The Scryer ✔️

~PROLOGUE~

Have you ever felt the loss of a loved one? Someone close? A family member? A best friend? A spouse? Two years ago, I lost all five in one man.

The really weird thing is that I talk to him all the time.

No, I'm not crazy.

I am what's called a clairaudial and to a lesser extent, a clairvoyant, which basically means I can converse with those who have passed on from this world, find out what they need to do or say and then I help them cross over, but I suppose this is a little different: I don't want him to cross over. I can't bear to let him go...I still need him here with me. If you were to look in on me, and I mean that literally, you'd see me at any given time holding a conversation, laughing, arguing, crying...all by myself. I guess what it comes down to is that he is haunting me...

You see, unless you looked closer, you'd never know that I live alone most of the time. It's pretty sad, really. I still catch myself buying his favorite foods, a cool shirt here and there...I can't even bring myself to let go of the things that were once his. Everything is still in the same place that he left it; I make certain of it...even when my son is home.

The issue is that I really ought to know better. Why? Because I deal with spirits everyday; it's my job to help those who are plagued by them...I am a Professional Ghost Hunter. I hold a Masters in Parapsychology; it's all quite official, I assure you.

It's the guilt of his passing that I can't deal with...he never should have died...

But it wasn't until I saw my husband gazing back at me through my reflection in the bathroom mirror one night during a power outage for the first time that I really knew that he had not left me...he was still with me. The joy of realizing that was and is still indescribable.

He told me that he often hung out in the bathroom or the bedroom because he liked to see me naked. I of course, rolled my eyes and nodded my head..."No big surprise there, Jimmy," I told him. "But why now?"

"Because you're so sad and unhappy..."

I wanted to look away, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it...I saw his head visibly shake and felt my insides knot up. I shook it off.

"I've been watching you. You're not eating. You're not sleeping on your own...you have to take sleeping pills just to get a few hours...Honey, that's nothing like my sweet girl at all..."

I could only look into the preternatural eyes that stared back at me in silence.

"So...?"

I looked into his eyes harder. "So...what...?"

"So get naked for me!" He grinned one of his goofy toothy grins that always made me laugh. "Come on, Baaaay-bee...?"

"You're crazy!"

He laughed and then his face became serious as his eyes washed over me. "Well, honey...I'm not the one talking to a dead guy in the mirror, am I?"

I crossed my arms across my chest...that was hitting below the belt and he knew it. He had always supported me in my profession...even sort of pushed me into it.

"Come on, Baby..." he whined as he pressed his palms to the mirror. "Please? I need to see you smile for me. I want to hear your sweet laughter. I need for you to tell me that you still love me...it's music for my soul and it makes me stronger." His body looked to be coming closer as if he had moved closer to the mirror's edge.

When I saw the preternatural skin on his hands as it were, pressed against the mirror, like one would see through a regular pane of glass, my heart skipped a beat. Several beats in fact. He was right on the other side of the giant looking glass! I pressed my hands to the glass of my bathroom mirror where his hands were, and felt absolutely nothing but cold hard glass. I looked up into his face and saw that he too was looking at our hands against the glass; the look was one of curiosity. Instantly, tears fell from my eyes. I don't know what the hell I thought I would actually feel...but I did feel incredibly despondent.

He shook his head. "Oh please don't cry Babe," he said quietly. "It hurts when you cry for me."

Just then, the lights came back on in the bedroom and I reached over and turned on the pendulum lights on the other side of the mirror and looked up into the mirror. He was still there, but I could barely make him out. I turned off the light again and pulled my nightgown over my head and stepped out of my panties and stood before him in the mirror.

Once again, the guilt of his death overtook me, I could never have him...feel his skin on mine...taste his sweet lips or hear his voice with my ears and not in my head..."I can't live this life by myself, Jimmy...Not like this..."

Babe...?

"Yes?"

Call me John...?

That was when I had my first emotional breakdown.

A/N
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Image is, Death and the Maiden by Michael Locascio (artist)of Dellamorte & Co.

All the love...
'Nique 😘