Hey peeps! this is going to be a bit longer of a chapter, but stick with it. it is important to know what happens here. okay? oh ya don't worry give me until chapter 3 to introduce both Kagome and Inuyasha ok...this IS a romance...it just has a plot too! Have fun!
disclaimor-Don't own
Chapter One
Seattle, Washington, 2008
"Mommy, Mommy. I hungry. Pwease a cracker."
Twenty-two-year-old Yura Mikuru looked up from her computer and then glanced at the clock. She rolled her eyes in dismay as she bolted up from her chair to attend to her baby boy. Of course he was hungry. It was thirty minutes after twelve. Being a stay-at-home mommy and still keeping her job, as an accountant hadn't been as easy as she'd first imagined, although using her computer to interface with her clients had been a godsend.
"Just a minute, sweetie," she called, handing him an animal cracker and giving him a kiss as she hurried to the fridge. There were plenty of leftovers, and he was eating just about everything now. It wouldn't take but a second to heat something up in the microwave.
She had three covered bowls and his bottle sitting on the cabinet and was reaching inside her fridge for the fourth bowl when the phone began to ring.
"In never fails," she muttered, as she reached for the phone instead.
"Mikuru residence. Yes…this is Yura. Who's calling please?"
There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then she heard the distant sound of thunder and a series of bells-like the chimes of an elaborate doorbell. At the sound, her mind went blank. She turned her face to the wall with the receiver still held to her ear. Cold air from the open refrigerator door wafted her skirt but she didn't feel it. In her mind, she was already gone.
Moments later, she laid the phone down on the counter, picked up the box of animal crackers and a bottle of milk for her baby, and then lifted him in her arms. Silently, she carried him to his bed, hand him the box of crackers and his bottle, and walked away without looking back. The unusual treat was enough to suffice the hungry child's cries. As he was eating his cookies, Yura was getting in their car and then backing out of the driveway. A neighbor across the street waved, but Yura didn't seem to see her. The neighbor thought nothing of it and had started to go about her business when she noticed the front door to Yura's house was ajar.
"Oh my," she said, and then hastened across the street to do her neighborly duty.
When she reached the porch, a spurt of nosiness reared its ugly head. Instead of just closing the door she thought of looking inside. What would it hurt? Just a little peek.
With one guilty glance over her shoulder, she stepped inside and then closed the door behind her. She stood for a moment, admiring the scheme and the plump, overstuffed furniture in the living room to her right. Taking a couple more steps she heard a noise draft from the end of the hall. How stupid of her. Just because Yura had left, that didn't mean the house was empty. Her husband, Eric, who was an air traffic controller, must have the day off.
"Eric! It's me, Miki! Yura accidentally left the front door open and I came over to shut it."
No one answered, yet she could still hear the underlying sound of chatter.
"Eric? It's me, Miki. Are you decent?"
A shrill squeal startled her. It was then she thought of the baby. She'd just assumed that he'd been in the car with Yura, because she rarely went anywhere without him. She started toward the hallway, fearful that any moment her neighbor would come flying out of some room and wanting to know what the hell she was doing. But the farther she walked, the more sure she became that Eric was not there.
When she stepped into the baby's room, she gasped in shock. He was sitting in the middle of his bed with a box of animal crackers in one hand and his bottle in the other.
"Cookie?" he asked, and offered her the box.
"Oh my God," She muttered, and picked him up from his crib. Surely this wasn't what it seemed? She would have bet her life that Yura wasn't the kind of mother who would go off and leave an unattended baby behind.
With the baby on her hip, she began hurrying through the rooms. By the time she got to the kitchen, she knew something was terribly wrong. Food was sitting out on the cabinet. The phone was off the hook, and the refrigerator door was standing open. She started to put the room to rights when something told her not to touch a thing. Instead, she grabbed a handful of the baby's diapers and took him with her as she left.
By the time Miki reached her own home with the intention of calling Eric at work, Yura Mikuru was on a collision course with destiny.
Yura drove through the Seattle traffic with no thought for care or safety, running red lights and taking corners on two wheels. By the time she reached the bridge the city cops were on her tail. The police didn't know it yet, but she had made it to her destination. A cordon of the police cars was at the other end of the bridge, a roadblock firmly in place, with traffic behind them backed up for blocks.
But Yura didn't make it to the other side of the bridge. About halfway across, she suddenly pulled to a stop and put the car in Park. She was out and walking to the side of the bridge before the first cop car behind her could pull to a standstill. And by the time that officer was ruining and shouting for her to halt she had climbed over the edge. After that, everything started to happen in slow motion.
People were shouting at her not jump, making promises they could never keep, but it was nothing but a roar in Yura's ears. She lifted her arms to the side as if she were a bird about to take flight, turned her face up to heaven and then fell.
End over end, tumbling quietly, with nothing but the wind whistling around her ears doing as she'd been told.
The shock of her death reverberated throughout Seattle for all of three days before it was replaced by another equally tragic story. She left behind a puzzled and grieving husband, and a little boy who cried for a mother who would never come home.
One week later, Amarillo, Texas
Semiharu Henika, Semi to the customers of Tama's bar, was dodging hands and slinging drinks when Tama, the bartender, yelled at her across the room.
"Hey Semi babe you got yourself a phone call in the back!"
"Yes sir I'm coming." She said before turning in another drink order. She pivoted to the phone on the wall, picking up the dangling receiver and put it to her ear.
"Hello?" She couldn't hear a thing for all the noise so she clasped a hand over the mouthpiece and turned to face the crowd. "Hold it down a little!" She yelled, "I can't even hear myself think." She tried again, "hello? Yes this is she."
As she waited, she thought she heard thunder and turned abruptly, trying to remember if she'd rolled the windows up on her car. Then another sound followed, and as it did, the frown between her eyebrows faded and her chin dropped toward her chest, almost as if she'd gone to sleep. She stood without speaking, her eyes closed, her shoulders slumped. Tama noticed and replaced his expression with a grim one. It wasn't like Semi to be still. He touched her on the shoulder.
"Hey, kid you okay?"
She didn't respond, other than to suddenly drop the phone and shove through the horde of people.
"Someone stop her!" But the command was lost to the customers. No one realized what was happening until Tama bounded from the bar and raced off after Semi. It was then that the men followed. Outside high-pitched screams were heard and at the sight of their favorite waitress running in the fast lane of the highway with her arms out at her sides the men became sick. She resembled a child pretending to fly. And the faster she ran, the closer she came to the headlights of an oncoming truck.
"Holy shit!" Tama groaned loudly, and started to run, although he knew that he would be too late.
The scent of burning rubber filled the air as the trucker hit his brakes, but she'd come out of nowhere, far too late for him to stop. The screeching sound of locking brakes overwhelmed the thump her body made as it slammed against the truck. And then she was flying through the air like a broken doll, coming to rest in the center median with a solid thud.
The homicide detective who worked the scene wrote it up as a suicide. Case closed.
Except for a bartender named Tama, who kept swearing she'd been happy until she had taken that call.
Two days after that, Chicago, Illinois
Lynn Cheang had reached a benchmark in her career as a criminal defense attorney. All her life she'd been told she was too pretty to be taken seriously as a lawyer, but she ignored the naysayers and followed her heart. Today she'd proven that she wasn't just another pretty face, because she had won her first murder case.
With on last look around her office, she picked up the phone and called a cab. By the time she got down from the fifteenth floor of the building where the law firm was located, the cab should be waiting. Smoothing her hands down the front of her dark, pinstriped suit. She draped her raincoat over her arm and grasped her briefcase. When she finally turned to leave the phone shrilled in her pierced ears, annoying her to the point of sanity.
"You have got to be joking." The ringing persisted and it occurred to her that it might be her husband in trouble. With that in mind, she hurried back to her desk and picked up the phone.
"Hello? Yes, this is Lynn Cheang."
There was a moment of silence, and then the far off sound of distant thunder. She shivered and glanced toward the windows, thankful she'd brought her raincoat. And then another sound was overlaid upon the thunder-the distinct sound of chimes being struck in slow succession.
Those sounds were the last she ever heard. Following the call Lynn climbed to the top of her building and with outstretched arms soared to the hard concrete of Chicago. When her body was picked up a half of an hour later the forensic workers agreed together that she had been smiling.
so tell me how it was...i think its kinda creeping how they die...if you think about it!
love
the sick
disturbed
insomniac
redrizen2hell