You seem a little young to be repaying favors.
I choose to look this way. She knew me like this, she answered and twirled, her dress billowing out around her, and Candace giggled.
In my mind, I began to see images of the ghostly girl and Candace dressed in a blue lace trimmed dress from the same era as the ghost. They rode double atop a butterscotch colored palomino pony through a lush meadow a bloom with buttercups that tickled their bare feet. The girls giggled as they bounced along to the pony’s trot. Those images began to be replaced by the friends spinning around in a circle holding hands and singing Ring Around the Rosie in same meadow, the whole world whirling around them. I blinked and found the image replaced by one of a deliriously feverish Candace in a dark room. A knock at the front door was answered by her then mother, revealing the ghost girl pleading to see Candace. She was turned away. I knew the Candace from that past era never got well again and sensed the heart break of the two friends that loved each other like sisters, a love and friendship even death couldn’t break.
Understanding dawned on me as I was shown a fast forwarding of sorts. I watched the ghost girl grow and bloom into a woman, shadowed by the past Candace watching over her.
See, repayment of a favor, she said.
Blinking again, I felt my consciousness turn back to present events. I swooned on my feet and felt Tammy grab my arm to steady me. Okay, so why does she need watching? I asked.
The girl pointed towards the White’s bay window. She needs me because of what is coming. She looked me up and down, judging me in some way. That’s why we needed you to be ready.
How do you know who I am? And what exactly do you mean “what’s coming?”
It would be better to say, who doesn’t know who you are. She giggled clear as crystal. She looked back towards the window, something drawing her attention. She turned back to me.
I have to go now. It was such a pleasure meeting you formally. She curtsied again and blew an air kiss to Candace. With a whoosh of warm air, the little girl vanished.
“What’s your name?” I called out after her a moment too late, and I felt a little tug on my arm and looked down into Candace’s eyes.
“Her name is Cynthia Mae,” she said as she smiled a large toothy grin, two tell-tale gaps testament to her having lost a couple of recent baby teeth. “But you can call her Cyndy.”
My mouth fell open. I knew that name.
Chapter 15
I was supposed to sleep over at Tammy’s again, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was exhausted, not only from the poor night’s sleep I’d had the night before, but from the day’s many events as well. Tammy was disappointed but understood when I told her I really needed to have a date night with my own bed. She had laughed at me and asked if what I really wanted was a date night with Abel, much to my chagrin. The events at Malcom’s house had her talking a mile a minute on the way to my house, and I knew I was making the right decision. She would have kept me up all night just talking about it all and watching the damned recording she’d captured on her smartphone. Least, I was dodging that bullet.
So, when despite my best efforts to fall asleep, it just wouldn’t come, I was royally pissed off. I counted sheep. I drank warm milk. Okay, not really, but I thought about it. I meditated, or tried to anyway, but I kept seeing these strange purple and blue lights when I closed my eyes. The lights reminded me of pictures I’d seen of the Aurora Borealis in school, which would have been okay, I guess, except they seemed to keep forming into things. The faces bothered me the most along with the whispers accompanying them. I guess this was what my granny had meant about being about to turn the gift thing off. I would have to ask Abel how to do that soon.
I knew the main reason I couldn’t fall asleep though was because events of my crazy day kept running through my mind. How could so much happen in only one day? Our lunch at Time-Out seemed like it happened a week ago, not this morning. I worried about having given my name to the girl at the bookstore. I hoped she wouldn’t try to look me up. I worried about that weird spider and its tornado made of webs and if I could figure the puzzle out like Abel said. And most of all, I worried about what had happened at Malcom’s house. I was scared his parents would forbid him to have anything to do with me, if he even wanted to have anything to do with me anymore. I sighed and rolled over for like the millionth time.
You worry too much, Krystal.
A smile spread over my face before I could help myself. I waited an extra heartbeat before I sat up.
“Hey, Abel. What’s up?” I spoke out loud just because I could. I knew my mom and Bobby were asleep.
Just came to check on you and see how you were feeling about today.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Abel,” I said frankly. “I mean, what if I lose my friendship with Malcom after what happened at their place today? I’ve been friends with him since kindergarten, for Christ’s sake.”
I know, Krystal, but your friendship isn’t in jeopardy. Like I said, you worry too much. His eyes were patient and kind.
“Well, how do you know for sure? Did you see how his mom and dad were looking at me when I left? Cause I did. I felt like a freak.”
Just give them some time. They’ll come around, Abel said and sat down on the end of my bed, patting my foot where it lay under my quilts. When they were young, stories were circulating about your grandmother from time to time. From their point of view, they believe you inherited this…. He waved his hands in the air before continuing, from her.
“What did people used to say about her?”
They used to say she had the sight and could talk to the dead. After a while, the rumors quieted down and were for the most part, forgotten. Your grandmother helped numerous members of your community over the years. These individuals, for reasons of their own, chose to keep these personal matters to themselves.
I nodded in understanding. In small towns like Settler’s Cross your reputation could be made or destroyed in a matter of minutes if word got out one way or another.
“So you really think everything’s going to be okay with Malcom?”
I do.
“I wish I had your confidence,” I said with a shrug. “So is there a reason for your visit this evening?”
You did really well today. I wanted to make sure you know. I’m proud of you.
We stared into each other’s eyes until I started to feel as if I could become lost in them. Suddenly uncomfortable, I dropped my eyes to my hands.
“Um, thanks, I guess.”
Do you have any questions for me?
“I do.” I put my fingers on my temples, rubbing in a circle. “I’m just having a hard time thinking about them right now.” I sighed. “You know, I would like to know about the little girl at Malcom’s, Candace’s friend?”
Abel didn’t say anything, waiting for me to speak.
“She said something about my needing to be ready? Ready for what? Do you know what she was talking about?” If anyone knew, it would be Abel.
I watched Abel’s mouth fall into a thin line. She misspoke, I believe.
“She seemed awful serious to me. That’s why she said she was hanging out with Candace, said she was watching over her because something was coming. Ring a bell?” I persisted.
You’re too smart for your own good, I do believe. Abel chucked low. When I said she misspoke, I meant that. We are keeping an eye on a few goings on in the area, some low level activity, nothing for you to be concerned with, least not yet.
“Low level activity? What does that mean?”
Everything is made of energy, including yourself. When you are happy, for example, you are working at a higher energy frequency. If you are angry or sad, you are working at a lower frequency. Our current concerns regard entities of a low frequency, heavy energy.
“What are you talking about exactly? Like demons or something?”
Perhaps. Demons belong to the lowest of the low frequencies. He studied my face, trying to decide
what to say next.
I gasped. “So does Hell really exist?”
Hell, well Hell, isn’t quite exactly like you’ve been taught. It’s a state of the lowest frequency. In Spirit, we don’t use that term, Hell. When a soul passes over to the other side, a soul will find itself among other souls of the same energy frequency, be it high or low or the thousands of possibilities in between.
I tried to wrap my mind around Abel’s words, but it was near to impossible for me. If there was no fire and brimstone like I’d been taught, well what was the point? How to keep the multitudes in line?
Low frequencies aren’t exactly a picnic, Krystal. Do you remember before when talked about a soul’s desire for progression?
I nodded silently.
Well, that progression equals a rising of a soul’s energy frequency. The higher the frequency, the closer to God, to Source, a soul is.
In my mind, I began to see my old Civics teacher slaving away in some lower level hellish place, least based on how the poor guy looked when he’d “visited” me after his passing. Seemed like a lifetime ago when I last saw him, though it’d only been a few weeks at most. “Dr. Roberts,” I mused in a whisper. “What happened to him?”
He has not crossed over. Abel seemed to weigh his words, to weigh what he should tell me. His death was a traumatic experience for his soul, and he is so hell bent on revenge he will not allow himself to see the light beckoning to him. He is in the truest of terms, what you would call a ghost.
“Oh.” I furrowed my forehead. “Well, why was he bothering me before but doesn’t anymore?”
When Abigail crossed, she caught on about his nightly excursions to your room, and we are blocking him from interacting with you. He glanced sheepishly over to me, his hazel eyes alight under his lush eyelashes. I am most sorry he scared you. I didn’t even realize, his face looked pained as he struggled to find his next words. I should have known the extent of the torment he caused you. Dr. Roberts as a ghost vibrates at a different frequency than I, and I knew your sleep was troubled… but I thought it nothing more than night terrors. He placed his head in the palms of his hands. I failed you in this way and forever, I will be sorry.
I tapped my index finger against my lip as thought occurred to me. “Abel, is this your first rodeo?”
He lifted his head from his hands, a look of confusion marring the features of his handsome face. I am not familiar with this, this terminology. I am quite certain you are not referring to “rodeo” in literal terms?
Laughter escaped from my lips before I could help myself. I stuffed my fist in my mouth, hoping not to wake my folks, my eyes tearing with my effort to stop the ensuing giggles. Hey, things just seem funnier in the middle of the night. “What I meant,” I struggled to breathe before I got too carried away, “is, is this your first job as a Spirit Guide?”
His eyes glittered as understanding dawned on him. This is my first time acting as a main Guide. Probably my last too. Before I could even ask why, Abel stood over me, his presence felt larger than life and my heart began to thud wildly in my chest. He smiled down into my eyes. You really should get some sleep now. We can talk more tomorrow. Are you still going to your grandmother’s?
I wondered briefly how he knew I was planning to go over there. I really needed to clean the place up, even sitting empty a place can get awfully dusty fast. But of course, he’d know my plans. He knew practically everything going on in my life at any given moment, even my own thoughts weren’t private.
No one’s thoughts are truly private, Krystal. Someone is always watching out for you, but no need to worry. There’s no judgment here.
“Great,” I said wryly and lay my head on my pillow, the laughter of only moments ago forgotten. “Yeah, I’m still planning on going over.”
Good. Bring your books with you. It will be best to leave them over there as well. His fingers brushed back the loose strands of hair from around my face. May you wake refreshed and rejuvenated in the morning, and he kissed the middle of my forehead so lightly if I hadn’t seen it, I would have thought I’d imagined it.
Chapter 16
Granny’s house was cold and quiet, the air stale, when I pushed the back door open. The first thing that I did was start a fire in the wood stove to take the slight chill out of the air. I know it might have seemed counterproductive, but in every room I cracked at least one window just the tiniest bit in hopes of freshening up the old house again before getting to work.
I was surprised at how dirty the bathroom had gotten in just a couple of weeks. The stagnant water in the toilet turned it into something akin to a cesspool of yuck. From there, I stripped the used sheets from Granny’s bed, the scent of her baby powder tickling my nostrils, bringing tears to my eyes, and got them started in the washing machine. Other than that, there wasn’t too much else to do. I wiped dust from the kitchen counters, the dining table. I knew I’d need to do something about some of Granny’s belongings. I planned to keep the furniture and housewares, but certain personal effects such as her clothes, I wouldn’t need. I’d have to talk it over with my mom to see if she wanted anything before donating the rest.
My stomach growled, so I went to see if there was anything decent to eat, but one look in the fridge had me backing away in a panic, slamming the door shut. I’d forgotten about the mass of food leftover from the wake. The smell was, let’s just say, overwhelming. I looked under the kitchen sink for a big black trash bag but had no luck.
I checked the pantry, which I found was well stocked. There’s only so much food one old lady could eat by herself, I reckoned. I scanned the dozens of mason jars filled with various vegetables and fruits. I knew those had probably been given to Granny since she hadn’t had a garden of her own for several years with the exception of a lone tomato plant or two. I rifled through the cans and settled on some Campbell’s Chicken Noodle. Dumping the soup in a tiny sauce pan, I placed it on the wood stove. As I waited for it to heat through, I opened up my back pack, the books from yesterday’s travels inside.
Finally sipping my soup, warmth flooding through me, I began to flip through the book about symbols, wondering what to look for. Checking the contents in the back of the book, I figured I’d begin looking into spiders, my lip curling involuntarily in disgust. Despite my natural inclination to dislike the critters, the more I read, the more I began to understand why a spirit would use a spider for a symbol. I scrawled my findings in the back of one of my notebooks from school. The web a spider weaves represents the tapestry we create of our own lives. I also discovered eight is symbolically a powerful number representing infinity and because spiders have not only have eight legs, but also eight eyes-- guess you learn something new every day, ewwww-- spiders are also representative of infinity.
I checked back over my notes. I tapped my chin with my pencil, deep in thought. There had to be more to this. The spider’s web at the book store had been spinning out of control, so I tried looking up spinning in the index but couldn’t find anything. I wondered briefly if the spinning web just meant the actual weaving of the web itself, and I was just reading more into it. Maybe I didn’t find anything about spinning per se, but I did find myself staring at the word spiral. I shrugged.
“What the hell, that’s close enough,” I said to no one in particular and flipped to the specified page. I began to read about spirals being one of the oldest symbols used by indigenous peoples, and ancient carvings of the design could be found on every continent with the exception of Antarctica. The book continued to explain how spirals are found in nature: snails, in the stars, even our bodies, and the passage went on about how spirals represent the changing cycles of our lives. I sighed. This was all well and good, but I really didn’t see how spirals and the spider fit together.
Feeling like I’d hit a dead end, I began to mindlessly doodle. I drew a large spiral shape with a spider in the center and several other smaller spirals around the larger one, each with its own tiny spider. I studied the pictures. Art was not
my strong suit, and my drawings looked like they could have been done by a five year old. At the top of the page, I wrote Spiraling Spider, dumbly staring at it until I started to feel sleepy. I traced my fingers around the largest spiral.
“Spiral Spider,” I mouthed in a barely there whisper.
WHOOSH!
The roar as the fire in the wood stove rose its ugly head shocked me from my hazy state. I ran the dozen steps across the kitchen, trying to wrap my mind around the sudden change of events. I used the poker, trying to calm the flames before they could grow out of control. I just didn’t understand it. I hadn’t added any wood since I’d gotten to Granny’s place, and it should have been dying out, not ablaze in a near disaster. Some rebellious embers escaped despite my best efforts, and I hustled over to the sink, quickly filling a glass with water. It sloshed over the rim wetting my clothes, but I killed those embers before they could become a real problem. I walked around staring at the wood planks starting to see double, but I wanted to make sure I’d found them all. Satisfied, I peaked back at the fire in the stove, which was behaving much more reasonably. And thank goodness too. My mama would never let me move out if I had caught the house on fire my first time there alone.
The Spirit Who Loved Me: Spirit Whispers Book One Page 12
