New Projects (WIP)

To Dye For

You know you're addicted when:

1. You don't know what your natural hair color is.
2. Roots? What's that?
3. Your hairbrush has hair strands all colors of the rainbow. And you just cleaned it last week
4. You stock up, then make excuses to the cashier when she gives you a strange look. "I'm buying these for my friends."
5. You dye your hair more frequently than you date.

Twenty two year old Annie Padorie makes a shocking discovery, after taking a silly magazine quiz. "I am NOT addicted to dying my hair," Annie tells her best friend Jill. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she can't get rid of the nagging little thought that maybe, just maybe, she is.

6. You're in denial.

On second thought--no way! That's so absurd. That's like being addicted to...to lip balm! Chocolate, yes. Shopping, maybe. Hair dye, no. Definitely not. If Annie had an addiction, it would be something way more fashionable.

Twenty-five boxes of hair dye, an ex-boyfriend, and one wig later, Annie comes to terms with her addiction and cleverly begins to blog about her mishaps with the hopes of helping others like herself. She ends up finding love where she least expects it, and gets to the "root" of her problems.

Deadwood Manor (MG)

A house without windows? Acres of land without a single living plant or blade of grass? To 15 year old Gregory Adams, this is absurd! Even more disturbing is the fact that this is his new home. Just when he thinks nothing could be stranger or possibly get worse, he’s proven wrong. Learning the history of the house only complicates the mystery further and takes him on the adventure of a lifetime, revealing the towns best kept secret of the century!

Arizona, 1871

A pinpoint of light, growing rapidly into a brilliant fireball, hurtles towards earth at an astonishing rate of 40,000 miles per hour. In less than a few seconds, a giant bowl shaped cavity is carved into the once flat, rocky plain.  

It was only years later that a man named Franklin, discovered this crater. Being a scientist, he was deeply interested in this occurrence and dedicated the rest of his life to the study of meteorites.

He had a large mansion built atop of this gigantic hole, which he later named Franklin’s Hole. Never in his entire time living there did a single bird fly near the land, a tiny buzzing bee could ever be seen, not even creepy crawling spiders dared to step one of their eight legs near the crater.

It was rumored that anything living on or near Franklin’s Hole would not survive for long. Franklin was no exception. After becoming very sick in a short amount of time, he too believed this was true. He died shortly after and left his home to his only living relative, his son Daniel.

Daniel wanted to keep his father’s memory alive and live in the very place where his father made such an amazing discovery. He tore down the mansion and had a new house built, one that was much larger, four stories high, and without windows. The only entrance into the home was a small door made of steel, on the second story. It was sealed airtight shut. There were no steps that lead up to the door. No ladder. No rope. No possible way to enter or exit.

For decades, people would wonder how Daniel was able to get to the door. Or how, if ever, could he leave. He never had visitors. No family or friends. He was alone and preferably seemed to like it that way. He too, like his father, dedicated his life to his work in science.

Until one day, the steel door on the second floor cracked open. Only a bit. The muddy plains, after weeks of raining, showed no evidence of any tracks, coming or leaving the home. Daniel had not left, and yet was nowhere to be found inside. Daniel vanishing became the town’s best-kept secret and the abandoned manor becomes one of the biggest mysteries.