Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series) Read online

  Melanie S. Pronia

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  Melanie S. Pronia

  Allrightsreserved.

  ISBN-10:1461131111

  ISBN-13:978-1461131113 PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica Copyright©MelanieS.Pronia2011

  CoverArtbyDawnPronia JOURNEY OF SOULS is self-published by Melanie S. Pronia using the services of CreateSpace.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Excluding the names or places mentioned in the Foreword, this book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my beautiful mother for her endless encouragement. Thank you mom, for never telling me that writing was just a useless dream, you have encouraged me every step of the way and this book wouldn’t be possible without your love and support. I love you.

  Foreword

  While, Journey of Souls, is a work of fiction, some of the characters and places are authentic. Grace Sherwood who was accused of Witchcraft in Virginia Beach, Virginia was pardoned by Governor Timothy Kaine and the state of Virginia on July 10, 2006, on the 300th anniversary of her conviction. Personally, the Ferry Plantation House has always fascinated me and I did experience a similar feeling to what Justine experiences in feeling as if she were called and pulled to the home.

  The Kingsley Plantation is a real locale and a former estate in Jacksonville, Florida. The historical events that are explained in the novel, may or may not have happened, there has been some dispute. Sadly, the Kingsley Plantation is one of the few plantation homes still standing in the state of Florida.

  Public School Number 4, also known as, Annie Lytle Elementary School, does exist in a sad, decaying state, just below the interchange of Interstates 10 and 95 in Jacksonville, Florida. The building is huge and you can see how beautiful she once was. To locals, School 4, is known as the most haunted place in Jacksonville. Unfortunately, Annie as I like to call her, has been used by vagrants, and minors dabbling into the occult. Whether or not the school is actually haunted, depends on whom you ask. There are no legal documents within city hall or the Duval County Schoolboard that explain why the school was closed. It’s a mystery, no one actually knows, but there are many theories. Maybe that’s why I love it so much?

  Enjoy,

  Melanie S. Pronia Prologue May 1975

  "I'm going to kill him." His controlled voice defied his swift walk. She ran up to him and grabbed his arm, yanking him back, turning him to face her.

  "No!" Her voice came out in a strangled hiss. "I told you, it's not worth it, he's not worth it. He's gone now, everything is okay." Ethan stomped and walked away from the woman, then stopped and turned to look back at her.

  "Why?" His eyes were incredulous, "Tell me why?"

  Lila stared at him, loving him, understanding his reasons and hating her fear of them.

  "Because it would do nothing but cause a lot of grief. Because then he would win. I'm fine, so what, he smacked me. I don't care. I am okay. I still have my son. Why should you care?"

  He turned and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and glared into her eyes, hating that she didn't understand him, hating that she didn't know how much he loved her,

  "Because, damn it, I love you and I love the baby! Because that man hurt you, hit you, touched you! Because, damn it, he deserves to be destroyed."

  She shoved his hands off of her, and glared just as furiously back at him.

  "As long as I have my son, I don't care. I love you, and you love me, why make matters worse? Why can't you just let it be?"

  "Fine. You let me know when you care enough, because I don't think you really do. He's harmed what I consider mine, and yet you tie my hands. Why?" He stared at her, the hurt flooding his eyes, reflecting the hurt in her own eyes.

  "Ethan you need to learn to pick your battles. This is one neither of us will win. What's been done is already done. There is nothing either of us can change about that."

  "You let me know when I can be your man, when I can take care of you and the baby, when it's okay." Ethan knew his words didn't make sense, his anger seemed to be controlling his words, overwhelming his emotions for her.

  Lila again stared at him, knowing that he could feel her, knowing how much he was hurting. He paused putting his hands on his hips as though he wanted to say more while staring straight into her heart and then turned to walk away.

  "Ethan?" Her voice nearly pleaded as he walked toward the large gathering of people sitting around the bonfire. She watched him snatch up a beer as the pretty young woman smiled up at him, invitingly. She saw what she dreaded the most.

  Chapter One May 2004

  Justine ran down the wooden steps of the outdoor stage with a paper copy of her hard earned Masters Degree tightly gripped in her hand. Her eyes glowed with pride, her smile seemed to encompass the world. After shaking her favorite professor's hand, she ran directly to her mother, with her arms held wide open expectantly. Alice gave her a short hug that was more indulging than affectionate.

  "So now you have a degree to go run around like crazy chasing sounds that go bump in the night, just like your father wanted to,” she sighed, “but at least he was wise enough to do it only as a hobby." Alice paused, and seeing the crushed look in Justine's eyes, she offered a weak smile and said,” I just hope you don't regret this a few years down the road as much as I think you will. That should be a degree in music in your hand."

  "Mother, this degree is important to me, and as you know, I already have a job to start on Monday." Justine tried hard not to whine, but her mother's words, as always, knew exactly how to cut her the deepest.

  "This is just nonsense Justine!" Alice Ramsey snapped at Justine, who had started to walk toward her car. Alice walked quickly, to keep up with her daughter. Justine turned her head and stared at her,

  "Mother, I never thought on the day of my graduation you would be disappointed in me." Justine's green eyes dipped in sadness. "I'd think you'd be proud." Daddy would have, she wanted to include but didn't.

  Justine turned her back to her mother and stomping away angrily, continued across the field. It shouldn't surprise her she told herself, that her mother could easily manage to cast a shadow on a beautiful day. Despite her mother's harsh words, Justine forced herself to keep her head high and be proud of herself.

  For a moment her mother just stood still, watching Justine march off. Her retreating back only revealed her light burgundy graduation robe which was a lovely contrast to her chestnut hair. Alice could not detect the dashed hopes she had seen in her daughter’s eyes.

  Sadly, Alice turned away, knowing that once again her words hadn't been right, once again she had hurt her only daughter. She decided she would just go home and have some wine. She would make it all better the next time she talked to Justine.

  *****

  The next morning Justine was almost too busy to sulk over her mother's lack of support and happiness over her degree. She was starting her new job today. Her new boss was Conroy Pekins, not exactly renowned, but still a very experienced

  Parapsychologist expected her to be there at noon. Briefings started at noon everyday unless otherwise notified, Conroy had told her, while advising her not to be late.

  Justine was both excited and terrified. Today she would meet the team and go out on her first case with them.
She would finally be able to use the degree she had worked so hard and given up so much for. For the time being, she had entirely forgotten about her mother’s opinion on her degree of choice.

  For a moment, Justine panicked. She had absolutely no idea of what to wear. She had, of course, worn a professional suit for the interview. But what was the normal attire while one was chasing ghosts, she wondered. At that thought, the giggle sprang to her eyes as she carried her coffee along and looked through her tediously organized closet.

  Justine was lost in thought when the ringing of the phone brought her out of it.

  "Hello?" She asked, even though she had read the Caller I.D. and knew it was Sheryl Rollins, her favorite pain in the butt and best friend.

  "So, you get to go chase ghosts and get paid for it now! I'm so jealous!"

  Both women laughed for a moment. "Sheryl, I have no idea what to wear."

  "Hmm…well it’s field work, right?" Sheryl asked.

  "Yes, I guess so." Justine replied uncertainly.

  "Wear slacks then, and a nice blouse."

  "Yeah, that'll it work, but what about shoes? What if I have to run?"

  Sheryl couldn't contain the giggle in her voice.

  "You mean, in case you get chased by a ghost, right?" both women could no longer suppress their laughter. By now, Sheryl’s call of support had bolstered Justine’s confidence.

  Two hours later she slowly walked into the entrance of Spectrum Industries. The outside of the building was a tired non-descript brown. But the second Justine entered the front doors it was all shining glass, tropical plants and skylights. There were brass sculptures that would likely not be considered mainstream art, but were so mysterious and inspiring that they held their own captivating allure.

  As Justine passed a tall, striking, dark haired man on her way to Conroy's office, she exchanged a shy smile with him. Conroy looked up as Justine pushed open the door, his glasses perched on his round nose. Conroy Pekins had a keen intelligence that was blatantly deceptive under his dull brown eyes, round face, and sluggish body. He was standing with a piece of paper in his hand that he appeared to be reading.

  "Justine, come in." He gestured to one of the empty seats across from his mahogany desk. Selfconsciously, Justine sat while Conroy continued to flip through the file in his hand. Finally, just when she thought he might have forgotten she was there, he sat down and gave her a quick smile.

  "Sorry, we got two new cases in today and one of them is quite bizarre." Justine simply smiled back, not sure how to respond.

  Conroy came around from his desk

  and quickly looked Justine up and down.

  "Tomorrow and everyday after, you wear jeans and comfortable sneakers to work. We don't need any broken ankles," he said, pointedly staring at Justine's two inch high black suede boots. Justine blushed nervously.

  "It's okay, Justine, I should have told you about our dress policy when I hired you," Conroy smiled compassionately, perching his large hips on the edge of his desk.

  "Are you familiar with the old Timberbrook Train Depot?"

  Justine had to think for a moment before replying. "The one off of Interstate 10, downtown?" she said, hoping to sound more confident than she actually felt.

  "Yep, that's the one. We have received several reports about strange noises and lights." Conroy turned to a bulging filing cabinet, extracted a thin file and handed it to Justine.

  "Tonight around five, I want you to go down there to the depot with your handheld equipment, and document what happens for me." He stared at her intently, noticing her agitation, as he waited for her acknowledgment.

  "Will I be working with the team?" she asked, trying hard to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

  "Nope, this one is all for you, kiddo. I like to send my new P.I.'s out on their own for their first case. No violence of any kind has been reported at Timberbrook. Just remember to have your cell phone with you, but leave it turned off while you're not using it. Good luck."

  Conroy gave Justine a dismissive look. She quickly stood up and started to exit the room, not sure how to proceed. Five o’clock was a long time from now. Justine turned back to look at Conroy. "Anything I should be doing until then?" He glanced up at her in irritation.

  "Enjoying your day." His voice was stern until he noticed the confusion in her eyes.

  "Justine, you're a salaried employee, there will be days when you work long hours, when you are called in at 3:00 in the morning, and days like this. Enjoy them while you can. Just report back to me at ten tomorrow morning unless you hear from me before then. Have a nice day."

  *****

  At ten minutes to five, she pulled into a field in front of the old Timberbrook Depot. Letting the Chevy idle with the air conditioner rattling quietly, Justine grabbed her equipment bag, which was actually a high quality backpack, and made sure for probably the hundredth time that she had everything she needed. Three flashlights, various sized extra batteries, the Spectrum-issued cell phone, a 35 mm camera loaded with infrared film, a digital camera, compass, magnetic detector, note pad,

  handheld digital audio recorder also known as an EVP recorder, EVP’s are electronic voice phenomena that can not be heard by human ears, a digital thermometer and an EMF meter, which reads electro magnetic fields and can decipher when they are higher than they should be which can be an indication of the paranormal.

  Justine was both excited and more nervous than she was willing to admit. She slowly stepped out of the brand new Chevrolet Malibu that she had spoiled herself with as a treat for earning her Masters Degree. It was metallic teal in color and handled like a dream.

  Justine stretched to her full height and looked around, not sure if she was delaying the investigation purposely or not. It was early May in northeastern Florida, dusk was still about two hours away, but the heat was dissipating a bit. It was still too early in the season for the humidity to be too overwhelming. Justine put her equipment backpack on her shoulder, keeping a few tools out and easily accessible by hanging them around her wrists or neck. She took several digital photos of the outside perimeter of the building. When she glanced at her thermometer, it was still 82 degrees. Justine gathered herself and took a deep breath as she entered the wide, arching entrance of what must have been a beautiful train station in its high time.

  The coolness of the building was both inviting and alarming as she stopped at the entrance to look to the right and then to the left. Instantly, she knew she was being watched, and quite curiously so, for she could feel the penetrating weight of the stare. Justine raised her eyes up to the rotting wooden rafters and couldn't help wondering, which was more frightening: the chance of a ghost appearing or the fact that the unstable, decaying building could collapse at any moment.

  A gust of cold wind suddenly took Justine's breath away; the moment was so abruptly intense that it was almost physically painful. Grasping her chest, and reaching for her camera, she knelt to one knee. Quickly her eyes darted around the room desperately searching. Justine fumbled for her magnetic detector, which was spinning wildly out of control.

  "The strength of the entity is extremely strong, but still no visual confirmation," Justine spoke quietly trying to sound calm as she dictated into the recorder she had clicked on with her other hand.

  A cold wind snapped Justine out of her thoughts. She shivered against it, suddenly feeling

  overwhelmed with the sorrow that commonly accompanied ghosts who have passed too soon. Once again, she thought of how simple it was to sit and play the violin in comparison to hunting down ghosts.

  Timberbrook had been shut down for over thirty years and yet Justine strongly sensed that she was surrounded by a whirl of activity, almost as if people hurriedly headed off and on the trains either

  commuting home or heading out for a day in the city.

  The dilapidated building stood mammoth and empty, excluding the cobwebs that danced with the spring breeze as it rushed in through broken windows. Justine willed herself
to gather her courage and do what she had come to do. It was her job, and an honorable one, to find out if the place was indeed haunted, as it had been reported by several people from the surrounding neighborhood.

  Justine grabbed her camera, pulling it up to her eyes as she spun around slowly trying to find something, see something, anything really, so she could take note of it and leave.

  The shutter of the camera lens jammed when Justine tried to click it open. In frustration, she shook the camera roughly, exclaiming words that would have sent her mother's heart into a panic.

  Suddenly, she stopped short in her angst. Eyes. She felt them. There were eyes on her, the vivid blue of the sky, and unsettling with their unmistakable age and wisdom. Justine jumped back in panic, scrambling for a wall to butt herself up against. At the moment any type of defense seemed acceptable. A loud click shattered the silence of the building, echoing off the walls as Justine's camera lens finally popped open. Justine jumped, gasping in pure fear as panic rolled over her in waves.

  Then her ears picked up at the free, jubilant laughter of a child. Looking up from her camera, Justine stared into the pretty, but very pale face of a deceased young girl. The little girl simply smiled at her, her eyes dancing with a light that should be reserved for the living.

  A white light that emanated from the girl was the only sure sign that she was actually a ghost. She looked so alive, so human. The light from the entity radiated around her, growing and extending until it included Justine in its icy embrace. Justine simply stared as the smile died on the little girl’s face, and her eyes, once ripe with life, grew serious and deep.

  The girl raised a small, pale hand to Justine. "Follow me, I will show you."

  For a moment Justine simply stared at the ghost,

  not sure if she was simply losing her mind from all of her recent stress, or if she had landed in some warped world where anything goes. She was, however, surprised to realize that she was not afraid of the girl.

  Justine stared at the thin, small hand in front of her. It wasn't quite solid, yet it wasn't transparent either. It looked like water, a stream of crystal clear water that was self contained in the shape of a hand but it didn't drip or run. Throughout her life, Justine had the 'gift', as some called it, to see 'things' that most did not understand or were skeptical of. She had seen ghosts, more than she wanted to remember, really. But she had never seen such a realistic ghost, and she had never been spoken to by one either.