Digging up GHOUL (Part 2)

Yesterday, I posted the original pitch synopsis for my novel Ghoul. Readers noticed that there were a lot of differences between the original pitch and the published novel. Today, I offer three deleted scenes — segments cut from the book during the re-write phase, along with a note on each:

DEB LENTZ MEETS CLARK SMELTZER

This scene took place at the beginning of Chapter Seven. This scene never made it past the first draft, so the writing is a bit rough and unpolished. I cut it from the second draft because I thought the chapter was more effective if Deb wasn't revealed until the end. Interestingly enough, while it wouldn't have worked in the book, screenwriter William Miller found a way to make it work effectively in the movie, for which I am happy because its one of Dane Rhodes' (who plays Clark) best scenes. And let me tell you right now, as good as the cast is — and believe me, every single one of them is amazing — Dane's portrayal of Clark will simultaneously give you goosebumps and break your heart.

For the first time in a long time, Deb Lentz felt happy. Content. She'd just gotten done working second shift at the Hanover shoe factory, and the extra overtime would really help with next week's bills. During her lunch break, Marty Thoman had asked her out. Deb had been interested in him ever since he'd started at the factory three months ago. He was divorced, just like her, and had no children, just like her as well. And he was cute. He reminded her of Rick Springfield.

Extra money and a date on Friday night. All was right with her world. She turned up the radio and sang along with Spandau Ballet.

She paid attention to the woods, watching for deer eyes reflected in her headlights. This stretch of road was notorious for deer jumping out in front of vehicles. She considered turning on her high beams, but decided against it. She didn't want to risk blinding any oncoming traffic.

"I know this much is… true."

Deb's mood soured a few miles past the Porter's sawmill. Spandau Ballet died in her throat as the car suddenly lurched to one side. The steering wheel spun in her grip and the car swerved off the road.

Shaken, she caught her breath and made sure she was okay. Then, with one trembling hand, she opened the door and stepped outside. Her rear tire was flat.

"Oh shit."

There was no spare tire in the trunk. This far out, there were no houses or places where she could call for help. The road was deserted. Deep pine forest lined both sides of the road. The closest structure was the Porters sawmill, but it was closed at night. Nobody would be there to let her use the phone. She ran a hand through her hair and kicked the tire in frustration. The next closest place that she knew of was the Whistle Stop bar, five miles down the road.

Deb got her purse out of the car and locked the doors. Then she started walking. Before she'd gone a dozen steps, headlights appeared over the hill.

"Awesome!"

She flagged the passing car down. The driver slowed, and then pulled over to the side, parking in front of her car. A man stepped out.

"Thanks," Deb said, walking towards him. "I'm really glad you stopped. I've got a flat tire. Can you give me a ride to the nearest phone?"

"Sure. I'd be glad to."

Clark Smeltzer smiled reassuringly. His teeth flashed in the darkness.

KAREN MEETS THE GHOUL

This scene (in the Ghoul's warren) originally took place between chapters one and two. I cut it because I felt that it revealed the Ghoul too soon, and because it messed up the pace I was going for at the beginning of the book. Again, since it never made it past the first draft, the writing is a little rough and choppy.

The first thing Karen was aware of was the coolness on her skin. Her back rested against a hard, damp surface. The second thing she was aware of was that her clothes were missing. How else could she feel whatever it was she was leaning against?

Karen opened her eyes and screamed. The noise sounded very small in the silence.

She was underground. A cave, perhaps? No, that couldn't be right. There were no stalactites or stalagmites. Her panicked brain tried to remember which one was which, because thinking about that meant she didn't have to think about what had actually happened in the graveyard.

Karen resisted the urge to scream again. That wouldn't help her. What she needed to do was keep her wits about her and figure things out. She had to stay calm—had to hold out until Pat found her. He was probably looking for her right now.

Then she remembered what had happened to him.

Shuddering, Karen choked down a sob.

She was in a large, roughly circular underground chamber. The dirt floor was littered with bones. The ceiling was high above her head, and roots dangled down from the top of it. Her hands and feet were bound with more roots and vines, looped around a large log. Beneath her was a pile of straw and grass. The entire space glowed with a pale, white light. There was some kind of slime on the walls. It glowed like the inside of a lightning bug. The air was thick; it smelled of mildew and rot and something else…

…what they'd smelled before…

…before Pat…

Karen screamed again, and this time, her screams were answered.

Grunting, her captor lumbered into view. It wasn't human. It had long arms that dangled below its waist and oversized hands with curved talons. Slime dripped from its pores. The creature was entirely hairless. Its head was pointed, almost cone-shaped. Yellow eyes peered at her. When the monster smiled, she saw a mouth full of sharp teeth. But worse than all of that was what the thing had between its legs.

Karen's screams grew louder when it fell on her.

DOUG VERSUS CATCHER, ROUND ONE

This scene took place at the beginning of Chapter Five. I cut it because it didn't flow with the rest of the chapter. Again, this never made it past the first draft, so the writing is a bit rough.

Doug knew not to slow down. The only way to get past Catcher was to pedal like crazy, building up speed before reaching his territory and then flying past before he could reach you. If you slowed down, if your foot slipped off the pedal, if you hit a stone in the road—that was it.

In the distance he spotted the Sawyer's farm. A grain silo and the top of a red barn jutted above the rolling hilltops. A narrow, winding lane led from the farmhouse to the road. Doug's pulse sped up and his mouth went dry.

He pedaled faster. The bike's tires hummed on the asphalt.

"Please," Doug whispered. "Please don't let him come out. Just this once."

If God heard him, then his prayers went unanswered. Within seconds, Doug heard an all-too familiar snarling. A flash of black fur appeared at the end of the lane and sped towards him. Doug screamed.

Catcher rocketed out of the lane and raced along behind him. His hackles were raised. White, foamy spittle dripped from his jowls. His lips pulled back, revealing sharp teeth. Whimpering, Doug hunched over the handlebars and pedaled faster. His breath burned in his lungs. Catcher snapped at his ankles. Doug couldn't kick him. If he did, his speed would decrease or Catcher would latch onto his pants cuff.

"Get away from me," he shouted. "Leave me alone!"

Catcher barked furiously. Doug reached the hill and flew down it. The dog fell behind, then slowed, and finally turned around and loped back home.

When Doug reached the bottom of the hill, he stopped. Gasping for breath, he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"I hate that dog," he muttered. "I wish he was dead."