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    The Other Side
    The Other Side
    The Other Side
    Ebook71 pages1 hour

    The Other Side

    By Wendy Dalrymple

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Madeline Davies is a graphic design college student by day, and a ghost tour guide by night in historic St. Augustine, Florida. After an unexpected run-in with her rival ghost tour guide, Caleb, they find that with a simple touch, they are able to travel together to another dimension: what they call The Other Side.
    As Madeline and Caleb work to uncover the fate and identity of a mysterious, yet familiar woman from The Other Side, they are forced to join together to put together the clues, and end up discovering each other along the way.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Shorts
    Release dateJul 23, 2020
    ISBN9781094412238
    Author

    Wendy Dalrymple

    Wendy Dalrymple crafts highly consumable, short and sweet romances inspired by everyday people. When she’s not writing happily-ever-afters, you can find her camping with her family, painting (bad) wall art, and trying to grow as many pineapples as possible. Keep up with Wendy at www.wendydalrymple.com!

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    • 5/5
      Really good plot should of been stretched out into a series! Such creativity.

    Book preview

    The Other Side - Wendy Dalrymple

    Part 1: The Castillo

    Madeline Davies was running out of time.

    As usual, she couldn’t find her corset or her lace-up boots, and her long auburn hair was still in a messy bun on top of her head. Her bed was strewn with both clean and dirty laundry as well as her laptop, which was opened to a half-finished essay on the history of minimalism in art.

    Madeline glanced at her phone: 6:30… shit! She wasn’t going to make it downtown in time to meet her guests for her sunset tour. She decided that her hair was going to have to be tied up in a scarf instead of her usual cascade of curls. After locating her corset (which was hidden underneath her petticoat on the laundry pile on the bed) as well as her boots (by the front door), Madeline was finally ready to head out for the night.

    Her apartment was small, but cheap, and in a great location, just a five-minute walk to Vero Beach and a short drive to the touristy downtown area. Tonight, however, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy an evening stroll in the sand; tonight, she had to work. Her Ford Focus was on its last legs, but it worked well enough to get her from home to school and work and back again. The check engine light had been on for two years now but, besides a slight sputter and lag whenever she started it up, it seemed to still get her around town just fine. The Focus had recently become more of a nest than a car, and the interior had begun to gradually resemble the mess that was her room: empty coffee cups on the floor, geeky trinkets hanging from the rearview mirror, and the faint smell of lavender essential oil all signaled that this was Maddy’s car.

    After liberally applying eyeliner, mascara, and red lipstick in between stop lights, Madeline finally made it to her destination. Her usual favorite parking spot was taken by a big, black SUV with Alabama plates. Madeline sighed deeply. She knew that this would make her later for her tour. Maybe a quick trip past Gaspar’s bar would be in order to help win over her potentially grouchy tourists and help her earn a few extra tips for the night. Madeline finally found a place to park, about three blocks from the church where her group was instructed to meet. She would have to run if she was going to make it on time.

    It was a typical warm and muggy St. Augustine evening, and the tourists were all starting to mill in and out of restaurants for their Southern-style dinners. Madeline’s coin belt chimed and jangled as she hurried down the cobbled streets, past her favorite place to get a cheap lunch ($5 for two slices of pizza and a soda!), and past her favorite store filled with beautiful vintage-style dresses she wished she could afford. She was nearing her college campus, and felt a slight twinge of guilt at the thought of her unfinished essay, which was definitely going to be late as well.

    She hoped that her forehead wasn’t dripping with sweat too badly.

    Get your shit together, Maddy, she scolded herself, stepping up her pace a notch.

    Madeline rounded the corner onto Jacaranda Street with the old church and her tour group in sight, when she suddenly ran smack into a towering cloaked figure.

    Hey, watch it! she called.

    The figure turned around, and Madeline paused for a moment to catch her breath in shock. Caleb. she thought. Oh, great.

    See, good people? Caleb asked, thoroughly reveling in the moment. I told you this town was brimming with lusty wenches!

    The crowd erupted in laughter. So this is why his tours always got such good reviews. Dammit.

    Caleb was only a few years older than Madeline, but he had grown up in St. Augustine and was something of a hometown boy. Even though he was young, his enthusiasm and quick wit made him a favorite among tourists, and he was arguably the best haunted-tour guide in the city, a fact that Madeline thoroughly resented.

    Move, I’m late! Madeline said.

    She shoved past Caleb once again, but this time, as their shoulders touched, the world around her went dark and silent, and for a brief moment, it was as if she were sucked into a vacuum. She looked back at Caleb, who had a strange, almost confused look on his face, which he quickly shook off before falling back into character. Madeline continued on her path and left the giggling group of tourists behind. Hopefully their tours wouldn’t cross paths tonight. She didn’t know if she could handle being the butt of his jokes again.

    When Madeline finally made it to the church, her tour group already looked slightly annoyed and tired. There were about twenty people in all: a retired couple, a family with two teenagers, a Girl Scout troop, and a few young couples who looked like they were on dates. She was only a couple minutes late, but she knew that her tardiness would reflect in her tips that night. Oh well, she thought, that’s show business. Time to

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