~~EXCERPT~~
Overton Manor Poltergeist
Clairsentient vs Poltergeist
Copyright 2015
CHAPTER 1
"For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to
smell out-of-the-ordinary things. Imagine
being able to sniff out lies, scent intense emotions, and smell ghosts, demons,
and other paranormal entities… This ability is called clairscent or clear
smelling. Because of this paranormal skill, I am considered a clairsentient,
and the sense of psychic smell is the most rare of clairsentient supernatural talents.”
“Lucky
me,” said Fiona Delacroix after a pause. She lifted on shoulder in a rolling
shrug and shot a sheepish smile in the direction of the dot of red blinking
light out in front.
“Here
in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, our team will be investigating paranormal activity at
Overton Manor. I’m Fiona Delacroix, I’m sixteen, and I want to welcome you to
Haunting Reality’s Clairsentient versus Poltergeist episode.”
From
behind the camera, the rest of the team applauded.
Cheeks
flushed warm and heart fluttering like sparrow wings under her chest, Fiona
dropped her head. Thank goodness that was
so over with. The intros for the feature shows were the hardest for her.
Except for the episodes showcasing her abilities, for the most
part, she was able to just be herself and use her talent, while ignoring the cameras.
From
the brick-fronted, two-story Overton Manor, the backdrop of the scene they’d
just shot, a so-not-natural foul scent wafted.
“Hey,
gang, there’s a bad smell,” she aimed a thumb over her shoulder, “oozing out of
the manor.” Sniffing, she tried to describe the odor as close to normal smells
as she could. “It’s like burnt popcorn with a hint of boiled cabbage smell
underneath.” Nostrils flaring, Fiona wrinkled her nose. “From the smell of it, what’s
inside is going to stir up a real stink.”
“Now,
that,” the show’s host and producer clapped his hands in loud slaps, “is the
money shot I was anticipating.”
Ducking
her head again, Fiona glanced over her shoulder at the looming structure and
gulped against the phantom smell clogging her nose and the fist-sized wad of
dread stuffing her throat. Head lowered and long, purple-tipped hair curtaining
her face, she hurried to join the group and braced against the menacing sense
of foreboding snail-crawling down her spine.
