The Chronicles of Han Storm

Chronicles of Han Preserving Creata Book1 Cover Page ISBN 001 Web Preserving Creata

saturdayscenes Part 1 Chapter 3 preserving creata chronicles of han storm

 Han starts experimenting with his gifts and meets one of his spirit guides

Preserving Creata Part One, Chapter Three


*** Three ***


    It was not.

    I dreamt the whole night of procedures and paperwork and woke up drenched in sweat. After a shower I dressed straight into my uniform. It was a waste of time getting dressed at HQ.

    I also did not want to spend more time in the locker room than necessary, having to face people who shun me because of what I am. Driving one-handed, I finished my light breakfast on the way to the office.

    I arrived at our cubicle at exactly 06h00. Tucker was not there, neither were the case-files. I waited, at a loss as to what to do. The place seemed deserted with the shift change rush only starting at 07h00.

    Hearing voices in the passage, I went to see who it was.

    Tucker was talking to someone. The person was standing out of my view and it seemed to be a rather heated discussion.

    Tucker noticed me watching them and closed the door to the office. I went back to our desk and sat down.

    I somehow knew that conversation was about me. I had a really uncomfortable feeling regarding today. It bordered on premonition, when you knew something was going down, and it was not going to be good for you.

    I waited quite a while, trying to keep my mind blank. The way I normally do it is by visualizing a blank page. It was really hard not to let any thoughts enter that page.

    Tucker eventually joined me. He sat down, sighing. Then stared at me for so long I started fiddling. It seemed as if he was trying to make up his mind.

    “I want to go show you something” he said at long last. “Come.”

    He stood up and I followed him to our squad vehicle. This time he did not hand me the keys, but drove us in pre-occupied silence to Dunn Cove.

    Just before we reached the parking space at Dunn Cove, we turned east onto a dirt road with a huge ‘Private - No Entry’ sign. The road was in acceptable condition, indicating that it was in regular use.

    We were soon driving in a lane with brush on both sides. The brush turned into thorny brambles that grew as high as a man’s head. I could make out the spikes on a fence to our left, just beyond the brambles.

    Tucker parked the vehicle in front of giant, wrought iron gates that were bolted and locked from the inside.

    Beyond the gate was a huge facility that could have been a prison.

    Glancing over at Tucker, I patiently waited for him to say something.

    He glared at the facility with hatred.

    “I need you to understand the situation you find yourself in” he started. “This is a rehab for psychics. It is to places like these that the Government sends the ones that might be rehabilitated after cracking on the job. Post Traumatic Stress they call it.

    The specific psychic skills that you presented yesterday are extremely rare and, unfortunately, like with all rare items, very much sought after.

    What makes your situation more difficult is that you are showing incredible healing skills too. And worse, all of this without any formal training. This makes you unique.”

    I sat very still, staring at the facility in front of us.

    “I had a long, hard think last night” Tucker said. “I need you to answer my questions honestly. Can you do that?”

    Okay, so no more games, absolute open cards.

    I nodded.

    “Were you in the Government Forster Care system as a child?” he wanted to know.


    “Did anyone, at any time pick up on your psychic abilities?”

    “Yes, I was sent to a private Psych teacher for a few weeks when I was about six.”

    “The Government will probably have a record of that.”

    It was not a question. I did not interrupt his chain of thoughts.

    “Do you think your name would be flagged?” he asked.

    “I honestly do not know.”

    “Can you try and ‘see’ something regarding this?”

    “I currently work on spontaneous visions, I do not know if I can induce an event around a specific question or subject.”

    Where that mouthful came from, I did not know.

    Not from Han Storm.

    Tucker raised an eyebrow, thinking.

    “Let us hope not. In the meantime we’re going to continue as usual.”

    It was now my turn for questions.

    “How do you know so much about psychics?” I started.

    “It is my job to know.”

    I had to be satisfied with that. It probably was part of his job requirement at some or other stage.

    “You said this place is a rehab. What does the Government use psychics for? As far as I understand, psychics are taken in by the Government for training in using their skills safely.”

    “That is exactly correct. They take them in and start the training in having control over their skills. As soon as the psychic achieves the necessary control, the Government starts taking advantage of their abilities. They do not give a crap about the person, only the end-results.

    Mind reading and control through telepathy, manipulation of events, crowd control, heightened sensory perception, to name but a few. All of these are abused by the Government for their own capitalistic gain and to keep absolute control over every living entity on Creata.

    In short, POWER.

    And you. With your skills. What do you think they will give to be able to see the future?

    When I said that you are unique, I really meant that. There have been people previously with pre-sight, but that only happens once every few generations, none since the creation of the Planetary Government” he concluded bitterly.

    I was suddenly very glad that I was still flying under the radar.

    “What are my alternatives?” I wanted to know from him.

    “There are psychics in a semi-private environment. They function normally, except when their abilities are needed by their specific companies that, shall we say, sponsor them.

    These people are still considered Government property, but are so much in the spotlight and such huge investments for their companies, that it is highly unlikely for the Government to interfere in their lives.

    At the moment, you are considered a free-lance psychic, somebody that shows potential, but only came into their abilities later in life. Most psychics show abilities as children and start their training at ten, when there seems to be a sudden opening up period.”  

    It seemed to correspond with my development, so I was not so different from other psychics.

    “You said I’m showing incredible healing skills. What did you mean by it?” I asked him.

    “The old man you worked with yesterday. His hip is almost healed. The doctor said a few more days in hospital and he should be ready to go home.”

    “I really did nothing to help him heal. I just . . . took his pain away.”

    I sat thinking.

    Tucker allowed me to.

    Could it be that I somehow healed the man while taking his pain away?

    It must have been, but I had no conscious recollection of wanting to heal him, except that at the time I had thought of him as my patient. That might have been it. I turned to face Tucker.

    “And if it turns out to be true, how will that concern the Government?”

    “Think further than your nose, Han.

    Why would you need to pay doctors or pharmaceutical companies if you can have your own healer that heals by touch alone?

    Someone that can see your future and can make you well. That is the ultimate find!”

    “Are you thinking of keeping me for yourself?”

    It was meant as a joke, but it came out so innocent, I surprised myself.

    “No, but you are putting ideas in my head. Let’s give it some time and see what else you can do. Just take it easy on me.”

    We sat staring at the place a minute more before Tucker suggested some coffee at Luke’s. He was paying.



    We were pulling into Luke’s parking area when the comm crackled.

    “Vehicle 23, homicide at 1504 Mountain Drive. Tucker, uniforms already on scene but we need extra hands to secure ASAP. Please respond.”

    “Vehicle 23 responding. ETA 15 minutes.“

    We had been called out to a murder crime-scene to help control and cordon off the area.

    It was at a huge mansion in one of the better suburbs of the city and, of course, the driveway was crowded. Parking our vehicle in the street like an unwanted relation, we were directed to the house by another uniformed officer.

    A detective escorted us up the stairs to help maintain a clean crime-scene. It was not unusual for Sergeants and their rookies to be called on to help out by Homicide. The detective told me to monitor the entry to the room for unauthorized personnel. Only the coroner and photographer were to be admitted. Tucker went inside the room to monitor the crime-scene.

    A Homicide Detective was already on the scene. It was considered an initiation when a rookie is allowed to see his first murder victim and the good-looking, dark-skinned detective invited me in for a peek.

    I shuddered as I walked into the room. There was a body of a woman on the double bed, tied up, spread-eagled. Her throat, wrists and ankles were severed and there was blood all over the place.

    My physical senses took in the gruesome picture, but my spiritual senses were drawn beyond the bed.

    A stunning young woman was looking at me. She was the spitting image of the body on the bed. She opened her arms towards the body on the bed, begging me soundlessly to help her get peace. 

    I jumped as the detective touched my elbow and I became aware that he and Tucker were staring at me.

    “Sorry to have startled you. Are you okay?” the detective asked. He was looking at me in a very disconcerting way.

    As I glanced over at Tucker, I started putting things together. This was the person he had had an argument with this morning.

    “We are here by request, aren’t we?” I asked Tucker.

    “Yes” Tucker replied. “This was one of the Politician’s daughters. I know the potential of you skills. Please try to help.”

    The dark-skinned detective offered his hand and introduced himself.

    “Hi, I’m Lieutenant Racewater. I’ve had some exposure to people like you. I’m not sure how you work, but if you can do what Tucker says . . . Please. Do you think you can help?”

    “I’m not sure” I replied, releasing his firm handshake, an idea forming in my mind.

    “I mostly see things. Sometimes before they happen, sometimes during, sometimes after. But not like this. This is outside of my limited experience” I answered him.

    A black cat, covered in blood, was presented before my inner eye.

    “You saw something when we came in” Tucker prodded, seemingly having a natural instinct for these psychic things.

    “You were staring at the other side of the bed and looked as if you had seen a ghost. Care to share?” he continued.

    “What’s the victim’s name?” I asked, buying myself some time to get over the worst of my shock.

    “Cheryl Papinidis” Racewater replied.

    “She’s still standing there in the corner” I told them. I perceived her as alive as Tucker and Racewater.

    It was extremely disconcerting for me.

    “You mean her ghost?” both Tucker and Racewater enquired at the same time and stared at the corner too. They were not comfortable with the information.


    “Is she talking or communicating to you in any way?” Racewater wanted to know.

    “Not really. I wish to touch her blood, if it’s allowed.” I continued on to avoid further discussion of the stunning deceased woman. “I do not know what will happen. I just know that I need to touch what represents her life essence.”

    “Yes, okay” replied Racewater.

    Turning to Tucker he said “Close the door and stand guard, I’ll handle Storm”.

    After Tucker had secured the door, he turned back to me and nodded “When you’re ready.”

    The Psych teacher, Zane, always insisted that the left hand was for receiving and the right for giving, so I carefully dipped the fingertips of my left hand into the blood on the floor . . .



  It felt as if I was thrown back in ‘time’ to this place, approximately ten minutes or so before the actual deed happened.

    I opened the front door with a key, but my hands were manicured with red-pink nails, the same as Cheryl was wearing.

    Something, or somebody told me I was NOT her, that I was simply experiencing what she had experienced.

    This someone was screaming at me to get out of her body and be a third party.

    I did not know how to separate from Cheryl.

    For now, I was Cheryl, stuck in her body.

    I saw my reflection in the mirror – Cheryl was looking back at me. She fixed her hair and she/I went through to the bedroom.

    I felt elated and aroused at the sight of the naked young man on the bed, experiencing them coming together in an animal way, totally absorbed in their passion.

    And still I knew I was being prompted by someone, or something, to get out of the shared body memory and become an observer only.

    Being stuck gave me all the emotional and sensory experiences of the victim.

    I felt surprise when my throat was slit. It was quick, almost painless, wet and hot.

    I followed as Cheryl’s spirit slipped out of her body to observe the mutilation. I was angry at the man and I silently cursed him. A name filled my mind – and then - nothing!



    Someone was tugging at my left hand.


    I heard voices.


    The sound was distorted, as if it was coming through a tunnel.


    The gruff voice of Tucker broke through the tunnel.


    “He’s coming to”.


    It was a struggle to reclaim myself and orientate where I was.


    I opened my eyes.


    I was sitting in a bathroom.


    The photographer was busy in the bedroom . . .


    Tucker and Racewater squatting next to me.


    Tucker was cleaning my left hand . . .


    a paramedic bending over me.


    I finally focused.


    “You had us all in a bit of a panic” the paramedic told me. “You fainted in the room, smearing your hand with the poor girl’s blood. I gave you a calming agent for the shock. I’ve never seen anyone take it so bad. Women faint, but men usually just vomit.”

    I thought it a great idea, pushing Tucker out of the way to get to the toilet, depositing my meagre breakfast in it.

    As the paramedic prepared to leave, Racewater asked Tucker to take me home while he wrapped up.

    I was just too glad to leave the crime-scene, nodding to the girl’s spirit as we passed the bed, thankful that she indicated that she would stay near her body.

    We did not speak until we were inside our vehicle.

    Starting the vehicle, Tucker remarked “You gave us quite a scare. You touched that blood and went down in a heap. You were out cold and nothing we did would wake you up.

    Luckily, the paramedics arrived quickly and gave you an injection. Then they stuck some strong smelling stuff under your nose. It is unusual for someone to overreact like that. What happened?”

    I tried to explain as best I could, stating what I had ‘seen’ rather than what I had experienced myself, skipping the sex and sticking to the ‘facts’.

    I also tried to explain that this was my first vision through a deceased person and a learning curve for all of us. Next time I would be prepared as to what to expect and should be able to handle the situation better.

    “I also need a sketch-artist. I saw the guy’s face and have a name to go with it”.

    Tucker was stunned. “So your visions can give us clues. That’s great news!”

    We drove back to the Precinct where I gave an accurate description to the sketch-artist of the man that had killed the woman.

    At the end of the session I was battling to keep my eyes open. Tucker noticed and unobtrusively ushered me to our squad vehicle and drove me home.

    We kept our thoughts to ourselves until we reached my building. I, for one, was too tired to think, yet sleep did not come in the vehicle.

    “I’m worried about you, Han. Your body obviously took a huge amount of stress. Are you going to be okay?”

    “Yes, I think so” I replied. “What’s going to happen now that the Lieutenant has confirmation that I am psychic?”

    “I’m not sure, but I’ll bet you’ll be having a new partner within a day or so. You’ve done your duty on this case, Han. Whatever else needs to be done, I feel sure, are for others to do. Go rest now. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

    For once, the lift worked and I did not have to climb up the stairs.

    I made sure my door was locked behind me.

    On my way to the kitchen I glanced in the passage mirror. My handsome looks were blunted by a deathly pale skin. My eyes were made even larger than usual by the dark circles under them. Combined with my dark hair, I really could pass for a corpse.

    I quickly walked to the kitchen and poured myself some juice, then went out onto the patio to soak up the morning sun.

    Reflecting upon all that had happened, I wished I had paid more attention to Professor Zane, the Psych  teacher to which one of my foster families had sent me for some lessons early on in my life.

    That was during the time my strange dreams began.

    Even then, I had to figure out what day it was and what life I occupied every time I woke up in this body. All of it was pretty confusing for a young child without a regular support system. It is still very confusing for a young adult.

    And now the New Haven Security Forces knew about my abilities. Now I’ll get no rest whatsoever. They will use and abuse me until I end up in a place similar to the one Tucker showed me this morning.

    I shrugged.

    It was just a matter of time anyway. I was too tired to care and went to bed . . .



    I was standing on the edge of a cliff. A huge valley opened at my feet. Desert surrounded me on all sides. I felt utterly alone. There was a high wind and it was picking up. I tried to resist, but a gust caught me and ripped me over the edge.

    There was no sensation of falling. I was suddenly surrounded by huge, ancient looking columns supporting a vaulted ceiling, also forming a central passage.

    Behind these columns were the openings to huge hallways.

    I walked through the unnatural silence.

    Suddenly, a golden orb presented itself to me. I felt that this was a male energy. The orb materialized into a humanoid form.

    “I refer to myself as Sensaii” the ancient shining being told me.

    This all seemed very familiar somehow and I was feeling peaceful. At least this was not a nightmare.

    “I’m the one that will guide and help you through the labyrinths of the alter planes” the humanoid form said.

    I realized then that I’d met this being before this dream.

    “I remember you” I replied. “You’re the one who kept on telling me to detach from Cheryl’s body.”

    The being smiled and led me to a chamber that looked like an auditorium.

    “Here,” he explained, “students, like yourself, can gain or download information and knowledge.”




    A very dry mouth and throat woke me from this strange dream.

    A headache was starting up at the base of my skull and rebounded between my eyebrows. It was extremely annoying as I lay on my bed, trying to take stock of what had happened since this morning.

    Nothing made sense, and the thinking made the headache worse. I tried to concentrate only on physical things.

    Willing my body to work, I made it out of bed into the bathroom, the headache jumping in intensity.

    I drank some water, relieving the inability to swallow. As I started washing up I glanced in the mirror, suddenly feeling faint.

    Sensaii, dressed neatly in classical oriental garb, with white collar and all, stared at me with crossed arms and a huge smile on his face.

    So, my dream was not a dream at all.

    *Are you ready for today?* he wanted to know.

    I did not hear any sound, but knew what was said to me.

    The being spoke directly inside my brain.

    It was as if there was a warm presence throbbing inside my head, and I suddenly had the answer to the question I wanted to ask.

    It was a telepathic conversation with no room for error or misunderstanding.

    Before I could reply to Sensaii’s question, my front door was almost taken off its hinges by a loud banging.

    “Coming!” I shouted, almost choking on toothpaste. I grabbed a towel and dried my face while rushing to open the door.

    Tucker looked extremely relieved to see me.

    “Hi. I was getting worried there for a moment when you did not answer.”

    I was puzzled, what did I miss?

    I did not hear any knocking on the door.

    As far as I know, I answered straight away, or did I?

    Tucker did not give me any opportunity to figure out this mystery.

    “Showered yet? No? Go! I’ll make some coffee while you finish up.”

    Back in the bathroom, I asked Sensaii, who was still lounging against the shower wall, just what had happened.

    Sensaii’s explanation was even more confusing than a straight answer would have been.

    *There is no ‘time’ in the spirit realm, where we all come from, where you are now starting to work.

    Bodies in the Matter, or physical realm, need the time continuum to be able to function in a logical way. When we communicate with you, or the other way around, ‘time’, as you know it, will be reduced or extended.

    As you grow in your possibilities we will provide you with time-keepers to protect your body so you can return to it without the body being harmed too much.*

    “As if I understand what you are talking about. Now please be quiet, my head hurts” I answered him. And with that, I closed the shower curtain on this new being in my confusing life and enjoyed the hot water.

    I was thankful to note Sensaii’s absence when I dried and dressed.

    I found Tucker in the kitchen preparing food with Sensaii giving running commentary on all Tucker’s efforts.

    It was quite a sight as Tucker repeatedly walked through Sensaii, muttering to himself as he finished dishing up eggs, bacon and toast for us two physical beings.

    I just had to smile to myself as I realized that my life would never again be the same.



Copyright © H Gibson Chronicles of Han Storm. All rights reserved. 2009-2016

A full excerpt of Chronicles of Han Storm, Part 1 is available on Wattpad       


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