Death Caller

Chapter One

Authors Note:

So, this is one of my first attempts at writing a story. I probably won't be updating that often, due to the fact that I OMG have a life. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I DO have a life at school. *gasp* XD                    I Hope you enjoy it!!!!!!

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          The rush of cold air that comes with each Bringing refreshes my warm cheeks. One hand holding my clients hand, I wave the other around the crystal ball in front of me, trying to make sense of the misty fog within.

           I look up at my client, whose eyes are tightly shut, her face a mix of terror and awe. I grin slightly underneath my shawl. I love the reaction I get from the mundane to calling the Dead.  They are all inwardly (or in this case outwardly) terrified, even though they think they know that calling the dead really isn’t possible.

            That’s where they’re wrong. Calling the dead is possible; I can do it. No one knows that I can do it; I haven’t told my parents, as they’ve been dead since I was eight, and I don’t really have any friends. No one wants to be seen with the girl who draws spider webs on her hands all day, and wears ripped t-shirts and old jeans everyday; who has cut her own hair since she was eight, and it hangs down to almost touch her hips, with unevenly jagged bangs. Who hasn’t worn makeup since she was ten, besides for outlining her blue eyes in thick black kohl everyday. Who everyone thinks is ‘emotionally challenged’.

            Yep. I did just describe myself.

            I do have an older brother, who’s nineteen, but he’s never home. He got held back in seventh grade, so he’s a senior in high school. Quite the opposite from me, he is Mr. Popular and barely has time for his baby sister.

He knows though; I told him once when he came home from a party drunk with his girlfriend, when she was showering in the morning and he was hung over. He thought I was high. Seriously. I mean, he’s the one who came home drunk with a high girlfriend. I’ve never even been to one of those parties.

            I look deeper into the crystal ball and see a tall, lanky figure. A teenage boy. The woman’s eyes are still tightly shut.

“Your Jimmy, he was a teenager by his passing?” I asked, my voice falsely hoarse.

The woman nods, and then asks in a tight voice, “You see him? You see Jimmy? Can I talk to him?” I see tears come from beneath her closed eyes.

“Yes, but he cannot respond. I will see his reaction, though.”

She nods again, and says through her choked sobs, “I love you, Jimmy, and I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault. The accident was because of the other car, and they are in jail.” She takes a deep breath, and says in a stronger voice, “And, I… I’ve remarried. I hope you are um, happy. I miss you.”

I look at the boy in the crystal ball, and zoom into his face. It’s alight with happiness, and he is crying too. He blows a small kiss, and wanders deeper into the fog of the crystal.

I wave the crystal ball off, and say in a misty voice, “He is happy. Very happy. You have done well, my dear.” I let go of her hand.

            The woman wipes her tears and says, “Really? You saw his face?”

            “Yes, I did. Now you may kindly exit the tent.” The woman stands up and opens her eyes. “Um, of course. Thank you.” The turns and walks out of my tent quickly.

            I make sure she is gone, and then flip on the lights and take off my shawl. I wear the shawl so that people can’t see there is a 16-year-old girl Calling their deceased loved ones. They wouldn’t trust me as much, so I fashion it around my head in a certain way, and pitch my voice hoarsely so they think it is an old woman.

            I take out a coffee from the mini-fridge under a bunch of old pillows, and turn on some music from my iPod.

            I’m in the middle of listening to ‘Tattoo’ by Jordin Sparks, when I hear a broken, sad voice come from outside.