Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9)

by Michael Christopher Carter

  “Come on, cariad. You need a break. Why don’t you…”

  “No!” The force of the objection made them both jump.

  “Come on, Mam. You’ll make yourself ill.”

  “No,” she insisted again. “I’m not leaving her. You two rest if you want, but I’m staying here.” She caressed Elin’s hair tenderly. “She needs me.” Her voice broke as she spoke, and she hid her face in the crook of her arm.

  Emyr couldn’t bear seeing the love of his life so distraught. And his wonderful daughter. He’d loved her as soon as Glenda presented the stick with ‘pregnant’ written in its little window nearly twenty-four years ago. Even before, when she was still just a twinkle in his eye.

  They’d talked about having her. Planned it meticulously. Picked names, even some boy ones, in case their instincts were wrong. But they knew she was a girl. A beautiful angel child. They had always known. There had been scares early in the pregnancy, but she was born strong, even though a month premature.

  She wasn’t some accident. She was a hoped and prayed for miracle. And now she lay motionless, within his touch, but beyond reach. He looked away and walked back out of the room. It was more than he could endure.

  “I’m in Swansea, and in a taxi on my way to the hospital. Where will I find you?” Neil told her the layout of the hospital was more confusing than Sudoku, and that he and Matthew would meet her at the main entrance.

  They were soon all together. Neil let out a sigh of relief.

  “What exactly do you want me to say? Bearing in mind I am a bit sceptical.”

  “You should believe us,” Neil said in mild indignation, knowing there was no chance she’d turn round and make the long journey home. “We both saw exactly the same thing, independently, and weeks apart.”

  Sylvie’s eyebrows folded and her mouth curved in acknowledgement that her nephew might not have imagined it. “What precisely did you two see?”

  Their independent testimonies convinced her. Disappointment in her psychic powers had to be deferred. There were grieving parents and a fierce sister to convince—to let them save Elin’s life.

  They arrived back on Pembroke ward unchallenged. The scant staff who saw them must have assumed only family would be here at this late hour. The corridor outside Elin’s room was empty. As they approached, they could see the family standing beside Elin’s bed in a group hug, looking like they were saying goodbye.

  Sylvie gasped. “It’s her!” Neil and Matthew gave an ‘I told you so’ smile. “I know you’re telling the truth now. I’m sorry I doubted you. You did absolutely the right thing bringing me here. That’s definitely the girl I saw as a spirit leaving your house all those weeks ago. That is definitely the same Elin. We have to help her.”

  Sylvie hoped the three in the room would notice the three of them standing self-consciously outside the room and come and speak to them. When they didn’t, she was forced to tap gently on the window.

  Emyr was furious to see the two intruders again. A hand from his wife stopped him.

  “They’ve come back. They weren’t lost, were they?” Emyr opened his mouth to say but words failed him.

  “What do they want?” she asked coldly, in full acknowledgement of the lie she’d been told. Not anticipating an answer from her husband or her daughter, she got up from her place beside Elin and walked to the door.

  Whatever they wanted must be important to still be here. She did her very best to place a smile on her face. Less than convincing, but the effort was welcome. She stepped out into the corridor and stood before them.

  “You’ve been here all afternoon. You must have a reason. Would you like to tell me what it is?”

  Sylvie offered her warmest smile. “Shall we sit in the family room? Or perhaps we could buy you a coffee?”

  “The canteen’s closed, but there are vending machines,” Matthew offered considerately.

  For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Glenda accepted the offer to leave the tiny prison and relieve her body with sustenance. Something in the group’s demeanour comforted her.

  They walked in silence along the corridor. Emyr and Alis stayed behind in disgrace. If whatever these people had to say was significant, there’d be hell to pay.

  Glenda ate hungrily a cheese and ham sub roll, several cups of milky coffee, and a hot chocolate. As an explorer returning from a food-short expedition, her taste was heightened. This was the best roll and coffee she’d ever tasted.

  Away from the stifling horror of her daughter’s sick bed; and with nourishment coursing its way through her exhausted body, Glenda felt much more herself. She leaned back in her plastic chair and declared she was ready to listen. The two boys sat back also, leaving the explanation to the greater credibility of Auntie Sylvie.

  “What we’re about to tell you will seem unbelievable, but please hear us out. It could be of great consequence.”

  Glenda nodded she would.

  “I’m Sylvie, and I’m psychic. Not professional or anything, but my gift is well established and respected in my circle.” Glenda tensed and tried not to be put off. Whilst she was happy to concede ghosts may be real—she was still struggling with the horrible atmosphere in her own hallway—she had always mistrusted psychics as charlatans.

  She wouldn’t be content leaving without knowing what this woman wanted to tell her, so decided she may as well just hear her out. Her face softened as she unclenched her jaw and attempted to replace her smile. Sylvie took her cue and told her everything, “…so after the priest performed the exorcism, the disturbances stopped.”

  She turned to Matthew and Neil. “You two should say what happened next.” Matthew sat forward and cleared his throat. He described the tapping on the window, then seeing the beautiful, ethereal girl, floating outside. Neil took over the telling, and they were soon onto how they realised what must have transpired.

  “We thought she might have been a student. Twenty-four Rhondda Street has been a student property for years. It seemed a reasonable assumption. We thought research might show us what she wanted, why she hadn’t really gone after the exorcism.

  “We soon recognised Elin’s picture from University records. She’s quite unmistakeable.” Glenda smiled genuinely at the compliment to her daughter. “We searched obituaries, hoping to find a clue to her angst, maybe in the manner of her death…” Neil’s throat constricted, recognising how difficult this must be for Elin’s mother to hear.

  “It took a while, but then we found out she wasn’t dead at all, but was lying in a coma. And the date matched when we’d called the priest! He ordered her out of the house and into the light. I think she only went as far as the light at the end of our path! And she’s been stranded there ever since.”

  Glenda’s initial response was anger. Elin being a ghost was intrinsic in her having passed away; a possibility she was unwilling to face.

  “But Elin isn’t dead. The doctors are hopeful she’ll wake up when they turn off her life support, so how could she be haunting your house?” Her assured tone was unpersuasive. Her curiosity piqued. Might it be true?

  “We’ve considered that,” Neil declared. “I read that Elin had suffered from glandular fever, and I thought she might have left her body prematurely. I mean, no-one knows exactly when the soul leaves the body, do they? And loads of people have reported out-of-body experiences when doctors are working to resuscitate them.

  “I think whilst Elin was having such an experience, when she was really ill with the fever, we exorcised her and put her in limbo. We need to reconnect her with her body somehow so she can wake up.”

  Glenda so wanted to believe them. If it were true and they could just call the priest and she’d have her baby back… But it didn’t make sense.

  “Elin’s been in a coma for seven weeks. Prior to that, she’d been making a steady recovery. Not close to death and in need of resuscitation. You say the haunting was going on before Christmas when Elin was better than she’d been in ages. So, as romantic a
s it seems, it’s not possible, is it?”

  Whilst Neil and Sylvie looked dejected, Matthew fidgeted with excitement.

  “Before we came here, we went to see you at your house. We got it from the uni computer, and of course it was your old address. We had a confusing conversation with the lady who lives there. She appears to be suffering from dementia, but something she said suddenly makes perfect sense to me.”

  The other’s stared, rapt. “She said she hadn’t realised you had died—you!” he pointed at Glenda. “She said the lady who used to live there must have died because she was haunting the place! She’d seen you moving the curtains!”

  It galvanised into a rapidly forming idea within Glenda. She almost yelped in delight.

  “I dream of that house. I loved it. Didn’t want to leave. I see the new owner in my dreams, and I know she can see me. That’s why I tug the curtains and open and close doors… to scare her. I imagined it was real, but it couldn’t be, could it?”

  Further recollection hammered at her brain. “Elin dreamt of your house. She couldn’t understand why. I’d told her about my dreams, how it felt so real travelling to our old house in Bridgend, and I did believe it was real. Why didn’t I realise? I should have realised. We even fell out over it.” Her fervour faded briefly at the memory of being cross with her lovely girl and what had happened since.

  “She said she had no connection to her old house. Didn’t even like it. Much messier in her dreams than how she remembered it, she said” Matthew let out an untimely guffaw.

  “The situation improved a lot after we had a good tidy-up. We thought we had rats!”

  “So,” Glenda continued. “Elin was having dreams about your house, and somehow, just as with me, part of her actually travelled and did the things she dreamt she was doing.”

  “And now she’s trapped outside in the streetlight,” Neil reiterated, keen to remind everyone that this now accepted theory was his first.

  “When you assumed she was a ghost and she was stuck at the house because she needed you to do something,” Sylvie said. “You may have been onto something.” They all frowned. “Glenda said she deliberately dreams about her old house, wishing it was still hers.” The perplexed expressions remained.

  “Elin couldn’t understand why she kept dreaming of her old student house, she didn’t wish she was still there, but maybe there’s something she needs to do. Something she hadn’t done when she lived there and feels guilty for. How was she with her studies? Up to date?” Glenda nodded.

  “She did very well until her illness.”

  “Maybe that’s it,” Matthew ventured. “She felt healthy when she was a student and was trying to reconnect with feeling that way again.”

  “Yeah, she might associate living there with being well and independent. Not ill and living at home with mum and dad,” Neil added.

  With wide appreciative eyes, Sylvie agreed. “It makes as much sense as anything else, doesn’t it? The important thing now is to reconnect Elin’s spirit with her body. Any ideas?”

  “If the priest sent her out,” Neil recapped, “he can send her back in again. Yes?” Sylvie wasn’t so sure.

  “He didn’t want to get involved in the first place, saying he needed clearance from the Bishop. I was sceptical when you told me. Father Jenkins will probably be completely unconvinced, so we’re on our own.” Neil and Matthew looked close to tears. Glenda’s jaw clenched in acceptance.

  “It might be a good thing. We don’t have to wait for anyone. We can get on with things right away,” Sylvie said with confident assurance.

  “Why did you need the priest before, then?” Glenda asked, one cynical eyebrow arched.

  Sylvie considered a moment, eyes squinting skywards as though for Divine inspiration. “We didn’t. We only thought we did. We thought we had a demonic presence who wanted to harm us. Now we know exactly who we’re dealing with. There’s nothing we need Father Jenkins for.”

  “What should we do?”

  “I’m not sure, but going to Elin’s bedside and trying to connect with her spirit couldn’t be a bad idea.” Glenda had another moment of internal conflict, wrestling with letting a psychic interfere with her beloved child. But she was immensely grateful really. She knew she had no choice but to trust Sylvie, so she led the way back to the High Dependency Unit.

  A pensive Emyr and Alis looked up from Elin as they returned, unoptimistic for Glenda’s mood after enduring the nonsense from these strangers. When they saw her, flush faced and bright eyed, they couldn’t quite believe it.

  Glenda, impatient with their plan, didn’t have the energy to be angry with them. She’d save that for when she had time to focus properly. That they sent the only hope for Elin’s recovery away without consulting her was unforgiveable.

  Sylvie and the two boys crowded in behind her. A nurse would almost certainly object if they’d seen. But there was little for nurses to do this late at night. They seemed to assume Glenda, Emyr or Alis would alert them if anything changed, which of course, they would.

  While they had the chance in the relative silence: the HDU was full of beeps and bustling care at any time of day or night, they were instructed by Sylvie to join hands in a circle around Elin. Emyr and Alis didn’t dare object. They were just thrilled they might be about to do something positive. If it was good enough for Glenda, it was good enough for them.

  When they’d formed a circle, Sylvie took charge, instructing everyone to close their eyes and focus their thoughts on Elin. Then she began.

  “We are gathered here, in this circle of Divinity, to reconnect Elin with her body. To bring her together and make her whole and happy again. Elin. Please hear our call. We are here, now, with your body. You need to come back. You need to re-join with your body and wake up. Wake up, Elin. Wake up.”

  She repeated similar affirmations and instructions for a while before stopping abruptly. They all opened their eyes again and looked at her for further instruction. When they observed her expression they knew none were forthcoming.

  “She’s not here,” she despaired. “Elin’s spirit isn’t here.”

  Chapter Forty

  “She’s at the house. Outside in the streetlight of course,” Neil reminded them. “We’ll have to go there to connect.” He had surprised himself with his outburst. Was he really volunteering to go back to where he’d been so terrified and try to make contact?

  He’d done it before, and that was when he thought she was a ghost. Now he knew she was just a beautiful girl who’d become trapped in a dream, that didn’t sound scary.

  “We can’t all go. Someone must wait here and make sure the doctors are au fait with our plan. We can’t have them… interfering,” Sylvie advised as tactfully as possible.

  Glenda decided Alis should stay. Emyr’s stability creaked under the strain. Alis’s level headedness was what was needed.

  “Nothing will happen if we’re not here. They can’t switch off Elin’s life support without our written consent. But just be here to make sure, okay?” Glenda checked with her youngest daughter before glancing once more at her eldest, and leaving the room and the hospital for the first time in weeks.

  Squeezing together, filling all the seats in Emyr’s car, the group tension was palpable. But as the engine started and they drove away, it was their driver on the precipice of insanity. Although only a couple of miles to Rhondda Street, and this late, virtually no traffic, his eyes darted from side to side at every junction and roundabout, not trusting his senses that the way was clear.

  Nights without sleep allowed themselves to take their toll in the face of the possible hope they drove towards. Emyr scrutinised the route ahead as though the surface might plummet to a fiery abyss. The magnitude of what lay at the end of their short journey ever more stifling to his seized-up brain.

  With a vigorous shake of his head, his mind ground into gear, beads of sweat forming a crown of tenacity. His position as the man of the household had faltered under the strain, but he
knew he had to forge ahead.

  She’d seen no-one the last few times she’d re-manifested under the streetlight. No comings and goings. No-one to help her. She worried she’d frightened them all away after the boy opened the curtains and fainted. What would she do then? It wasn’t unprecedented, she reasoned. They’d left for weekends before and returned, but the uncertainty made her jittery.

  Light from one of the back rooms filtered through to her position. Springing into action, she grabbed another stick from the hedge and flew at the window, hitting it frantically. She couldn’t waste the chance. Opportunities to get the housemates attention were becoming scarcer.

  It would soon be Easter. Some of them might graduate, never to return. Getting help from a whole new batch of students might prove impossible. She increased her ferocity, attacking the window with her branch.

  “Come on! How can you not hear me?” she gave one more mighty bang and rested awhile at the post; the effort of racing to and fro exhausting to her ghostly form. There had to be something more she could do, but her ideas reservoir was in severe drought.

  Time dragged as she stared with wavering determination at the house. Tapping the window was proving fruitless, but she forced herself to it like a fresh gym membership in January. She wouldn’t have long. The hours of darkness had shortened noticeably over the weeks.

  Car headlights shining at the top of the road suddenly grabbed her attention. Her heart knew before her mind that they were familiar. Was her actual heart in her actual body reacting? Were nurses and doctors monitoring her wondering what was going on?

  Squinting in disbelief, she didn’t imagine it was them. Just the same make of car. BMW’s weren’t entirely unheard of in this less affluent district of Swansea. But then it stopped right next to her, and she saw them: the fat boy, the small boy, the weird middle-aged hippy… and her mum and dad. She wept.