DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ghost Hunt, just the first seven volumes that sit on my bookshelf…
A.N. Guess who's back, back again… Daygoner's back, tell a friend XD
If you've read my profile, you'll know that I've been doing exams (still haven't finished them – I know it's been a helluva long time!) so that's my main reason for not updating in forever. Sorry!
Hugs and kisses to...:
YeahjustMOI/justME – I love the way you wrote me a corroborated review. And even though I don't have a twin, I know how it feels to have one of those stupid phone-call thingies – this person calls me up and I said 'It's me' and she guessed I was my mother, then my sister, then my grandmother (I mean, come on…), until I finally told her who I was, much to my chagrin. Anywhoo… if YOU'RE lazy, then what does that make me /grimace?! Here's the latest chapter; enjoy, and thanks for waiting for it for so long!!
Hiro – Lol, sorry but I think you'll have to welcome me back again after my stupid hiatus. As for the chapter that comes with my reinstatement: well, you'll learn a bit more about the case here, just to get you thinking, and there's also a bit of Naru/Mai thrown in for good measure. Sound good? Thanks for keeping with this story, hope it still pushes all the right buttons for ya!
Kaede – Haha, you picked up on the jealousy! I personally think Lin-san's a bit too old for Mai and Naru'd probably never be jealous of their relationship, but… pfft, so long as it works out with you guys, I ain't complainin'. Hope you like this chapter, sorry to keep you waiting – I know, I'm such a lazy poo. Oh, and thanks for the compliment, too – you reviewers are the best /grin!!
Chelle – Naru WAS quite nice, wasn't he? There's a bit more of a continuation of the Naru/Mai stuff in this chapter, as well as more of an explanation (of sorts) about the past and about the case. Am I being vague? I'll leave that up to you – don't want to give too much away!! BTW, I hope you didn't feel offended for that teacher comment thing; I only meant that I'd wished the teachers at my school would grade me as well as you did!! Haha, if only! Lol, thanks a lot for the review and sorry for making you wait. Enjoy!!!
Annoying Little Twit – Yeah, I made Lin slap her. OOC, I know. Sorry /grimace/!! I'll try and make it a bit less… harsh next time, and the characters a bit more IC. Glad you liked the chapter nonetheless. Thanks for waiting all this time for a chapter, please do enjoy!
vla1diva – I guess I kinda mucked up with the non-updating thing… /sheepish grin/ SORRY!! Well, I come bringing tidings of a new chapter! Yayness!! Please take it as a token of my apology – hope you like!
Nameless – Er, you're gonna have to welcome me back again, lol. Sorry about leaving you again, but exams called… /frowns/. Anyway, no probs for acknowledging you – I love responding to your reviews (the ego boost is MOST invigorating /grin/) and I also love torturing people with cliffies. Did I leave another cliffy at the end of this…? Yeah, I did. Hehe, I left a little preview too, so don't be too disheartened!! As always, hugs to you for reviewing and hope you enjoy the new chapter!
Rayne – Again, I've hopelessly failed with the whole 'update soon' thing. Sorry about that – the only thing I can offer in apology is this chapter. And my love for your review – thanks!! I've also included some more Naru/Mai to keep you happy – and some stuff about the case, if you're interested… Enjoy!!
Sakura – Oh, God, I'm so sorry for not updating in so long. Please don't say I've disappointed you!! Please accept this new chapter as a way of apology – I'll try my best to update sooner once my exams are over… Sorry! Glad you're enjoying the story so much and thank you very much for your review /grins/.
Mei – Ah, another 'update soon'er that I have to send my apologies to: SORRY for not updating in so long. I know, I know, I'm a seriously lazy bum that needs to get writing more often /sighs/. Sorry. It's great that you're hooked because now we're pretty much fully into unravelling the case and it's all coming together… or now, depending on how vague I'm keeping it /winks/. Hope the chapter is to your liking and thanks for your review!!
NikoruxChan – So, you watch the animes, huh? Cool, I'm glad you think it's in keeping with the original storylines and such – and phew, you read it all in one night? I didn't think anyone could take so much of my writing at once! Kudos to you!! Thanks for commending the characterisations – I'm such a Nazi when it comes to ICness and OOCness, so your comment went a really long way /grins/. Well, what can I say: Naru with a towel and nothing else makes me squeal like there's no tomorrow. And – jeezum, you complimented me so much in your review /winks/ - thanks for telling me about my writing style; it's rare for me to write in the first person in present tense and I keep making mistakes with grammar and stuff. So, yeah, sorry for keeping you waiting so long for the next chapter, but here it is and I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as you did the others!! Welcome to the fold, NikoruxChan!
Ghost Hunt: Inerasable Secrets
. File 7 .
"You will need to drink the rest of your water because in a minute you're going to tell me everything that happened in the course of your dream."
I'm sitting in a car. The seat rumbles comfortably under me and the soft smell of worn leather curls around the cutting breeze that blows in through the turned-down windows, warming it and pushing it through my senses. The feeling of numbness disappears faster than water circling down the drain, taking with it the almost familiar darkness that always seems to percolate into my dreams. I breathe a sigh of relief. Yes, this is much better.
"I'm glad you're here."
The young boy holds out a hand to me and I inadvertently reach out and touch him. Seated next to me, the around-my-age-but-maybe-younger boy shines in no way that any human can – and as much as my touch is meant to assure me that he's really there, he takes it as more of a confirmation that I'm here. He smiles as our fingertips brush, but I can only feel a strange coldness from where our skin meets. I glance at his face. The smile is forced.
"Me too." Not very eloquent, but it's all that I can manage at the moment. First, I'm standing on the road with the man of my dreams – literally – and then I'm sitting in a car with an honest to God ghost. Story of my life. "What am I doing here? And where is 'here', exactly?"
The boy's blond hair seems so pale against the blackness of the leather surrounding us. "I'm glad you're here," he repeats, a wistful quality to his tone. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. Ok, so ghosts have selective hearing. No wonder Naru likes to work with them – only people who can fully ignore him can probably stand him (gold star to Lin-san!). 'People' being the loose term for 'spirits'… incidentally, do the dead even get bored?
We drive over a ridge in the road. Sayuri mentioned the 'car dream', didn't she? Well, kudos to my over-active subconscious for conjuring this all up. "Where are we going?" I try again, cutting my babbling thoughts off before they accumulate and choke the flow of blood cells to my brain. 'Cause heaven knows I have precious few of those as it is.
"This was meant to be my vacation." The boy grins grimly. "But I never made it."
"Oh." Charming. My mind surreptitiously begins the menial task of spotting out potential health threats; baby seat strapped to the other unoccupied back seat, rattle on the floor, box of tissues by my feet, empty driver's seat, magazines in the–
"Oh, my God, who's driving the car?!"
The boy shrugs and faces away from me. I'm hyperventilating, even though the rational part of me keeps telling me that this is just a dream and I have nothing to worry about. Calm down. I gulp and grip the edge of the tight black seats. The wind blows stronger, now, no longer a breeze – and the smell of the leather is a strong barb that licks the back of my throat with every breath I suck in. There is no-one driving the car.
"We'll be there soon."
"Well, where the hell's 'there'?" Like, Destination: Death? What kind of crappy vacation would that be?
He gives me a really funny look. His creased forehead gives him an innocent sheen, like that of a child who's being questioned on something that they see as obvious, but adults just can't.
"Where are we going?" I ask for the umpteenth time, not settling for the 'We're just gonna pop in on my place of death, whoopee' response. Call me a dull living person, but dying is just not my cup of tea, ya know?
"You really don't know?"
"No, I don't."
The boy stares at me, an oddly pained expression marring his light features. "That's ok. I never thought I'd become a… secret. But that's ok."
Well, now that that's cleared up… "Who are you?"
The spirit smiles again, and this time, the brightness reaches his eyes. "I'm–"
He is cut off as the car veers sharply to the left. My heart is thrust against my chest and panic curls its splintery fingers around it and squeezes bitingly. I throw out an arm to stop myself from falling out of the open window and catch the front seat before everything starts to tip.
"What's happening?" I shout over the roar of my adrenalin. "What's going on?"
"Someone's waking you," the spirit replies, strangely matter-of-fact in his answer. It's the first time a ghost contacting me in a dream has shown awareness of the waking-world and I'm succinctly surprised for a suspended moment. Then he drops on top of me as the car hits some unseen barrier and tilts over completely. He's cold, the antithesis of my panic and the anchoring of my thoughts.
"Listen to me," he says, voice tight with renewed urgency, "this is how I died."
We're falling faster, picking up speed as we begin our descent. There is no sound, no air whipping in through the open windows, no world blurring outside the confines of the vehicle. We're suspended in a dream of the past and the abyss beckons us like the jaws of a hell-creature in wait of a meal.
My breath catches. The boy turns to me.
"This is how it happened," he says.
We hit the surface of a body of water. The rattle shakes inconsistently and the baby seat rocks solidly against the leather. It takes a few seconds for me to realise that we've plummeted that extra few feet and collided with the windshield. Cracks dance across the glass like spider's webs chasing bloody snowflakes, my blood mixing with the water that leaks through the fragmented pieces. I touch my head, feel the sticky warmth of a concussion-worthy head wound. My stomach tightens instantaneously at the thought.
The car is submerging. The boy is still beside me, watching calmly as though I'm part of some TV show that he's been following recently. We tread water as the murky fluid chugs over our legs, torsos and arms, slowly sucking us into the deep. I cough up something mucusy and foul before the waves finally force me under. My final breath is thick and full of bogies. Definitely the dignified way to die.
Woah. The spirit tugs on my arm and pulls himself closer until his mouth is nestled near the crook of my neck. "It's not a secret, anymore," he whispers against my skin. His words graze the shell of my outer ear in an intimate way that no human can endeavour to replicate – chilling but warm. "I'm not a secret, anymore."
I pull away from him, twisting in the water, thousands of unasked questions escaping with every bubble that surges past my lips. Obviously humans can't speak underwater, even in dreams. Dammit.
"Remember me," the boy tells me.
He reaches over and pinches my nose, clamping a hand over my mouth simultaneously. His sad smile is the last image that I catch onto before a gag and choke beats me into suffocation.
"…And that was what happened."
I take a deep and haggard breath. The retelling wasn't painful per se, but it was long and taxing for my poor little vocal chords. Naru is silent – shock horror – but there's a slight sheen of excitement to his eyes, like he's finally found the last piece to a puzzle that he's been working on for ages. I cough loudly and lay a delicate hand on my throat.
"You ok?" Naru asks, though there's not much feeling behind his words.
"Yeah," I say. "Penny for your thoughts?"
His thoughtful expression melts into a somewhat wolfish grin. "I'm not that cheap," he declares and I splutter indignantly. "I will not share what I am thinking for the moment. I'll need to do some more research before I'm sure."
Something tells me that I must be getting used to his secretive tendencies because I don't complain or press him for any more details. Instead, I settle for a blasé remark that doesn't really push him or make me seem at all bothered. Which I'm not. At all. "Thanks a lot, Naru. You force me to tell you all about my dream and you don't even want to let me in on your little idea?" I make to shake my head, but it amplifies the feel of constant brain-pounding that's been plaguing me for the past two nights and I stop. "The pain I go through for you and this is how you repay me…" I lay a hand on my heart and try my best to put on a woeful face, which isn't exactly difficult considering my current situation.
"Oh," Naru says mildly in response, "do you want some more water? You know, seeing as you look so pathetic and all."
So nice of him to notice. "You're offering to get me water?" I rasp suspiciously, eyeing him with vague distrust. Since when does Mr Super Narcissist himself stoop so low as to perform the menial tasks of his assistants?
Naru shrugs. "No, I'd get Lin to do it," he says casually, mouth twitching at the haughty huff he gets in reply. "But you don't mind Lin doing things for you, do you?" he asks, a touch of something or the other in the undercurrents of his tone.
I'm careful to cough twice in his direction before summoning enough energy to say pointedly, "Well, it's not as if you'd care enough to do things for me."
"Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into so much trouble, no-one would have to go out of their way to help you."
"Hey, I didn't ask to be a psychic or have latent sensitivity or whatever," I snap, annoyed. "It's not my fault I can't control what happens in my dreams."
"True, but haven't you noticed that in every case we've worked on, you've suffered one mishap or another?" His mouth twitches again. "Did you smash a mirror or something as a child? Seven years' bad luck…"
"I did not smash a mirror," I retort, voice squealing as I strain my throat. "So what if bad luck follows me around? They're just accidents, that's all."
Naru pauses to rub his chin thoughtfully. "Either you're naturally clumsy – which is very probable – or bad luck does indeed follow you around, as you said. Maybe I should get Lin and Takigawa-san to ward off the evil bad luck particles around you – have them perform some ritual to cleanse your aura and all that."
I suddenly have a terrible mental vision of Lin-san and Monk-san dancing around me in ceremonial robes and chanting stuff, real rain-dance, praise-the-totem-pole style. I shudder and shake my head firmly. Ouch. Bad images, bad images. "Er, I think I'll pass on that offer," I say wearily.
"Fair enough," Naru says, tossing his hair back offhandedly, "Just don't expect anyone to save you the next time you fall or do something equally stupid on a case."
"Funny you should say that," I answer back bitingly without thinking, "because aren't you the one who's always there to help me when I 'fall or do something equally stupid' when we're on a case?" The words are meant to act as some sort of barb, but all they do is support everything that he's said in the past few minutes. Yes, people always have to help me because I drop down wells and get chased by phantoms and monsters – but isn't that just one of the job's hazards? No, none of the other team members have fallen into as many sticky situations as I have. I attract danger like honey attracts flies. But then… Naru's always there for me. Whether in person, or in my dreams – he is always there.
"I am, aren't I?" He's looking at me frankly and I get the distinct impression that he's assessing me for something, for something in my reaction. I cough and turn my head away from him, tensing when his hand catches and tugs my jaw back round to face him.
…What are you doing…?
My eyes roll upward to watch as he reaches out another hand and lightly brushes it against my hair, moving the strands out of my line of sight. I am made strangely aware that my laboured breathing scratches the air around my open mouth and that every sharp intake of oxygen has my throat burning, burning, burning, so heated that I can't tell the difference between the hotness at my neck and the hotness at my cheeks. Naru's fingers graze delicately against my forehead and I close my eyes to simply… absorb. It's strange how Naru exudes a feeling that expels a lifetime of difference to the feeling I have around, say, Lin-san. I think back to my time with him earlier tonight. Gone is the sense of steadiness and stability, the syncopated rhythms of a heartbeat and the strength of a grounded will. Gone is the security of a firm arm, replaced by the whisper-soft flutterings of fingertips on sensitive skin. The feeling seems refreshing, raw… unfelt. It's unexpected. It's different. It's nonsensical.
Absorption doesn't seem to be enough.
"Naru…?" I hiccup at the worst possible time and the tips of his index and middle fingers rake my scalp lightly. His eyes flash at the unexpected increase of skin contact.
"Look at this." He removes his hand from my head and shows me something. I blink hurriedly then frown.
"What the heck is that?"
He laughs at me then, the sound breaking through the mounted layers of tension in the room. "It's glass, idiot," he says, though not too unkindly. Emphasis on the 'too'.
"Glass?" He nods, reaches out to extract more of the glinting fragments from my hair and displays them all against the pale flesh of his palm. I notice that there's dried blood on some of them and immediately rub around my skull to find the wound that might have produced such a macabre selection of broken glass pieces.
"There's no wound," I murmur faintly, brushing back my hair wondrously. "I'm not bleeding anywhere."
Naru pushes the fragments around on his palm and says, "They're obviously from the car crash. You made impact with the windshield with the front of your head, yes?"
"Yeah, but how could glass from my dream transfer to here, in real life? Nothing like this has ever happened before…"
Naru shakes his head, disagreeing with me. "Remember when Hara-san was trapped by Urado in that secret room?" he asks, tilting his head speculatively. "You gave her your key, right? And you gave it to her through your dreams; why should it be so strange that a spirit can give you something in the same way?"
As usual, he's right – when has he not been? – and I sigh. "Well, I gave Masako a lucky key," I grumble lightly, "and what does my ghost give me? A bump on the head and a few bits of broken glass, not to mention a free round of suffocation on top it all off. Great."
"Well, he's dead," Naru states bluntly. "What did you expect? A little piece of his coffin? One of his rotted teeth to remember him by?"
I grimace distastefully. "When you put it that way, I guess I prefer the bloody glass," I admit. "What does it mean, though? As I said, it's never really happened before."
"It probably shows that the spirit's making a lot more of a stronger connection with you," Naru offers. "Though, whether that's a good thing…" He stares at me for an extended moment then makes a satisfied sound and gets off the bed.
"I'm going to find Lin," he announces, straightening his pyjamas. He's still holding onto the pieces of glass and I reign myself in before I tell him to be careful to not cut himself. He glances my way once more before he goes. "You sure you don't want that water?" he asks, his voice more mellifluous this time.
"No," I assure him slowly and he nods.
"Your loss," he says, before walking out and leaving me to bask in the early morning silence, with nothing but my elusive thoughts to keep me company.
"Morning's should be made illegal," Monk-san mumbles through his cup of tea, the dark circles under his eyes seeming more pronounced against his pallid skin. He looks and acts as crappy as I do, though why becomes quite apparent when I tax him mercilessly about what happened with Masako and Sayuri last night.
"She had some sort of vision," he reports to me drowsily as Naru interrogates the very girl next door at the same time. "I couldn't really get anything solid out of the girl until she started channelling some the spirit's thoughts and stuff…" He pauses to take a long draught of tea. "It was a bit boring – like 'Boo hoo, I'm dead,' that kinda stuff. So, I thought he was one of those spirits that couldn't get over the fact that they were killed. Anyway, I tried to get him – was it a him? – yeah, so I tried to get him to tell me who he was, but he kept banging on about a 'her' and to 'save her'. I thought he was talking about you, but you were already awake by then, so it couldn't be you."
I get up and pour Monk-san some more tea. The ghost didn't seem to be that upset about dying, I think to myself silently. He was more concerned about being forgotten… "You said the ghost was upset about dying," I reiterated thoughtfully and Monk-san nodded his assent. "What do you usually do with ghosts that can't get over their deaths?"
"I could do it the nasty way and tell them straight out to 'Get over it!' or do it the nice way and send them off to spirit therapy." Monk-san makes a face at me and sits back in his seat with a sigh. "Look, I'm no spirit-psyche expert. I just exorcise the damn things before they cause any more harm to humans."
I set a fresh cup of tea down in front of him. "Well, I have yet to see you perform a successful exorcism," I bait him lightly. He narrows his eyes at me and gulps down more tea.
"So," he says, steering the conversation away from failed exorcisms and such, "what do you think about the 'secrets' and stuff, eh? It all sounds a bit dodgy to me…"
I shrugged, lowering my eyes to my hands clasped on the table. "I'll talk to Sayuri once Naru's finished speaking to her and Masako," I say decisively. "Maybe there's something she's glossed over in the details of her history, something she forget to tell us which could help ease the case along."
"Maybe," Monk-san agrees, though without much conviction. He pushes his cup of tea away and leans across the table towards me, reaching out a finger to prod my nose. He means for the gesture to be affectionate, but there's a hardness in his eyes that I can't really see past and it makes me slightly nervous. "Now that we know that the ghost may have a little issue with being dead and all, I want you to be extra careful around him in your dreams, ok? As far as I'm concerned, the dead dude needs to be ghost-busted as soon as possible – but until we get rid of the little critter, you need to take extra care of yourself. Are we clear?"
I crack a wobbly smile at the former monk, who's wagging his index finger at me warningly. "And here I thought you were just another hysterical worrier," I say warmly. "You're usually the one who kicks up a fuss in situations like these; what's brought on the change?"
Monk-san snorts and taps me on the nose again. "I'm too tired to be hysterical," he sniffs, sounding a bit miffed. "Plus, I'm trying my hand at being serious – like Naru." He furrows his brow and pouts, pretending glare at me. "How does this look?"
"Like… a demented fish."
We laugh and joke for the next hour or so. At the back of my mind, I keep pondering about the case and the feeling that I've abandoned it nags me all afternoon. It's not until Ayako and John get to the house, late that afternoon, that everyone focuses their energy on one goal – solving the case. Only, Naru and Lin-san are out 'researching', so it feels as though a rather integral chunk of our team's missing.
I pick up my clipboard and pencil. Temperature readings are calling out to be taken and I allow myself to be towed to the nearest room by a grumpy Monk-san, as Masako and Ayako head off elsewhere. John tags along with us.
"So," the Australian says brightly, his fair hair and white smile shining a beacon through the dim light of the afternoon, "what have I missed?"
Monk-san and I share a dark glower before grumbling out an explanation of our current situation in varying degrees of non-enthusiasm.
The first crazy occurrence of the day (not counting my dream, of course) happens around four o'clock and when it does, I'm in the middle of talking to Sayuri about her family history. It's not at all very interesting – no funny deaths, no vengeful relatives, no pets – and just when I decide that it's not worth it to carry on pursuing the subject, a picture frame comes plopping off the edge of the bookcase and collides with the floor below. It bounces once off the wood and lands a few metres shy of where we're sitting. In the beat of silence that follows, I slowly curl my fingers into my palm and dig my nails into my skin. My fingertips are uncomfortably cool.
"That's the third time this week," Sayuri mutters darkly, dislodging herself from her seat and padding over to pick up the frame. "It's always the same one…"
I throw out an arm to stop her before she goes any further. Her words trouble me, and I think it's not a matter of coincidence that makes the same photo fall over three times in one week. "Maybe I should check it out first," I offer, already striding forward to inspect the potential note from beyond.
"It's a picture of you and Michiko," I declare after prodding it suspiciously with the tip of my finger. It's warm, like it's been lying in direct sunlight for too long – impossible since the day is about as gray as cigarette ash. I pick it up, wincing when I see that the glass has completely smashed over the photo, wrecking the pretty scene that it depicts.
"It's broken," I say unnecessarily, handing the frame to Sayuri, who sighs and runs her finger over the glass. I start to tell her to stop, but she's already gasping in pain, a little cut running a thin line of blood across the surface of her skin. "Ow."
"Here." I hand her some tissue and she wraps it around her finger.
"Sorry," she apologises, "I didn't think about what I was doing… God, I'm being so stupid."
"It's fine," I assure her. "Are you ok? Do you need me to fetch your first aid kit?"
"No, it's ok – I…" She trails off forlornly as Michiko lets off a wail from her room. "Ah, Mai-chan, excuse me…"
She brushes past me, pushing the broken frame into my hands and rushing down the hall. I make to follow but something about the object between my palms makes me stop. I raise the bloodied picture to my face and gaze long and hard at the photo. Nothing strikes me as odd about the happy pose that the camera has captured beautifully in the heat of a bright summer's day – there's a smiling Sayuri, cradling a new-born Michiko in front of the very house that I'm standing in right now – nothing's out of the ordinary or of cause for concern in the original photo… I squint and hold the frame away from me.
There's one crack in the glass that covers the picture, making it seem as though the actual photo itself is broken. More than that, though, is the fact that the fracture is centred right at the top of Sayuri's pale forehead, spreading fragmented lines of discord throughout the length of the frame. Her blood dribbles lethargically along the cracks, crimson rivers gurgling from the peak of a crack skirting across Michiko's whole body to form a network of veins that crisscross over the dissected surface of the ruined picture.
The voice echoes in my head as I drop the frame. Then, Sayuri's clear voice shouts loud and urgent over the din of the ringing in my ears.
. File 8 .
"Godammit, John! Why don't you just hit them with your goddamn Jesus Stick?!" Monk-san swipes the air in front of him with the tennis racquet, which, by now, is broken beyond repair. John winces at the former monk's choice of language and lands another blow at the onslaught of glassy objects with his bat, aka the 'Jesus Stick'. Splintery shards explode in all different directions like a glittery transparent bloom of fireworks.
"Takigawa-san," he gasps as he ducks an additional drinking glass comes whirling his way, "I would prefer it if you didn't use the Lord's name in vain…"
Monk-san swats away a recipe book that's making a beeline for where the sun don't shine. "What, I can't say 'Jesus Stick'?! Why's that rude?"
Ayako suddenly backs up against him, fending off a violent array of chopsticks. "You idiot," she says heavily, pausing just long enough to smack him on the upside of the head, "For starters, it was Moses who had the stick, not Jesus. And second, don't say 'godammit' or 'goddamn' in front of a priest!"
"…Hey, wasn't Moses the one with the ark and the animals?"
"That was Noah!"
Monk-san rubs his chin thoughtfully. "That's not what it says in my Bible…"
Ayako dispatches a tea cup with a huff. "You're a monk…!"
"So? Jesus and those lot were all very interesting people – I'm sure Buddha would've been great buddies with them." Monk-san turns to John and throws him the tennis racquet. "Right," he grunts with a smirk, "gimme the goddamn Moses Stick already! I wanna work me some miracles!"
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to any 'Jesus Sticks' – they belong to dear Mr Eco in LOST, and nor do I own any 'Moses Sticks'. They belong to the said dude in the Bible… and, coincidentally, I don't own anyone or anything out of the Bible. If any of the names were wrong, please do correct me – I haven't attended a Sunday school session ever since they didn't let me play Jesus in the church play. So what if I'm a girl/Grumbles angrily/…
A.N. …And we are now one more step closer to getting to the root of all this hoo-ha! I'll put a tentative estimate of no more than 5 more chapters until the end of the case. Maybe 6, if I feel like babbling (which I do quite often… /grin/).
Reviews are like getting A stars in my exams. Now, if I had as many A stars as I did reviews...
Thanks for reading.