Okay, here's the opening. Copy and paste and add a few paragraphs of your own, then come see me in SEEKERVILLE ON THURSDAY JULY 12 and we'll do some critiquing... and reviewing... and drink sweet tea and iced coffee while making fun of Mary Connealy... My favorite thing!!!
Her feet refused to move. The old mansion gazed back at her, challenging her to step forward.
She couldn't. Maybe wouldn't. In any case, she'd been wrong to come here, wrong to think anything had changed, wrong to imagine anything but heartache behind those doors. She turned, willing her feet to obey, but the sound of a door latch paused her.
The house was empty. Wasn't it? Unless the letter writer had been mistaken, unless...
She turned back, not wanting to see, but needing to know. And the moment she did, she recognized her undoing.