Tacora - Navaura Campbell (online e reader txt) 📗

last night, there was no sense of safety. Even when she'd managed to drift off around four thirty that morning, just two hours before she had to get up and get dressed for school, she still felt afraid. When she came into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, her mother greeted her as she sat a bowl down at one of two empty place mats. Her father had already left for work before she'd even gotten up.

“Good morning Tacora. Did you sleep well?” Her little sister greeted.

Tacora swallowed sharply and turned sleep deprived lids to her younger sister, “I slept fine Debra.” She turned her attention back to the bowl of cereal. All she could think about is the creepy vision she'd had last night, if you could call it that. It took every ounce of physical energy she could summon to dip the spoon into the cereal and pull it out of the bowl and up to her mouth.

“Good morning my sweet.”

She yelped, dropped the spoon and her chair made loud skidding noises across the floor as in panic, she pushed herself from the table.

“Honey, are you alright?” Her mother inquired, a concerned expression displaying over her features. Tacora's eyes darted around the room for a second, her heart pounding in her chest. Exhaling shakily, she sputtered, “I...uh...I...”

Her mother furrowed worried brows at her, “Sweet heart...”

Just as she spoke, the door bell rang. Debra stood up, “I'll get it.” She pushed her chair out and ran toward the front door.

“Honey. Are you alright?” Cynthia could see the look of confusion and fear on her daughter's face and saw it in her hands. “Did something happen last night while I was gone?”

“Hi, Mrs. Johnson,” Jean greeted them as she walked into the kitchen, Debra following behind her.

“Hi Jean.” Mrs. Johnson greeted back.

“Hey Tacora. What's up?” Jean inquired, sitting down at a table next to her.

Tacora took this time to gather herself and push her fear down.

“That's what I was asking her.” Mrs. Johnson stated, looking at her daughter with motherly concern. She had a cup of coffee in her hands. The white coffee cup sat on the glass table.

“I'm fine.”Tacora stated. “I guess I just was startled that's all.”

“By what?” Her mother wanted to know.

Tacora shook her head, “I just...dozed off I guess.” She stood up, grabbing her bowl.

“You dozed off? How can you doze off when you just woke up?” Her mother inquired. Tacora shrugged her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I had a hard time putting my thoughts into perspective last night, so it was difficult sleeping.”

“Thoughts about what?” Her mother wanted to know. “Did something happen while your father and I were gone?” She inquired, beginning to feel a sense of disquieted agitation.

Tacora shook her head, “No. I just had a lot on my mind. I'm ok though.”

Cynthia watched with a concerned expression as Tacora grabbed Debra and both girls left for school.

 

On their way to school, Jean noticed that Tacora was quiet the whole time. Her lips were pursed in a tight expression and her brows creased with worry. She also noticed that Tacora's body was stoic. It was like she was stuck in time. “T- are you alright?” She inquired, concern etching her features. Tacora inhaled sharply, reluctant to answer, afraid of what her friend may think of her once she told her what had happened the previous night.

“Come on T- I know this is not like you, so something must be going on.”

Tacora paused in her steps and stared up at her friend, her gaze troubled, her body now trembling. She cleared her throat, “Last night...I was washing dishes...” Her tone trailed off, still not sure if she should tell her the truth or not.

“Yeah, you were washing dishes...” Jean baited.

“And I saw...saw the killer.” Tacora stated, her words rushed.

Jean placed her hand over her mouth in surprise, “Seriously?”

Tacora shook her head, “Yeah, I mean, he was on a beach and he was digging another grave...”

Jean narrowed her brows. “Wait a minute. You saw the killer over a hundred miles away from your kitchen?”

Tacora nodded her head, “Yeah...It was a premonition.”

“Come on T- not that psychic shit again, you know it give me the hee-bee-gee-bees.”

“Jean, you know I'm not a fake. I'm not. Remember that time I told you about your grand mother?”

Jean put her hands up to her face, “Yeah, I remember.”

Tacora stared at her best-friend, who'd donned a pair of blue jeans, a long sleeve black sweater and a pair of sneakers to ward off the cold that had come early this fall. Her long dark hair brought back into a pony tail. Jean was a beautiful wispy light brown color that was native to her Persian- ancestry.

“Well, I saw the killer through a premonition and I think he's coming after me.”

“What do you mean you think he's coming after you?”

Tacora exhaled sharply, “He's coming after me. I'm not sure when or how long it will take him to find me, but he will.” She cleared her throat, her gaze frantic on her friend's eyes. Jean could see the fear in them. “Tacora, I think you should tell somebody.”

“Tell them what? Tell them that I have a strange connection with the guy who's been going around killing young girls and that I don't know when, but he is coming after me?”

Jean sighed, “You need to tell someone.”

Tacora shook her head no. “I have a feeling he's not human, Jean. He's not from our world.”

Jean felt chills course down her arms. “T- Look, let's just finish our walk to school. I'm really not interested in this conversation. You're starting to freak me out.”

“I'm not trying to, but you know I'm not a fake and I don't go around making up things like this. I saw that man burying a hallow grave by a beach and I know it was a beach because I could smell the water near by and hear the sand crunch beneath his feet as he walked. He carried this girl to a pier and burried her there and while burrying her, this...thing...communicated with me.” Tacora ran her hands down her arms to shield them from the chills that once more coursed through her spine that morning as they reached the busy street located right in front of their school. Both girls waited for the cross light to turn green so that they could shuffle across the street and into the warmth of the building.

 

Jean flickered her gaze over to her friend. She was right. No one would believe her if she told of the events from the night before. Even Jean wouldn't believe that her friend was being truthful if she hadn't seen with her own eyes how gifted her friend truly was. Tacora had a visual gift of seeing the unnatural or the future, or what ever you wanted to call it and until a year ago, Jean herself had not believed her until her Grandmother had passed and Tacora had told her a week before of the vision that she'd seen of her grandmother falling accidentally from the roof her home. Jean hadn't spoken to tacora until after her Grandmother's funeral because she'd thought Tacora had been playing a cruel joke, but it turned out to be the truth. Remembering this, she couldn't help but feel sorrow at her friend's pending fate. She wanted to make sure that she went to the police and let them know what she saw last night, even if it meant that she would sound ridiculous doing so. “Tacora, I think you should go to the police.” Jean blurted out to her as they reached the school steps and took them toward the double doors that were painted a solid blue with black paws on the inside for their school mascot Ruff the bull dog.

Tacora grabbed one of the metal handles and pulled the door open, allowing her friend to enter first. “Jean, you know as well as I do that they are not going to believe me. They are going to think it's a hoax.”

Jean didn't deny this. “Maybe, but, Tacora, you need to tell someone what you know because...” Jean felt chills prick the back of her neck. “What if something does happen to you? No one will know how to stop it or catch the guy.”

As they reached her locker, Tacora's body leaned into it and she closed her eyes, feeling as drained as the night before. Taking her left hand, she began kneeding away the tension in her kneck. She knew that whom ever this was, they weren't going to catch him. How did you catch something that wasn't human, not from this world? As if her mind fed her the answer, she heard a voice speak loud and clear. “you didn't.”

~ ~

Three days later:

As the rain pelted the rooftop of the school, Devlin charged up the stairwell, leading to the third floor and ran swiftly, yet silently threw the halls, searching for a door, any door that would lead her safely to a hiding place. Jonathan and Michael were both not that far behind her. Jonathan had been sent around the back of the building to cut her off should she get away from Michael, who was now chasing her through the corridors of the building. The worst part about what was happening was that there was only one way up and one way down, so unfortunately for her, she had to hide and wait for one of the young men to pass her up before she could even get down the way she came.

 

However, it wasn't guaranteed that she would not run into Jonathan on the way down. Grasping the knob closest to her, she twisted, it did not open. She frantically searched for another door, or entrance to any room, but then her eyes fell on the window located at the far end of the hall. She had forgotten there was a window on the third floor, which led out to an awning that canvased a small section of the school. There was an image of their mascot snippy on the front, sides and bottom of it. This was what made Bradshaw Academy unique. The awning, was not only memorable, but it allowed the school to stick out amongst other schools in the district. Devlin knew she was safe because Brandon Wilfort had done this as a publicity stunt in front of the whole school at the beginning of the year and he hadn't broken any bones. He had however, been suspended from school after this charade. That's what the principal had called it. Brandon hadn't been seen on campus in two weeks now.

 

Devlin inhaled sharply and decided that she wouldn't allow any doubts to filter the new found courage and she'd make it to the window if it was the last thing she did. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, making sure her heels didn't sound on the tile beneath her. That was the key to running as fast as you could without sound, propel yourself forward and then sprint, never allowing your heel to hit the ground once. It took her less than thirty seconds to reach the edge of the hall where the window was, however, a figure emerged and surprised her. The last thing she saw as she was thrust onto the blade of the knife Jonathan carried, was his bright smile as he welcomed his intended target...

 

Linda Washington smiled as she looked down at another scene gloriously created by the beautiful hands that crafted such an ingenious idea from her incredible mind. She relished in the fact that she was on the school news paper and that she'd been given a nice sizable slot to do her short stories and this made her happy. As she smiled at what she'd written, she decided to leave this script where it was, just to capture the readers imagination as she'd done the previous week. Clicking on the