The Dead Detective - Saye, John
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Following her mother's death, Nancy finds out she was an international superhero and badass with a ghost for a partner and it's in her blood too, it's hard not to fall into that world. The ghost stroked his beard and reached into his pocket. "Tea?" He pulled his hand from his pocket and held out a fresh cup of tea for her. She shook her head. "No tea, thanks." He held it out to her. The look on his face was a disappointment. He held it out to her again. "Come on, take it. It's all a part of the magic." She took the cup carefully. She couldn't feel his hand, except for a slightly cold spot in…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
Following her mother's death, Nancy finds out she was an international superhero and badass with a ghost for a partner and it's in her blood too, it's hard not to fall into that world. The ghost stroked his beard and reached into his pocket. "Tea?" He pulled his hand from his pocket and held out a fresh cup of tea for her. She shook her head. "No tea, thanks." He held it out to her. The look on his face was a disappointment. He held it out to her again. "Come on, take it. It's all a part of the magic." She took the cup carefully. She couldn't feel his hand, except for a slightly cold spot in the air, but the cup, which she figured would be a total figment of her imagination was bone China attached to nothing she could feel. She took the cup, and grasped it by the cool handle with her index finger, and held the saucer with her other hand, it was nice and warm to her touch. The smell invaded her nose. She'd never been much of a hot tea drinker, but this smelled wonderful and creamy. She tasted it, expecting it to be too hot, but instead, it filled her mouth and throat with creamy goodness. She took another sip and powerful waves covered her body. She could feel the wind, and see flashes of light across eyelids that she quickly realized were closed. She took the last sip, draining the cup, and opened her hand, the cup was no longer there. She felt cool wet grass on her neck and could smell freshly cut grass beneath her. Was she laying down? She sat up on her elbows in her own front yard, looking at the stars. She pushed the ground and stood up, she walked up the driveway, brushing grass clippings off her butt. She walked up to the porch where her dad was sitting on a rocking chair. "I miss her." "I miss her too."
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Autorenporträt
JOHN SAYE is a writer who escaped death, five months on a ventilator, and total-body paralysis to bring you his brand of surrealistic science-fiction and fantasy. His immune system tried to kill him, then attempted to burn his nerves away, nearly disconnecting his mind from his body. The treatment and slow nerve re-connections resulted in visions, dreams, nightmares, and numerous reality checks along the way, many of which are now working themselves into my stories.