Jackaby Stories

Call Me Abigail (pt. 1)

A/N like I said, I've never written a Wattpad book before so I don't quite know what to call it... anyways, enjoy!

(after the second book)

((by about a month))

I watched from my comfortable chair as my rather eccentric employer's eyes flew over the dusty pages of the book he was reading. He frowned, and I knew that he had found a fact he disagreed with. Most likely over the organisation of Elvin rights or such... who knew with that man? But it made him special, just as his Sight did. Being a Seer, Jackaby saw what everyone else couldn't; the supernatural. Auras, creatures, even the dead occasionally.

He shut the hefty book wearily, blinking and coughing as the aforementioned dust puffed up around his face. He reached for a tissue at the same time as I did and I flushed pink as our hands brushed together. Jackaby, unperturbed by this, stood and replaced the volume on one of his crowded, rune engraved bookcase. He yawned as he turned, though I thought I saw him wince. But he was smiling again as he completed the transition from bookshelf to desk.

"I am going upstairs," he announced. The third floor of the red-doored house on Auger Lane was what you would call... magic? Science? Engineering? I suppose it depends on your point of view. For me, it was most certainly magic. It had been transformed entirely into a pond, rolling hills, water, marshy banks. It was quite lovely, however impossible.

"Join me?"

"No, thank you. I have a report to finish, the case about Mrs. Poggit," I replied, pulling out a new, crisp sheet from the stack next to me on my desk, inserting it into the paper guide of my typewriter. I took out my small leather bound notebook from my pocket, and placed my hands on the keys, but I found myself staring blankly at the sheet of paper with no clue as of what to write. I typed a few sentences, but unrolled the sheet and crumpled it, tossing it in the waste bin. Knowing when I couldn't write, I decided upon finishing it later.

"Hello, Abigail!" I jumped a bit at the greeting. Jenny Cavanaugh, the house's resident ghost, floated near my chair.

"Good Lord, Jenny! I had thought you were a murderer!" I exclaimed. She brushed her silvery hair away fruitlessly, as it just drifted back into place.

"A murderer? Here? With all of Jackaby's silly wards, you still believe a murderer could get in?" she questioned.

"You never know with Mr. Jackaby, Jenny."

"Very true. Where is the man presently?"

"The third floor."

"Having trouble with that report?"

"I suppose. I just don't know how to get started, and I keep getting distracted..." Jenny frowned, her spectral features contorting delicately. Then her eyes widened and she clamped her hand over her mouth, disappearing up through the ceiling. Puzzled, I turned back to my typewriter and slid another sheet of paper into the paper guide.

A/N Sorry for how short it is. If anyone actually bothers to read this I will keep writing :) Thanks to anyone who does!!!