Mystery, and Fashion
Can this diva solve her own murder?
Or will she stay in limbo forever...
Download the first three chapters of Jaclyn's Ghost:
Jaclyn's Ghost chapters 1 -3 by Dorlana Vann.pdf
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After recovering from the shock of seeing her own dead body, (still
dressed to kill from last night’s party) fashion model, Jaclyn Jade,
discovers she’s a ghost with a choice. She can either immediately go
back to Hell, do nothing and stay in limbo, or find the reason she fell
short of grace and advance to Heaven.
Because she was murdered, Jaclyn hopes that finding her killer will
unravel this mystery. With the help of a timid closet-psychic who can
speak to the dead, and a handsome, yet arrogant, ghost of a man from the
roaring 20s, her search for answers initiates a quirky journey of
self-discovery. Personalities, eras, and worlds collide as this mismatched
trio race against time to solve the mystery of Jaclyn’s Ghost.
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Another One Bites the Dust
Jaclyn Jade felt the sensation of a trillion tiny needles prickling just
beneath the surface of her skin. She opened her eyes to darkness. "Why am I
standing on my bed?" Gradually, the tingling faded, but the overwhelming
contentment made it difficult for her to shake the suspicion that something was
terribly different. She squinted and blinked her eyes as she searched her
bedroom for answers.
The room seemed normal. Even the earliest of the morning brought an orange
glow through her sheer curtains; obviously, she had woken up in the middle of
night. Jaclyn‟s scan stopped abruptly when she spotted an unfamiliar
six-foot silhouette in the shape of a man. It moved, causing an involuntary
shriek to burst out of her mouth. As she attempted to run, she stumbled over a
huge lump in her bed and fell, face first, onto the floor. She recovered to her
feet in a flash, turned to see what she had tripped over, and then dashed out
She stopped in the hallway, right outside the bedroom door, already doubting
what she had seen. No one followed her out. "Stupid." After a moment,
she put her hand on her chest trying to regain her composure. Oh
man, I slept in my party dress. "Keten‟s
going to kill me."
"I didn't mean to scare you."
Jaclyn looked up to see a man standing right across from her. She sucked in a
deep breath and responded appropriately with another piercing scream and ran
back into her room.
"I know you‟re confused," the man said from behind her.
"If you will give me a moment, I can explain everything."
She looked for something to use as a weapon. "If you don‟t get the
hell out of my house this instant," she cried and turned around, "you‟ll
be explaining everything to the police."
The intruder stood in the doorway, his face covered by the shadow of his hat.
If I can just get over to the table by the bed, I can get my phone. However,
as soon as her focus drifted toward the bed, the heap that had caused her to
trip earlier grabbed her attention. Is
someone under there?
"What‟s the last thing you remember?" the man asked from the
doorway. "Give yourself a moment. It'll come back to you."
She had to force herself to concentrate. Frustration and fear made it
difficult for her to rummage through her memory. I
feel so strange. "Why can‟t I remember
All of a sudden, as if someone had smacked them into the back of her head,
her memories of the night before emerged. "The party," she blurted.
"That‟s it, the champagne." She nodded her head in satisfied
realization. "I just partied a little more than I should have. Keten must
have brought me home and just stayed over. He does that all the time. I must
have been sleepwalking and caught you in the middle of, who knows what. I
suggest you disappear before I wake up my boyfriend and he—"
"Pretty shoes," the man said and nodded toward the bed.
"I say, your boyfriend sure has pretty shoes."
Jaclyn stared at the foot that stuck out from under the blankets. When she
recognized the shoe, she looked down at her own feet. She wore the same exact
pair of pink, pointy-toed sling-backs. Not Keten. Did
a friend, who was wearing the same exact shoes, come home with me? She
would have noticed that before. She would have remembered shoe duplicity.
"OK," she said. "That‟s it. I've got to get this over
with." She took a small step toward the bed.
"Poor bunny, are you sure you want to go over there?"
Jaclyn stared at the stranger. Nothing made sense. He wore a black jacket
over a double-breasted vest and dress pants. Clearly it had been bought off the
rack, but still, it was a bit much for a burglar. She also wondered why he hadn‟t
left when he had the chance. If he wanted to hurt her, why hadn't he even tried?
The way he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, he almost seemed to
be amused by her chaos. "Did someone hire you to pull a prank on me? Is
that it? Are you an actor? Just tell me what‟s going on and who‟s in
that bed, and maybe I‟ll tell the cops to go easy on you."
"If that‟s truly what you want." He held up his hands and
took a couple of steps inside the room.
"Now you‟re starting to piss me off. Just tell me who is in my
He grinned. "It‟s you. Well, the former you. You see, now you‟re
you, and that‟s just a body."
The man stood a handshake away. Jaclyn tried to ignore the hazy luster around
him—too much to think about at that moment—but she couldn't disregard his
attractive face, his square jaw, and his deep black eyes, which at that moment
seemed insanely sincere. "Oh... my... goodness."
"I know... it‟s really crazy."
"No. You‟re psychotic." Without giving herself another chance
to chicken out, Jaclyn marched over to her bed and tossed back the bedspread.
Her mouth fell open as she took a step back. It’s
just a trick. It’s just someone who looks a lot like me and went to a great
deal of trouble to play a joke. She had the same long
dark hair, the same skin tone, the same nose and the same... everything.
Jaclyn decided to wake the imposter and tell her to take her boyfriend and
get the hell out of her apartment. But when she reached down to shake the woman,
her hand went smooth through the shoulder like it was made of smoke. She jerked
her hand back immediately and took an apprehensive breath.
"It‟s screwy seeing yourself like that." She heard the man
She stood there, examining her body in the bed as a calm embraced her.
"Why am I not freaking out? Shouldn't I be upset, screaming, and freaking
"When you die, the psychological need for your physical body ends. You
instinctively know that you don‟t need that body anymore."
"I look really pitiful," she said. "What happened? I‟m
not sick or anything."
She looked around to see if she noticed any hints as to what took place. She
eyed the phone, close enough now that she could grab it and call someone if she
wanted, and laughed to herself. Who? What could she say? She noticed a container
of pills and a bottle of champagne beside the phone on the nightstand. She tried
to pick up the pills. Yet again, her hand had no substance and went through the
bottle. "Ahh, this is driving me crazy. Can you pick those up?"
The man stared at her blankly, and then a small, concerned expression seemed
to grow across his face. "What?"
"Something‟s wrong with me. Would you mind?" She moved out of
the man‟s way so he could get to the table. He inched his hand really
close to the bottle and then snatched it back again.
"Oh, just forget it," she said.
"I‟ll get it." He grabbed the bottle and studied it, turning
it one way and then the other.
"Well? Does it say what they are?"
"No. There‟s no marking of any kind. The torpedo must have left
them. I apologize. By the
time I arrived—"
"Hit man, assassin, hired gun… torpedo."
"Hit man? That‟s ridiculous. I've accepted every ludicrous thing
you've said so far, but now you‟re actually trying to tell me… what?
That I was murdered?"
"You must have your share of enemies." The man nodded as he looked
down at the body in the bed.
Jaclyn stared at the man, not believing his gall. "Wait... who are you,
and why are you in my house?"
"The name is Logan Smith."
"OK... and why are you here?"
"I live here." Logan crossed his arms as he leaned back against the
wall. An arrogant smile appeared on his lips as well as in his eyes. "Just
your friendly resident ghost."
"As in boo?"
She ran her hands through her hair and exhaled in defeat. "Well, that
would explain your glow."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Does that mean I‟m a ghost, too?" Jaclyn looked down at her
hands. "I look the same."
"But you‟re not."
Jaclyn thought about it for a moment. OK...
I’m a ghost. This warranted sitting down, but when
she went to sit on the edge of the bed, she fell through to the floor. She just
stayed there with her head poking up through the mattress. She crossed her legs
under the poof of her cream-colored gown and sighed as she considered her
demise. "You're wrong," Jaclyn finally said. "I don‟t have
any enemies. At least not ones who would want to kill
Logan sat on the bed. "Then, it‟s a mystery."
Jaclyn glared at him. "How did you do that? How come you can sit on the
"There are things you‟ll have to—"
"And where the hell is my light… and tunnel and stairway to
"It‟s complicated," Logan said. "Well... not really.
Some people go straight to Heaven and others, for some reason or another, are
She stood up and faced him. "Rejected? You‟re telling me I didn't
make it into Heaven. What then? You can‟t seriously be saying I‟m
"Hello," a man‟s voice spoke from behind her.
Jaclyn shook her head and turned around. What
now? She had her hands on her hips, ready for combat,
but was ambushed by the new man‟s appearance. His beauty rivaled Logan‟s
is this? An audition for a Calvin Klein ad? She opened
her mouth to protest his intrusion, but her voice turned out to be just as
"Give her a break," Logan said. "She just bit the dust."
He stepped beside Jaclyn and then gestured to the new arrival. "May I
introduce Charles Charles."
"Charles Charles?" Jaclyn said, coming out of her trance.
"I‟m taking her now," the man said.
"Taking me? Taking me where?" Panic caught in her throat. She had
just found out about this rejection thing and needed more time to process what
"Exactly where you should be, Butterfly... Hell."