Jolie Montgomery, a twenty-one-year-old woman, wakes up in an alley next to her corpse. She has no memories of her murder or the night she died. She didn’t even see the killer’s face before he or she took her life. Wanting justice, Jolie seeks answers in the only way a ghost can...by stalking the lead detective on the case.
Avrianna Heavenborn is determined to find the person responsible for a young woman’s death. She gets closer to the killer’s identity with every clue she uncovers, and Jolie is with her every step of the way.
But if they don’t solve her murder soon, Jolie will be an earth-bound spirit forever.
“How? How can she be dead?”
“Someone took her life. I am deeply sorry about that, but I swear I am going to find that person, for you and Jolie.”
Avrianna held Jolie’s mom as she cried. Seeing the exchange, hearing her mom sob, and not being able to do anything to comfort her, was too much for Jolie to bear. She detached herself from the heart-breaking scene and ascended the stairs to her old bedroom. Outside the closed door, she tried to grasp the handle, but her hand passed right through it as if her hand was mist.
With the sound of her mom’s grief wafting up to her, Jolie came to terms with her present state. I’m dead, and now my mom knows it. She eyed the door in front of her. She hadn’t yet walked through a door, but if her hand could pass through metal, then she knew she could move through wood.
If I have to be a ghost, then I’ll be a damn good one. All across the afterlife, I’ll be known as the Ghost of Death. And I’m going to start by walking through this damn door!
She would’ve taken a deep breath to brace herself if she could have, so she mentally pumped herself up instead. You can do it! Easy-peasy. Nothing to it. And she took a step forward. Solid matter slipped around and through her form. On the other side, a familiar sight confronted her—a black and white bed, the bright green shag carpet in the middle of the floor, and a white desk.
Stepping up to the desk, Jolie eyed her ancient desktop computer, the one she used before her dad gifted her with a laptop when she announced she was accepted to the local university. Wanting to send out the first-ever tweet from the afterlife, she pushed the button to bring the device to life, but her finger poked straight through it. Resigning to her Twitter-less fate, she moved toward the full-length mirror on the wall. She saw nothing. Not even a shimmer in the air hinted at her presence.
Being a ghost sucks!
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