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Informationen zum Autor P.J. Bracegirdle has done everything from tending the stage door of a haunted old Scottish theater to pushing laundry carts through dark tunnels under an insane asylum. His last job involved writing thick manuals that nobody really read for products that few people ever used. He lives with his son and wife, illustrator Susan Mitchell, in Montreal-a spooky old town with a cemetery at the summit. For more information, visit PJBracegirdle.com and JoyofSpooking.com. Klappentext When the star of a horror movie filming in the town of Spooking disappears! twelve-year-old Joy Wells steps into the role--and into real-life horror when her co-star gives a terrifying and unscripted performance. Sinister Scenes CHAPTER 1 I t was always the same dream, night after night. She was a pilot—the aviatrix—slim in an olive green flight suit, looking beautiful despite her leather flight cap and goggles. Climbing up the ladder alongside a silver propeller plane, she paused to wave to the crowd gathered nearby beneath a string of colorful fluttering flags. With a cheeky wink she then hopped into the cramped cockpit and took her place at the controls. To cries of delight the aviatrix then opened up the throttle. Casting an eye toward the red and white wind sock, she noted it was blowing a stiff northeasterly. She then released the brakes. Twin propellers roaring, the gleaming airplane began pulling away. Above the noise came more hearty huzzahs. But before long the cheers turned to gasps as she hurtled down the runway. “Pull up!” someone shouted. “Pull up!” But the aviatrix just frowned. Squinting at the instruments through her grimy goggles, she saw something she didn’t like, a gauge against which she repeatedly tapped a fingertip. Nevertheless she roared onward. Glancing up, she finally pulled back hard on the yoke and, with only a foot of runway remaining, left the ground. Wings shuddering, the airplane began climbing, higher and higher until it appeared to onlookers like a silver dagger slicing through the sky. From her position at the controls, the aviatrix looked out at the world. Far below, the carpet of swaying palm trees became shadowy reef and then an endless expanse of glittering turquoise. High above, the yellow sun burned brightly in a cloudless sky. She smiled, blissfully alone in this singular universe. Alone she would remain until, many hours later, a sandy landing strip appeared out of the twinkling infinity. Except it never did. The dazzling blue turned to darkest night as Joy Wells yelped in fright. Arms out, she sat up in bed, still braced for impact with the great blue sea that had an instant ago been rushing up to meet her. It had all seemed so real. Joy could still remember every detail. From helplessly watching the fuel gauge dip until the needle shuddered below empty, to hearing the engines sputter and die. With nothing more to be done, she had then closed her eyes, tracking the plane’s descent by the sickening sensation in her stomach. The shattering impact had awoken her. Fortunately, it was only a dream, Joy assured herself. It was late at night and she was in her bedroom, she confirmed by the soft glow coming from Fizz’s aquarium heater. From down the hall she could hear her father’s snoring, and the familiar scratching of a branch against the shingles of her home at Number 9 Ravenwood Avenue. After flipping over her drenched pillow, Joy lay back down. As her heart slowed its thumping, she stared up into the black nothingness until she finally fell back into a fitful sleep. The next morning Joy arrived at the breakfast table looking shadowy-eyed and exhausted. “What’s wrong, d...
