TITLE: The Cry House
GENRE: YA Gothic Romance
LOGLINE: Between heated arguments and a simmering sexual tension, seventeen-year-old Faith and Logan are forced to relive the memories of murdered spirits from the abandoned Cry House. They must solve a century old crime in order to bury the dead for good—but a malevolent ghost is standing in their way, waiting to wrap his sulfur-tinged tendrils around their minds.
FIRST 250: Faith quickened her pace to a run. Someone was following her. Shadows shifted on the desolate street, and she peeked back at the Cry House. It stood in the distance, dead silent and empty. Not a single floating sheet or rattling chain in sight. She would have welcomed a moaning specter, something to explain the feeling of being studied. She had a lot more to fear from the living than the dead.
Wind tossed her hair around like scattered straw. A streetlight flicked on with an electric hum and pop above her head. The sun began to set below the horizon, the last rays of daylight spearing violet streaks across the sky.
Faith took another scan of the street. Empty. She slowed down and exhaled.
Get over yourself. No one is chasing you.
She froze at the sound of Logan’s voice. Oh God, kill me, kill me now. She closed her eyes, waited a beat, and reopened them, willing herself to disappear. He probably thinks I’m eight shades of crazy.
“Hey, I thought that was you,” Logan said as he caught up to her. “What were you running from?”
She’d let herself get carried away by an irrational fear, and the shame of it burned her pale cheeks. Toeing at a weed that poked through the sidewalk crack, she tried to come up with a witty response.
“Figures,” he said.
He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and she backed up a step.