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Raven Newcastle

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Member Since: Nov, 2012

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Lucius Johnson's Morning Encounter
By Raven Newcastle
Saturday, December 01, 2012

Rated "R" by the Author.

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One of the central characters in Danielle Labouleux's life. What would his typical morning be like.

A snapshot of Lucius Johnson's typical morning. Ex-FBI and Psychic Investigator.

The Body Hunters


It is morning and I am awake. The foreboding chill in the air sweeps thru my veins. Something is not right I am sure of it. I close my eyes tight, forcing myself to fall asleep. It's not working. The sound of pinging on metal as the footfalls come closer let me know my visitor is here and will not be ignored. The slow methodical sounds ring closer to my bed then walk away. What does it want, or even yet, why does it want me. I open my eyes and look around. It all seems normal, the early morning sunlight just peeking thru the windows, but it's cold. I can see my breath hang in the air. Is the furnace on? I wonder, then I hear the familiar whoosh of the gas ignitor. Damn!


Images flash in my eyes. OK, it's starting. I was hoping to have at least one cup of coffee before this, but my visitor is going to insist it be now. I can't find the creamer anyway, no doubt it has hidden it. I forget the coffee and sit on my sofa and relax my eyes and body, soon my eyes roll into the back of my head. "OK, OK! you don't have to nag!" I yell out to the spirit that is pulling at me. I see you now! It becomes a she, young in her twenties and judging from the blood spatter on the walls, now murdered. She is crying, holding out her hands to me, They are blood covered with strands of hair that are not her own. "Good on you!" I say to her ethereal form, never go down without a fight!


Her boyfriend is in a bar, chatting up the new waitress, not a care in the world. But what is this? could those be scratches on his upper bicep? I bet he's missing a few strands of hair. The image passes before me. I don't recognize the place but i do see the napkin with the name and phone number on it. The name matches the waitress's tag. Damn it's her phone number! My visitor is now panicking, pacing frantic up and down. "Well then show me!" I bark out irritated. Images move faster at a very clipped pace. The crowbar appears in his hands. He is wiping off my visitor's blood readying it for tonight. "I get it." I tell my victim. She takes her hand in mine and vanishes. I awake on my couch orienting myself back to the living. I have a lot of work to do today and a lot of convincing. My creamer is now next to my coffee.







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Reviewed by Budd Nelson 12/1/2012
quite interesting indeed

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