Psychic Sidekick Book 1: Summons and Visitation
No one wants to believe in the supernatural. John is determined to prove it exists
Wednesday
John Thompson sat in the Student Center of Anoka Ramsey Community College, where he was a high school senior participating in the Post-Secondary Enrollment Options program. He was picking at a cinnamon roll from the school cafeteria and reading The Lovely Bones when he detected movement in his peripheral vision.
He raised his head to see a girl about his age standing in front of him. She was pale, with a blank gaze. A tear slid down one cheek. “She needs help.”
“Who needs help?” John asked.
“He needs to hurry.” She walked away.
He watched her go, then realized other people were staring at him.
A faculty member strolled by, carrying a cup of coffee. “He needs to get to her soon. Before more trouble finds her.”
“What are you talking about?” John muttered.
The faculty member continued walking like he and John had not had an exchange.
“What the hell is going on?” John shook his head and reached for his phone.
CHAPTER TWO
John’s Journal
New event, new notebook. Not that I had a choice. My last notebook is in my closet. The door is covered with shielding, and I have a guest occupying my bedroom, so it’s impossible to retrieve at this time.
I found this one in my mom’s stuff. I’ll probably have to replace it, although I’m not sure why she needs a notebook. I’m the student and scientist. Maybe she does budgets or writes about her feelings. If she does, she hides those notebooks well. This one was blank and in plain sight. She wasn’t home to tell me I couldn’t borrow it.
I should probably be more formal in my documentation, but it’s not like I’m conducting an experiment. I am recording what happened, what I saw, and what I remember. An affidavit, if you will. I’m sure I make a more reliable witness than most people, but what I’m recording is still anecdotal in nature, and anecdotal evidence probably isn’t permissible anywhere. Especially in court.
But in parapsychology, is there any way to truly prove anything? It’s like religion. The faithful believe, but they can’t prove God exists. Yet their faith is enough for them.
I know the paranormal exists, that the other side is real. Still, I can’t properly document what I know. My faith will have to be enough.
I’ve been staying close to Jacob Daniels since he first rescued me from the school bullies du jour. I had heard about him and his exploits and was searching for him. In the end, he found me. He became my friend, my test subject, and the psychic in my life most willing to be studied.
Mom won’t talk about her abilities, won’t allow me to question her. That was true even before Rachel died. She is also selective about what family history she shares or allows to be shared with me. I know she has psychic ability. I’ve seen it in action more than once. But without background information and context, what I know and saw proves nothing.
Trish Carrington has allowed me to interview her a few times, hook her to the high school version of an electroencephalograph and a lie detector, and record physical attributes. The readings I recorded when she was resting set the baseline.
Those I recorded when she was using her telekinesis were barely different, as if using her abilities required no effort. Even having the measurements synced to the video only confirms a blip in her mental activities. Does that mean her abilities are working all the time, but objects aren’t flying? If only I had better equipment. Or could read her aura.
It was fascinating to be there as objects floated around the room, knowing she was responsible. It was still anecdotal evidence that could be construed as fraudulent. Again, so cool…
I’ve asked, but Trish has not told me of any occurrences where she used her ability to move objects to protect herself or another person the way she did the night she met Daniels. And again the night she and Daniels and Cindy Maldonado rescued her mom from a wannabe drug cartel.
She has not shared further about those experiences, either. I only know about them because of Daniels. As a result, there is no anecdotal evidence of use outside a controlled environment.
Daniels continues to demonstrate his abilities, but never in a controlled situation. He never has an episode when I have him hooked up. Almost as if turning on the machines turns off his brain. There should be something sarcastic I could add here.
It’s been a little over two years since he had a major event. Or episode. Or adventure. Those descriptions make it sound like something is wrong with him. There probably is, but that’s for a different branch of psychology.
He located dogs, cats, a bicycle, and some jewelry. Nothing exciting or newsworthy. I’m not sure he even remembers all of it, but it required no effort on his part. I’ve been with him at the grocery store, saw him read the little sign or poster on the wall, and watched him call people.
Some of them didn’t answer and let it go to voicemail. He’d say, “I saw your sign. Your dog is at…” or “Your ring is…” and he’d tell them the Humane Society or the neighbor’s house or under the back seat of their car or behind the drawer, and I’d know he was right. We didn’t even attempt to find out if their items were successfully recovered.
I probably should have collected the cards at the stores and had him read them after I had him wired up. Maybe then, I’d learn something.
But today’s experience was like nothing I’ve seen. Or even imagined.
Wednesday is cinnamon roll day in the school cafeteria. The cream cheese croissants on Thursdays are my favorite, but the cinnamon rolls are a close second. I was reading while savoring mine when a girl stopped in front of me.
My time with Daniels has taught me the need to be observant. Fortunately, I have an excellent memory. She was about five foot four, I’d estimate a hundred and ten pounds. Her oversized Anoka Ramsey sweatshirt made guessing difficult. She wore jeans and sandals, and she carried a trigonometry text. I was familiar with the book, unfortunately.
She had obviously experienced something traumatic right before she came to me. She was pale, her whole body might have been trembling, and a tear slid down her right cheek.
If only one tear falls, does the eye that releases it correspond to the dominant eye? Another course of study.
She started with, “She needs help.”
I asked, “Who needs help?”
She told me, “He needs to hurry,” and walked away.
I thought about chasing her down, grabbing her, and making her talk. There are ways. I’m not even sure she knew she was talking to me, though. And other people were staring at me. Or her.
Her walk wasn’t purposeful. It was more like a drift. She had delivered her message, and whoever sent her was done with her. Thinking back, it was creepy.
Will one creepy encounter with an entity be enough to set John on a course to prove the paranormal is real? Find out on November 18th when Psychic Sidekick book 1: Summons and Visitations is released. Until then head over to Amazon and pre-order it today.
