Jillian Chantal

Time for Tuesday Tales again. This week, the writers are sharing snippets of their work with the word prompt hand. I am still in the paranormal story.

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The ringing of her phone on the bedside table woke her.

Fumbling around with her eyes still closed, she wondered what time it was and who’d be calling her so early. Or it could be late. All Lu knew was she was still exhausted.

The phone fell to the floor. Great.

It quit ringing for a second then started again. Her hand patted the floor trying to find the phone without having to open her eyes.

Unable to locate it, she got up and then down on her knees to grab the thing and click it on to accept the call. “Hello?”

“What the hell are you doing, Lu?” Malcolm barked in her ear.

“Sleeping.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I was sound asleep. What is with you calling me, hanging up and dialing right back?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I seriously doubt that. I haven’t called you.” She shook her head, trying to follow the conversation.

“Maybe you should have.”

“Should have what?”

“Called me.” He practically shouted the words.

“Whoa. What’s your problem? I don’t think you realize how you’re coming across.” Lu took a deep breath. “Or you do realize and you don’t care.”

“You’ve created a disaster for that Kelley woman. She’s in a world of trouble. You should have reached out to me about her situation. Gave me a head’s up about the dead girl. I could have averted this whole situation but, no, you had to go off half-cocked again. This woman could be staring at some serious charges.”

“Who do you think you are?” Lu wanted to cry. Not from a broken heart but from rage. How dare he call me and yell at me like I’m a child. “I’m not going to tolerate you talking to me this way. You have no right.”

“I’m sorry, but this is a real issue for this lady.”

When Lu had a moment for her brain to actually wake up and focus, she got angrier “Hold on just one second here, Detective. I did call you. You thought I was calling about Christmas shopping and cut me off. Like I’d actually call you at work to waste your time about shopping. I was calling to tell you I met Kelley and her daughter while shopping and that we needed to figure out how to get probable cause to investigate the place the child said she’s buried. But no, you had to be rude and cut me off. And now you have the audacity to call me, wake me up and scream at me like some kind of lunatic. Well, I don’t have to listen to this. And I’m not responsible for Kelley’s behavior. She took her own actions. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to bed.” She pushed the end call button and turned the phone off completely.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt Run.  I am still sharing the paranormal story. I am working on first pass edits on it now.

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“I need to text Malcolm. I’ll be right back.” She walked a few steps away from the two spirits in order to think about how to compose the message. Not too friendly, not rude. Some middle ground, hopefully. She wished she had someone else to tell. But he was the only one who knew about her gift. Should never have gotten involved with him on a personal level. I wish I’d kept it strictly professional. Too late now. It is what it is.

After sending the message, she returned to the tombstone. “I’m going to go home. I told him where to find Mollie’s grave and the fidget spinner and told him the urine was on the back of Railroad Bill’s stone and also on the leaves on the ground. The crime scene people won’t need me to be here.”

“Lula Mae, you are not going to run away from this. You are always telling me women are as capable as men. If that is true, you stay and fight your battles. You were in the Army. An officer. So be one. Stay and face this new enemy and show him what you are made of.” Jackson saluted her. “An officer does not run.”

She sighed. He had a point. She couldn’t hide forever. Malcolm knew where she lived and had her phone number. It wasn’t like she could disappear. “All right. But be warned, I’m not taking any crap off him or Morgan if Morgan comes with him.”

“Do not forget, I saw you not take any bunkum off him earlier. You tossed them both out of your home. You were magnificent. Be that officer when they arrive.”

Lu straightened spine. I can do this.

Soon enough, the crime scene van arrived accompanied by a dark sedan that most likely held at least Malcolm, if not Morgan, too.

As it drove in, it came close to hitting Lu’s open car door. She looked at Jackson. “Be right back. I better shut that before more law enforcement cars arrive.”

She jogged over to shut her door just as Morgan got out of the driver’s side of the sedan.

He leered at her. “And here we find ourselves in yet another cemetery with Lula Mae Haverstock.” He glanced around, even turning in a circle. “No dog? Where’s the dog that needs to be walked in cemeteries? The weird dog that likes hanging out with dead folks.” He snickered. “Are you going to attend every cemetery in town and call us to come keep your company?”

“Can it, Chris,” Malcolm said as he came around from the passenger side.

Lu didn’t really want to talk to Malcolm but he came to where she stood. “Can we chat for a moment?” He looked at Morgan and added, “Privately.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt Water. I’m still sharing from my paranormal story.

Check out the other tales here

“I thought the entity was restricted to the place it chose to manifest. The old funeral home.”

“It should be. The problem now is the gases that escaped when he had the confrontation with Bernardo. That ice rain was part of it as well as the smoke. You should go and bathe as some of the rain is still on you and in your hair. We do not know what harm it may cause.” As she opened her mouth to respond, he held his hand up to stop her from talking. “Maybe none. We do not know so do not ask me.”

“All right. I’ll do that. I need a hot shower anyway. Maybe it’ll make me less cold. I can’t seem to shake the chill in my bones.”

“I will leave you to it then. I will return later once I have information from Marie.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully soon and hopefully good news.”

As soon as Jackson disappeared, Lu stood and tossed the blanket back on the sofa. “I’m going to take his advice and see if I can get warm.”

She headed to the shower and stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it comfort her. Eventually she stopped shivering and dried off.

Back on the couch, in her flannel pajamas, she wrapped herself in two blankets. “I’m finally almost warm, Aneto. I hope you are as well.”

In a moment, she flipped on the television. A newscaster stood in front of Christ Church. The broadcast had clearly already been in progress as she caught the woman in the middle of a sentence. “…And no one can explain the sudden deluge of cold rain.  The presence of a plume of dark smoke with no evidence of a fire other than a strong smell in the air caused scientists to question what phenomenon could be in play. There are no answers at the moment and law enforcement are requesting that people steer clear of the whole area until more information is available. It is unknown whether breathing in those fumes is hazardous. For now, this is Stacy Fleming. We’ll be back with updates as the situation develops.”

Lu tossed the remote to the sofa cushion beside her. “Looks like the spirit world is invading the living world, Aneto. Too bad it’s seeping over into where the average person may become frightened.”