Home > Novel (Fiction) > Realistic Fiction > Even Ghosts Can't Save Us from Over-Salivation > Chapter 1
Even Ghosts Can't Save Us from Over-Salivation
Author's note: What would it be like, to not be able to trust your own mind?
Hope's CaseGorgeous, the sun radiated warmth across the waves. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Rolling claws curled in onto the beach, frothing and churning. Light danced off the water. Alona sighed, leaning over the railing. Travis came out through the back door and leaned on the porch next to her. The buzz of excited tourists floated from the other side of the building, slowly quieting to a hum in the crystal twilight.
“Alona, Travis, it’s not closing time yet. Now get in here!” Cassandra’s
“You would think the bums could walk down to Powell’s or something,” she would laugh, thrilled about the extra business. Her freckles popped in the summer, a fact that Evan pointed out every morning without fail. A blush would creep across her face, and she would tuck her red hair behind her ear. This morning, though, she had seen hide nor tail of her friend.
Hope was a worrier. She worried, sometimes for absolutely no reason, but when something was wrong, she knew it. It had always been a gift of hers. For example, when her family had run late coming home from Tillamook, she had been worried out of her mind. Charity had argued that maybe the traffic is bad or the factory ran out of Liam’s favorite ice cream and Derik just had to get him that ice cream and that they would definitely be home tomorrow. But after a day, Hope had left.
She searched everywhere, but the police had found her husband and son before she had, and once the autopsy man concluded that it was murder, there was nothing more to do. Hope sold her house in despair, and moved to the ocean. The ocean. The only place in the world where she had been completely at peace before, and Liam’s immature, mangled body still crawled painfully into her bloodstained dreams. Her secluded house, up high in the hills, was the perfect place for a short, out-of-shape, bookish woman who was hanging onto her sanity by a thread to live. Silently, as she fell asleep every night, Hope wished that the killer would find her. These wishes found her during the day once the police pronounced the killer’s case “cold”.