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The Firefly Hours (A Silas Sharp Metaphysical Mystery): Chapter 10

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  Chasing Fireflies by Follow Themoonart Chapter 10 – The First Warning There's a difference between danger and consequence. A thunderstorm isn't dangerous. Standing beneath the tallest tree in the county while holding a metal rake is. The ocean isn't dangerous. Choosing to wade into a rip current when you can’t swim is. People have a habit of blaming places for decisions they made inside them. By Saturday evening, I'd begun wondering whether the Firefly Hours were dangerous or not. The oldest resident on Willow Lane was a man of eighty-six years named Arthur McCreary. A retired high school principal and widower, Arthur lived alone in the only ranch-style house that predated the subdivision by nearly thirty years. Developers had simply built around him. His house sat stubbornly among the McMansions like a man who'd refused to wear a necktie to a black-tie dinner. The paint was peeling. The porch sagged. Something resembling a vegetable garden occupied most of ...
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The Firefly Hours (A Silas Sharp Metaphysical Mystery): Chapter 9

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  Finse and Jonsey's Night of Fireflies by Sonja van der Wijk Day 9 – Not Ghosts People are surprisingly confident about ghosts. Some believe they're restless souls needing pass to the other side. Others insist they're nothing more than wishful thinking from the living who miss their loved ones. Dr. Calico Verde says a ghost is a consciousness that has lost its future. Personally, I've found certainty to be one of the least useful tools in an investigator's kit. Ghosts, if they exist at all, should know they're dead. Whatever was happening on Laurel Lane didn't fit that description. Harold Whitcomb still worried about trimming his hedges. Ben still challenged Tommy to bicycle races. A little girl still wished for a puppy every evening before blowing out six birthday candles. None of them behaved like people trapped between worlds. They behaved like people who still belonged to one. Just not this one. Saturday morning, I arranged my notes on a white...
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The Firefly Hours (A Silas Sharp Metaphysical Mystery): Chapter 8

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  Chapter 8 – The Boy on the Bicycle Children rarely begin a story where adults expect. Ask a grown-up about the worst day of their life and they'll usually start with the event. Ask a child the same question and they'll begin with breakfast. The important parts are different. I found Tommy Martinez sitting on the curb outside the neighborhood park tightening the chain on a bicycle that looked as though it had survived three owners and at least one regrettable encounter with a pickup truck. Tommy couldn't have been older than ten. The story give to me in my research sounded like the tagline for an artsy horror flick that people debate about online: "Kid says he rides bikes with someone who's been dead for thirty years." Tommy looked up as I approached. "You the detective?" "That’s what my business cards say.” "Lily said you'd probably come,” he said, returning to his bike chain. "I hope that's a good thing....
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