Frizzy haired and overweight, sixteen year old Elizabeth Summers hears ghosts. She also reads people's auras often seeing when something bad is headed their way. Unfortunately, she can't choose which ghosts visit her psychic hotline or when her para...
Leaving the cemetery, I can't resist the urge to peer into the back seat of Dylan's Mustang. I know I shouldn't look because I don't want to acknowledge a dead passenger. If a spirit's hitchhiking a ride home with us then paying attention to the entity will only embolden it. In other words, it will definitely make matters worse. Spirits reside everywhere, not just in cemeteries. Since they don't take up any physical space, there could be hundreds around a person at any time. Becoming aware of them will encourage and strengthen their presence. That's why it's not a good idea to play with a Ouija board.
Just because Katherine Stanford was too upset to finish communicating with us, doesn't mean there wasn't a line of spirits queuing up behind her for their respective turn. That's why my mother always smudged the house with sage even if she didn't actively sense an evil presence. Better safe than sorry was her housekeeping motto. Meanwhile Dylan seems oblivious to my thoughts. I conclude he's chewing over the gray wolf clue, but I'm mistaken. Instead of talking about the enigmatic clue from the ghost, he hands me a cold drink. He surprises me even more when he asks me about my mother, Sarah. "Elizabeth is your mother buried here in this cemetery?"
"No, actually she's not. She was cremated."
"Do you ever, uh, hear from her?"
I stay quiet for a moment because my mother's memory haunts me so often I sometimes forget she's dead. It's hard to admit this to anyone without fearing that I'll be considered strange. "Yes, I often sense her around me, but she's not a settled spirit. I mean she's more of an echo or a recording of herself."
"What do you mean an echo?" He looks confused so I try to elaborate.
"I'm not sure why, but I think she's earthbound, or stuck between two worlds. Unable to function in either."
"Between the living and the dead?"
"Yes."
"Why do you think she's stuck here?"
"Actually, I don't know." I begin to feel sad, thinking about my mother. Inevitably, I start craving something to eat.
"Do you think it's possible she might be worried about you?"
I think this is a stretch, but I don't tell this to Dylan. During the last year of her life my mother became psychotic, so I shut her out. I guess I felt overwhelmed by her illness. Whatever the reason, I desensitized myself to her. I honestly believed she was beyond my help. I gained so much weight after she died due to guilt and stress. That was really what started me on my slippery road to obesity. Before I can stop myself, I disclose something to Dylan I've never told anyone. "My mother was an extremely powerful psychic. She could channel incredibly strong spirits. I often wonder now that she's dead...." I stop not wanting to express my fear out loud.
"Wonder, what?"
"If she would try to possess me." When Dylan looks shocked, I hasten to clarify my thoughts to him. "I know she loved me, but she loved her life more before she wasn't tied down with me. Sometimes, I feel she might be tempted to come back for a fresh start."
"But she couldn't possess anyone, could she?" Horror and surprise taint his voice.
"I don't know, but let's just say I don't want to find out."
We arrive in my neighborhood a few minute later. He carefully pulls up to the curb to let me out. As I turn around to say goodnight, I notice he looks nervous. "Elizabeth, I wanted to ask you something." He rubs his jaw with his hand before continuing. "Do you want to come see my gig, Saturday?"
I stand there for a moment stunned, before I answer. "Yes, Dylan. I'd love to."
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