Here's another sneak peek at a WIP (work in progress) ... for Dark Whispers
Sweat poured profusely from her forehead as she clenched her chest in agony. Sharp pains stabbed at her stomach causing her to thrash back and forth in her sweat soaked bed. Void of a distinct form, a dark, silhouetted image appeared and flashed in front of her before she was able to clearly focus on his face. A face that she somehow instinctively knew was male. He had haunted her in the past few months. The pace of these recurring visions seemed to pick up, throughout the weeks and it plagued her more often than not…at least twice every other week.
Mya Jackson darted to an upright position in her bed, snatching herself from the nightmarish dream, but not before she got a glimpse of the distraught woman. She looked to be about twenty five. Beautiful, but very pale complexion, and fire red loosely, curled hair. She also appeared to be dressed in what looked like a stripper’s outfit…garter and all. Not able to hear her, she saw her mouth moving, forming words. She was holding her stomach as if to try to keep her insides from flowing out. Mya saw the agony in her face and knew that her voice was laced with fear before she slumped over and took her last breath. Then the horrid vision faded just as fast as it had appeared.
Now, unable to calm her trembling nerves, she cursed the strange gift of vision that she had acquired. She never fully developed it, nor had an inkling of how to use it. Although she’d experienced its strange sensations numerous times throughout her life, she still had yet to understand it or use it to her advantage. The gift was left almost completely untouched.
As far back as she could remember, her mother always stressed that she wanted her to have a normal life without the disturbing visions. She did nothing to help her understand them, just completely ignored it. When she had visions, they were easily dismissed as if they didn’t exist, leaving Mya feeling helpless and winding up not wanting it herself. Maggie Jackson, her favorite aunt, was the outcast of the family, was the only one that really wanted to try to make Mya understand how special she really was to have it. Against her sister’s wishes, she’d secretly advise Mya of her power and remind her of what good it can bring about, if used correctly. So here she was left with this under used gift, to either nurture or continue to ignore its presence. She sat in the middle and chose to do nothing…that is until now.
It hadn’t taken her long to realize that her dreams were coinciding with the strange happenings of late, and the killings that had taken place just recently. On a couple of occasions, she could swear the faces of the victims in her dreams were the same ones that she reported on as well. It was an eerie feeling that crept through her whenever the pictures were thrown across her desk, leaving her to wonder if they were really dreams and if she was hallucinating it all.
It was now after midnight she noticed, so she decided to listen to the radio and catch her best friend, Candace Stone, for the Dark Whispers broadcast.
“Welcome to Dark Whispers…This is Candy and you are live on the air on the one and only station where you can be you….the place you call to free your mind, speak about your inner most inhibitions, your fantasies, and your heart.” Candace Stone flipped her headphone and mouthpiece around to fit her head more snugly and continued, “It’s now the close of the midnight hour and I want to know what’s on your mind…So, Joe is it?” she questioned, “What’s on your mind at this hour?”
“I just really wanted to say that you are doing a good job here, Candace. I listen to you every night.”
“Thanks, Joe. Is that what you really wanted to say? Or are you being a little shy?” she asked.
“…Um, no… I, uh… I uh,” his voice grew deep with courage and mischief at the same time. “I just cheated on my wife and I actually don’t feel bad about it!”
“How do you feel, Joe?” Candace replied, not in the least bit shocked at his revelation. She’d been on the air as the host of Dark Whispers long enough now that not too much of anything shocked her.
“I feel exhilarated…alive… whole again.”
“Why did you cheat on your wife, Joe? Is she cheating on you?”
“I don’t care if she is. As a matter of fact, I hope she is because I sure am,” he remarked. “I want her to have as much satisfaction as I am.”
“What if she is listening right now, Joe. What would you want her to know? What would you say to her?”
“Um, something like…Sorry babe, but I got another piece somewhere else. She don’t talk back, she don’t ask questions, and she says that I actually please her and she definitely pleases me…and that is a whole lot more than I can say for you.”
“Like I say to Joe and all my other listeners out there… Free your mind and live your life…Good luck Joe in your little adventures. I wish the best for you.”
Candace flipped the switch and disconnected the line. “That was the last call… I want you all to have a good night, take care, be safe and be happy…Until tomorrow, good night.”
Candace slipped out of her headset, placing it in the holder right beside her and reached for the phone. She’d been ignoring the menacing red light that indicated she had a voicemail for the past week. It was her personal line to the station and only select friends had the number, except for the person that kept calling and breathing heavily into the phone and then hanging up. No message was ever left, just a complete deafening silence or ragged breathing. The calls had been coming at a steady rate though, at least three times a week at random times while she was on the air. Since that particular phone did not have a caller ID display, she had no idea who it was, nor did she care to find out.
The only thing at that moment that she cared about was getting out of the small, downtown radio station. The thought of her slipping into her cozy, warm, and inviting brand new condo she called home was her driving force. Newly single and free, she’d purchased her condo in the exclusive Rolling Acre Hills area that was located just east of downtown in a small and tightly knit community. Rolling Acre Hills was Columbus, Ohio’s best kept secret. It was her haven, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Being the last to leave, she turned out the lights and headed for her car.
Candace slipped into the hot, bubbling Jacuzzi that she’d just recently had installed. The warmth enveloped her as she sank in deeper, enjoying its effervescent feel, and sighed in relief. Soft jazz filled the candle lit air giving it just the ambiance she was looking for to wind down her long evening. Her hair, pulled up into a tight bun above her head, revealed a perfect oval shaped golden brown face.
She reveled in the fact that she had finally succeeded at getting her own place, now on her own. Her not so long ago divorce had left her penniless and she knew she had what it took to make a new life for herself, and she set out to do it. She was pretty much forced to quit school because her divorce took every dime she had. In little than less than a year she’d found a niche for herself and forged her own way into broadcast radio.
It originally started out as a little call-in show where people could ask their questions to the small panel of professionals that she’d gathered. The professionals ranged from doctors and nurses, accountants, psychiatrists, and even parapsychologists. It so happened that the ratings didn’t shoot up until she got the great idea. Why not let people free their minds anonymously? Thus Dark Whispers was created and she hadn’t looked back since.
Dark Whispers was an instant success. Her listening base grew exponentially as her topics became more and more bold. She gave the audience what they wanted to hear, and it was all about the ratings that kept her in the spotlight. Her listening audience saw to it that her ratings stayed on top. Although she was seemingly adored, there were quite a few that didn’t like her, and complained about her topics, questioning her morality and decency. Where was her conscious? How could she allow people to call in and say the things they said? Candace didn’t mind, however, though she knew she had morals and great character. It was all about the show. Or was it?
She raised her dripping body from the tub and headed for bed. The full moon shone through her blinds as the cool air chilled her still damp skin. She slipped on her silk camisole top, then bottoms. She parted her sheets and quickly jumped in and relaxed; comforted by the full moons gaze upon her shoulder.
Clanging sounds invaded her peaceful sleep. She turned over, shaking away the intrusive sounds, knowing that she was just dreaming. Candace pulled the covers up further and covered her head to block out the sounds. Suddenly, she sat up, realizing that she was not dreaming and knew that someone was in her house.
Candace tip toed down the stairs, nervous and not knowing what or who would be right around the corner. She held her breath as she turned. A figure was bent over her small desk in her spare bedroom that she’d turned into a study. The figure turned to her as her motion made her noticeable, shining a bright flashlight in her face.
“What are you doing here?! How did you get in here?” Candace screamed.
Since her childhood, Mya Jackson had been sheltered from her gift of
visions that she'd acquired since birth. Not fully aware of how deeply
ingrained her gift was, is what led her to the profession of being a reporter.
Mya just followed her own lead. Always looking for the next great story, Mya
keeps a file of unsolved mysteries on hand. Her knowing things was
unexplainable to her, but there was always more to the story that met the eye.
