Believe, page 9
The planchette was moving.
“Keep your fingers in place!” Tabia ordered. “Just let it go where it wants!”
Slowly it moved until the round glass piece in the center was sitting atop a word on the board.
Yes.
“Oh my gosh,” Bryony sighed.
“Did one of you push it?” Amelia asked, but her voice shook because she hadn’t felt any pressure—none of them had.
Everyone shook their heads. Jess whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“Ask another question,” Tabia said.
“I will,” Dharma leaned forward, as if speaking to the board itself. “Who are you?”
“It’s not the board, Dharma,” Meg said. “The spirits are around us---“
“Shhh!”
“It’s moving again!”
Slowly the planchette slid across the board and settled over a series of letters.
“Z…. E…. D….” It stopped.
“Zed?” Amelia looked around.
“Why are you here?” It was Bryony who asked this time.
The candle guttered for a moment, drawing the girls’ attention, until movement at their fingertips drew their eyes back. The planchette was moving across the board to a small drawing of a human head with open mouth.
“It wants to talk to us!”
The girls shivered.
The planchette moved again, this time back to the alphabet letters. It pointed seven times.
“Message?” Jess said the word aloud, and they looked at each other in the candle light with wide eyes.
Meg, who had been very quiet so far, whispered, “What is it?” Everyone knew the question was for Zed.
Everything was still. Each girl kept a finger on the planchette. Their eyes darted from the board to each other and back again as they waited for something to happen. The moments stretched out in silence. Suddenly there was a loud rustling sound in the bushes a few feet away shook. A weird wheezing hough sound followed, and one of the girls yelped.
“It’s all right!” Amelia said quickly. “That’s just a deer. They’re all over the woods back here. I’ve heard them make that sound before.”
“A deer?”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never heard deer make sounds like that!”
“It’s true,” Jess said, calmly. “That’s the sound deer make if they feel threatened and want to scare something away.” She grinned halfway and said, “Last year my cat came too near a doe and its fawn, and the doe got really angry. She started stomping and huffing like that, and my cat ran away faster than anything I’ve ever seen.”
There was a murmur of acceptance, amusement, relief.
Then Dharma asked, “I wonder what it was afraid of?”
“You guys!” Tabia hissed.
The planchette was moving again.
They all watched as it pointed to a series of symbols and letters.
“The rose,” Meg murmured.
“Now it’s spelling something— “
“S, O, R, Y…”
“I think that means ‘sorry’.”
It moved away from the alphabet letters and diagonally across the board, to a series of stick-like figures lined up like primitive symbols.
“Those are runes,” Tabia whispered. It stopped over one. “That one’s called ‘othilia,’ and grandma says it means separation.” The girls gazed at the board, looking closely at the other runes around it, wonder filling their minds, when the planchette moved again.
“Letters again,” someone breathed the words softly.
They watched.
“Little. I think it spelled out ‘little,’ did you see that too?” Amelia asked when it stopped. The other girls nodded, but the planchette was moving again—over to the numbers this time. It came to rest on the number 1.
Another long pause. Jess blew her breath out loudly, and the candle flame guttered.
“Maybe it’s done?” Bryony suggested.
But once again they felt movement under their fingers. The wooden piece glided slowly across the board, settling so that it pointed at the beautiful image of a heart wreathed in flowers and vines, right in the center of the board.
They waited for several more minutes, but nothing more happened. Around them the shadows deepened. The fireflies were high up in the trees and they could feel dew beginning to settle around them.
“Let’s say goodbye,” Tabia said. And this time they all pushed the planchette with their own strength to the bottom of the board, over the word “Farewell” written in a curling script. “Spirit of our ancestor, we thank you for coming to speak with us and share your message. We wish you peace and love,” Tabia spoke in a hushed voice, and when she lifted her finger the other girls did too, sitting back on their heels.
“Wow,” Dharma said.
“It’s gotten so dark!” Meg’s voice squeaked slightly, and Bryony giggled nervously.
“Let’s pick everything up and get back to the house,” Amelia said, blowing out the candle and standing up.
They moved slowly back through the woods, having more trouble picking out the way because nobody had thought to bring a flashlight. Soon they could see the lights of Amelia’s house winking through the tree branches. First one, then another, then all of them ran to the edge of the woods, bursting through the trees onto the clear, grassy slope that was the back yard. They hurried up the deck stairs and ran, breathless, inside.
It was past midnight when they finally ran out of things to say about school, teachers, friends, memories, next year and what middle school would bring, summer plans. Clustered on the floor of Amelia’s bedroom in their sleeping bags, the girls gradually fell quiet. Two of them were dozing off when Jess said, “I just can’t get over how it moved.”
“What?” Meg asked, but they all knew what Jess was talking about, and suddenly no one felt sleepy.
“It really didn’t feel to me like any one of us was pushing it, you know?” Jess went on. “It was as if it had a mind of its own and was just using energy from our fingers to get where it needed to go.”
“Doesn’t sound very scientific to me,” Tabia teased.
“I know,” Jess shrugged. “I can’t explain it any better than that, though.”
“What do you think it meant?” Bryony wondered aloud. “I mean, was Zed’s message for one of us?”
“I wondered if he meant he was bringing a message from someone else, another spirit?” Dharma put in.
“There didn’t seem to be anything dangerous in it.”
“Yeah, no threats or spooky hints about dead bodies or anything.”
“But the deer was afraid of something…”
“That could’ve been anything! A raccoon or ’possum or something. It didn’t necessarily have anything to do with Zed.”
“Well, it all seemed pretty random to me, honestly,” Tabia said matter-of-factly. “I was hoping there’d be something…more understandable.” She yawned. “I’ll ask grandma about it when I get home,” she offered. “Maybe she can make sense of it.”
“Maybe some of those symbols mean something besides what we think they mean,” Amelia suggested. “Ask her, then tell us what she says.”
They all agreed that was a good idea. One by one they fell asleep.
The next morning the girls woke up one at a time, dozing and whispering until the smells of pancakes and bacon rose up the stairs and crept into the room, watering their mouths and making their stomachs growl.
Amelia’s mother and father had set the table and were already stacking food on the five plates by the time they emerged. The kitchen filled with happy girl sounds punctuated by the clinking of silverware on dishes. Most of them had slowed down and were leaning back comfortably in their chairs, sighing with contentment, when a car horn sounded from outside.
“Meg, I think that’s your mom’s car,” Amelia’s mother said.
A flurry of activity as the girls jumped up from the table and went to roll up sleeping bags and gather belongings. By the time they were done, three more parents were downstairs, chatting with each other as they waited for their daughters.
Hugs, laughter, more hugs, promises to get together soon, and “See you at the swimming pool!” Only Tabia and Bryony were left. Amelia’s parents began cleaning up the breakfast dishes, the girls helping to clear the table.
“When will you see your grandma, Tabia?” Bryony asked.
“I think she’s coming for dinner this Sunday,” Tabia said, gathering dirty silverware and carrying it to the dishwasher.
“You have to text us and let us know what she says the message meant!” Amelia grinned as she gathered napkins.
“What message?” her father asked.
“Tabia brought a Ouija board, and we tried it out in the woods last night,” Amelia explained.
“It was cool—nothing scary or anything, but we got a message,” Bryony added, with a shivery emphasis that made Tabia grin.
“We’re not sure what it meant, though,” she shook her head and shrugged. “My grandma knows about these things, so I’m going to ask her. It’s her board.”
“What was the message?” Amelia’s mother asked, rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher.
“Well,” Amelia said as she handed her mother dirty plates, “First we found out that the spirit talking to us was named Zed.”
“And that he had a message for us,” Bryony said.
“But we’re not sure if it was from him or another spirit—that’s one of the things I have to ask about.”
“And…” Amelia’s father prompted.
“Oh, the message was a mix of words and symbols. First it pointed to a picture of a rose, and then spelled the word ‘sorry,’” Amelia began.
“Then it pointed to a rune that means ‘separation,’ we think, followed by the word ‘little,’” Bryony continued.
“And at the end,” Tabia jumped in, “the number 1 and the heart symbol, which I think means love but I could be wrong about that.”
A car pulled up outside, followed by another, and Tabia and Bryony hurried to get their things.
The house was quiet with all the girls gone, and Amelia flopped happily down on the sofa in the family room.
“That was a great party,” she sighed with satisfaction as her parents walked into the room. “Thanks for letting me have them all over, Mom and Dad.” Her parents smiled briefly, but Amelia noticed that they seemed uncomfortable, and her mother especially looked like she hadn’t slept much. “Did we keep you up?” she asked.
They sat on either side of her, and her mother took her hand and looked away, shaking her head. Her father spoke.
“No, sweetheart.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “We got some bad news last night and didn’t want to tell you while the girls were here.”
Amelia sat up, rigid, scared of what she was about to hear. “What? What is it?! Where’s Sam?”
Her mother took a deep breath that sounded more like a sob and squeezed her hand.
“Sam’s fine, but he’s sleeping in, he didn’t get much sleep last night. He was awake when we got the call, and we had to tell him,” her father explained. “Grammy died yesterday, sweetie,” her father kept speaking. “It was sudden, a heart attack. She didn’t suffer.”
Grammy was her mother’s mother. Now Amelia understood why her mother was silent, and realized that her shoulders were shaking with small, silent sobs.
Grammy always came for a visit as soon as school was out, and Amelia had been looking forward to seeing her in just three days. She loved all of her grandparents, but Grammy was her special grandmother, the one who felt more like a best friend than an adult, the one who listened to her stories and shared her interests. Loosing Grammy was…unthinkable.
“No,” was all she could say. She couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. “No!” She shouted, standing up, and ran away.
Away from her mother’s ragged crying sounds.
Away from her father’s calm grief.
Up to her room, where she slammed the door and dropped face down on her pillow and screamed until her throat hurt.
Then came tears. Hot, angry, frightened tears.
How could the world continue to exist if Grammy wasn’t a part of it? How could she have woken up happy this morning if Grammy was gone?
It seemed like hours of crying. Eventually the tears stopped, leaving only dry, hiccoughing breaths to remind her that the world was heartless because it kept turning even though her life was ruined. There was a gaping hole where Grammy should be, but somehow things went on.
She lay there staring at the ceiling, her mind empty because thinking hurt too much. A sudden thud against her window drew her across the room, and she saw a bird sitting on her window sill, something in its beak, hitting it against the glass as if trying to break it open. A seed? She couldn’t see it well enough to tell. As she turned away, she saw the candle they’d used the night before lying on its side on the floor where she’d left it.
Her thoughts wandered to last night, to Zed and his message…
She froze. Something tickled at the back of her mind.
She went over to her desk, pulled out paper and a pen, and wrote Zed’s message down.
Rose—sorry – separation – little – 1 – love
“Little” and “1”—could they mean “Little One?” Grammy had called her that since she was a baby, it was her special nickname.
And the rose—that was Grammy’s first name, Rose.
She took the paper and ran downstairs, finding her parents in their room.
“Mom! Dad! What time did Grammy die?” She demanded.
They looked at each other, then her father said, “It was about 4:00 yesterday afternoon, honey. Why?”
“The message!” She squealed and held out the paper. “It was Grammy!”
Her parents looked sadly at each other, and then turned doubtful looks on her.
“No, really, look!” She pointed at the words she’d written. “Zed’s message was from Grammy to me! She even calls me “little one,” see here?!” She pointed again. “I think this means something like, ‘Sorry about having to go away’ –you know, separation? —‘Little One I love you.’” Amelia put the paper in her mother’s hand and saw fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “Mom, don’t you see? Grammy isn’t gone! She’s still out there—somewhere—and she came to say goodbye!”
8
Unbeliever
I don’t believe in ghosts.
Myths. Stories. Pure fiction, meant to explain what we don’t understand, or to scare us for entertainment, or even to sucker people into buying stuff or going to church or doing something else they otherwise would be too sensible to buy into.
Not me. Ghosts and fairies and supernatural beings and Bigfoot and aliens? Let the weak-minded, fearful, comfort-seeking masses believe what they want. Reality had everything I ever wanted, no need to go looking for more. No magic, supernatural powers, extra-terrestrials, or religion needed.
I also don’t believe in true love or the existence of soul mates—or, for that matter, a soul. We’re all just biological machines, wonders of physics and chemistry and evolution, random eruptions of chance in the great expanse of the Universe. We live until we don’t. That’s all.
So you can imagine my shock when I found out that I had died…and was still there.
It was just like they always show it in the movies: I was unconscious, in the hospital, and suddenly I was aware that I was floating over myself, looking down at the doctors working on me, my body lying there all broken and messy from the car accident. I watched for what felt like a long time. Then the doctors stopped rushing around and the machines in the room were all quiet.
I was dead. And I was looking down at myself, lying there, lifeless, with no idea what to do.
A doctor said the time of death out loud, then left the room. Various people were there, cleaning things up, unhooking my body from tubes and monitors. Someone pulled a sheet up over my face. But I was still floating there, looking down, wondering, Okay, now what?
I tried to look around, or up, or whatever, and see if there was some big white light or something. But no, there wasn’t.
Eventually I left the room.
Movement isn’t the same as it used to be. I found out that all I have to do is think a direction, a place, and I go there. So, when I wondered what was going on outside my room, I found myself moving into the hall. I followed my curiosity, wandering down corridors and into other rooms.
I was there for a long time. In the hospital. I didn’t know what else to do, or where to go. I caught a glimpse, that first day, of my brother, who had been called by the hospital to come and deal with the situation, I guess. But something kept me from going to him, following him back into that room, with my dead body in it, from hanging around him or following him home.
It’s not that I don’t like my brother. He was fine, as brothers go. But we weren’t close, in spite of being only a year apart, so similar in looks that everyone thought we were twins. We got along fine as kids, brothers who played together and all that, but kind of drifted apart after high school. I was pretty sure he’d be sad, but somehow I didn’t think my death would rock his world. And there was no one else for me to check on; we were the only two kids in our family, our parents had been gone a few years already. Neither of us was married, and there was no extended family worth mentioning. So I let him do whatever he had to do alone and go his way.
I wished him well. I still do.
I stayed in that place for…it might’ve been years. I watched people. Stayed in rooms. It was a little like getting hooked on a soap opera sometimes: I’d happen across someone in their room, hear something about their condition, see an exchange between them and their family or friends, or doctor or nurse, and get interested. Then I’d just stay until it ended.
Plenty of times it ended with the person being discharged: happy ending. But there were deaths, too. And those were really interesting.
The first time I realized I was watching someone die, I paid close attention. I wanted to see if the same thing happened to them that had happened to me. Because I hadn’t run across any other ghosts in all the time I’d been wandering around the place, so I wondered: is it only me? What happens when other people die?
