by Rene Folsom
Originally Published in
Paranormal Anthology with a Twist
Edited and Compiled by Cynthia Shepp and Rene Folsom
Synopsis
Throughout her entire life, Ella has heard voices. Voices inside her head. She's never given much thought as to why she has this gift… or this curse, depending on which way you look at it. It's not until she meets the mysterious Jonah that she begins to question her inherited abilities as a Soul Seer.
Learning to deal with loss and love, Ella manages to live a seemingly normal life… or so she thought.
Voices of the Soul (Soul Seers #1)
by Rene Folsom
Copyright © 2013 Rene Folsom
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from Indie Style Press or Rene Folsom, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Voices of the Soul, First Novella in the Soul Seers Series
Originally Published in Paranormal Anthology with a Twist
by Cynthia Shepp
Editing Services Provided by Cynthia Shepp
www.CynthiaShepp.com
Cover Created by Phycel Designs
www.Phycel.com
This is an Indie Style Press Publication
www.IndieStylePress.com
Dedication
I have to give a huge thanks to my editor and freak cyber-twin, Cynthia Shepp. Without her, not only would my inspiration for this story be non-existent, but the first stepping stones into the world of self publishing would have been very slippery. She is my life raft and has kept me afloat more often than she realizes.
Cynthia, thank you for bringing me balance and keeping me from falling flat on my… face.
I would also like to give a shout out to my family: my sister, Michelle, for constantly putting up with my writing ADD and character addictions, my husband and kids for leaving me alone when I so desperately needed the quiet time, and my favorite authors for fueling my reading addictions.
Lastly, I want to mention my online family for all their support: Natalie Idrogo, Jayce Grayson, and even the douche, Jason Brant. I’m so glad y’all haven’t gotten sick of me yet.
Reviews
"A tantalizing title, captivating characters, and inspirational imagery are all hallmarks of this first installment of the Soul Seers Series. Rene Folsom puts a new twist in the concept of 'soul mate', taking our romantic notions to an eerily-desirable level of love, lust, and—quite possibly—lunacy!"
— Jayce Grayson
Author of Xianne: A Comedy of Cultures
"Rene's imagination takes us on a captivating ~ mind blowing journey. The end leaves you breathless and in need of more. Our minds are left reeling from the insanely raw emotion Rene brings to the Soul Seers series. Knowing that this is the first portion being served up to us ~ is deliciously unique."
— Natalie Idrogo
NarlyNut’s Book Lovers, narlynut.blogspot.com
"The twist at the end of this story left me absolutely stunned and desperate to find out what happens next! This story was gut wrenching and sweet, exciting and really left an impact on me. I can't wait for the next one!"
— Terri Kinckner
Indie Addict Book Blog, teresabethscar.wordpress.com
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Soul Seers Series Order
About the Author
Rene's Links and Books
“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”
– Helen Keller
Chapter One
Throughout my entire life, I’ve heard voices. Voices inside my head. I’ve never given much thought as to why I have this gift… or this curse, depending on which way you look at it. At least, not until a few days before my fourteenth birthday.
My mom and I were out shopping. She always made sure she handled every detail of my birthday herself with loving care. She enjoyed planning and, most of all, making me happy. She always used to say, “A happy Ella makes a happy mama!”
Corny, I know. But the words always tugged at my heart.
On our way home, we were listening to music and singing when they say a large truck hit us. I don’t remember anything about the accident. I just remember I broke both of my legs and wasn’t allowed to see my mom afterward, the latter being the most painful.
Then one day they wheeled me into my mom’s hospital room. I don’t remember how many days had passed since the accident, but it felt like forever since I had seen her. All the machines made it seem like it wasn’t really her. My dad couldn’t talk to me through the tears that stained his face.
I didn’t cry. Not right away anyway. Actually, I was a bit confused at first. Maybe in denial. I didn’t know why I needed to cry until my aunt explained, in a rather roundabout way, that my mom was no longer living. Machines had been keeping her alive because her body couldn’t any longer.
I could hear the voices… the sad voice of my dad murmuring I love you and don’t leave me through incoherent sobs. My aunt’s voice saying how much I need my mother. Another man’s voice, I’m only assuming the doctor’s since he was the only other person in the room, saying we should end the inevitable. Several other inaudible words and voices, confusing my brain and making me dizzy.
Curse. It was definitely a curse.
Grabbing my head and massaging my temples with my thumbs, I squeezed my eyes shut and wished for all the voices to stop. I pretended these voices were just my screwed up brain imagining what people were thinking. I knew I was cracked. As much as I suffered, I never wanted to be labeled as the crazy girl who heard voices. So, I kept my madness to myself.
Suddenly, through all the banter whirling inside my head, I heard the most angelic voice. The voice seemed to cut through all of the muddle, speaking to me with such love it made my heart melt.
Orella, darling. I need you to know how special you are. You have a gift. You have my gift. I’ve known all along just how unique you are.
A gift? Pfft.
I looked around at my dad and my aunt. I knew they couldn’t hear her, but I still needed to see if they had any reaction to her voice echoing inside my befuddled brain.
Come closer, Ella.
I’ve never known the voices to speak directly to me. But she was. She was speaking to me. She was saying my name and beckoning me to come to her. Was this really happening? Or was this some sort of brain damaged caused by the accident?
I could feel the excitement bubbling up in my heart at the possibility my mom was actually speaking to me. Oh, God. I hoped she really was speaking to me. Because if this was just a new development of my dementia—I was sure as the sky is blue that I would not survive the heartache.
To avoid odd stares from my other family members, I tried my darndest to keep my emotions in check. Face like steel, Ella.
Slowly, I used my bruised hands against the cold bars of my wheelchair to make my way over to my mom’s
hospital bed and battered body. My aunt tried to help me, but I dismissed her with a wave and a small smile. Gently, I placed my fingers on top of my mom’s limp hand. Her hand was cold. Ice cold.
Yes, I am cold. My body is no longer a part of me, so I cannot feel the chill that courses through my skin.
My hand reacted and jerked back—completely startled she just answered my thoughts. I opened my mouth and hesitated. I didn’t know what to say.
Don’t speak aloud, Ella. All you have to do is speak to me in your mind.
I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I’m confused. I don’t understand. How can I hear you? I thought.
You’ve always been able to hear me. You can hear anyone’s thoughts. But thoughts have the most strength when directed at the recipient. Which is why, at the moment, my thoughts are the loudest voice in your mind.
Looking up at my mom’s face, a face covered in tubes and pads to monitor her brain activity, I saw no reaction. No light. No life. Not even the monitors showed activity.
No, darling. My body will not respond. This is why I’m speaking directly to you now for the first time. They need to let me go. Your dad knows I do not want to be kept like this. I’ve instructed him in the past to let me go if I were ever in this state.
A tear trickled down my face as I thought, But, you can’t leave me. I may have been acting selfishly, but I couldn’t bear to lose my mother. I needed her. Especially now that she’s telling me I’m not a total nutcase.
I don’t want to leave you. I know how much this will hurt. But, I’m not here. Not really. My lungs won’t inflate. My heart won’t beat. My mind is barely a whisper. You… you are the only one who I am even able to say goodbye to. I needed you to know of your gift and how much I truly love you. Remember, the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even heard. They must be felt with the heart.
My mom always used that variation of Helen Keller’s quote, but it didn’t occur to me why she changed the words until now. Now I knew her variation was deliberate. She wasn’t just a mother who couldn’t remember the famous words. She was insightful—and I knew deep down that losing her would break me.
A thought came to me as she said her goodbyes. Does Daddy or Aunt Sybil know? Do they know I can hear you? Do they know I can hear them?
Daddy knows nothing of our gifts. I worry it will make him nervous or he may not understand. I have told Aunt Sybil, but she does not share the same gift and is skeptical of my sincerity. She does not know you possess the same soul-seeing abilities as I do.
Soul-seeing abilities? I asked, unsure of what she was actually telling me.
You are a soul seer, Orella Hugh. Your clairvoyance makes you exceptional. There are not many like us, who can read thoughts, read the souls of others…
“Miss Hugh, are you with us today?” the booming voice of my art teacher interrupted my memories, bringing me back to the present.
I looked up and nodded quietly, unable to keep the sorrow from my face. My mother’s death may have been nearly six years ago, but the pain—the searing hole in my heart—made it feel like I was losing her over and over again. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my waist in a desperate attempt to hold myself together. Sure as shit I would fall apart at any moment.
I’ll teach her to daydream in my class, Mr. Burns thought as he asked out loud, “Well, Ella? Can you give your opinion on Degas’ painting of the Absinthe Drinker?”
God. Really? Why would he think it’s helpful to call me out like that? I mentally rolled my eyes in an attempt to express my irritation without him noticing.
Looking up at the projected image, I spoke confidently, explaining the image I already studied in high school and hearing my mother’s voice echo the answer in my head. “Some say the L’Absinthe painting is a representation of the increase in social segregation during the fast-growing stages of Paris. The woman in the painting is an actress and the man is a bohemian painter, although I do not remember their names. The café…”
As I droned on, the classroom door opened, saving me from continuing.
Chapter Two
I quickly looked down at my sketchbook to avoid the scolding gazes of my judgmental classmates. I wanted to hold my head up high to prove to these people I was not a chickenshit that hid behind her sketches and smarts. But my immediate reaction betrayed me and I bowed my head, biting my lip to stifle the smile I wanted to unleash at the fact I answered the professor’s question to his satisfaction.
Unfortunately, while I could avoid their stares, I couldn’t avoid their thoughts. Murmurings of weirdo and know-it-all swam through my brain. Their reactions to my knowledge of the painting were actually comical.
Suddenly, their thoughts shifted away from me and toward the boy who just walked through the door. Unsure of what I was reacting to, my body immediately sparked to life, like an engine finally turning over in an old automobile. A different aura filled the room and all the cold thoughts surrounding me were suddenly blanketed with warmth.
Wow, he’s a looker…
Oh my. Look at that hair. I hope he sits over here!
Damn! He’s hot. Wonder how I can get him to notice me.
Holy bucket of biceps! I’d like to sink my teeth into that a…
The girls’ thoughts were going wild and I couldn’t help but chuckle at their shallow cognitions. One girl looked my way, obviously wondering what I was snickering about.
Out of curiosity, I looked up. You know what they say… curiosity killed the cat. When I brought my eyes front and center, I locked stares with a pair of beautiful, green eyes. Green eyes that brought shame to the most magnificent of emerald gems. As obvious as my attraction was, I couldn’t seem to look away. There’s definitely something to be said for lust at first sight.
And it definitely was lust. I’ve never reacted to a man like I did at this moment. It was all I could do to keep my ass planted on the stool and not streak toward him and pounce on him like an excited house cat high on catnip.
Finally gaining some semblance of control and forcing myself to retract my focus, I trailed my gaze from head to toe and took him all in.
Holy sack of suckers. I don’t think I am going to survive this encounter without making myself out to be some sort of fool.
Standing next to Mr. Burns was a wickedly handsome guy with dark, short hair, longer on top, and a tight black t-shirt over disheveled blue jeans. Immediately, all the murmuring thoughts faded away as he smiled at me. Every ogling voice in the room silenced as my focus penetrated every inch of this man. It’s as if no one else in the room even existed.
Seems so cliché, I know. But I have no other way of explaining the piercing connection I felt when he looked at me with such power and intensity. Plus, a girl is allowed to fantasize about lust at first sight, right? Guys already patented their lust for T-and-A. Us girls? We deserved to claim our romantic fantasies.
Feeling as though he could see my most inner secrets, I blushed and looked away. Did I actually just blush? The uproar from all the voices suddenly reverberating back into my head was nearly deafening, causing me to wince. I had to control the overpowering urge to look back into his piercing green eyes, wondering if it was my focus on him that caused the voices to quell. I’m sure he probably has a million girls who throw themselves at him daily. Plus, he’s probably just as shallow as they are, if not more. Most beautiful men tend to be total jerks… or gay.
I had to stifle a snicker at the last thought. Christ, I hope he’s not gay.
“Ahh, yes, Mr. Chantrey, we were just discussing a classic painting by Edgar Degas. Please, find a seat anywhere and we will continue,” Mr. Burns said as he gestured towards the empty stool near the back… near me.
He’s coming to sit near me! Lord. Ok, keep your cool, Hugh. He’s just a guy. It’s not like you have a chance anyway.
The gorgeous man headed towards me and grabbed a stool at the same high-top wood table I always sat at… alone. With a light scraping noise, he
inched the stool closer to me and sat down. The smell of leather and a hint of cologne wafted in my direction, making my hand grip the edge of the table and my eyes flutter shut at the thought of him so close. Get a hold of yourself, dumbass! My heart began to pound in my chest and my lungs expanded with rapid breaths. Why is this guy affecting me so much? It’s baffling. I’ve never been…
My thoughts were cut off by a confident voice. You affect me too, sweetheart. With that golden-blonde hair falling over your cute face. Man, you smell great. Wonder what your name is.
My head immediately jerked in his direction—to meet a smirking hottie looking at me from the side. What? What did you just say?
His smile dropped and his brows furrowed as his head turned in my direction and his stare intensified. I said, I wonder what your name is. There’s no way you can know what I’m sa…
Holy Hell! You… I can’t believe you can hear me! My thoughts practically squealed as I bit my lip in an attempt to stifle my audible voice. No. It’s not possible, I thought as I shook my head. Just a coincidence. Just a coincidence. He can’t really hear you. You’re such a nutcase.
He suddenly chuckled and projected his thoughts directly to me. Your name is ‘Holy Hell?’
I gasped as I looked directly at him and covered my mouth with my hand. I felt my fingers shake slightly against my lips, clearly going into shock over the situation.
“Ella? Are you ok?” Jesse whispered as she leaned from her table towards me. Even though I didn’t know anyone in this class very well, Jesse seemed nice and her thoughts always seemed to confirm her sincerity. I had to look in her direction to make sure she actually spoke to me. There is nothing more embarrassing than answering a question someone didn’t actually ask out loud.
