“Nope,” was the curt reply. Vic made no attempt to take the parcel from Charles when he offered it for inspection.
Charles hesitated for a second and then enquired further.
“You bought some red wrapping paper from the mini-mart recently, just like the paper on this parcel.”
“I did,” Vic replied. The conversation faltered again.
“May we ask what you wanted it for?” Mary cut in and Vic slowly turned his owl-like eyes towards her.
“Yes,” he said. Charles and Mary waited for Vic to continue; a prolonged silence filled the shop.
“And?” Charles eventually asked.
“You can ask,” Vic explained, “though it doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”
Charles and Mary exchanged bewildered looks.
“We’re sorry,” Mary finally apologised, “we didn’t mean to be rude; it’s just that we are trying to return this parcel to its rightful owner before Christmas Day.” Vic appeared to study them for a moment or two and then his expression softened a little.
“Parcel’s not mine, don’t know anything about it. Had presents of my own to send to family in Australia. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Yes it is,” Mary said gratefully, “and thank you very much for your time.”
*****
Benedict eventually joined Charles and Mary in Clio’s Coffee shop, where they both looked up expectantly when he joined them at their table. The cute redhead, whose make-up would have caused a drag queen to pause, was working behind the counter and called out when she saw him at the table.
“Hi Benedict, the usual?”
“Yes please Jan,” Benedict replied. He sat down next to Mary and looked across the table to Charles, grinning.
“You took your time,” Charles said, clearly frustrated. "Did you get anywhere?”
“All sorted,” Benedict announced smugly. "The parcel belongs to a waitress in the pie shop and we can return it to her on our way home.” Charles and Mary looked at each other ecstatically.
“You see Ben, wasn’t that fun,” Charles said. "What a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve."
“Actually, it was,” Benedict conceded truthfully and thought about how lucky he had been.
That had been a close shave. The parcel sitting on the table in front of Charles had not, as Benedict had originally assumed, been for him. He knew that he was due a gift, as Bert in the 'Pie Shop' had let it slip some weeks earlier, saying that as a loyal customer he could expect a little something ‘to show our appreciation'. So when Benedict saw the parcel on the dining table that morning, he thought that he would have a lot of explaining to do. He had not believed his luck when the opportunity arose to talk to Bert in private. That conversation had also prevented his own parcel from being delivered to him later that day.
Benedict sipped the coffee that Jan had just brought over, and patted the box in his coat pocket. He felt the weight of the fluffy, pink fur covered handcuffs shift inside. In his other pocket was a glittery Christmas card, which he had also received from Bert, thanking him for his continued patronage of a certain private club that existed in the back of the 'members only' pie restaurant. A club that offered certain services that Benedict would prefer that Charles remained blissfully unaware of, especially today.
Well, it wouldn’t do to spoil Charles’ Christmas now, would it.
THE END
© 2013 Chris Raven
Glimpse
By
William O’Brien
Days did pass
Knowledge given
The previous year
A wished for present
Failing to find
One true path
Moonbeams shimmer
Through stained glass
Wanting to heal
Unfortunate and lost
Though not so easy
As stones are cast
Long cobbled road
A journey so long
Wanting to go
Right back home
The time now placed
And patience learned
Reward of magic
Entwines the lands
Hot golden sprays
From a dragon’s breath
Mounting the seat
Shows the quest
***
© 2013 William O’Brien
A Coast to Coast Paranormal Investigations Christmas Story
The Perfect Gift
By Carolyn Bennett
It was early December and, as usual, it was sunny and a balmy 70 degrees in Vegas. My team, Coast to Coast Paranormal Investigations, was on a break from ghost hunting until the middle of January as was Aaron’s team: The Spirit Chasers.
We stood in the living room of our modest Las Vegas bungalow, setting up our Christmas tree. It took me two years to convince Aaron to get a bigger tree. At first he didn’t see the point of it, insisting on pulling out his old Charlie Brown-like tree from the basement.
“Babe, this is Vegas, we don’t get snow, heck most of the time we are either having a barbeque or a party out in the desert. I don’t see the point in spending money on an artificial tree.
“Because it reminds me of what Christmas was like in Ontario, before I came here. Please Aaron it would mean so much to me.” The following week we went on a road trip and finally found a beautiful artificial 8ft douglas fir.
As we finished putting up the last of the new decorations, we were distracted by the sound of our daughter, Amelia Grace, huffing and grunting while she dragged a box down the hall from her bedroom to the living room.
Amelia Grace Greyson has been a going concern since her premature birth over five years ago. To watch her now you would never know how close we came to losing her that night or that she was born smaller than average and needed oxygen to help her breathe the first couple weeks. Once she began to grow she just took off and never looked back. She has never stopped; she’s into everything, exploring everything and testing every possible limit she can.
Oh dear, what is she up to now, I wondered to myself. I could tell by the look on Aaron’s face that he was thinking the same thing.
When she finally reached the living room she stopped and looked at the two of us, hands fisted into her hips.
“You could have helped,” she scolded us.
“Amelia, what are you doing?”
“These are the toys I don’t play with anymore. I’m giving them away.”
I sat on the ottoman next to her and examined the contents of the box. It included a variety of dolls, stuffed animals and an assortment of other toys.
“Are you sure, there’s a lot in here. I hope you are not expecting to have them all replaced at Christmas.”
She gave me the look. The look she inherited from her father; that ability to raise only one eyebrow when she was annoyed about something.
“I still have lots of toys left, besides, you and daddy and uncle Aiden and Scott always get a little carried away at Christmas.”
“Yes we do, and Uncle Scott and Aiden more so, but that’s because everyone loves you so darn much,” I laughed.
“I know mommy but I don’t need all these toys; I want to do something special with them.”
“Okay, are we going down to the fire hall to donate them?”
“We’re taking these to Claire,” she said, shaking her head.
“Claire?” I hesitated. “Does she go to your school?”
“No mommy, Claire!”
By now Aaron had sat next to us, he draped his arm gently over my shoulder.
“What do you mean baby girl? Who is Claire?” he asked.
I could tell she was frustrated by us not understanding what she meant but then it suddenly came to me.
“Amelia, do you mean Claire from Kentucky?” She nodded sheepishly, in silent reply.
When Amelia was four I fulfilled a promise I made two years previously and brought her to Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Louisville, Kentucky, to
meet Claire. It wasn’t like we took her on an investigation with us. We may both be paranormal investigators but we are not crazy.
Claire is the spirit of a young girl that died at Waverly Hills after a short battle with tuberculosis. She came to me during my second investigation at the hospital. I had taken ill just before the investigation and, during the evening, I had collapsed from dehydration and nausea. I had not realized that I was pregnant and it was Claire who had first told me.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Can you bring her back to play with us?” At first I hadn't understood what she meant but then I had heard the sound of a baby crying and I assumed she was looking for a younger sister, who may have also passed away from the virus. It wasn’t until we returned home that we had discovered that Aaron and I were expecting what would be our only child.
Amelia is our miracle baby. Doctors had told me years earlier that it was not likely I could ever get pregnant again. Then, just shy of 34 weeks into the pregnancy, I suffered a traumatic medical emergency. Amelia and I had almost died. It was by the hands of the skilled doctors and the grace of God that we are both alive today.
I returned to Waverly for another investigation two years later. Claire was waiting for me on the fifth floor but she kept her back to me and would not speak to me as she sulked in the corner. Finally, when she turned, I could tell she had been crying.
“Claire, what’s wrong?” Yes I realized I was speaking with a spirit child.
“You promised you would bring her. I want to see her, you promised.”
I knelt in front of her; I tried to comfort her by caressing her arm but my hand simply passed through her translucent body.
“Claire I will, I promise, but she’s too young yet; she’s only 2 years old. I need you to be patient. I will bring her when she’s older, I promise. Besides, you can’t play with her yet; she’s so much smaller than you and your friends.”
“No you won’t. It’s just like everyone else who left us here and forgot us.”
“Claire, you know that’s not true. I come back every year to see you. When Amelia is older, I promise I will bring her.”
“When?” Claire said and I could tell that she was going to pin me down to a commitment.
“When she is four years old.”
“That will take forever!”
“No Claire it won’t. Time is different for me and you. What is two years for us would only see like moments for you. Do you remember how long you have been here?”
“A long time” she answered as she sniffled again.
“Does it feel like it has been over 70 years?”
“No, don’t be silly, I’m only 12.” She laughed and shook her head at me.
“I know Claire, you will have to trust me that we will be back when Amelia is four and it won’t seem that long to you.”
She nodded her head, turned to join her friends who were waiting on the newly finished outdoor playroom, and disappeared.
Two years later we arranged to bring Amelia for her first visit to Claire and Waverly Hills.
I contacted Tracy, the owner, to let her know I was coming for a daytime visit and bringing Amelia. At first she thought I was crazy but she had also seen the spirit of Claire and had been there the night that she made her presence known to me.
At first Amelia was afraid of the large and very gothic looking building. Tucked away on the side of a hill, Waverly hardly looked inviting but, once we got out of our truck, she immediately pointed to the fifth floor.
“Mommy who is that?”
I glanced up and there was Claire, grinning like a silly school girl.
“That’s Claire. Do you remember what I told you about Claire?”
Amelia nodded.
“Claire is very lonely here and wants to meet you. You don’t need to be afraid; she won’t hurt you but she will look different.”
“I know mommy,” and off we went.
Since that visit I’ve had the feeling that Claire had somehow attached herself to Amelia before we left. I don’t believe she followed us home but I suspect that Claire has been speaking with Amelia, within her mind. At school the teacher had noticed prolonged periods where Amelia seems to be focused on something else. Even at home, she would spend time in her room playing with imaginary friends.
However, they might not be imaginary friends. Children are the most open to spirit communication. Their young minds have not yet been influenced by those who either don’t believe or are afraid of the unknown.
“Well?” She poked me, as if irritated that I was lost in thought.
“I don’t know Amelia. It’s quite a drive to bring toys. Are you sure we can’t just donate them here in Vegas?”
“No mommy.” She was practically in tears. “Claire is very sad. All the kids there are. No one remembers them at Christmas. She said people only go to see if they are real but no one stays or plays with them. I don’t like Claire being sad, she’s my friend.”
I pulled Amelia close and hugged her. I was not sure if it was the result of her near death at birth, or if she was sensitive to spirits like me, but Amelia was definitely not like other children. Things that most people would not give a second thought to upset her intensely.
“Please mommy, this is what I want to do for Christmas. I don’t want any gifts from you and daddy, please” she pleaded.
Aaron knelt down and wrapped his arms around both of us.
“What do you want to do babe?”
“It’s over a full day’s drive there and then back again. I suppose we could find someplace to stay along the way there and back. We can make a little mini family vacation out of it.”
“Maybe on the way back we can swing south and visit dad in Phoenix for a couple days. The doctor said he’s almost over his bout of pneumonia but I’d like to see for myself” suggested Aaron.
“But that would mean taking Amelia out of school for a full week!”
“Babe, she’s in kindergarten, it’s not like she won’t get accepted into university because of it.”
Amelia’s eyes, although a dark slate blue like her father, shone brightly with delight, sensing victory was near. Then again I almost never won when they ganged up on me.
“Please mommy.”
I looked over at Aaron, he nodded.
“I have to call Tracy first and make sure it’s OK. If she agrees, we’ll do it.”
Amelia threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tight. “Thank you, mommy.”
“Hey what about me?”
“Oh daddy thank you,” she said, as she released her death grip on my neck and latched on to her father.
“OK. Are you sure you want to give all these toys to the children at Waverly?”
She nodded and held out her hand.
“And this,” she said, as she gave him $10. She had received it in a birthday card from Aiden’s mother. Ellen Lawson had always treated Amelia like her own grandchild and, since she assumed her son and his partner, Scott, would never have children of their own, she doted on Amelia like a true grandmother.
“What’s this for Amelia?”
“It’s my money from nana Ellen, daddy. I want to go shopping and buy more toys. There are a lot of kids there,” she said, giving us a look like we were silly to not understand.
Our little Amelia, at times a true five year old but then there were times she seemed much older.
A few days later we ventured into the biggest toy store in town with Amelia and her $10. When we finished, Aaron carried her to the car as I pushed our cart full of balls, cars, bears and dolls through the check out. I handed the clerk Amelia’s $10 bill, she had made me promise, and my credit card.
We set out the following weekend for our drive to Waverly Hills. Thankfully the weather held up as we made our way to Kentucky. Tracy, who still thought I was out of my mind, was thrilled to see us. She ran out, gave me a big hug and then bent down to shake Amelia’s hand.
“Hi Amelia. Do you remember me? I w
as here when you came last year.”
“Yes, you’re the lady Claire likes. She says you take care of her and the other kids. She’s happy you are here.”
Tracy looked up at me and I could see tears swelling in her eyes. Her plan had always been to restore Waverly Hills into a luxury hotel/spa/resort, with the exception of the fifth floor. It would be totally renovated for the children of Waverly. It would be closed off to the hotel guests but, if the children agreed, investigators would still be allowed in. Since it was the money they paid to come to Waverly that kept the place open, she didn’t want to shut them out.
There had been several times she thought she was going to have to sell the building, unable to keep up with maintenance and renovation cost. Even with opening the building up to paranormal investigations she struggled to make ends meet. Then, one day, she was approached by a production company. They wanted to film a paranormal movie in her building. It was a difficult decision. The last thing she wanted was a bunch of people disrespecting the spirits of her building.
Before deciding she went up to the fifth floor and talked with Claire and the other children. They understood that the money this would bring in would allow her to continue to renovate the building and she would not have to sell it. Tracy met with the production company and had one non-negotiable condition: no one was allowed to go up to the fifth floor. If she found anyone disrespecting the children she’d shut them down immediately and keep their deposit.
With the contract signed, the production company spent three months on site filming what was to become one of the biggest paranormal movies of all times. They were already in negotiations with Tracy to film a sequel. Tracy’s project to restore Waverly would be safe for several more years.
When we arrived Tracy, Amelia and I went to the first floor gift shop where she had a selection of cookies and juice for Amelia. We ate our cookies while Aaron unloaded the bags of toys from the back of our SUV.
“Wow,” she whistled, “you weren’t kidding. Are all these toys yours Amelia?”
“Yes but I also gave mommy and daddy $10 to buy more. You have a lot of children here.”
Tracy laughed. “Yes we do Amelia, and I have a surprise for you and your mommy. Come on let’s help your dad get these up to the fifth floor and I’ll show you.”
“I was thinking what you said the last time you were here Leigh, about the spirits being in the here and now and not living in the past. I realized we don’t have anything for them here. Nothing. So we’ve spent the last year renovating part of the children’s wing. I hope you like it.”
Yuletide Tales A Festive Collective Page 7