It was a cold day of December when I started to work
as a P.D.; but not the usual definition as such. I am a Paranormal Detective
hence the P.D. on my card of presentation. It may appear as a stupid idea but
when you appear on the phone guide next to important detective names they
assume you are serious business. That morning I received a call from a girl
with an extremely agitated voice. It sounded interesting as a first case on the
morning on a Sunday, not very interesting, but I was low on my finance and I
accepted. I took a bath, dress as formal and serious as I could, a gray shirt
and a black vest, some old dark jeans and I was ready for her.
She appeared in front of my door wearing a heavy
yellow jacket; it appears that sky decided to let the flush run free. I offered
her a hot tea or coffee; she smiled barely as she took sit in one of the old
arm chairs on my study room. Her eyes were dancing from right to left and vice
versa in my office. She finished the tea and started to speak on a soft tone
filled with fear I sensed. She started to tale a tale of an ancient curse affecting
her family. I lost myself in the red of her lips. The important things I could
grasp were two things. The ancient corridors of the university where she
studies and a strange trail of sand that appeared every time the “thing” was
felt.
Now on my field of work that trail could have been
left by many things. Many more than I formally known but everything needs to be
checked before preparing for an open assault. A magician is capable of doing
almost anything with enough preparation; but things rarely go as planned.
