The Spirit Who Loved Me: Spirit Whispers Book One

by Stacey Virginia Longmuir

  The Spirit Who Loved Me:

  Spirit Whispers

  Book One

  Stacey Virginia Longmuir

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (electronic or print) without permission from the author. Please do not participate in piracy or violating the author’s rights.

  Copyright © May 2015 Stacey Virginia Longmuir

  Cover Art: Joseph Bagwell

  www.joebagwell.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To the Spirit who has loved me,

  To the Spirit who loves me still,

  To the Spirit who has journeyed by my side for millennia,

  I dedicate this book to you…

  My soulmate, husband and best friend,

  Kevin Longmuir.

  May this be our best life yet.

  Author’s Note:

  As this book contains conversations between the main character, Krystal, and spiritual beings, I had the challenge of deciding how to show the reader the difference between these conversations versus conversations taking place between physical people in the physical world. For your reference, communications taking place on our physical plane of Earth between Krystal and spiritual beings are italicized without quotation marks when received telepathically or are italicized with quotation marks when received through Krystal’s psychic sense of clairaudience, meaning she can actually hear Spirit speaking to her. Other people present without this gift of clairaudience would not hear this communication. Any communications taking place on other planes of existence are not italicized. Thank you.

  “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

  Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

  William Shakespeare, Hamlet

  Prologue

  Tick, tick, tick…..

  The sound of my clock seemed to echo against the insides of my head, causing me to tremble with each vibration of sound. I took one deep breath, then another. Gathering up my courage, I peeked over the top of my quilt, squinting through the darkness at the clock.

  1:59 AM.

  My stomach somersaulted as I threw myself backward onto my pillow, overwhelmed with a nausea so fierce I could taste bile in the back of my throat. The clock continued to tick louder with each passing of the second hand as I pondered hiding under my blankets all but too late.

  POP.

  A cry I couldn’t hold back escaped my lips. My hair blew around me as I sat up, dragging my blanket with me. I pinned myself on the corner of my bed, the walls of the room pressing into my sides.

  “Help me! Help me! Oh, God, won’t somebody help me! Help me!” he ranted. His hair, dirty white, stuck up at all angles about his face, old and withered with deep dark lines. His rheumy, watery eyes pleaded with me. I could see through him as his form wavered, flickering in and out like the bad light bulb in my bathroom.

  “Help me! That ole bitch did this to me! She should burn in hell all eternal! That lying, unfaithful whore! Burn! Burn! Burn! She did this! She did! Make her pay! Make her burn! Burn!” His form came right up into my face, his intense eyes crazed. I felt warmth under me as I lost control of my bladder. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears with the palms of my hands.

  I felt a rising motion of my bed lifting up, inches or feet I couldn’t tell. My eyes flew open in terror as I pitched myself forward, digging my fists into the mattress. The Hollywood frame landed, knocking me flat on my face, the loud twack as it made contact with the floor piercing my ears. That’s never happened before, what the hell?!? My thought passed as quickly as it came.

  I looked upwards, cringing as I tried to pull away from his ghastly form, and stifling my screams with my fist as his image would recede and advance in my face, swinging forward and backward in a cruel joke of a pendulum.

  “Make her pay! Make her burn!”

  In desperation, I reached back blindly grabbing my pillow and pulling its feathery softness over my head. The briefest thought of whether or not a ghost could suffocate me crossed my mind as pressed the pillow tightly over my ears.

  “Our Father, hallowed be thy name…” passed my lips in whispers as I began my prayer, reciting it over and over until I blacked out into sweet darkness.

  I roused with the scent of fresh biscuits and baby powder tickling my nostrils. I cracked my eyes open in little slits. Granny stood smiling down on me, and with a blink of my eyes, she was gone. I lay there trying to go back to sleep, especially after being awake so long the night before, but I couldn’t shake the strange feeling beginning to swirl in my stomach.

  Sighing, I reluctantly swung my legs over the side of the bed and wrinkled my nose at the strong scent of urine no longer overpowered by the lingering smells of my grandmother. First on the agenda was to get cleaned up. Our only bath tub was on the other side of the trailer near my mom and step father’s room. I sighed again knowing I’d have to make do with a sponge bath out of the sink in the half bathroom when all I really wanted to do was to wash all of my thoughts away down the drain and enjoy a hot, as hot as I could stand it, shower.

  I cracked my door open and peeked out. The coast was clear, and with my arms full of clean clothes, I tiptoed the three steps across the hallway into the tiny bathroom. Tiny, however, was an understatement, I could almost span my arms from wall to wall. I got down to business, and in no time, I was feeling fresher and smelling better.

  Thank God, I thought, as I pulled on worn out jeans and my faded Florence and the Machine tee. I grabbed some clean sheets from under the sink. With my nightly visits, nightmares, or whatever you wanted to call them from Dr. Roberts, I’d gotten into the habit of keeping extras on hand.

  I began to hear my mom stirring about out in the kitchen as I finished making up my bed, and I wondered why my grandmother would have come over so early.

  “You’re up early for a Saturday,” said my mom, rolling out dough for biscuits with an old can. As she glanced at me, I noticed her scrutinize the dark circles under my eyes, which were bloodshot and stinging from lack of sleep. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Mama, did Granny come over this morning?” I asked
instead, ignoring her question.

  Mom shook her head no as she resumed working on the dough.

  “Oh.” I felt the room start tilting, my ears start ringing. I slouched down in one of the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, the wooden legs grating against the yellowed linoleum floor. Staring at the worn, ugly pattern under my feet, I tried to make sense of the panic beginning to overwhelm my senses. “You saw her yesterday, right? How was she?”

  “Yes. She seemed better than she’s felt in months. Why?” mom asked, her tone puzzled.

  “Can you just call her for me, please?”

  “What, you had a bad dream?”

  “Yeah, a bad dream.” At least, I hoped, that’s all it was.

  Mom stilled, looking at me thoughtfully before she walked over our old rotary dial style telephone, and called my granny, her mom. We waited expectantly for granny to pick up any second.

  But no one answered.

  Chapter 1

  “I didn’t realize your grandmother, um, knew so many people.”

  I looked over at Tammy Lynn. She’d been one of my best friends since she’d moved here from Georgia back in the second grade. “Me, either,” I mumbled taking in everyone.

  It wasn’t even the sheer number of people present that boggled and left me feeling somewhat in awe; it was all of the different ethnic and social groups. It was the poorest of the poor, to the most well to do. It was the Blacks, or to be politically correct, African-Americans, and the Mexicans, side by side with those few that secretly frequented the KKK or other white supremacy groups. It was rednecks and the good ole boys. It was us Southern Baptists and the Methodists, mixing it up with the Holy Rollers with their speaking in tongues, plus a few Catholics from that one church over in Siler City. I even spotted the Native American guy from down the road. They were all here. Together. Getting along.

  And from time to time one of those folks would come up to me and shake my hand almost with reverence with nothing but wonderful things to say about my belated grandmother. “Your grandmother was sure a fine lady.” Or, “Your grandmother was such a great help to me. I will always be grateful.” And I’d mumble out thanks, my confusion continuing to grow. My granny used to make the occasional sick call, but, geez, this seemed like overkill for bringing over homemade chicken noodle and a few left over biscuits.

  “I think I see Malcom.” Tammy Lynn said, giving a shake of her long auburn hair.

  “Really?” I couldn’t remember the last time he’d been over to either my house or even my granny’s. It was definitely before my mom had remarried. Her new husband didn’t think it was proper for me to be friends with a black boy.

  Malcom walked over to me while his parents offered their condolences to my mom and stepfather. His little sister, Candace, was holding onto Malcom’s dress jacket for dear life, looked like. Malcom and I embraced in a big hug as Candace looked up at me with her big beautiful saucer eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Kris.”

  I pulled back from the hug, looking him in the eye. I had to press my lips together and dig deep to keep from crying. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry during the wake, not in front of everybody. I nodded. It was all I could do not to lose it. I wouldn’t allow it, and my body shook from the effort. I was just so grateful he and his family would risk the wrath of Bobby. Malcom was my other best friend, and only other friend, aside from Tammy, actually. Yep, the three musketeers, and all that corny stuff we used to say when we were little, that was us.

  “Here,” he said, passing me a tissue to dab at the tears threatening to spill. Malcom and Tammy surrounded me, blocking me from everyone’s view for a minute. I sniffed and took a shaky breath, smoothing out some invisible wrinkles on my dress.

  “Really, ya’ll, I’ve got this. I’m gonna be fine.”

  Tammy raised her brow. “Are you lying to us or just yourself?”

  “Well, it’s just, damn it, Malcom, I didn’t think you’d come.”

  “Of course, I’d come. Just because your redneck step daddy chased me out the yard with a shot gun that one time, you think that’d stop me? Shoot.” He winked at me, giving me his most winning smile, the white of his teeth standing out in contrast to his creamy mocha skin. “See?” He motioned over to our parents. “My folks are even making nice with yours.”

  The sudden creaking of the back screen door being opened had us all glancing to see our church’s pastor and his wife making their entrance. Most everyone turned to shake the Reverend Smith’s hand as he and his wife made their way through the throng of well-wishers and mourners.

  “Trust old Reverend Smith to make an appearance just when it’s full to the gills in here. He was never one to miss an opportunity to rub elbows.” Tammy noted.

  “Especially now since he’s running for county office,” I added under my breath. His path brought him to me first, and I quickly pasted a half-hearted smile on my face.

  “My dear, Krystal.” He took my hands in his. “How are you faring? I know you and your grandmother were close.”

  Man, he is good, I thought, he actually sounds sincere. I immediately chastised myself. Granny had thought well enough of him, and he was going to lay her to rest tomorrow.

  “Please, let me know if there is anything I or the parish can do for you. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.” His wife gave me a well-meaning smile and leaned in to give me light hug, patting my shoulder before they moved on. The Reverend continued to shake hands on his way to offer condolences to my mom.

  “I guess Tara thought her shit was too good to come,” whispered Malcom when they were out of ear shot.

  “I wish. I saw her slink in after her folks. She’s around here somewhere,” I muttered. “Probably near the closest mirror.”

  Candace began to pull Malcom back into the kitchen to take advantage of the food everyone was bringing. I just couldn’t bring myself to eat anything, even the goodies couldn’t sway me.

  Tammy turned to me. “In coming, two o’ clock.”

  I sighed as Tara sauntered over, her golden hair falling in graceful waves around her shoulders. Every male in the room over the age of twelve stole little glances her way, well except for Malcom. Even my stepdad did until he felt my steely gaze, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed.

  Tara’s eyes roved over my body for a moment. “Isn’t that my dress?”

  “WH-what?” I sputtered, glancing down at the navy polka dotted dress.

  “Yes, I’m certain it is,” she said taking a quick look at my back side. “My mom must have given it to you with my cast offs.” She paused, and with a shrug, continued, “Well, it looked better on me anyway.”

  Tammy and I looked at each other with disbelief.

  “Oh yeah, sorry about your grandmother and all. I’m sure going to miss that chocolate cake she always brought to the church. Nobody could make one quite like hers.” Tara, flipping her hair in a way that made it cascade down her back like a waterfall, turned around in search of her parents.

  “That girl just ain’t right,” Malcom said returning with Candace.

  “You heard what she said?” I asked wondering who else overheard too.

  “Just the last part, but that was enough.”

  “It’s hard to believe she’s the preacher’s daughter sometimes, especially when she pulls shit like that,” Tammy added. “But I gotta give it to her, the girl sure knows how to flip some hair,” she chuckled.

  “I know that’s right,” Malcolm said putting an arm around my shoulders. “Just you wait, Kris. That girl’s going to get what’s coming to her.” Something about his words rang true to me, and I felt a tingling on the back of my scalp.

  “Better take your arm off me,” I said in a hushed voice. “Bobby, over there looks like he’s done swallowed a frog.” Malcom jerked away as Tammy snorted back laughter. My step dad shook his head.

  “As if anybody with even half a brain could think ya’ll could be together,” Tammy’s voice was incredulous.

  Candace too
k hold of one of my hands, and I brought her in for a hug. “I am so glad to see you, Candy,” I said as I tweaked her nose.

  Malcom’s parents joined us with kind words about Granny and how the county wouldn’t be same without the matriarch. They all embraced me before they had to go, and I couldn’t help but be grateful that my stepfather, for once, behaved himself. Thank God.