To Live Another Life Ch. 01

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Krista's life is cut short; how will she cope in purgatory?
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Prologue.

When you think back on your life, you always focus on the aspects of your life that you wish you could change. Never on the things that you did right. Well, I did exactly that when I died. I played the 'What if...' game over and over again.

My name is Krista, and like most people I never thought about dying, until it was too late. I'm an avid reader, or should I say was. My nose was always stuck in a book. And the day I died, it was no different. I had just exited the library in which I worked, the new novel by my favourite author in my hands, fumbling with the keys to the door of the library, paying no attention to my surroundings. This book had really intrigued me, the title was catchy, the same with the cover, the picture was bright and of something that interested me. Although none of this would have mattered, anything that this woman wrote would have ended up in my hands at some point or another. I was halfway through the prologue, when I dropped the keys, annoyed that I would have to look away to find them, I did that deep sigh, you know the one. Keeping my finger in the pages I looked down, there they were -- as well as something that shouldn't have been there. At the side of my shadow -- there was another. Looking round I ended up nose to nose with a very ugly man. His yellow teeth and greasy unkempt hair nearly made my stomach turn. Never mind the dirt on his clothes. I wanted to tell him to go away, but being the nice and polite person that I was, I held back.

"Can I help you?" I asked. He just looked me up and down and grinned.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Years of customer service experience kept me polite. He grinned again. Maybe I should give him my dentists' number. He finally replied.

"There sure is missy. You can help me real good!" I didn't like the sound of this; neither did I like the long, slow glance he did over my body. Now, I could have been flattered, I was nothing to look at; taken separately my looks would sound good, but together they weren't. My figure was slim, with just a hint of curves. My breasts, small but firm. Legs that would make a runner proud. Curly red hair that could never straighten. Bright green eyes, with long lashes. Pale skin and a dusting of freckles over the bridge of my nose. I sound cute, don't I? Actually picture all of those features on a geek, with those below the knee, shirtwaist dresses in terrible flowered prints. And glasses, thick glasses. And then you have me. I was always told when I was younger, that I would never be a beauty, and I accepted that. So growing up, I never made the same efforts that many other teenage girls took. I thought what was the point? I focussed on my studies. But, this guy checking me out was not complimentary!

"How may I help you?" I was starting to get slightly scared now. The area where the library was located was residential, but at 8 o'clock, the streets were empty.

"Well, how about you step back in the building and then I'll tell you how you can help me!" This guy was definitely scaring me now.

"Sorry, the library is closed for the night. It will reopen at 10am tomorrow morning. Come back then, and I'm sure a member of staff will be able to help you." Did I really sound like that?

"That's too late for me sugar. I need you to help me now. Hee hee hee!"

"I don't think so." I replied. I thought that he would just get bored when he saw I wouldn't 'play' with him. There may not have been people on the street, but surely he knew someone would hear if I screamed. He must not have been on the same wavelength as I was. He pulled out a knife.

"Now, don't scream missy!" I was wrong; he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Just go inside, real quiet like, and I won't have to hurt you!"

I wanted to scream, and he knew it. He stepped up to me, yanked my arm and opened the door with his other hand, the hand with the knife in it. I tried to struggle away, but as it was a public library, whom of which, some of its patrons is disabled, the door opened smoothly and with no complaint. There was no time. He kicked my keys inside, pushed me ahead of him and slammed the door

I won't tell you all the details, I'll just say that, the next morning when Mrs Keppleby came by to return her library book at exactly 10 am and the door wouldn't open, she got worried. Knocking on the door of Mr Lovell, who lives next door to the library, and getting him out of bed, (he had been retired for only six months, and was still enjoying the morning lie ins) to make him break down the door, was a bit much. But he knew I should have been there and rang the library, just to see if I was inside and forgot to open the door before going in the back. When there was no reply, he called the cops.

We are a small town, the place where everyone else knows each other, and teenagers dream of being able to move away when they finish school. The sheriff came. Tried the door, said I must be running late. Called my Aunt, whom I lived with, who went up to check on me, (she usually goes to bed before I get in and rises with the sun, so she is usually out by the time I come down to get ready for work), who called back to say that the clean washing that she had left on my bed was still there so looked like I hadn't come home last night. Well that caused him to go with Mrs Keppleby's idea of breaking the door down. Inside, it was not a very pretty sight. Books were torn up, pages strewn everywhere. Shelves turned over, file cabinets open. And as for me, I was curled in a corner, looking like I was just hiding. The sheriff came over to me.

"Krista, are you okay. Who did this?" I didn't reply.

"Krista, it's Sheriff Blakely, there's nothing to be afraid of." I still didn't reply, didn't even flinch when he knelt in front of me and lightly shook my arm.

He stood up suddenly when his slight movement, caused my arm to drop to my side and reveal the knife sticking out of my chest. My eyes were still wide open, after he had felt for a pulse, he gently closed my lids and turned away to get Mrs Keppleby and Mr Lovell out of the building whilst he called for back up and the coroner.

That was the day I died, my nose stuck in a book, that I didn't notice my killer until it was too late. My life ended when I put up too much of a struggle for my killers liking. I was not very happy about that. My funeral was a quiet affair, even a small town had to put some limits, but my wake was far more joyful......

Chapter One

As you may have guessed, I never 'passed on' when I died, I stayed to watch everything that happened in the days and weeks and months after my murder. When I say my wake was more 'joyful' I meant for me. I saw people that I had barely even spoke to, give their condolences to my aunt, saying at what a nice girl I had been. My aunt used the photo of me that was taken when the local newspaper did a feature on the library. I had hated that picture, and so when someone commented on how pretty I was, I had to laugh. My hair had been pulled back with a band and had escaped at the sides, I had a humongous zit on my chin and my glasses hid my eyes. I was not pretty.

I floated around my aunt's front room, listening to the conversations.

"I remember her from school. She was a weird kid." (Says the bulimic cheerleader.)

"I couldn't picture her until someone told me it was the one from the library who nobody ever noticed. She kinda always faded into the background." (I used to help him with his college work whenever he came into the library.)

"I used to date her in school. Frigid." (I have no idea who this guy was.)

"I always wondered who she was. Would see her around town. Thought she was someone's maiden aunt, you know, the spinster type." (Spinster!! I was 23, how can you be a spinster at 23!)

After a few hours, all of the food was gone and people had started to go home. I hung around still. My aunt looked tired and I could tell that she needed to cry. When the last woman had left, my aunt sat down in her armchair, leant back and closed her eyes. No tears came, but I could see the quiet sobs that wracked her chest. She sat like that for 5 minutes, until someone knocked on the door. It was a loud knock. She sat up suddenly.

"Can't I get some peace!" She mumbled. She got up and went to the front door. Opening it she was surprised at seeing a stranger.

"May I help you?"

"Mrs Logan? I'm Detective Kierney. May I come in?" He had been holding out his badge when my aunt first opened the door so he replaced it into his pocket after my aunt had looked at it.

"What is this about?" She hadn't let him into the house yet.

"Mrs Logan, first of all, let me express my sympathy for your loss. The reason I am here is because the attack on your niece is similar to several attacks that have occurred in 5 small towns in the local area. Would we be able to continue this inside?" He didn't smile.

After looking at him for a while, she stepped back and gestured for him to come in.

"Take a seat through there. I need a drink of tea, can I get you something?" No matter what, my aunt was always one to keep to the social niceties.

"I'm fine Mrs Logan."

My aunt nodded and walked into the kitchen. While she was in there, I decided to check him out. He had just taken a seat on the sofa. I know they couldn't see me, but I wanted to concentrate on what was said. Looking at him, I could see that he was around 30, perhaps a little older. His hair was dark, but I could see that he had lighter highlights. His face was rugged, reminded me of the old cowboy movies, the youthful gunslinger that had seen more than he needed to. When he was standing, I had noticed that was he was at least 6 feet tall. His shoulders were broad and his body slim, but had the 'fine' muscled look. He was wearing blue denim jeans, and a black button down shirt. He didn't look like any detective I had ever seen. If I was alive, I'd have definitely noticed him, even if he wouldn't have noticed me. Just then my aunt walked back in.

"Now, how exactly can I help you?" She asked as she sat back down. The detective had rose when my aunt re-entered the room then sat again after she had. We have ourselves a Southern Gentleman, I thought to myself.

"As I said, the attack on your niece is similar to five other attacks that have occurred. I was wondering if you could help me by answering a few questions. Is it possible that your niece noticed anybody hanging around her work place in the days previous to her attack?"

"Not that she mentioned to me. But then, I didn't speak much to her over the last few weeks."

"May I ask why that was?"

"Young man, you may be too polite to mention it, but I am an old lady, not as young as I once was. With my niece working, her leaving and coming back from work was out of sync with my own coming and goings. I am from the old school of waking with the sun, so I was usually out doing my errands by the time she awoke and she usually returned after I had retired." My aunt sighed, and turned her head to stare out of the window. "Wish I could have spoken to her one last time, even if it was just a polite gesture, if not to tell her that I loved her."

"Mrs Logan, please do not feel guilty about that. I am sure she knew how you felt, and that the feeling was mutual."

My aunt turned back to him. "You are a kind man, but I was actually her great aunt and although we lived together, we were on two different wave lengths. She was my only living kin, and I never let her know how much she actually meant to me."

('Oh Aunty L!') I said out loud, although I knew she wouldn't be able to hear me, but when I said it, Detective Kierney turned in my direction. He couldn't have heard me, could he? I waved my hands to see if he took any notice, but he just blinked and turned back to my aunt.

"I am sure she knew." He seemed to brace himself. "Mrs Logan, does anyone else live with you?"

"No Detective, as I said, Krista was my only living kin and all of my friends have moved to the retirement village over in the next town." She seemed to think for a second. "I suppose I will have to start thinking about doing that soon. I'm too old to live on my own. Why do you ask by the way?"

"No reason Mrs Logan, I just thought it might be best for you not to be on your own tonight. I am sure it has been a trying day, and even I would prefer to have company."

"That sounds a bit like you agreeing with my saying I was too old" my aunt replied, but there was a twinkle in her eye, "but I know what you mean. My neighbour, Mr Inching, will be returning in a couple of hours. He left to give me some breathing space and so he could see to his dogs. He'll stay with me until I wish to retire."

"I'm glad you have a friend close by. Now I hate to carry on with my questions, but if you do not know if your niece saw anyone unusual hanging around, did you? You say you usually leave before your niece left for work, did you see anybody hanging around that you didn't know? Or even someone you did, but who were out of their way by being here?"

"I'm sorry detective, but I can think of nobody. This is a small town, and someone new will usually stick out like a sore thumb." My aunt replied after contemplating his question. Then she added "I'll probably get a few phone calls after you leave enquiring about whom you were."

('Yeah,') I said, ('probably wanting to know if he has anything to do with me and then subtly enquiring if he is available because their daughter or granddaughter just so happens to be looking!')

Again, when I spoke, he seemed to turn towards me. Could he actually hear me?

('Detective!') I shouted.

His eyes focussed even more intently on where I was standing. He could hear me!

To be certain I said aloud ('If you can hear me, scratch your nose with your left hand.') He seemed to wait a few seconds then did exactly as I asked. ('Oh wow!')

"Detective, are you okay?"

Detective Kierney seemed to wake up from a trance and realised he had been focussed on what appeared to be nothing.

"I apologise again Mrs Logan, I was just admiring that photograph."

Behind where I was standing, was my aunt's collection of photos, all in brass frames. Amongst them was my 18th birthday picture. It was the only one that I liked of myself. In it, I was wearing black trouser pants, a white blouse, my grandmothers' pearls and a white scarf around my hair. I wasn't wearing my glasses, so I was slightly cross-eyed, but my skin was actually free from spots. If I did say so myself, in that picture, I was enough to have any man look twice. Unfortunately, the only men to see me like that were over the age of 60 and friends with my aunt. ('Why couldn't you have used that picture?') I said to my aunt.

"That was Krista on her 18th birthday. She did look mighty pretty and grown up that day. It's hard to think that it was only 5 years ago."

"May I ask why you didn't use this picture today?" Why, the crafty devil, I thought!

"There wasn't time. I've never had to actually organise a funeral before and I completely forgot about the need for a picture. When I was asked which one I was to use, I did think of this one, but I was told it was too small. Luckily I know the editor of our local newspaper, so when I remembered about this picture, he agreed to have it printed for me to use." Detective Kierney seemed to smile at this, as if he knew I was listening in on her answer.

"Well, I'm sure she would have appreciated it." He replied.

('You keep your opinions to yourself! I would have appreciated no photo at all thank you very much!') He did smile at this. ('I think it's about time you left Detective; I don't think I like you anymore.') I said. I was actually slightly annoyed with him. This brought his head up sharply, but he did a small nod, as if acknowledging me.

"Well Mrs Logan. I thank you for taking the time with me." He turned to my aunt and held out his hand. "Let me assure you that I will let you know if I find out any information about your niece's killer." My aunt had taken his hand, so he shook it and turned his head towards my photo. "I want to make sure no others have to go through what you and the other 5 victims families have been through." My aunt was about to stand, "No, please don't get up, I will see myself out." After he had stood up, he took out his wallet and placed a card into my aunt's hand. "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything or just need to talk." Then he turned around and walked towards the front door. 30 seconds later, I heard the door shut behind him.

When my aunt heard the door, she placed the card down on side table and stared out of the window. After making certain that she wasn't crying again, I made my way through the wall towards the detectives' car outside. If he could hear me, then I wasn't going to let him get away so easily, even if I had told him to leave!

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5 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
I'm going to strangle you!

This story is totally freaking great! I want more and now!

DaniellekittenDaniellekittenover 14 years ago
Very different from anything else I've

read recently. Well written and interesting. Keep it up!

BastetKhensuBastetKhensuover 14 years ago
More!

Great first chapter. Please write more!

SampsinnMoonCalledSampsinnMoonCalledover 14 years ago
Very nice start

You are defiantely off to a terrific start on this story, you gave us some interesting twists, i am surely looking forwards to the next installment.

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
Great Start

I think you're off to a great start and I can't wait for the next chapter.

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