Day One - Josh

"THE PERPLEXING PATH OF ABIGAIL HERANT" is a cooperative social media choose-your-own-adventure from Leani Lopez, Angie Low-Ryder, Maria Neal, Josh Simonds, and Isaac Vars. All five of them will be rotating their posts daily, continuing from where the story left off on the day prior, based upon YOUR reactions.

That's right - YOU and everyone else who can see these posts can determine what path Abigail takes over the course of the next month. Stay tuned for each day's installment!

There was a knock at her door.
She didn't have time for this, and as she crunched her ice between her teeth, she closed her laptop.
"Yes, Tess, what is it?"
Tess never waited for an answer before barging in, and Abigail had long ago stopped trying to get her to wait. Tess's wild red hair splayed out from her head like an atomic explosion: bright, invasive, and most potentially radioactive. 
"Boss, we just got a phone call. Sounded kinda urgent," Tess said in her typical drawl.
"Aren't they all urgent?" Abigail shot back, internally AND externally rolling her eyes.
The years were wearing on her. This job wasn't for the faint of heart, nor for the weak of stomach.
"Yeah," Tess parlayed back immediately, "but this one sounded REALLY urgent. Like, really really." Her eyes widened like a scared wild animal. 
"Give it to me," Abigail said as she pushed back from her desk. The dust motes kicked up by Tess's entrance floated lazily in the air, caused by her intrusion. 
Abigail knew it was going to be a long day, and it wasn't even past 9 AM yet. Her iced coffee sat half-drank on her desk, tears of condensation languidly making their descent on the outside of her cup.
The heat was a killer this summer, but you know what they say:
If it's not the heat, it's the stupidity.
And there wasn't going to be any shortage of that today, Abigail had a suspicion.
"Okay, get this," Tess said, holding her message pad. "This woman calls, absolutely FRANTIC. She sounds like she's about a hundred years old but man, is she fit to be tied." Tess twisted one of her red curls around her fingers in that nervous tick that probably curled her hair in the first place. Probably saved her a ton at the salon.
Tess kept on twisting. "She says her dog was FLOATING. As, like, in the AIR," Tess continued, as if floating could mean anything else. "Her dog, a pomeranian, has never exhibited anything weird before today. The woman thinks it has something to do with the digging that started across the road from her yesterday, and anytime her dog floats, it speaks." Tess paused. "She told me some of the things the dog was saying, and Abigail, it sounds scary. It sounds like exactly what we went through back in 2001, right before, you know..."
Abigail knew what she was talking about. The falling towers, however distant, were still in her mind like it was yesterday. 
Abigail's heart began to race, but she stared at Tess cooly. "And you told her we're a paid service? That we're not a charity?"
"Yes, I told her our fee," Tess replied. "She said she's willing to pay it, even double it if that's what it takes to get this dog-" Tess looked at her pad. "-Bambi taken care of. She's convinced her dog is possessed."
Double our normal fee? Abigail considered. Bills were tight and people weren't knocking the door down to procure her services. 
But she had her appointment at the local elementary school coming up. It wasn't every day that the local principal called and wanted her opinion on the problems they'd been having at the high school. Lockers opening and closing for no reason, chairs flipping over in the cafeteria with no apparent cause. He was worried, as some of the kids were beginning to miss days of school because they were scared. The principal had, according to him, hours of footage to show her, all of footage no one in the school administration could explain.
As if reading her thoughts, Tess said, "But your appointment with Principal Dexter - you know how urgent that is. Kids are missing school. The reporters were circling yesterday, taking statements from the kids after school. This could get real bad, real fast."
Abigail stood up and grabbed her jean jacket off the back of her chair. It's never an easy day in the life of a paranormal private investigator, and today wasn't looking any different.
"I know which one I have to take care of," Abigail said. She looked over Tess's shoulders, at the sign hanging on the wall. It read, in bold letters: 
"SPECTRE DETECTORS - Private Paranormal Investigators." 
It was the name of the agency her father had left to her, following in her old man's footsteps after his misstep - and untimely death - in the forests of Scotland. 
Under that, the agency's tagline: Believing You When No One Else Will, since 1953.
Abigail left the office quickly, without saying goodbye to Tess. She turned down the short hallway outside her office, and headed for her car.
👍 LIKE THIS POST to have Abigail visit Bambi and her owner.
❤️ LOVE THIS POST to have her keep her appointment with Principal Dexter.

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