers. Nobody liked surrogates, I’d learned, especially once they realized the amounts of money involved. But I needed a lift. Shaking off my worries, I straightened up, ready to flag down the vehicle. “Shelby Emma Stearns McDougall,” I said. “Get a grip.” Above me, a pair of crows squawked, raspy and piercing. I adjusted my huge belly, leaned back against the tree trunk, and waited.

Review: GRASPING FOR GRACE: NEVER GROW UP by D. Pichardo-Johansson

"Why do I hate men? Because they did nothing to deserve their good luck. Winning the genetic lottery of a Y chromosome was all it took for them to get world supremacy, freedom from the period, and the good side of all double standards.” (2)

To Allison, it just seemed that men had it easier in the world. It’s true! And that’s why she can’t stand the syrupy couples or the obligation wedding. Who needs to be glued to a guy, smooching and giggling? And how dare her friends insinuate that she wasn’t happy by herself? After all, she’d written bestsellers telling women that they could be. Right on, sister!

To quote her book: “Marriage is the ultimate happy ending: It ends your happy.” (24) =D

Like Allison, I wasn’t an “example of the eternal story: the moment a woman fell in love, she lost herself, her independence. Her power.” (33)

Then it hits her…Or she hit him actually…accidentally with her car. And what a charming bastard he was. Feeling her up (literally) to check if she was a hallucination and manipulating a dinner date.


What  on earth  is  happening  to  me?  She was  the  woman  who found men nearly disgusting. Why was she finding this stranger so attractive? (8)

Allison was surprised to learn that they had a lot in common, like their distaste for weddings as well as the “obsolete and tyrannical custom of marriage.” (15) Jay was nearly her opposite with his equal resentment toward a woman’s claim that “a man can be replaced with a vibrator, a triple-A membership, and a handyman service.” (19)

Neither one believe in codependent relationships and neither one was backing down on their views. Still, Jay was determined to prove his point no matter what.

Uproariously funny and witty, story was an unconventional love tale of outlandish remarks, mounting frustrations, and easy laughter. I found this book very entertaining and relatable. It was a Battle of the Sexes. These characters have always believed that they were on opposite teams, but they will realize that, deep inside, men and women are actually the same.


“The point of this long story, darling, is: when your inner compass tells you you’re in the right place, don’t question it—even if it doesn’t make sense at first. Keep doing what brings you joy, and it will make sense in time.” (47)

The interesting aspect was the childhood regression—remembering what made you happy as a kid and using it in your present endeavors. It’s pretty hard to find happiness in a bleak childhood, so, needless to say, the repressed memories naturally manifested into distrust and cynicism. Clearly, Allison and Jay both needed Freud and a couch (don’t we all, right?) I was also curious to know if Allison could really be the Grace that Jay used to know as a kid.

Although it was a smart novel, sometimes it was a bit too analytical. Characters mindlessly drift through life with their load of haunting memories, repression, and subconscious beliefs. Jay certainly takes his “grasping for Grace” to stalking and near-psychotic levels. His attempts become asinine. I mean, getting her to sign up for his Boot Camp Workout Program? Geez! For me, the Boot Camp is actually where it started to taper off. I thought the premise was interesting, the story was well-executed, and the progression was slow and steady.


It’s a tug-of-war love story of psycho-analyzing theories, passionate debates, and stubborn wills. A crazy Love- Hate Romance.  


My rating: 3.5 star

Review: MY BLUE MORAINE by T.D. Vaxton

"The image popped into my head once again of Frank, sitting alone in the school library on that first day of my senior year." (4)
2005: First day of senior year. "Why was I so sad? It sucked. Did I have a whole other year of it? Another year of no friend." (11)
Kim Romer was the shy, quiet girl in school, nervous about her first day of senior year.
Story started off kind of slow with the insipid introduction of all these faceless classmates. I was hoping it would quickly pick up and lead to something interesting, but it kept at its stagnant and unprogressive pace. The whole thing was filled with vapid monologue that doesn't really give the reader anything. At first, this struck me as a decent YA read narrated by a young girl, whom I thought would be relatable in some way. But it just wasn't what I anticipated.
My rating: 2 stars

Review: BELIEVING IN LOVE by Betsy Horvath

At 17, June Esperanza was not about to go into the foster care system after her grandmother died, so she quit school, hit the road, and ended up back in Hardy Falls.


It’s a wandering story in a town full of memories and forgettable characters. It keeps a slow pace and it seems to go almost nowhere.  It just wasn’t interesting.


My rating: 2 stars

Review: FRESHMAN MOM by Karen Gorback

Meredith is a 39-year old divorcee with 2 kids. Her mother considered her a failure in marriage and in life. One thing that she wanted was to go to college. Meredith enjoyed science and wanted to study it, but no one (her mother, husband, kids, friends) took her seriously.


One thing I enjoyed about this book was the mantra: You’re never too old to go to school.


“Learning keeps me alive. The books are my blood and the homework my breath.” (LOC 510)


Story chronicles the perils of motherhood and academic challenges. Meredith’s teen daughter was such a hand-full (real drama queen.) Meredith had to juggle it all. I think readers can definitely learn from her journey, however, the read becomes a tad mediocre and bland. The lesson is inspirational, but the read was okay.


My rating: 3 stars

Review: THE SECRETS OF HAWTHORNE HOUSE by Donald Firesmith

Image Graphic designed by Sandra Lopez
Fifteen-year-old Matt Mitchell was having the worst summer imaginable. His misery started when his mother died in a senseless car accident. Matt’s grieving father, unable to remain in the family’s seaside cottage, moved Matt and his twin sister as far as possible from the ocean they loved.

But their relocation to the small town of Hawthorne, Indiana only made Matt’s life more difficult. Three bullies at his new high school dedicated themselves to making him miserable. To top it off, Matt heard that the recluse living in the dilapidated Victorian mansion next door was none other than Old Lady Hawthorne, the town’s infamous witch and murderer of wayward husbands.

Then, Old Lady Hawthorne’s niece and her three children moved in next door, and something extraordinary happened. Matt met Gerallt, the strange boy destined to become his best friend. And when Matt learned the Hawthornes’ family secret, it changed his life forever.

The Secrets of Hawthorne House is the story of an unlikely friendship, the clash of two radically different cultures, hidden magic, and a search for the lost Hawthorne treasure.

Available on Amazon

My review:

It was a drunk driver that crashed into his mother and killed her. It was something that 15-year old Matt has never been able to get over. Now, he, along with his father and twin sister, has moved to Hawthorne, IN, as far away from the ocean as possible.
New house, new town, new people.
The first day of school, Matt meets Sarah, who tells him about Lady Hawthorne next door. She was supposedly a witch who murdered her husband. So then why was she running free if she was a killer?
Eventually, Matt starts doing household chores for Lady Hawthorne and soon befriends one of her relatives. Suddenly, life in a strange town gets even stranger.
Story goes into a brief history of the Hawthorne Haunted House and how it came to be. It was interesting, but lags considerably with endless monologue that seems irrelevant. The Hawthornes certainly have incomprehensible dialogue with their weird accent (it was Southern or Eastern or something,) making it harder to follow and understand them.
Ultimately, the question was: What were the secrets of Hawthorne House? Although the answer wasn’t too clear, the bond and friendship between Matt and Gerallt was admirable.
This strange tale of Wiccan folklore was punctuated by childhood mayhem, dark secrets, and a touch of magic. Of course, judging by the cover, I expected more spookiness, like a haunting impression really, but it just sort of remained stagnant at a mild and mediocre level. It’s a decent read for YA audiences, but I would’ve liked it better had it been shortened and less complicated.
My rating: 3 stars



---Excerpts: The Secrets of Hawthorne House---


Clayton Cartwright
Spotting Matt as the only familiar face in the room, Gerallt walked over and sat at the empty desk next to him. It also happened to be the chair directly in front of Clayton Cartwright.
Waiting for the teacher to face the chalkboard and turn his back to the class, Clayton leaned forward, stretched out his arm, and poked a sausage-sized finger into Gerallt’s back. “Hey, new kid,” Clayton whispered. “Where’d you get the Halloween costume? What’re you supposed to be, some kind of Goth druggie?”

Gerallt ignored Clayton. Matt glanced sideways, the memory of his own initial run-in with Clayton still fresh in his mind from the first day of school.

 “What’s the matter with you?” Clayton continued, leaning forward to poke Gerallt again. “I’m talking to you. You deaf? Or stoned!”

Gerallt glanced over his shoulder, gave Clayton a look of utter contempt, and then turned back to read what the teacher was writing on the chalkboard.

“Oh, I get it,” Clayton whispered, giving Gerallt a third poke in the back. “You’re one of these Amish kids who don’t believe in fighting. Believe in turning the other cheek, do you? Or maybe you’re just a coward.” He gave Gerallt a shove to the back of the head. “Just wait ‘til after school, Bible boy, and I’ll give you a little something on each cheek.”

This time it was Gerallt who made sure the teacher was still busy at the blackboard with his back to the class. Then he turned and whispered in the same unusual accent as his sister, “My great ahnt warned me about you, Clayton Cartwright. It will take more than the likes of you tah frighten me. And I promise you this. Poke me one more time in the back, and you won’t be poking anyone for a very long time.” Then Gerallt turned his back on Clayton, swiftly slipped his fingertips between the wooden buttons of his shirt and began to whisper something too softly for Matt to hear.

“Is that so, Bible boy?” Clayton replied angrily, just loudly enough for the teacher to hear. Mr. Thompson turned around just in time to see Clayton lean his considerable weight forward to poke Gerallt once more in the back.

Clayton’s finger had barely touched Gerallt’s back when there was a loud crack as the front legs of Clayton’s chair snapped. Suspended motionless for an instant, his entire body pivoted forward on the chair’s remaining legs, and his nose smashed into the back of Gerallt’s chair with a sickening, yet strangely satisfying, crunch. Next, his outstretched index finger, driven by the whole weight of his body and desk, hit the floor with such force that the resulting snap was heard clearly by everyone in the room. This was followed instantly by the crash of Clayton's desktop, body, and books onto the floor followed by an unexpectedly high-pitched scream of pain. After a second of shocked silence, the class erupted as everybody started talking and yelling at once.



Halloween
By the final week of October, the tall oaks lining Hawthorne Drive had reached the peak of their colors, and the first yellow leaves slowly tumbled down to lie on lawns and sidewalks. All along Hawthorne Drive, the modest one- and two-story houses had been turned into happy Halloween haunts. Throughout the neighborhood, bright orange lights framed windows and doors, and small fluttering ghosts hung from the branches of many of the smaller trees in peoples’ yards. Black plastic spiders sat on the cottony cobwebs that shrouded every bush, while jolly Jack-O-Lanterns stood silent guard at every porch. Front yards had become grave yards, and the occasional inept witch hung where she’d crashed headlong into a tree or the side of a house.

Yet the morning of Halloween had arrived with no change to Hawthorne House, making it appear decidedly underdressed with no sign of Halloween decorations.

“So Gerallt, doesn’t your family celebrate Halloween?” Matt asked as the Hawthorne children joined Tina and him at the bus stop. “You haven’t put up any decorations, and I haven’t heard you mention it all month.”

“Of course we observe Halloween, only we call it Samhain,” Gerallt said, exchanging cautious glances with his sister. Unlike Wiccans, who pronounce the holiday as Sow-in, Gerallt pronounced the Gaelic word meaning the end of summer as Sahm-wan. “It’s just that for us, the holiday doesn’t start until dusk and we always wait until then tah decorate.”
“Tonight is very special tah us,” Gwyneth added solemnly.

“It’s our new year,” Gerallt continued. “We have a feast tah welcome the spirits of those who will be born in the comin’ year and tah celebrate the lives of those who have passed in the previous year. Tonight, we’ll celebrate the life of our fathah and welcome his spirit when he visits us from the Spirit World…”

Before Matt could decide how to respond to Gerallt’s unexpected expectation that his father’s ghost was going to visit him, Gareth said, “Samhain ‘s my favorite holiday. I love trick-or-treatin’ and all the candy. Can I go with you and Gerallt tonight? Please? I promise not tah be a bothah or anything. Please, Matt?”



Hawthorne House
The sun had just set as Matt, now transformed into a youthful vampire, walked out his front door to join Gerallt and Gareth for their planned evening of house-to-house candy extortion. Rising in the east like a pale pumpkin in the sky, a full moon peeked out from behind wispy translucent clouds. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and Matt drew his cheap black and scarlet cape around him with a flourish before striding out into the gathering darkness.
A thin mist was rising from the dew-drenched grass, forming a low layer of fog that darkened the shadows beneath the row of oaks lining Hawthorne Drive. Matt looked next door at the old Victorian mansion and was amazed by its transformation. Each tall window of the Hawthorne House framed a single colorful candle, burning with flickering flames of yellow, orange, or red. A few candles even burned with the same sickly shade of green that illuminated the bottom of the twin streams of smoke rising from the mansion’s massive stone chimneys. The green glowing smoke bubbling out of the chimney pots rose only a few feet before cascading down the gabled roof to become a low-lying fog. Matt was surprised to see a black shape suddenly swoop through the smoke, only to be followed by another and yet another. Large bats fluttered around the twin chimneys and the three towers, feasting on clouds of ghostly moths seemingly drawn to the pale green smoke. Matt had seen the occasional brown bat before, but never so many and never as big as these.
Only the short attic windows were without candles. Yet, while watching in wonder at the fluttering forms, Matt would have sworn that out of the edge of his vision he had seen a pale figure briefly looking back at him from one of the darkened windows. He looked back at the window, but the ghostly shape had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. It sent a shiver up his spine.

Walking slowly over to the Hawthorne’s gate, Matt admired the fantastic cobwebs that covered their fence, bushes, and even the lower branches of the trees. Not the thick cottony store-bought stuff he’d seen at the neighbor’s houses, they appeared to be real spider webs. Each one was outlined in diminutive droplets of dew and hosted what looked like a large black spider sitting smugly at its center. Matt was impressed; the webs looked expensive, and it must have taken lots of work to drape them so realistically.

The gate creaked mournfully as Matt opened it. Thirteen of the most intricately carved jack-o-lanterns he’d ever seen lined the front walk. Each had a different expression, some friendly and some almost terrifying, and every one worthy of wonder and envy. They were so incredible that Matt thought Gwyneth, her  mom, and great aunt must surely have worked all day on them.

The fog was getting thicker. Gazing into the darkness on either side of the twin rows of carved pumpkins, he could just make out fairy rings of large, white toadstools around teepees of dried corn stalks and several giant pumpkins at least a yard across. To his right, what looked like a real skeleton hung suspended by a hangman’s noose from a lower branch of the huge oak in the corner of their front yard. To his left, another pair of realistic skeletons sat hand in hand in the small gazebo next to the fence between their houses. Clearly, Matt thought, the Hawthornes went all out on Halloween.

The covered porch was lined with more of the marvelous jack-o-lanterns. Cobwebs hung from the newly painted gingerbread trim and between the ornately turned spindles of the recently repaired railing. Leaning over to take a closer look at one of the webs, Matt jerked back in shocked surprise. Both the big black spider and its web were real! Turning in amazement, he went to the windows for a better look at the colored candles; they too were real with flickering flames burning yellow, orange, red, or green.