I hope you all like the next and enjoy reading it. I tried to make it a bit longer. Thank you for any likes, comments, votes and adding my story to your library and anything else I have forgotten to thank you all for. Oh and first person to comment I will dedicate each chapter to...unless I have already dedicated to you in which case, number two will get it :) (not really fair to get dedicated to twice sorry)
For any spelling/grammer/english mistakes sorry, I try my best. Go forth and read...
I spent most of the next day working on my laptop at the coffee shop across from the motel. It was sweet, small and had free wi-fi. The scent of dark roasted coffee beans drifted through the café and I was sipping a delicious cocoa with whipped cream and dark chocolate shavings.
The case we had now was a ghost type 3. There were three types of ghost scenarios.
Ghost type 1: Pretty simple really, a ghost that harmed or killed people in a haunted house. They were generally angry; all it took was some salt and bone burning to take them down.
Yes, that’s how you “killed” all ghosts.
But these were easier than the rest. They were the norm cases.
Ghost type 2: These ghost were on replay, every year on the day they died they replayed their last day over and over and over.
They in my opinion were the worst. Imagine not knowing you’re dead. The look in some of their eyes was heartbreaking and sad. Even if they were dead already.
And then Ghost type 3: These ghosts were very far-gone. They liked what they did to harm people. They were mostly the murderers, the victims and the pissed off ones.
Ghost type 3 was what we were dealing with, or at least that’s what dad thought we were dealing with. I didn’t really care. Not anymore. All I could think about while typing the history of the mansion was Ramie. It wasn’t even fair.
I had no idea who he was yet I felt the need to think about him.
I didn’t want to think about him. Little alarms went off in my head, they sang li-ar…li-ar. I was lying. I knew it too.
I loved thinking about him. In the last twelve hours all I had thought about was his stupid ocean eyes.
I took a swig of my cocoa, relishing in the sweetness of the rich homemade chocolate that they’d used. It was nearing three when I got a message from dad.
Won’t be at motel. Going to mansion. Call later. Shouldn’t be too late. How’s research going?
I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous message. He didn’t even ask if I wanted to go with. I swear if he could keep me locked in a box sheltered from the world he would.
I texted back quickly saying I’d email the link of the daughter I thought was haunting the place.
Half an hour later and I was dying of boredom. I packed my laptop into my backpack and headed for the counter.
Aw crap. This could not be happening to me. I grimaced. Ramie’s back was to me. He was behind the counter looking rather cute in a blue apron with the café logo. His dark curly hair sprang with his movement of making the next customers latte. He hadn’t seen me yet. I still had time to duck out and not pay.
I had walked out on more than one occasion at a bar.
But not a café, I liked cafes. They were my relaxation time. I held my breath when he turned not giving me a chance to decide if I wanted to run or not.
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