Terror at White Otter Castle
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About this ebook
Laurel, Aster, and Beth have been best friends since grade one when they created the “triangle of power". In September, as high school graduates, they will head off in different directions. Because Laurel fears it will be the end of their friendship, she convinces the others to join her on an end of summer trip - a nine-day canoe expedition to White Otter Castle, deep in the Northern Canadian forest. Unknown to her, the hundred-year-old log castle is has a dark secret. The “triangle of power” faces the ultimate test when the dark forest holds a terror they never imagined. Based on a true story. White Otter Castle can still be visited today. Suitable for ages 14 and up.
Bonnie Ferrante
I'm Bonnie Ferrante, a hybrid author. I was born in Northern Ontario, Canada. I grew up in a mill town of about 1000 people. I moved to Thunder Bay (on the north shore of Lake Superior) to attend university, got a job teaching after graduation and stayed. I love being a grandmother and am so grateful my son and his family live near by.My short stories, newspaper articles and columns, and novels have been published traditionally beginning in my thirties. I was a grade school teacher for thirty-three years, ten of those as a teacher-librarian. Since retiring, I have begun simultaneously self-publishing novels and picture books and am doing my own illustrations. During the long cold winters, I spend most of my time reading, writing and drawing. Since developing Parkinson's Disease, I have switched from illustrating with acrylics and pencil crayon, to exploring methods of digital illustration I also have a blog where I talk about books (mostly for children), reading to/with children, parenting/families (both humorous and practical), writing tips, author interviews, and more.
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Terror at White Otter Castle - Bonnie Ferrante
Terror at White Otter Castle
Bonnie Ferrante
ISBN 978-0-9880530-8-3
Second Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published by Single Drop Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Bonnie Ferrante
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the author
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.
Dedication
For my brother, John, whose courage, fortitude, and positive attitude are inspirational.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Author's Note
Connect with the Author
Other Books by Bonnie Ferrante
Chapter One
As the canoes threaded through the yellowing lily pads and marsh grass, an uneasy silence fell upon the paddlers. Ahead loomed White Otter Castle, the mysterious hundred-year-old monstrosity hidden away in isolated northern Ontario wilderness. The presence of the long-departed James Alexander McOuat pressed down upon the group as they neared the disintegrating structure. Grey logs with missing chinking, vanished shingles, gaping empty windows, and a partially collapsed awning spoke of decay, loss, and neglect.
It was late on the third afternoon of their canoe trip when the group reached the forlorn castle of broken dreams. Laurel, Aster, and Beth were suitably impressed. It was more imposing than its pictures, a massive log building remote by even northern standards. Built by hand by a single man in 1914, there were still no roads leading to its isolated site. It could only be reached by float plane, boat, canoe, helicopter, four—wheeled drive, or, in winter, by snowmobile. The otherworldliness of the log castle emphasized that they were far, far away from civilization as they knew it.
All the canoes stopped as the occupants gazed on this bizarre structure in the middle of nowhere. The plop plop of the paddles ceased. A light breeze swayed the leaves on the deciduous trees on shore and created small waves on the clear empty lake. Overhead, a turkey vulture circled silently.
Three red roofs contrasted vividly with the green foliage of trembling aspen, white birch, white ash, cedar, and spruce trees. A long red-roofed open porch/awning sheltered three dark doorways into the decrepit main building, which was also red-roofed. But what was most startling was the four-storey square tower in the back corner, facing the lake, seemingly transposed from the secluded Scottish highlands. One could imagine an imprisoned princess gazing out over the lake and woods or a mad poet pacing in frustration.
Hold the canoe still,
cried Aster. She took off her sunglasses and set them on top of her large straw hat. I want to get some photos from the lake.
Matt, the handsome, blond stranger Aster had been partnered with, steadied the canoe by laying his paddle flat on the surface of the water. Aster pulled out her camera and shot several angles. Then she turned the camera on Matt and snapped two more. Her black wavy hair contrasted beautifully with her smooth, pale skin. Her face belonged in a Renoir painting.
Oh, brother,
said Beth as she resumed and paddled past with Laurel in the stern. It's not enough she's got a gorgeous boyfriend at home, she has to hit on her canoe partner too.
Sh,
said Laurel. She's just taking pictures. That's what she does.
Right,
said Beth. She's going to add shots of hot Matt to her portfolio.
Why not?
snapped Laurel. He is photogenic.
Uh huh.
The guides, Rebekkah and Steve, resumed paddling first. They led the canoes toward the landing through floating arrowhead. Laurel was first to break the silence. Jimmy McOuat didn't build the red roofs.
She tucked a strand of bright auburn hair behind her ear. They were put on by the Ministry of Natural Resources in the 1950s to stop the castle from decaying away. Although it looks in pretty rough shape, there have been attempts to stop it from falling apart.
Beth, a wide-shouldered strong woman with short, wiry brown hair, nodded absently. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to smooth out the small hairs that had risen at the sight of the weird castle.
Even without the red roofs, the castle would have been a marvel for its time. What would possess a man to build a monstrosity so far away from any community with only himself to rattle