The Lost

The Lost (Chapter 1)

Hey Guys!!!!

I'm still reeling from the response to the prologue. Like seriously!?!?! (Oh, and if you haven't read the prologue, read it first!)Anywhoo.. Thanks to all my 17 fans!

I'm dedicating this chapter to Rachloves2write and Paige569! Thanks for demanding your fans read my prologue! You guys are the best! Love ya!!!

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Chapter 1

Tom Anderson is the dead man's name. From what the police have found, he was a 'business' man with questionable morals, but his morals, among other things, are just rumors from his relief-stricken neighbors. No evidence has been found to prove just how tainted his morals are. The fact that the detectives had reached a dead end in the case was not a shock. The fact that I had yet to find his ghost was.

In cases of extreme brutal deaths, ghosts seemed to almost disappear for a period of time after their murder. Almost never were they present while the police traipse all over their death scene. They usually showed up after the uproar had dissipated, almost as if they were scared that the killer would come back. Their fear is understandable, but what was not understandable was why Tom had not shown back up at his office. The last two days I had staked out his home, waiting for the trace signature that he had returned back to the crime scene. Ghosts give off an essence that I can feel. For ones like Tom, who are viciously taken from the world, they give off such intense electrical emotionality that it literally can make me see stars. Their spirit is so strong from being ripped from the world that they still have a lot of their selves still intact, making their ghost essence that much stronger. Where as ghost from 'normal' deaths are not as powerful and often have no effect on me. The fact that I can sense ghosts, while a ghost myself is not normal, as I'm sure you can imagine. But none-the-less, it comes in handy and makes my job that much easier.

The reason I'm waiting for Tom, is to help him. Since ghosts who are murdered tend to carry a larger piece of themselves into the afterlife than a normal ghost, they have a harder time crossing over when their time is up, causing them to become stuck in a sort of limbo. My job is to help them achieve a sense of contentment, allowing them to pass easily. This is where my stellar detective skills come in handy. What I do is use my ability to see murdered ghosts, and track them, finding out from them what they know of their death. Sometimes they have useful information, but most of the time their memories are repressed, making my job all that more hard.

But even though I have an 'affinity' with these ghosts, it doesn't mean I'm a one-woman circus. Like I said, it's hard to do things when you're dead, including getting people's attention. Sure, I could scare the bejesus out of them, but actually have a conversation with someone who is still alive, yeah like I said, hard. See in most of the cases I work with, ghosts tend to need to fulfill a sense of peace, from either their loved ones knowing what happened to them, or from knowing their killer was caught. Both of these need a connection to the living to be achieved. My thread to reality is in the form of a Mr. Kian McNalley.

I floated around Tom's house one last time, but still could not feel his presence. What I did feel was an itch right square in the center of my shoulder blades. The feeling that someone was watching me. As soon as I tensed up (as much as a ghost can), the feeling disappeared. I waved off the paranoid thoughts that came to my head and decided to go visit my little medium. Maybe he would have made headway in the case. And as quick as that simple little thought about Kian, I was there, in his office staring him in the face. That's one of my other 'special' abilities I have, ghost teleportation. All I have to do is think about where I want to be, and I'm there. It's a little bit more complicated than that.. I have to focus on where or whom I want to go to with some sort of visual of that place or person in my head. For Kian, I envisioned his frame, just a little over 6 foot, with strong broad shoulders that could act as a wall, unpenetratable from wind and light, if you were close enough. His natural light blond hair that had a little curl to the ends because he couldn't find time to get it cut. His deep green eyes that shined like the dark green of leaves in the sun. And his light shining skin that represented his Irish heritage. All this took place within mere seconds, and poof, I was there gazing into his green eyes.