Klara: A Short Story
“Yes, I have lived her as long as I can remember.”
Klara grimaced a little at his next question. It was not like she was hated by the town. In fact, Klara had a fairly decent reputation within the town with the farmers, Innkeeper and the Mayor. No, she grimaced at the fact the townspeople were the ones to worry about. He was concerned, rightfully so, about her when Orin should be focused on them.
“Well, the local farms would say that I am very helpful and a hard working. The Mayor would say I am studious and keep my nose in too many books. The Innkeeper would say I can handle my alcohol.” A cheeky grin spread across her pale face.
“As for everyone else? Well, contrary to what myths about psychics say, I am not a mind reader, sir.” She shrugged
her shoulders and leaned back slightly in her chair. Every psychic was as unique as the snowflakes that fall from the sky. Maybe some could read minds, but her training went down a different path. With a touch she could judge a person’s aura - just like she did when she bumped into the investigator early that day. Klara could see visions in candle flames, which was why she stocked up on candles. Lastly was the death sense. Sometimes they would be so intense that she saw someone else’s death like Mr.Beck. Klara can sniff out danger like no other. Which may or may not have been a good thing.
“You ask so many questions, allow me to ask one.” Klara did not wait for permission. “Why do you think Mr.Beck got killed?” The Psychic needed to test his competence.
Klara grimaced a little at his next question. It was not like she was hated by the town. In fact, Klara had a fairly decent reputation within the town with the farmers, Innkeeper and the Mayor. No, she grimaced at the fact the townspeople were the ones to worry about. He was concerned, rightfully so, about her when Orin should be focused on them.
“Well, the local farms would say that I am very helpful and a hard working. The Mayor would say I am studious and keep my nose in too many books. The Innkeeper would say I can handle my alcohol.” A cheeky grin spread across her pale face.
“As for everyone else? Well, contrary to what myths about psychics say, I am not a mind reader, sir.” She shrugged
her shoulders and leaned back slightly in her chair. Every psychic was as unique as the snowflakes that fall from the sky. Maybe some could read minds, but her training went down a different path. With a touch she could judge a person’s aura - just like she did when she bumped into the investigator early that day. Klara could see visions in candle flames, which was why she stocked up on candles. Lastly was the death sense. Sometimes they would be so intense that she saw someone else’s death like Mr.Beck. Klara can sniff out danger like no other. Which may or may not have been a good thing.
“You ask so many questions, allow me to ask one.” Klara did not wait for permission. “Why do you think Mr.Beck got killed?” The Psychic needed to test his competence.