1st 5 Pages February Workshop- Woropay Rev 1

Name: Larysia Woropay

Genre: Young Adult Paranormal Fantasy
Title: Extrasensory

Quinn stared into the foreboding crimson glow of the clock atop her nightstand. It was three a.m. The Devil’s Hour.

Visitors are coming. The words, cool and airy, were only those attuned to the dead could hear. A ghost stood over Quinn, and although she couldn’t see him, she could certainly hear his Voice. He was one of the good ones who hung around. The bad ones never found their way inside her house. At least, they hadn’t yet.

“I know,” Quinn muttered, wide awake. Dread pooled in her stomach like liquid ice. The ghost hadn’t delivered a statement. It was a warning.

She pushed back her bedcover and stood, hairs rising on the back of her neck. Her toes curled into the carpet as a shiver raced down to her soles. She rubbed her bare arms, textured with gooseflesh. Quinn pulled on an oversized sweater and slid into her slippers before making her way into the hallway. Her mother stood in a robe outside her bedroom across the hall. They locked eyes, twin gray mirrors reflecting back at each other.

“We’re going to have company.” Quinn announced.

“The blessing must not have worked.” Her mother said, pushing a strand of raven hair behind her ear. She sighed. “We better prepare for our guests.”

“You mean Ms. Harker and Emily … or the thing stalking them?”

“Both,” her mother answered.

Quinn remembered when Diana Harker and her one-year-old daughter first came to their house last week. The young mother’s weary eyes had dark circles underneath them. That would have been considered normal given the responsibilities of parenthood, but it was more than that. No one came to their house unless they needed help with something otherworldly.

Her mother had done tarot readings for years, and occasionally, when a client found themselves in the midst of a haunting, she provided another kind of service: cleansing. Better known as evicting a troublesome ghostly squatter out of someone’s home. Sometimes the spirit needed a gentle talking to. Other times, a forceful kick in the metaphysical rear. And since her mother was a psychic medium, she was just the lady to do it. Soon enough, Quinn would be, too.

But it pissed Quinn off that this was the only time it was acceptable to interact with their family. Maria and Quinn Brooke were “too weird” otherwise. People came to her front door under the hushed cover of night, hoods pulled over their heads, and looking over their shoulders. Next to no one in town believed in ghosts until one was haunting them. Ms. Harker was no different.

She seemed embarrassed, sitting on their couch and telling them about the sleepless nights spent worrying over Emily. The baby monitor was picking up strange sounds, guttural mumbles and a man whispering one word: “mine.” At first, no one was there. Then she began seeing a figure in the house. Always standing at Emily’s crib. When the police failed her, Diana Harker came here.

Quinn crossed her arms. “Are we going to tell her what she’s up against this time?”

“ … Yes.” Her mom said. “There’s no point in trying to protect her from the truth any longer. I’m scared for her little girl. If she’s coming back, it’s because that thing has finally made a move for her.”

“They were never being haunted by a ghost.”

“But we were hoping getting Diana to have a priest to bless her home would have gotten rid of that entity.”

“No, you were hoping. I wanted to tell her what we thought it was. What we knew it was.” Quinn shook her head. “If we warned her properly, that thing wouldn’t be headed here right now.”

“If we had warned her properly, Quinn, she would have been terrified senseless. You know the consequences of that.” Her mother wrapped the robe tighter around herself and padded to the end of the hall to turn on the light, having enough with the discussion. She rounded the corner, and one by one, more lights flicked on.

“I swear, mom, you want to coddle the normies.” Quinn trailed her. “It’s terrifying her senseless anyways! That’s what it does! It’s a—!”

An explosive pounding resounded through their modest bungalow. Quinn jumped, choking on her words. Her head snapped towards the front door. She could feel in her gut the unwelcome company behind it.

They’ve come.

“Maria! Maria, please!” The woman on the other side of the door cried. It was indeed Ms. Harker. And something more, hiding in the remnants of silence. “Let us in!”

“Guard yourself, Quinn.” Her mother warned, coming closer.

“I know.” Quinn steeled herself. It was then she realized her heart was pounding in her chest, mimicking Ms. Harker’s frantic staccato. “It’s out there.”

Quinn’s mom opened the door, front porch light revealing Ms. Harker and her little girl, Emily. Ms. Harker’s face was red, her eyes puffy from the tears that streaked her cheeks. Emily’s face wasn’t much better as her tiny fingers grabbed at her mother’s shirt. Wide-eyed relief graced Ms. Harker at Maria’s forced smile. “Oh, Maria! Thank God!”

“Diana.” Quinn’s mother dipped her head before looking at the child. “And Emily! Come in, come in. You two.” The shadows seemed to flicker behind the pair.

Quinn swallowed, stomach sinking.

“… And nothing more.” Quinn’s mom opened the screen door, muttering to the rustling blackness. The shadows flinched and receded from Ms. Harker’s feet as she crossed the threshold. Maria shut the door, staring down what couldn’t be seen. “Quinn, love, put on a pot of coffee. Warm up some milk for Emily, too.”

“It hurt her!” Ms. Harker cradled her daughter closer. Emily nestled into her mother’s bird’s nest of strawberry blond hair, quietly sobbing. “The blessing only made it angrier!”

“To the couch.” Quinn’s mom led them into the living room. “Sit, sit.”

Quinn got a look at the pair before she went into the kitchen. Ms. Harker sat, not releasing her grip on Emily. Her eyes darted. The woman didn’t have a shred of sixth sense, but she had all the others. Something triggered a primal fear in her. Instinct took over. Protect the child, it told her; something comes for her. This something wasn’t tangible. It couldn’t be fought by any normal means. She was powerless and that was what horrified her the most.

“It’s okay, Diana.” Quinn’s mother reassured. “It can’t come in. Not here, not my home.”

Ms. Harker’s shoulders softened, but not her embrace. The woman shook her head, leaning back into the plush blue microfiber couch.

The scent of coffee promising to fill cups in short order began to permeate the air. Quinn grabbed a carton of milk and a pot, ignoring the window over the sink, its curtains wide open. As soon as her mother closed the door, she could feel the thing circling the house, trying to sneak in. At last, it stopped moving. Outside that thin pane of glass.

It was close enough that she could sense the rise and fall of its chest, could hear the rattling of its breath. It watched her, radiating a dark amusement. Quinn wouldn’t close the curtains. She wouldn’t give in and give it what it wanted. She would show it no fear. Quinn turned a burner on, preparing the soothing warm milk.

“What happened?” Her mother’s voice carried from the other room.