You'll find this in my collection of short stories, titled Face in the Mirror and Other Stories, published by Rogue Phoenix Press and also available at Amazon, of course. These are a mixture between romantic horror and pure horror - although not too brutal and thus also ok to be read by young ones.
Here are a few teasers:
Then, she sensed a nearness again. She got the feeling that someone – something – was watching her. The front door fell into its lock. She looked around, not yet sure as how to proceed.
“Who’s there?” she repeated. The air around her did not move. All she could perceive was the utter silence of the house. She waited five more minutes until she felt certain she was alone once more. She shrugged. If someone tried to scare her, they would have to do better. She did not scare that easily. Not after what had already happened to her. She would stay the night, and nobody would drive her out.
From Face in the Mirror
That night, she was woken up by – something. She could not tell what or how. She got out of bed and looked around. Nothing. The house was quiet as before. When she looked out of a window, she noticed it was very foggy outside. Must be this nearness to the sea, she thought. She returned to bed and slept on, undisturbed.
From Rivers of Mist
She still was not sure as how to go on. Her mind told her that she should best file for a divorce but her heart still remembered the passion Paul and she had once shared. And what about these new feelings for Mike?
Once more she returned to the green valley to think about her dilemma. Where lay her destiny? With Paul or with Mike? The day went passed without her noticing it, and daylight slowly gave way to incoming darkness.
She was so lost in thought, that at first she did not hear the thudding of the approaching hooves. All of a sudden, almost out of the blue, they were around her; these lovely horses she had seen a long time ago.
Her face broke open into a broad smile as she hugged the beautiful stallion that approached her. It looked bigger than she remembered, but perhaps that was because she had been a child the first time she saw it.
From The White Horses of Porto Corvo