This is just a super quick chapter, nothing all that special.
I'm not Kelley Armstrong, I own nothing.
Enjoy!
I looked down at my sketchbook and glowered at it. Reaching for my eraser, I furiously rubbed at the grey lines that defined the man until he disappeared completely. Starting over again, I drew a rough line, curving and adding little kinks in it all the way around until it resembled a shirt. His pants came next. From what I could remember, his pants were straight legged black slacks. The bottoms were wet so I added some extra shading at the hems. I moved up to his face, adding the basic facial features and contouring where appropriate. The horrified expression gave me chills up my spine, even though I knew it was just a drawing. The gaping slit I added in his throat completed the main feature. From what I could recall, the image I had scrawled down was pretty spot on. He was bent at the waist with one hand clutching his throat while the other seeked out an uncompleted tree that I had started. I drew the blood gushing out of his throat and staining his shirt, also dripping to the ground as he doubled over. This wasn't just one of my usual dark drawings from my imagination; this one had been inspired by a scene that had happened literally right in front of me, which I couldn't say for most of them, luckily, because they were kind of horrifying to look at. The fact that I watched it happen just made it all the more real to me.
Resenting the picture that sat on my desk, I shot it a dirty look and flipped the page, turning to a fresh sheet of paper.
"You should keep drawing that one." A voice said behind me.
I shot up from my seat. Behind me stood a nicely dressed man, his face vaguely familiar with his slick hair and hollow cheekbones. It eventually clicked that it was the man who I had seen in the woods the night before, the man who I had just been drawing. He stood in front of me at almost six feet tall. Getting a good look at him, he had brown eyes and a clean shaven face. His hair was a natural deep reddish brown that neatly ended at the nape of his neck.
"I-I-I-I…" Stuttering nervously, I couldn't get my words out.
"Don't worry, I'm dead." He told me. "I can't hurt you."
"I-I know." I s-saw you die. W-well, kind of."
The man nodded his head. "I'm John. I'd shake your hand, but being dead has rid me of physical contact." He looked sad.
"I-I'm Chloe. D-do you know m-much about th-this whole seeing g-ghost stuff?" I asked, hoping to get some answers.
John shook his head. "Not at all. All I know is that you have a magnificent glow."
"A glow?"
He tapped the air around me as if there were an invisible force-field. "All of you people have one. You know, the people who can see us dead folks. What do they call you people now?"
"Necromancers."
John scrunched his face up in distaste. "In my day, they called you people mediums." He continued to tap at my 'glow'. "Necromancer." He spat. "Such an ugly word for such a pretty little girl like yourself. I had a daughter your age when I died. You remind me a lot of her."
"When did you die?" I asked.
"I was forty two, back in the fifties." He sighed. "Wait… how did you see my death? You couldn't be older than thirteen, surely."
"I'm fifteen." I glowered at him. "It's a necromancer thing. A residual or something. It's pretty much a replay of somebody's death."
"Did you see who killed me?"
I shook my head. All I saw was John, staggering through the woods. There was no sign of anybody else, not that I saw anyway.
John just shrugged at me. "It's been sixty years so it's not like it matters if you saw him or not."
"I'm sorry." I said pathetically, looking down at my feet.
The man let out a snort. "Hey, it's not your fault, kiddo."
It was my turn to shrug.
"Look, I have to get going. I'm going to go and check up on my daughter. Thanks for the chat and everything; I'll probably see you soon." He said.
"Bye." I waved as he disappeared.
You'd think being killed would make a ghost somewhat hostile when you had a family and something to live for, but nope. John was pretty cheerful, especially towards somebody who – technically – witnessed his death but didn't even catch a glimpse of his killer.
I shrugged and sat back down at my desk, flipping the page over to the image of John that I had scrawled down. After a moment's hesitation, I picked my pencil up again and began adding the detail of the forest around the drawn figure. I added an illuminated house in the back, kind of similar to the house I lived in which finished off the picture completely.
Sighing as I took in the whole picture, I thought back to the night before where Derek had found me. I still had so many questions to ask him and Simon, and possibly Tori if she would be willing to speak to me about it. I wasn't sure of whether I should wait or pay them a visit. Of course, being pushy would make me come off as rude so I would just have to wait. Maybe I could ask Derek on Friday when he tutored me, he seemed to know a lot about this supernatural stuff.
Also, deep down, I was dying to know what Derek was. Simon was a sorcerer and Tori was a witch. I didn't know how many different supernatural types were out there, so who knew what Derek was? He had mentioned enhanced senses. Was he a vampire? Did vampires even exist?
My mind suddenly jumped to werewolves. Were they real? If I hadn't already heard about other kinds of super naturals, my answer would have been no but after finding out that I was a necromancer and could speak to the dead, I didn't know what to think. Two days ago, I wouldn't have even believed that somebody could speak to the dead, but there I was; sitting there dwelling after my first conversation with a ghost. I wouldn't doubt that vampires and werewolves existed, but it was still something I wanted to ask Derek.
I sighed and again, flipped to a fresh page in my sketchbook. Tapping the tip of my pencil against the clean, white page, I racked my brains for something to draw but my mind kept wandering back to supernatural things like witches, sorcerers, vampires, and werewolves. I couldn't help but think about my own strange ability too. Surely being able to see the dead wasn't normal.
Before I knew it, the lead of my pencil made contact with the paper, making messy lines in all different directions. I drew a pair of eyes and an elongated nose, and then moved on to dog-like ears. Staring back at the page, I found myself looking into the face of a darkly shaded wolf, almost like the painting that was placed above my bed.
Satisfied with how my spontaneous drawing turned out, I closed my book and neatly put my pencils back in their tin.
I couldn't use up so much time just wondering about supernatural stuff. My mind eventually wandered to school and how badly I was behind in maths so I grabbed my textbooks out of my bag and chucked them on my desk, leaving just enough space for me to write on.
Eventually I got lost in my maths homework like a normal teenager would do on a boring Saturday morning, but after finding out what I could do, there was no denying that I wasn't just a normal teenager. I was Chloe Saunders, the girl with the annoying stutter that could see ghosts.
Did life really have to be so complicated?
I know, it's awfully short but the next chapter will definitely be longer, don't worry.
Thanks for reading and for all your feedback x
