NOTE FROM LINDA JOY SINGLETON:
There are 6 books in THE SEER series (published by Flux) with a spin-off BURIED. Fans have asked for more books and I started one. It is not finished and I have have no plans to do so as I'm focusing on writing new series.
There are a few short SEER stories. Check Amazon and my website www.LindaJoySingleton.com for links.
If flux ever wants another book, I have this ready to go. In the meantime, here's the first chapter.
ZOMBIFIED
A THE SEER Series Thriller
CHAPTER ONE
A friend is going to die.
Shocked awake from a deep sleep, I sit upright, heart slamming. I can't stop shaking. My fingers dig into the pillow I'm strangling as I stare around my night-drenched room. The glow of my angel nightlight casts shadows across walls that shift like demons come alive from my dreams.
"Only a dream....only...a dream," I say like a mantra that will come true if I speak with the force of conviction. Yet the warning doesn't feel like a dream; more like someone whispering a secret into my ears.
I hug my knees and breathe deeply, sick with dread, the ominous words echoing in my head: A friend is going to die.
What friend? When? How? Is this destined to happen or can I prevent it? Coming from a long line of psychics I've learned to listen to my sixth sense which is more revealing than a Google search. But listening is a far distance from understanding and I'm left with more questions than answers.
Is it a friend from school? Mostly I hang out with Penny-Love, Manny and Jill but I'm close to the girls on the cheerleading squad and my co-staffers for the Sheridan Shout-Out, too. I'm a super loyal person so when I consider someone a friend, it's huge, and I'd rather die myself than lose a friend. Please, let this dream be random, not a premonition.
Yet it feels true.
OMG...I can't let it happen.
Desperate for advice, I close my eyes and visualize my spirit guide Opal: three hundred years old yet she looks no older than thirty with a crown of rich ebony hair, golden-amber skin, black eyes shining with wisdom and full lips usually pressed together with attitude. Silently I summon her; her name loud in my head because she can hear my thoughts clearer than my voice. She's never far away, or so she tells me, but her concept of distance isn't defined by earthly standards. Counting my breaths like seconds ticking on a clock, I wait.
But there's no answer.
I punch my pillow as if it's to blame for my anxiety. One of my friends...a friend...someone I care about....
Chills shiver into bumps across my skin, and icy dread oozes through me on a night unusually warm for October. "Who's going to die?" I actually say this aloud, startled by my own voice echoing off the walls. And I pause, listening to a wind-tossed branch tap-tap-tap outside my window, never sure, not even in the privacy of my bedroom, if I'm entirely alone. But I am...alone. Not even a hint of ordinary ghosts who would swarm to someone like me if my spirit guide hadn't declared my room a no-haunt zone. Tonight, though, I'd welcome a ghostly visitor; a ghost would be a presence that makes sense to me.
Go to sleep and deal with this tomorrow, I order myself.
Another punch to my pillow and I flop over to my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut and even manage a yawn but that ominous dread won't go away; like my brain is made of cheese with sharp-toothed mice gnawing at the edges.
