Stepping Outside Oneself - A Paranormal Suspense
Page 1
Stepping
Outside
Oneself
A Paranormal Suspense
Astral Out Of Body Series
Book 1
Lisa Shea
Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Shea / Minerva Webworks LLC
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Lisa Shea.
Book design by Lisa Shea
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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believe
Stepping
Outside
Oneself
Chapter 1
“List, List, o List!”
-- Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5
The rain pounded down, steady, even, and my windshield wipers made that swish-swish-swish rhythm which soothed my soul. There was hardly anybody else on the highway this stormy May night. A few cars streamed northbound on the far side of 95, heading into Boston, but southbound there weren’t any lights behind and only the faint glimmer of red ahead of me. Most people were tucked safely into bed at three am on a Tuesday.
Not me.
I turned up the radio, hoping to fight off the weariness that encompassed me. But it was more than just being tired. It was more than just the mind-numbing tedium of my job as a receptionist at the bank. Because, now that it was past midnight, today was the day. Well, it was five years past the day. But, still, it was May 18th.
It was the day Mary had died.
The tears threatened to well up again and I blinked them away. Five years and the loss of my sister still carved into me like a butcher’s knife. You’d think time would have soothed that wound. But my chest still tightened; my breath still quickened as I realized she was gone. Gone forever. Crossed into that world from which there was no return.
We had been in the womb together. Our father often showed us the ultrasound of two tiny girls clinging to each other - two against the world. When we had emerged our tiny hands immediately reached for each other. We had needed to remind each other that we were still together. Still a team. Still two.
And now I was one.
It’s why I was heading to a B&B on Greenwich Bay for the weekend, rather than staying in the apartment we’d shared since after college. There were just too many memories there. Memories of the parties we’d held. Memories of the times we’d splayed on the couch re-watching Pride & Prejudice for the hundredth time. Memories of just sitting in the streaming sunlight, petting the cat, with no need for words.
There’d never been a need for words.
God, I missed Mary.
The radio was silent for a moment, and then a new song began.
I held my breath.
This had been Mary’s favorite. The long, drifting breaths, swirling and congealing. You could almost see the form of the beloved one taking shape before you. Soon the vocals would come in, with Gregory’s haunting voice calling to the “Ghost Beside My Bed” and begging it … begging it …
My cheeks were wet now, matching the ribbon of road stretching before me. I reached forward, snapping off the radio.
I couldn’t take it. Not now. Not when –
My eyes glanced back up to the road.
Mary was standing there before me. Her eyes focused steadily on mine.
Everything happened at once.
A scream of panic ripped out of me as my car barreled straight toward her.
I slammed my foot down on the brake, driving the pedal flat to the floor. I could almost feel the metal form buckle beneath the pressure.
I ripped the steering wheel hard left, desperate to turn – turn – turn –