Chapter 1The Missing Locket (https://amzn.to/2XmqDCO) is a fiction story written about an online psychic doing a seance for Danielle Galluccio the main female character of a romance mystery, ‘Because of You’ by Renee Pellegrino. This story falls into the genre of Psychic Mysteries and is for 18+ mature readers.
My body jerked upwards. Recognition of the odorous wave of a trash collector that reeks--a recognition of death filled the room. I struggled to wake up and glanced around the room to realize no one stood over my bed. I reached to turn my light on, and the light bulb flickered. An entity needed the energy to appear. The stench continued, followed by nausea and disgusting gagging burps. Only once have I actually thrown up. The entity felt feminine and fearful. She came in close to my energy field, and the hair on my arms stood on end along with goose bumps. In-between worlds, I instinctively knew I shared my body with another being. The other dimension would not allow me to deny their presence whether asleep, meditating, or zoning. Tonight I planned on sleeping. The spirit world made other plans.
“Help me.” This time the voice grew stronger in my right ear.
Who are you? I asked the female entity telepathically. Like a sneeze, I felt the energy linger, approach, hesitate and then without further ado, she slammed into my body. Her spirit hit me with emotion full blown. The panic. The rope biting into and burning my wrists.
Tell me who you are!
Only her terror filled silence, no answer.
When entities approached me, I demanded they identify themselves instantly to my Spirit Guide or myself. This entity invaded my personal space without permission.
If I don’t know who you are in a count of three, I’ll cast you out. Why are you here? Concern for my own safety ranked higher than whether she communicated with me or not. I liked to help those stuck on earth transition to their next world. It was always a concern that a specter would visit and be benevolent. One … Two … I continued to share in the nightmare, this woman lived through.
“Help me, please,” the ghost transmitted in a slow southern drawl.
“Who are you?”
“Eileen, Thom–” The second half of the name didn’t translate clearly.
Cold metal clamped around my ankles, and every muscle tensed, ready to react without knowing how. I felt my entire body ache as someone pulled it across the rough, cold concrete floor. Her fear tasted of a metallic substance wet with blood.
“How can I help you?”
“Tell my story.”
My lip throbbed as something silenced her. I heard the labored gasp and smelled the stale air, accompanied by a stench I didn’t recognize.
“You can’t live in my body. I will help you heal. Where is your body now?” It confused me. Usually those in need approached me after death recently occurred. This felt as if it happened a couple decades before.
“No,” she yelled.
Then I felt as she experienced the hypodermic needle that pumped her full of a drug. The night’s vision continued to haunt me as I lingered between the realms of reality.
Intuitively, I knew she was in her mid-thirties. With a lean, she had sandy blonde hair, emerald eyes, and stood approximately five foot eight inches tall. Her last thought before drifting into a drugged state was of her child being alone at home somewhere else. The sense she lived in Florida came forth.
He will be alone, with no one to care for him. He is only a child. I have to help him. I have to return to him. He will not realize I’m gone.
Her abrupt departure from my body jarred me awake.
The unknown woman experienced almost total darkness, yet my bedroom filled with the glow of the full moon. The night remained eerily still. The connection faded the more awake I became. Another kidnapped victim sought help to being remembered and found.
Communications from the deceased were important to me, and all deserved to be recorded and remembered, in a style with respect. Eileen’s story would be as significant as all those who came before her or after her. Often a ghost needed to know someone would take care of whatever they thought they must do before transitioning.
I reached for my brown distressed leather-bound journal and black classic desk pen. Both lived on the hand-me-down night stand I’d made of lug boxes. The makeshift table wobbled. My hands shook, and the pen rolled and landed on the planked white oak floor. My head collided with the hardwood floorboards as I reached further for the pen on the floor and tumbled out of bed. Ramming my head caused a reverberating dull pain to linger; the intensity magnified the pounding of my heart.
The pen rolled under the bed. Wild dust monkeys took the pen and seized the opportunity to play hide and seek. They grabbed the moment and moved the fountain pen further into the dark void. I rummaged beneath the bed and felt for the pen. Crawling under the bed became my only option as the pen continued to roll out of my grasp. Those wild dust monkeys must go; they were as elusive as flying monkeys.
Since my wake-up began rough, in unsteady penmanship, I wrote every detail I recalled and dated the page. My scrawl is not the most legible even when I’m not recovering from someone else’s fright. No matter how many times I experience a soul contacting me, it still rattled me in my boots. I only hoped I could read it later in the day.
I’m Tracy Richards and a psychic investigator. I would like to investigate the paranormal, but my destiny headed in a different direction. I talk to the dead, read energy, tell folks what is probable in their future. To those in my small town, I’m the finder of lost or stolen items, misplaced belongings, and locator of missing animals.
Three months ago, my next door neighbor Lehana and I tracked a couple of missing teenagers. My own girls, Jasmine, eighteen, and Jewel, seventeen, thought it presented a terrific idea and packed my messenger bag for me. The impulsive idea led to Lehana and I helping rescue fourteen young girls and one young male headed for the southern Keys to be exported as slaves. Sure, the FBI scheduled their sting operation for the same time we made our appearance, which really allowed chaos to reign before I caught a bullet and the young man shoved me off the dock. That’s a story for another time.
Good news. While my arm is stiff, I have full range of motion and look forward to having full use of it within the year. This morning I’m off to physical therapy, instead of doing my online work as a psychic. With a conscious effort, I grabbed my messenger bag with my right arm and slipped it over my shoulder. Then fished for the keys to the van.
The assigned therapist made me bicycle pedal with my hands. I sat and rotated the sprocket. My arms moved in a circular direction along with the to and fro motion. I could summarize the rhythmic clicks and clacks from other machines in the mini gym, along with my own repetitive motions up in one word. Boring. The recurring sound combined with my monotonous arm strokes allowed my mind to wander and tossed me into an altered state.
“Are you there?” The southern drawl drifted as if on a breeze.
This time the ghost did not try to enter my body. Her energy was close but did not intrude.
“Yes. Where are you?”
“You’re the first to hear me. I don’t want to scare you.”
“I have rules. I’m not scared. I want to help.”
“My niece searches for me. I’ll guide her to you.”
She disappeared before I thought to ask, “Who is your niece?”
Physical therapy dragged on after the short conversation with Eileen. During that slow droning time, my mind continued non-stop processing and reprocessing the recent information. I visited my local police department to see if they would allow me to use their assorted computer programs and search Florida’s missing person files. The downside: I didn’t know when she went missing.
Book Blurb: Eileen Thompson went missing when her son, Sam Thompson was fourteen years old. After years of investigations, law enforcement and private investigators found not a single trace of this respectable, reliable mother. The question lingered, what happened to Eileen Thompson?
Callie Prescot Sanchez and Danielle Galluccio Thompson characters from Because of You by Renee Pellegrino, reached out to psychic investigator Tracy Richards, a character from Small Bit of Justice by Cynthia Carver, to uncover information recovered during a seance that answered that specific question.
Each author writes their perceptive characters. This novella has two distinct voices.
Enjoy the thrilling adventures in The Missing Locket - The Seance Series is a collaboration blending two authors and their fictional world.
Note from the Author: Thank you for reading about us, the blurb and excerpt from our book The Missing Locket. If you would like to follow me on facebook, Like my page: https://www.facebook.com/CynthiaCarverAuthor and join the new group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/2288977811411335/
About the Authors:
Cynthia Carver, born to Métis parents and a veteran of the US Navy, puts a paranormal spin on everything she does whether it is ghost hunting or camping. Often the photos she takes and shares on her website have images of other-dimensional beings.
Her failure in life is cooking. The family requests her to bring items such as paper plates, napkins, and utensils to family picnics. She tops the get-togethers off with fun or embarrassing stories about the parents of her grandchildren.
After her tour in the US Navy, she became a stay at home mom and in the mid-80s when the internet waltzed into the American living room, Peter Deep of PsychicChat hired her to work the first psychic chat service available to the American public. She retired as an online psychic in 2018 and devotes her time to telling stories.
The Missing Locket is written in first person. The seance follows the same protocol, I used when conducting one for my personal clients. Don’t let that fool you, this is strictly a fictional story. If you like psychic mysteries, and want to get inside the head space of a psychic, this story will thrill you.
Renee Pellegrino, born in a small Pennsylvania town called Altoona of second generation Italians.Story telling came naturally, just ask any of the nuns at Sacred Heart Church. ‘Because of You,’ is her debut novel, the first of a series.
Copyright © 1998 - 2020 Mystic Living Today All rights, including copyright, in the content of these Mystic Living Today web pages are owned or controlled for these purposes by Planet Starz, Inc. |
Terms of Service
Disclaimer and Legal Information
For questions or comment, contact Starzcast@mysticlivingtoday.com. Reproduction of this page in any form is not allowed without permission of the author and the owner of this site. All material on this web site, including text, photographs, graphics, code and/or software, are protected by international copyright and trademark laws. Unauthorized use is not permitted. You may not modify, copy, reproduce, republish, upload, post, transmit or distribute, in any manner, the material on this web site. Unless permissions is granted. If you have any questions or problems regarding this site, please e-mail Webmaster. Web site design by: Creative Net FX