WELCOME TO THE LORE - JEN’S STORIES & MORE …
Important Shop Update – Starting January 2026
As we enter the new year, I’ll be phasing out drop-shipped clothing and trinkets from my online store. Why? Because I believe in the personal touch. From now on, everything sold through JensStories.com will be:
Created by me or
Sourced from companies I personally trust and handpick And yes—I’ll be packing and mailing each item myself, with love and intention. Thank you for supporting my experiment with drop shipping. It helped me learn what truly matters in my business: connection, authenticity, and quality.
📚 BIG NEWS FROM JR BLACK!
I’ve Slashed Prices on All My Books on Amazon!
That’s right—every title under Jens Stories is now available at lower prices on Amazon 📖 Whether you’re hunting ghosts, exploring Colorado folklore, or diving into tales of survival and magic, now’s the perfect time to grab your copy.
💜 Free shipping for Prime members 💜 Printed in the USA 💜 Self-published with love and grit by yours truly
I’ve chosen Amazon because it offers the most reasonable printing prices I’ve found, allowing me to keep costs low for you while still delivering high-quality books. Every purchase supports my journey as a storyteller, survivor, and creative entrepreneur.
So please—don’t be afraid to support Jen through Amazon. Your support helps me keep writing, ghost hunting, and sharing the magic behind the veil.
Dare to cross the threshold into some of Colorado’s most haunted residences—
In Ghosts of Central City: Volumes 1 & 2, I share true and chilling accounts of the haunted homes I once called mine and business that i have worked in over the years. From unexplained footsteps to whispered warnings in the dark, these personal encounters bring to light the lingering spirits that still walk among us in this historic gold rush town.
Whether you’re a ghost enthusiast, a local history buff, or simply brave enough to peek beyond the veil, this book invites you into the intimate corners of Central City’s haunted past. Every tale is real. Every location has a pulse. And every page brings you closer to the truth.
Read if you dare… but keep the lights on.
Rumored to be cursed, whispered about in town, the estate brims with secrets and a chilling presence watching from the shadows. As Jesse unearths the manor’s grim past, she must protect her family from more than peeling wallpaper and creaking floors. Something ancient stirs within these walls—loyal to the outlaws who built it, and unwilling to let the living forget.
Based on the legends of the real Dalton Gang and inspired by true hauntings, The Watchmen of Dalton Manor blends gripping mystery with a mother’s fierce courage. A tale of survival, spectral warnings, and the ghosts of lawlessness that never quite left town.
History never rests… and neither do the Watchmen.
🌿 The Ghost Beneath the Willow: Jen’s First Encounter
In the heart of Colorado, nestled along the winding banks of Ralston Creek, stood a weathered house built around 1900. It was the kind of place where chickens clucked freely, horses roamed the yard, and stories whispered through the cottonwood leaves. Jen was just four years old then—freckled, flame-haired, and fiercely curious.
Her playground was the land itself, and her favorite haunt was a weeping willow down the street. Its branches draped like curtains from another world, and beneath them, Jen saw him.
A little boy. Dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to the 1970s—more like the 1800s, when Ralston Creek carried gold seekers and settlers westward. He swung from the willow’s tendrils like a miniature Tarzan, silent and swift.
“Hey! What’s your name?” Jen called out, her voice bright with childhood boldness.
No answer.
She tried again. Still nothing.
But when she placed her foot on the tree to climb, the boy froze mid-swing. His voice, when it came, was sharp and trembling.
“No! Don’t climb the tree.”
“Why?” Jen asked, confused.
He turned to her slowly, and what she saw made her breath catch: eyes like black holes, void of light, soul, or anything human.
“It will kill you like it did me.”
Jen ran. Her tiny legs carried her home, heart pounding, words tumbling out to her older sisters—who laughed and teased and chalked it up to imagination. But Jen knew. She felt it. That electric tingle that would later become familiar—the sign of a spirit nearby.
She returned to the tree the next day. No boy. Days passed. Nothing.
Then, under the glow of a full moon, he came back.
“What’s your name?” she asked again.
“David Kong,” he said. “Let’s play.”
And so they did. They ran around the willow, never climbing, only swinging from the low-hanging branches that brushed the earth. Jen would return home and speak of David Kong, her ghostly playmate. Her family called him imaginary. But Jen knew better.
Years later, as she grew into her gift—speaking with spirits, sensing the unseen—she remembered David. That tingle. That warning. That friendship.
Ralston Creek had once been a lifeline for travelers chasing gold and dreams. And perhaps, for one lost boy, it had been the last place he ever called home.
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