Jillian Chantal

This week the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt active. I am still in my same story with the woman who sees and speaks to ghosts. I am hopeful about getting to The End soon. I slowed down over the holidays and have to get my groove back.

Check out the other tales here

Lu didn’t really agree some evil entity from another plane was behind the injuries and deaths. The person in the red beanie was definitely alive. That much she was sure of. But perhaps an entity had whispered in that person’s ear. Who knows?

She decided not to argue with Jackson about it though. Easier to pick her battles with the man. And this wasn’t one of them. “That may be true, but perhaps they can identify the person in the red cap.”

“I doubt they can. How will they know a person who is alive now? Most of the spirits are long deceased.”

“I’m surprised you’d say that. Most of the spirits I’ve met are actively involved—at least when they’re in their awareness state—with the living.”

Startled by a tap on the driver’s side window, Lu let out a little screech before turning to see a security guard’s face peering in at her. He made a hand gesture for her to roll down her window.

When she had it half way down, he said, “Anything wrong? You’ve been sitting there a while.”

“No. No. Everything’s fine. I was on a call and didn’t want to be driving.”

He tilted the brim of his ball cap. “All right. Just don’t stay much longer. Parking is tight this time of day.”

After he walked back to his white truck with the logo of his company in the side, Jackson said, “In my day, a gentleman would never tell a lady she needed to move from where she was comfortably ensconced. Some changes in society are not very nice, Lula Mae.” He leaned to the side and looked at the truck. “And what is that nonsense scrawled on his conveyance?”

“It’s to let people know he’s in charge of the parking lot and when he knocks on the car window to scare you to death that he’s not a mad stalker or murderer and that it’s safe to roll down the window to speak to him.”

“That little symbol and the word Security tells you all that?” Jackson raised an eyebrow. “What is stopping some stalker—as you say—or murderer for that matter—from buying such a carriage and having his own sign painted on it? How that decoration makes one feel safe is questionable to me.”

“Good point. It would make a stellar cover story for someone with nefarious intent. I’ll not be so blasé in the future.”