Please help me welcome Linda Andrews to the blog today!
I love
the paranormal genre. Anything is possible. But my favorite types of stories
are those that involve ESP, or extrasensory perception. Maybe it's not as good
as flying or immortality for some. For me though, this extra sense takes an ordinary human and
puts them in jeopardy. Not just from their opponent, but has the potential to
make them an outcast from the human family.
Life is
hard enough without wearing the freak cap at the party.
Here are
the more popular kind of ESP:
Telepathy--reading
someone’s
thoughts. While this might seem like a fun superpower, society functions due to
a delicate balance between truth and subterfuge. Think about it. You know the
phrase little white lies is around for a reason. And for the record, not
telling someone is a lie of omission. Besides, I scare enough people as it is.
If they knew what I was thinking, they'd run screaming away in terror.
Precognition:
seeing future events. Now this one is really cool. Anyone with this power would
surely be a wall street bazzillionaire by now. But with the good comes the
bad--do you really want to know when your friend is going to get sick and die
and not be able to do anything about it?
Psychometry:
gaining information about someone by touching them or something they've possessed.
Now this one I like. Plus, you can control it by wearing gloves. Of course as
this is similar to telepathy you run into the same hazards.
Clairvoyance:
seeing events occurring at another location. This is my favorite kind of ESP
for suspense/mystery novels, especially when it makes the heroine a target for
the killer. But like the others, these insights would probably occur at very
inconvenient times and cause all sorts of complications.
Sensitive/Medium/Psychic--these
people can see and talk to the dead. By far my favorite paranormal novels
involve dead people (I'm sure most would see that as a cry for help). I love
the idea of ghosts, of life after death and sticking around to look after those
we left behind.
Alas, I
don't have any of these abilities. In fact I usually tell my family that if
they want to get my attention while I'm writing, they might want to rent space
on a billboard and get bright neon arrows to point at it. While my loving
family might think me oblivious, I've had psychometry and psychic abilities
through my characters.
If you
had to pick one ESP, what would it be?
Leave a
comment with your email address for a chance to win an electronic copy of Ghost
of a Chance.
Please check out Linda's new release BRIANNA!
Love, lies, and an ancient Egyptian curse. Brianna Grey
holds the key to mankind's destruction and someone is willing to kill for it.
Having spent most of her life dying, one man's kiss has resurrected her desire
to live. For US Treasury Agent, Duncan Stuart, love means death. He works
alone, lives alone and plans to die alone until he meets Brianna again. Under
the harsh Egyptian sun, Duncan will break all his rules to save her but will it
be enough to overcome the secrets that could get them both killed?
Excerpt:
“Brianna, can ye hear me?” Panic fed the primal rage bucking
through Duncan. He bound the fury. A treasury agent had nerves of tempered steel, control of iron. A white lock rested on her pale
cheek. Peppermint-scented breath slipped past pink lips. She was fine. She had
fainted, nothing more. Nothing more.
Yet she had not wakened.
“I had thought she would be accustomed to violence,
especially after the tales she told of Arizona.” Miss Phillips’s whine sliced
through his musings.
A man had been murdered, poisoned in front of a roomful of
wealthy, influential witnesses. August would have been the likely suspect—it
was his valet, after all. Except, he couldn’t have known his servant would be
in the room, let alone would drink from the glass. So who was the intended
victim?
He laid Brianna on the plush carpet and knelt beside her. He
brushed her bangs out of her eye, sweeping aside the feather headdress.
And who was the poisoner?
He might have spied something if he hadn’t dallied over his
evening dress, and what had his delay accomplished? Not a bluidy thing. His
hair still stuck up a little in front. As for the noose around his neck, he
could feel the ends brushing his jaw.
“Damn it, Brianna, wake up!”
“Señor Stuart?” Esmé pried apart the Van Sargents. Worry
pinched her features, increased the pitch of her voice. Two men in ship’s
uniform squeezed through behind her, parting the assembled crowd. An elderly
man in a somber suit appeared and set a black bag on the table.
Ignoring the newcomers, Duncan leaned close to Esmé’s ear.
“Has Brianna eaten anything tonight?”
Shock flashed in her brown eyes. Her gaze flicked to the
corpse before meeting his.
“No, señor. The dinner, it has not been served.”
He nodded. Relief flooded him.
“I believe she has fainted.”
“There are smelling salts in our room.”
“Get them.”
“Are you a doctor, sir?” Curry and garlic permeated the air
as the elderly man who’d arrived with the ship’s crew creaked to a stop beside
Duncan. He leaned over Brianna with his ear near her mouth. “Peppermint,” he
whispered, straightened then peeled the glove off her left hand. His index
finger settled comfortably against the inside of her wrist. “An admirable heartbeat.”
“I’m nae a doctor.”
“Hmm, yet your prognosis is undoubtedly correct.” The man
peered at Duncan over the gold rims of his spectacles. “The ladies do like to
lace tightly, don’t they?” His Adam’s apple bobbed in the wattles of his
throat. “Smelling salts should set Miss to rights. You’ve sent the companion to
fetch them, hmm? ”
“That won’t be necessary.” Sir Reginald stepped forward.
“Mrs. Van Sargent, the salts, if you please.”
Duncan grabbed the small glass bottle—he didn’t trust the
missionary any more than he did the others. Glass scraped glass as he plucked
the stopper free. Ammonia invaded his nose, stripped the moisture from the back
of his throat. Definitely smelling salts. He shoved them under Brianna’s nose.
She winced, turned her head and coughed. Her eyes flickered
open.
“Duncan. Wh-what happened?”
“You fainted.”
“You are very much mistaken.” She shoved herself into a
sitting position, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and straightened
her bodice. “A Grey does not faint.”
“It’s alright, dear.” Mrs. Van Sargent tucked the bottle
back in her purse. “I daresay, if Mr. Stuart hadn’t caught you you would have
crashed right into the table.”
Movement caught his eye. At the doctor’s nod, the burly
crewmen lifted the body. Duncan shifted his weight to block Brianna’s view. Her
lips parted; her eyes grew round. He had acted too late. She had seen the
corpse.
“That man.” She pointed to the blanket-draped body with her
bare hand. “He...”
“He’s dead, dear.”
“Choked to death,” Van Sargent added with relish.
“Such a terrible tragedy,” said Miss Phillips, dabbing her
dry eyes.
“Sir Reginald doesn’t think it will prolong our stay aboard the
<i>Osiris.”
Duncan’s skin crawled as Mrs. Van Sargent beamed down at
them like a goddess spreading her benevolence.
“But he—“ Brianna’s nails dug into Duncan’s arm.
”Choked to death.” He kept his voice firm, his tone final.
Brianna had been around death most of her life, was intimately acquainted with
most of its faces. He wouldn’t allow her knowledge to get her killed.
For more information about Linda's books visit her @ http://www.lindaandrews.net/
Interesting post. Probably Clairvoyance
ReplyDeletebn100candg(at)hotmail(dot)com
Sorry to be late for my own party. The Labor Day holiday really threw me. Thanks for letting me blog today.
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome! Glad to have you :-)
DeleteI don't think I'd care to have ESP. "Real" people already think I'm weird because I talk to imaginary people. No sense giving them something else strange about me. Does being an empathic healer qualify as ESP? That's one I might like to take out for a test spin.
ReplyDeleteVery cool. How would an empathic healer work?
Delete