A Sneak Peek: An Excerpt from The Professor of Eventide

I’ve had so many questions about The Professor of Eventide, which makes me very happy, so keep them coming. You can always send your questions to me through the Contact link above or at meredithallardauthor@gmail.com.
Right now, readers mainly want to know when the book will be published. If you’ve been following me for any amount of time you know that I’m terrible at guessing when books will be finished. As I write this, I expect an early 2026 release date, but don’t quote me on that. I’ll update everyone here and in my monthly newsletter when I have a more definitive date.
Another question I’ve been getting is whether or not The Professor of Eventide is a paranormal fantasy, and the answer is yes. I won’t say who the paranormal characters are yet, but they’re there. I love writing speculative fiction. I love playing with possibilities.
I’ve also been asked whether or not this new book is historical fiction. Again, yes. Those of you who read The Swirl and Swing of Words know that I said quite definitely that my next novel wasn’t going to be historical fiction. And the Muse said, “Ha!” If you’ve read some of my previous posts, you’ll know that I’ve researched Edgar Allan Poe as well as spiritualism in the nineteenth century. I’ll have more to say about how those elements fit into the overall story later. It will be similar to the Loving Husband Trilogy in that there’s a present day storyline and a historical storyline.
The Professor of Eventide is my first foray into writing a murder mystery. When I shared an outline of the story with a writer friend, she said, “That sounds like The Secret History meets Ninth House!” I loved that so much (I adore both of those books) that I asked if I could use that in my marketing. She said yes.
For now, I’d like to share a bit from the book. This is the prologue. I think. This is very much still a work in progress, but it’s in good enough shape to share.
Enjoy.
The Professor of Eventide PreviewA moment begins innocently enough. A ticking hand on a clock strikes the witching hour. A new job in a seaside town. A colleague who seems friendly enough, at first. A student who pays attention, sometimes. A cozy cottage hidden beneath hanging trees in a cul-de-sac.
Professor Jonathan Ferrer’s routines were largely the same no matter where in the world he was. He slept. He fed himself. He taught his classes. He researched and wrote his scholarly papers. He read and journaled for his enjoyment and sanity. Things are always the same. Until they aren’t.
He arrived along the midnight coast of Maine under the light of a vanilla moon. He was used to the late hours and enjoyed his solitary walks in the gloaming. Most people are frightened by the night. Too much is left unseen. Unknowing is more frightening than knowing. Who knows what lies between the shades and the shadows? Nightmares can spring out from behind the blackness, monsters with talons for fingers who crush your very bones into dust that blows away with the wind. Crime lurks in the darkness, anxiety in the darkness, terror in the darkness. With little to see by, phobias are exposed to be picked at like scabs that hurt more than help, so we peel them away until we bleed.
Jonathan was at peace under the somber sky. He lived in the half-light. Instead of dwelling on the possibility of ghostly torments, he found solace in the unseen. For Jonathan, at night there was no one to fear or hide from. Few people were awake at that hour to mind whether he came or went. Of those he happened to encounter, they were less curious at night, indifferent even.
He was still getting used to the jagged coast, the forested areas, the small town of Southshore. Every night, while others slept, he walked down the main street or along the coast. It was September, the weather mild even as Atlantic gusts whipped the water against the rocky shore, creating whirlpools in the wind. Shroud-like clouds grew menacing, so he turned from the bay toward his new home.
He moved quickly, his long legs taking extended strides. He had intended to return to his cottage, but being cooped up inside didn’t suit him despite the inclement weather. Instead, he turned down Southshore Road toward the campus of Eventide College. He stepped onto the misty grass and admired the eclectic combination of colonial and neoclassical architecture. Poe’s words ran through his mind.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before…
Merely this and nothing more.
Past the witching hour there wasn’t a soul to be seen, the only sounds the snap of the wind and the slap of Jonathan’s footsteps. He continued along the winding walkway, admiring the plentiful trees and impatient for leaf peeping. He looked forward to the progressing cold of autumn when the trees, the sugar maples and the yellow birch, would burst into kaleidoscope colors. The dim campus lights flickered and dimmed, leaving a puzzle-like shadow where Jonathan stood. He stopped when he heard footsteps behind him, light, quick-stepped, but he turned to nothing and no one.
Darkness there and nothing more.
Poe understood the gloom.
When the campus lights brightened, Jonathan spotted a long shadow at the top of the library steps. He shook his head. He must have imagined it. Perhaps a student had dropped a bag on their way out. No. It was too long to be a bag, Jonathan knew. His thoughts echoed inside his head. Leave! It’s nothing. Go home!
His curiosity got the better of him, as it usually did. He passed the Main Quad and the Student Union. Standing before the wide steps of Chisholm Library, Jonathan feared what he already knew. Whatever it was, it was something he didn’t want to see.
He climbed the stairs and saw that his worst fear was true. He shuddered when he recognized the body. His student.
“Oh God,” Jonathan said. “What have I done?”
Categories: Fiction, Mysteries, Paranormal Fantasy, The Professor of EventideTags: Book sneak peek, fiction, historical fiction, mystery novel excerpt, mystery novels, The Professor of Eventide, The Professor of Eventide Preview