Nina stood on one foot, and then the other. The train was three minutes late. She could not afford to miss one second of the project meeting in New York.
Knowing that the regular train sometimes got stuck at some godforsaken station on the way, she purchased a ticket for the more expensive high-speed Acela, which gave her an hour fudge time.
Peering at the watch on her wrist, she figured she now only had 55 minutes of fudge time. Continue reading
Alyson jumped over the wall. But I knew better.
Carefully, I unlatched the lock at the nearby gate.
“Decidedly easier,” I mumbled to myself. Even though Alyson was lying on the ground moaning, I kept walking. Frankly, my best friend was a bit of an actress, and I’d learned over the years to ignore her drama.
Gathering courage, I set my shoulders back and forged ahead. Continue reading
Dawn turned to Dusk.
Dusk turned to Dawn. Six times.
And then I could wait no longer.
So I ignored psychic Aurora’s “suggestion” to go on as if nothing had happened. Too much was at stake. (See last week’s Fear of Dawn.)
I blamed Todd, of course. His pursuit of me had seemed so genuine until I realized that his professed love was actually “gem”uine. Continue reading
“Yes, I can help you,” she answered, “but my magic has a price. Although under the circumstances, perhaps you will be eager to pay it.”
“How do you possibly know ‘my circumstances’?” I asked the woman. My friend Lacey told me that her cousin Jennifer knew a woman who was a psychic. This “spirit goddess,” as she called herself, rented a small room in the tiny village 20 miles from my home. I deemed myself desperate enough to pay her a visit.
Perhaps “pay” was the operative word here. I didn’t expect her services for free, but… “Whatever my circumstances, what is your fee?” I asked. Continue reading
This time, I choose to not answer the phone call.
I’ve had 13 of them, one every morning, at precisely 10:59 a.m.
The number does not identify the caller, so it’s no one I know. 277-453-6657.
When I take the call 13 days ago, I figure it’s a solicitation, but then again, it could be from Hollywood, accepting the screenplay to my latest book.
But instead, a deep, husky male voice proclaims: “I know what you did.”
Then, a click and silence. Continue reading