Underground Spirit: Queer Ghost Stories, #6

By Foxglove Lee

"Transgender Psychic Fights for Ghost Rights!" 

When a local tabloid gets its grubby paws on Whitney's story, she doesn't know what to do. Is she trans? Sure, and a lawyer to boot. But is she also psychic?  Not really.  Except that the ghost of a girl who died in a gruesome escalator accident has been following her around town. When a handsome banker comes to the young lawyer's rescue, can they figure out why this dead girl won't leave Whitney alone? Or will the terror never end?

Queer Ghost Stories are standalone tales that can be read in any order.  Download Underground Spirit today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rainbow Crush
• Release date: May 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463564387

Foxglove Lee

Foxglove’s fiction has been called SPECTACULAR by Rainbow Reviews and UNFORGETTABLE by USA Today!Foxglove Lee is a former aspiring Broadway Baby who now writes fiction for children, teens and young adults. She tries not to be too theatrical, but her characters often take over. Her debut novel, Tiffany and Tiger’s Eye, is set in the 80s and features an evil doll!

Book preview

Underground Spirit

Queer Ghost Stories

By Foxglove Lee

Chapter One

Whitney’s stomach growled as she approached reception.

Too bad there was only one way in and one way out of the law firm where she worked.  Back when she was a student lawyer, she’d served time in a much larger firm.  There, lawyers could slip out the back unnoticed.  Here, she had to contend with Norma’s nosiness.  Almost made Whitney wish she’d brought lunch from home. Except that she was a truly hopeless cook.  Couldn’t even make a sandwich without setting the curtains on fire.

If she wanted a bite from the food court in the underground, she would have to pass by Norma.  No other option.

So she got out her phone and pretended to be engaged in a highly lawyeristic conversation.

That’s right, she said loudly as she tromped past Norma’s desk.  I’ll be sure to fax that signature to you ASAP.

Whitney! Norma said in a stage whisper. 

Yes, I’ll get right on that.  Whitney went on with her fake conversation.  The client will be informed post-haste.

Norma stood from her chair, waving both arms over her head.  Whitney!

Whitney pressed the elevator call button. Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.

Whitney, hang up! Norma pleaded, speaking at full voice now.  Don’t go down!  It’s important!

Important? Could be a genuine client call.  That would certainly be more important than a fake one.

Okay, Whitney said to no one.  Thanks for calling.  Talk to you later.  Bye-bye.

Norma continued to wave her over. 

The elevator opened and Whitney almost got in.

Whitney, Norma pressed.  Get over here.  This is serious.

Tucking her phone in her purse, Whitney returned to the receptionist’s desk and asked, What’s going on, Norma?

That! Norma said, pointing to the television mounted in the corner.  It was tuned into the 24-hour news channel, but the partners didn’t like the idea of newsy noise pollution, so the volume was on mute and closed captions raced across the screen.

Whitney should have known better.  Norma was cutting into her lunch break, wanting to chat about some stupid thing on the news.  Why oh why hadn’t she boarded that elevator?

Well? Norma asked.  What do you make of that, eh?

Whitney hadn’t made anything of it yet.  Her stomach twisted into a knot of hunger.  But when she looked at the television, there was a familiar scene behind the broadcaster.  She recognized his surroundings.  She passed by there twice a day, getting to and from the subway.

Is that...? Whitney mumbled.

It’s right downstairs! Norma told her.  Girl, you won’t believe me when I tell you.  You know the escalator between the atrium level and underground?

Of course.

Lady on there wearing a long scarf, scarf somehow gets caught in the escalator, starts strangling her, she can’t get it off, drags her down into the mechanism...

Whitney was suddenly thankful she had no food in her stomach.  The lady... this lady... is she okay?

Whitney knew the answer to that question even before Norma said, She’s dead.

Good Lord.  Whitney took a seat in the waiting area and stared at the TV. On the news channel, she could see the familiar escalator blocked off and forensic investigators scurrying around to collect evidence.  They’d obviously removed the body already, but Norma’s description painted a graphic image in her mind.  Oh, that poor, poor woman.  You would think... you would think there’d be fail-safes in place.

They’re looking into all that, Norma said.  Seeing if maybe the escalator hadn’t been serviced in too long, all that sort of stuff.

Whitney breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so nauseated.  She wasn’t good with blood, even the thought of blood.  This was really too much.

Maybe I won’t go downstairs after all, Whitney said meekly.

Norma seemed to understand, because she said, I’ve got a box of soda crackers stashed in the kitchen.  Why don’t you go munch on those, eh?  Settle your belly for now.

Thanks, Whitney replied, offering Norma a gracious smile.  Maybe the receptionist wasn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Two

At the end of the workday , Whitney packed up her things.  She was bringing work home, as always.  Tonight she felt especially weak from lack of food, but every time she thought about eating, her mind switched over to the image of this complete stranger with her head caved in, scalp chewed up, hair matted with blood. 

Oh Lord, what an