Death by Distraction

Posted on Mon 11th Dec, 2017 @ 3:18am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD
Edited on Mon 11th Dec, 2017 @ 3:25am

524 words; about a 3 minute read

Halloween Night/All Saints' Day Morning

I have to say, tonight was the first time I ever directly witnessed a murder. Just as when Lt. Anthony died right next to me on the Warspite, I was not fond of the experience, and this time I didn't have the minds of any goal-focused aliens to immerse myself into. So I went splat on Chlamydia Addams' dining table.

You would think a stiletto through the neck wouldn't hurt that badly, but it was agony. I couldn't breathe. I felt as if all the air were rushing out of my lungs, and I was transfixed, staring at a pair of rather shapely breasts as I lost all feeling and connection to my body, just before everything went black.

I hate psychic shock, I really do.

Anyway, I came home after the party, put on a pot of jestral tea, drank it, and wrote down everything I remember of the experience. The victim didn't exactly expect to die; he was sure he could talk himself out of it, right until he saw the flash of the blade from the corner of his eye. I have to give it to the killer--Way to distract your victim!--if he or she prefers women, anyway. And a very clean, precise attack.

I wonder who the victim was and how long ago he died? He was so caught up in the moment and so determined to share it with us at the séance that I got no real sense of his identity. Or rather, I could pick him out among millions by his personality, but I didn't get his name. Frustrating, that. It would be nice to be able to report something to Security in hopes of finding the killer. I got the distinct impression of organized crime about the whole thing.

Then there is the other issue that concerns me--Chlamydia.

Something is not right. She was grieving at that séance--and then, suddenly, she wasn't, as if the grief had never existed. The next thing she felt was confusion. I am debating how much to pry into that. I presume she was grieving for the man who we saw being disintegrated in the crystal ball--except it didn't feel like the grief one feels for a lover. It wasn't lonely grief; it was heartbroken grief, the sort one might feel for a beloved child or even for a pet. The sense of loss was stunning, even after I re-established my barriers.

I'm going to think about this for a while. It doesn't seem to be affecting Chlamydia's ability to do her job; she's wonderfully brilliant at what she does. It is worrisome to me that she appears to have suffered some deep tragedy that she doesn't remember. But as long as she is not feeling troubled by it, I believe the best course is to leave it alone for now and observe. If she comes to me for help with it in the future, then we can explore it. In the meantime, I see no reason to open a box merely because it is closed.

 

RSS Feed