Psychic Assassin
By Diane M Dawson
1
I was washing dishes after dinner when I realized that THIS is the ordinary life I always wished for…
But that’s not really the truth is it?
I still feel that specialness, that knowing, that I am different and , oh so capable, even still, of actions and projections beyond even the ordinary’s imagination.
I never cared, and I still don’t, who would know of my deeds or that I made a lot of money from them. I cared about the doing of it-to the best of my ability.
Was I ridiculed by some, Yes. But I was also praised as a god, revered and worshipped.
Over the millennia I have been known by many names-all lost to a forgotten history. I’ve never written of them nor spoken of them before today.
Why today? I want it known that there are entities that exist that can easily do these things and that these entities do NOT include anyone famous or of notoriety-they, we, are not invisible but are the unseen.
There are stories of what was done, and of the archon directing things to be done. All read and told as fiction, fantasy, mystery, lore, legend. My stories are ongoing and some are written in this book.
2
I looked in the mirror one last time to make sure my lipstick hadn’t smeared. Ruby red was the color and it suited my pale skin and dark hair.
I am wearing the only suit I had, dark blue gabardine, fitted jacket, a-line skirt with a hidden slit on the left thigh sheathing ample hips and breasts. Yes, this would do for the task at hand.
My meeting today is with a man who shared a table with me at an airport coffee shop. Even though I know that these types of encounters never happen by accident; I was intrigued by the business opportunity he presented during our ‘what do you do’ exchange.
I did, of course, vet him-his addresses-business and home, and what I could learn from the Internet and a quick visit to the premises. No glaring red flags.
The building wasn’t on a main street but on a cross-street near the center of town. Suite 1000 is on the 10th floor I was about to step from the elevator into the room when I realized-the entire building was transparent. What I mean is, I could see the ground 10 stories down and the sky above this floor. I couldn’t move; Sam was walking toward me.
He said, “Come on in”. “Into what?” I said. “Don’t worry, this really is solid, I’m standing right here”. And he was. There was a solid surface, as I looked closer the sunlight was reflecting off of it in places.
I stepped into the room. Yup, there’s a floor. I looked back to the elevator, as soon as the elevator doors closed I could see through to the building next door.
It took me a minute to realize that from the outside the building looked and felt like a brick and mortar structure. But from the inside it was completely transparent. I mean everything was, the ceiling, walls, floors, fixtures, furniture, at this point I was assuming there was furniture…
I turned to him awestruck. “I know”, he said. “It’s something isn’t it. “Yes”, I said. “No secrets here”. “Precisely”, was his response.
And this is how it began.
(C) COPYRIGHT Diane M. Dawson 2022