Do You Hear the Dead Speak?

Chapter 1

"Hello Davenport, I missed you!" Frieda exclaimed, gesturing around the barely crowded airport. People around started looking at her, whispering.

"Be careful, Ms. Frieda. Your sister insisted that you should be home safe."

"Oh please, Randy. Spare me your words of wisdom and let's get going instead." Frieda slung her pack across her shoulders and frowned. "Speaking of Farley, where is she? Isn't she supposed to meet us here?"

"She said she was supposed to meet a client so she can't come."

"Client, my face. I don't even know what she does in her life anymore."

Frieda saw that most of the people in the airport are already staring at her like she's crazy. She basically ignored them because they can never understand her. Perhaps she would be on the front page, again. When she was outside, Frieda hailed a taxi on the way downtown.

"No, not there. You'll die soon enough."

Frieda stopped walking. A taxi stopped in front of her but she ignored it. The couple beside her took the cab instead.

Frieda hailed another taxi. She just shook her head and went inside. It's been years since ghosts have been pestering Frieda and even she was convinced they were real. Randy was one of them and plus, her parents once told her that they were psychic. She had laughed once, but never did she doubted the voices that saved her life.

The ride downtown is disturbing enough for Frieda. It's the favorite spot of murderers these days. Well, according to her senses.

Help me.

Please, I want to go home.

He had killed me.

Whispers found their way to Frieda's ears. She shook her head again, wondering when they will stop. They passed by a crime scene and immediately she tensed up.

"Excuse me," she said to the cab driver. "If I may ask, who was murdered back there?"

"Oh, it's the mayor's daughter. How devastated was her father."

Frieda breathed in a sigh of relief. For a moment she thought it was Farley. That lady was not answering he calls for the past few hours.

The taxi dropped her off at the stop near the Oneill Estate, where Farley resides.

Frieda was hesitant to go in for it's been a while since she last returned jere in Davenport. She eventually started walking towards the luxurious estate. The estate is still the same as far as Frieda can remember. The doors open before she can even knock and for a moment, she was expecting a maid.

"Stubborn as hell were you." A brunette greeted her and stepped aside. "Come in."

"Well if you at least ignored your so-called client, I would not trouble myself to coming here alone."

"How did you know? Is that Randy ghost still talking to you?" Farley said, grabbing Frieda's luggages. "You had enough imaginary friends when we were kids."

Frieda rolled her eyes and glared at her sister. "How about you worry your life and I worry mine."

Farley was about to raise her hands but realized she was carrying bags. "The client part was a lie though. Being a journalist is hard, you know."

The other sister smirked and sat on the couch. "So that's why you're busy. You're going to be famous all over the world."

"Haha, very funny." Farley went to the stairs. "Your room is next to mine, as always."

"I miss you, daughter."

Frieda was taken aback as she heard something. It's actually been a while since she last heard that soothing voice. From behind, Farley furrowed her brows as she saw her sister's reaction.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll bring you some scones later."

Frieda nodded. There might be more to this town after all.