Ghost Song

by Mark L'Estrange

  “What if you could know for a fact what was waiting for you when you died? Even the most ardent atheists still hold onto a shred of hope that there is something better waiting for them when this life ends. Regardless of whether or not they would ever admit it to anyone. But, if they were confronted with the knowledge whilst they were still alive, how do you think they would react? For that matter, how would religious factions respond to the knowledge that their version of god’s laws was incorrect, and one of the alternative religions had got it right all along? Would the Catholics follow the Muslims? Would the Mormons drop everything and convert to Hari Krishna’s?”

  “She tapped the side of her head as if to emphasise her point.”

  “The truth is, such knowledge would send the sanest of individuals mad. That’s because most people’s minds do not have the capacity to deal with the enormity of such knowledge. But my grandmother had often seen into the minds of those society considered to be insane. People who had been locked away, disgraced because they were not considered fit to dwell in society. And do you know what she saw when she looked into their minds?”

  “I shook my head, although I assumed that her question had been rhetorical.”

  “Knowledge. Profound and unrepressed knowledge. The only problem with them was that their minds were just not capable of processing it all, or dealing with the responsibility that came with such information. She used to tell me that when people dismissed such individuals it was only because they were not intelligent enough to comprehend what they had to offer.”

  “I rubbed my forehead, trying to demonstrate due respect for everything that she was saying. But the heady aroma from the burning leaves was starting to make my head hurt. I held up my hands as if in submission. I expressed my regret at not having appreciated the enormity of her grandmother’s burden as sincerely as I could. Then once more I emphasised how desperately I needed to know what her grandmother had seen when she looked into my future that day.

  “The girl shrugged her narrow shoulders, and casually flicked back a stray strand of her jet-black hair, which had fallen onto her face. She stared at me with a look of stern indignation for a moment. But then I saw something soften in her eyes, and she leaned closer to speak more intimately than she had thus far during our sitting.”

  “Alright, it’s not my business to keep the truth from you, my grandmother would not approve. Since I was a child and my grandmother saw the gift in me, she always warned me about the Teb’banshi and the power that it bestowed. She had recognised it as a child, and since then, her life had never been the same. She told me what to do if I ever saw its reflection in the crystal. She knew that it was too late for her, but she hoped to save me at least.

  “The Teb’banshi is older than any other magic or wisdom the world knows. It emanates from the darkness, and when it is seen, both the one who sees it and the one who has caused it to be seen are cursed. Our culture tells of wizards and sorcerers who over the centuries have tried to understand and command the power of the Teb’banshi, but only a select few ever witness its power unleashed, and those that do, usually do not live to tell others. When my grandmother gazed into the crystal to see your future, she saw the Teb’banshi, hovering over your aura, because you carried its mark, and that is why she tried to warn you. She risked her own life and the wrath of the Teb’banshi to warn you, and you ignored her!”

  “I could feel another shiver run down my spine as she spoke. I remembered the terrified look in her grandmother’s eyes when she confronted me on the pier that day. Now it all started to make sense. At least, that part of it did. I could see the young girl starting to tear up, doubtless as a result of discussing her grandmother with me. But still I had to know why, if the power of this force was as strong as the girl said it was, her grandmother risked so much to warn me about it.”

  “My grandmother told me that there was a bond of love between you and your wife, the strength of which she had only witnessed on a few occasions before. That was why she decided to risk the wrath of the Teb’banshi, and warn you. She hoped that with fair warning you might be able to evade the evil she could see in your future. But as a result, she did not survive the experience. When I brought her back here from the pier, I could see in her face that the lifeforce within her was draining away, extracted by the terrible power of the Teb’banshi. She died soon afterwards.”

  “I was mortified by what the girl was telling me. She evidently believed that her grandmother sacrificed her life to try and save mine. Right at that moment, it did not matter to me whether I believed in gypsy fortune-tellers, or Romany curses. It merely came down to an old woman willingly giving up the rest of her life for a complete stranger, based upon the love which she believed existed between him and his wife. I felt truly humbled, and I think that the girl either saw it in my face, or perhaps, saw it in my heart, because she slid her hand across the table and gave mine a gentle squeeze. When I looked up at her, she was smiling through her tears.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Jonathan lifted his beer mug to his lips, and drained the last dregs of his beer. Meryl signalled to him for a refill, but he declined with a weak smile and a shake of his head. He gently rubbed his eyes between his forefinger and thumb, to prevent another flood of tears. It was then that he noticed that Meryl, as well as several of the band members, also had tear-stains down their faces.

  His story had reached its end, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, Jonathan felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had never put much stock in the saying about ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’, but just relating his story to the others made him feel as if he was finally laying down his burden, and in its place, he felt a wave of calm wash over him.

  Jonathan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to clear the remnants of foam from his beer away, before he continued to speak. There was not much left to say, but he felt that his audience deserved an ending, having sat with him and listened to his story.

  “I still see my Jenifer in my dreams. As old as I am now, she always looks as young as she was the last time I saw her. Sometimes she is cradling our baby in her arms, and I pray that it is a sign that they are waiting for me. I won’t lie, I have often considered suicide, but I suppose that when it comes to it, I am not that brave. I have always found it odd that so many people refer to it as the ‘coward’s’ way out. As far as I’m concerned, it would take more courage than I possess. Even so, I pray nightly that god in his mercy will take me soon.

  “Amy still comes to me, too. Sometimes she has her angelic face on, and she sings to me in her dreams. But other times she haunts my nightmares, and chases me through an endless stream of corridors and passages, shrieking at the top of her lungs. I suspect that, from what that young fortune-teller explained to me, the curse I inherited will always be with me, although now, I have no one left to protect from it, so it’s welcome to take me, whenever it sees fit!”

  Jonathan heaved himself out of his chair, and began to button his coat in anticipation of the cold weather that awaited him, outside. Meryl tried once more to persuade him to stay for another drink. But she could tell that his mind was made up to leave. She imagined that, now he had completed his terrible story, he probably wished to be alone with his thoughts.

  Mike offered Jonathan his hand and the two men shook, as did Fred, from the band.

  Melissa and Julie hugged and kissed him on the cheek, and when he reached Barry, the drummer, he too wrapped his arms around the old man and hugged him tightly, telling him to look after himself.

  Meryl walked Jonathan to the door, and saw him outside into the cold. She hugged him for the longest time, and informed him that he was always welcome and that from now on, she would save him his favourite seat, and that there would always be a free pint waiting for him at the beginning of the night.

  Jonathan thanked her, wholeheartedly.

  Meryl watched until he had reached the far end of the road, and turned out of sig
ht.

  Epilogue

  Meryl never saw Jonathan again after that night. She hoped that it was not embarrassment that was keeping him away, having bared his heart and soul to them all. Another theory which crossed her mind was that perhaps he now associated her pub with the reminder of that song, and as a result, with everything which had happened to him.

  Finally, she started to make enquiries from some of her other regulars as to where he lived. She intended to pay him a visit and ensure she told him again that he was always welcome back at her establishment, and that there would be a free pint waiting for him every night.

  When she discovered the name of his street, Meryl went to pay him a visit one afternoon when business was slow. The road in question was not particularly long, but she still counted over forty houses lining it. She waited for the first of Jonathan’s neighbours to venture out, rather than randomly knocking on doors. The neighbour, although very pleasant and helpful, had only lived on the street herself for a short time, and did not know who Jonathan was.

  In the end, having spoken to another two equally uninformed individuals, she finally found someone who had known him for some time. Meryl was dismayed to discover that Jonathan had died. According to the neighbour, a middle-aged lady with a strong Mediterranean accent, his sister had discovered him a few days after he passed away, when he had missed Sunday lunch at her house, something which he never did.

  Whilst talking to the lady, Meryl calculated that Jonathan had died the same night he told his story at the pub. Apparently, he was found in his favourite armchair, clutching a picture of his late wife.

  Meryl hoped that he was finally with her and their and child, and most of all, at peace.