Broken: A Paranormal Romance

by David H. Burton

  The chalk dropped to the floor, and I stooped to retrieve it. He got it before I did.

  “Let me,” he said. He put his hand over mine, warm and large, and dusted the end of the cue. His eyes refused to leave mine.

  The word, “Thanks,” was all I managed to choke out. Waves of charm flooded over me. I stepped back, trying to clear my head.

  I went to break and he stopped me, grin in full force “You plan on breaking with the rack still on?”

  I smiled, demurely. I nearly had to slap myself out of this. I was acting like such a girl.

  Then I shot the ball clean off the table.

  He went after it while I grabbed my beer. I took three hard gulps, hoping something would wake me out of this dream.

  This wasn’t happening. I didn’t need this.

  At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his jeans as well as how his button-up shirt hung from his shoulders and chest. I was usually pretty good about making sure my head ruled before anything else. But I was having a really hard time with that right now. The fact I couldn’t even play pool properly was not a good sign.

  Not good at all.

  “You seem a little flustered,” he said. That green eyed glow was there again. “You sure you want to play?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. He smiled again, all charisma.

  That lump in my throat was there once more.

  “Not really,” I managed to utter.

  “You want to go back to your place?”

  I closed my eyes. This was happening way too fast. It wasn’t like him, at least not with me.

  But as he grabbed our jackets, I knew where this was going.

  I feared it as much as some visceral part of me also wanted it.

  I was going to take him home.

  Chapter 4

  Chris walked closer to me than usual, his arm pressing against mine. I had barely drunk anything, but my head felt like it was swimming. Thank goodness for the rain. It wasn’t a light drizzle any longer.

  I raised my face to the night sky and let its cool touch give me a cold reality check.

  Taking him back to my place was not a good idea. I’d just end up another broken heart in a long list of them. I was pretty sure there was even a Chris Silver recovery group in town.

  I let him walk me home. When we got to the door of my apartment, I took out the keys, paused and faced him.

  He didn’t press forward, and his face didn’t seem to show any sign of what he was thinking. But that glowing look was there. He took a step closer, taking my hands in his. They were so warm.

  He kissed me on the forehead.

  “Call me tomorrow,” he whispered.

  My breath caught for a second, but I recovered my poise.

  “Sure.”

  He turned and walked down the hall towards the elevators. I actually stood there, watching him go. I rolled my eyes at my own foolishness.

  What was I doing?

  When I stopped being such a girl and picked my dignity off the floor, I closed the door.

  Fortunately, little green dude wasn’t there.

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  Since I’d slept most of the day, I wasn’t overly tired. I now had three choices because I couldn’t sit here pining for Chris — comb through the papers that Joan had left me, examine the extra earring and see if I could dig up a number for Aunt Marigold, or take a shower.

  I opted for the shower — piping hot.

  I stood in the water for a good ten minutes, just letting the heat soak in before I did anything. I tried not to think, but that wasn’t so easily accomplished.

  I had just learned I was adopted; my mother had revealed to me the purpose of my being in her family; my brother didn’t believe any of it was true; a hot friend of mine was giving me vibes I shouldn’t be getting; I’d found another earring to match something I’d received years ago; and the little green man may not have been a figment of my imagination after all.

  Thinking was all I did in there.

  When I finally managed to extract myself from the shower, I decided that the next order of business was to review those journal entries. It was a little odd I should have had the same hallucinations that my grandfather did. Or maybe it wasn’t hallucinations after all, which was the most confusing part of this. And if that was true, then what about this curse, as Chris called it? That part niggled at the back of my head, and sent a shiver wriggling down my spine.

  I threw myself on the futon. It moaned again.

  I grabbed the leather-bound package and started with that first page once more.

  Today, the little green man appeared again. I haven’t seen him in months.

  That was it.

  The next page was similar.

  The green man intrigues me. I try to talk to him. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me. If I try to touch him, he disappears. I wish I knew what he was.

  I flipped through a few more and stopped.

  Aunt Marigold was here today. She gave me a green cufflink for my birthday.

  I had to re-read that one again.

  Aunt Marigold? A green cufflink?

  Panic was starting to settle in. My hands shook.

  I took a moment to think. Aunt Marigold wasn’t my real aunt, I knew that. From what I could recall my father had been an only child. So, I had always assumed she was my father’s aunt, but it looked like she might have been my grandfather’s aunt?

  How old was Aunt Marigold?

  I put the pages down to fetch the earrings.

  Sure enough it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. There were two there. And they were identical.

  I wondered if Aunt Marigold had given me more than one, but I knew that couldn’t have been the case. The summer she gave it to me was one I’d never forget. There had only been one earring. I was sure of it.

  I walked back into the living room. Despite my better judgment, I cast a glance at the ficus. I almost cried out.

  The little man was standing there, waving.

  My first instinct was to run for the kitchen and grab the meds, along with thoughts of tossing that goddamned plant off the balcony.

  Since there were no meds, a calmer head was forced to prevail. I took a deep breath.

  Maybe I needed to take a different approach. Since the little, green man was now leaving me gifts, I thought perhaps I should engage him.

  I took the earrings with me and sat down on the floor next to the ficus. Chris’s scent was still here. I actually inhaled.

  The little man inched back, hiding behind the plant. His wave got more diminutive.

  I sat there, looking at him for a while before I finally gathered up enough insanity to try speaking to him.

  “Hello,” I said.

  He took a tiny step forward, but said nothing.

  This was crazy. I was talking to my hallucination. Dr. White was going to double my meds after this.

  I held out the earrings to him.

  “Do you want them?” I asked.

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was talking to him. I had to be losing my mind.

  He shook his head.

  Well, at least he understood me.

  He motioned for me to put them up to my own ears. I did like he suggested and he clapped those huge mitts of his.

  Then he made a motion like I should hook them into the holes in my ears.

  I groaned as I got up and took them to the mirror. Was I really going to do this?

  I hooked one of them in and looked at my reflection. They really were pretty. The silver and emerald actually brought out the green in my hazel eyes. I remembered when my aunt had given the single earring to me. It had been my sixteenth birthday, while I was spending the summer with her in England. I had met a boy then, who was living with Aunt Marigold. A boy I had tried to forget.

  I was never into jewelry or girly things, but this earring I had loved. I think it had more to d
o with the fact it was truly the first valuable gift I had ever received. Aunt Marigold had given it to me in private. Joan never knew I had it

  Strangely, I don’t think I had ever put it on. Of course, with only one, what was I supposed to do with it?

  I hooked the second earring in.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 5

  I woke in the back seat of a car, driving through the city. It was a new car, from the smell of it, but it wasn’t modern. It had a tape deck below the radio.

  The driver seemed young, but I couldn’t make out his face completely from where I was seated. He wore a dark suit that matched his hair.

  I sat quietly at first, wondering if I should speak. I wanted to get a closer look, but I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know I was awake. I leaned a little, hoping not to make a sound. I didn’t. Then I noticed my hands. I wasn’t solid. I was giving off a faint golden glow.

  Oh my god, am I dead?

  I leaned over to look in the rear view mirror. My face and hair also had that golden, translucent glow. The earrings were still hanging from my ears.

  What the hell was going on?

  The man pulled into a driveway and parked the car. It was the house I’d grown up in. It wasn’t the same as I remembered. The windows were old and needed replacing. There was also a small tree in the front where I remembered a much larger oak. The roof was in pretty bad need of repair.

  The man got out of the car. As he closed the door, I got a look at his face. I knew from the photos which had littered the mantle as a child that the man was my father. Or, Geoff’s father, anyway.

  I reached to open the car door, but my hand went through the metal. I gasped. I had to be a ghost.

  How the hell did I die?

  I decided to exit the car then. It seemed easy enough to pass through the door. Then I followed James to the house. He didn’t even have to grab his keys. The door swung open and a younger version of Joan flung herself on him. The joy on her face I’d not seen in a long time.

  “I have wonderful news!” she exclaimed.

  James’s face lit up. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “Katherine said her first word! I knew she was a bright girl!”

  Joan frowned. “That’s ridiculous. She’s only nine months old. No, I have better news! I’m pregnant!” She was almost bouncing on the spot and clapping her hands.

  The eyes on James’s face widened. “What? I thought it was impossible for you to get pregnant.”

  Joan looked a little white. “I thought that too, but it’s true. The doctor confirmed it this morning! I’m pregnant!”

  James had that deer in the headlights look. He stuttered. “T-t-t-that’s wonderful!” He then hugged his wife again and kissed her hard on the lips. He escorted her inside, closing the door, but not before I slipped in behind him. Ghost or not, I would rather use the door the old-fashioned way.

  James continued to kiss his wife, and I began to get a little worried I’d be watching them take it to the next step. I’d go back through the door if that happened. He pulled back and Joan caught her breath.

  “Where’s my little girl?” he asked. “Does she know yet?”

  “She’s a baby, James. She won’t know anything.” Joan pointed down the hall. “She’s in her crib.”

  James left his briefcase at the door and hurried through the house. I followed.

  The walls were a different color than what I remembered, and the furniture was much simpler.

  James darted through the hall and rounded the corner into my old room.

  “Where’s my little Katy girl?” he called.

  There was a cooing sound. That had to be me.

  I rushed after him, curious to see what nine-month-old me looked like.

  The man I knew to be my father scooped me up from the crib and twirled me around. “How’s my little Katy girl?” he said.

  The blob in his hands didn’t answer. She giggled and smiled and grabbed his face.

  “Guess who’s going to have a little brother or sister?” he said, making sounds that only a baby can induce.

  Joan entered the room while James danced with the little version of me in his arms. He offered me to her, but the doorbell rang. She left the room to get it.

  James continued dancing around the room, kissing my nine-month-old head and cheeks.

  I remembered that of my mother, she never touched me unless she needed to. She had never fawned over me like she had Geoffrey.

  Tears slid down my cheeks as I realized someone had loved me after all. I didn’t think a ghost could cry. I wiped my tears.

  I watched and admired my father as he played with me before putting me back into my pen. Then he flipped the switch on the Winnie-the-Pooh mobile over my crib.

  The characters remained lifeless and still.

  “That’s funny,” he said. “That was working this morning.”

  He looked behind the crib.

  “There it is. It’s unplugged.” He pinched my little cheeks, then knelt down to plug it in.

  I waited for it to turn on, but nothing happened.

  I looked down at my father. His one hand was still holding the plug. It was inserted into the wall yet the mobile was lifeless. Then it occurred to me what was happening. There was only the slightest hint of a twitch to him and something smelled like it was burning.

  Oh my god!

  I wanted nothing more than to help him. At the same time, I couldn’t watch. Where was Joan? I ran through the house searching for her, hoping there was some way I could get her attention. I looked everywhere and found her, finally, at the front door. There was a rather pushy golden-haired saleswoman peddling beauty products at the door. I tried to find a way to let Joan know what was happening. I tried to grab her, but my hands slipped through her. I tried to knock things over, but the effect was the same.

  Then I noticed the golden-haired woman. She was looking right at me. There was a smile in her eyes, like she knew what was happening. I gasped.

  I sailed back to the room where my father was. The little version of me was now screaming. James had collapsed to the floor, his hand still on the plug.

  Joan had told me once that my father had died of a weak heart. She’d never mentioned he’d been electrocuted.

  I put my hands to my face, crying, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t bear to watch this any longer.

  My hand brushed an earring and a thought struck me. I immediately unhooked them.

  Everything went black once more.

  I was now facing the mirror in my apartment again, earrings in hand.

  I looked at my skin and clothes. I wasn’t glowing, and my skin was now its usual pale complexion. And I was solid.

  “Oh my god,” I said. “I’m not dead.”

  What kind of screwball trip was that?

  I braced myself against the wall. I had just witnessed my father’s death, or what I’d imagined was my father’s death.

  “I’m falling apart,” I muttered.

  My mind was suddenly laden with a heavy feeling. There was no way I could absorb any more, or process what the hell had just happened. That little trip, or whatever it was, had sucked everything out of me.

  I put the earrings on the coffee table and climbed into bed.

  Again, I turned off.

  When I woke the next morning, my head throbbed.

  I groaned and hauled my rear end out of bed. Another hot shower was in tall order. This time I forced myself not to think about all the shit that was going on. I just listened to the water run and any time thoughts came — of Chris, or earrings, or my parents, or Chris, or the death of my father, or Geoff, or diaries, or little green men, or Chris, or needing to double my meds — I bunched them up into a little ball and shoved them deep down into some dark abyss where I wouldn’t think about them.

  That was until I was dressed and stepped out into the living room where the little green man was waiting for me. He was motioning for me to put the earrings on again.


  “I don’t think so,” I said. I grabbed my runners and keys, then I slipped out the door. It was time for rugby practice.

  I decided to jog to the park. If I walked, I might look at the trees and shrubs, where I would likely find other little people waving at me, or motioning for me to wear earrings.

  Sure enough, one quick glance to the old weeping willow across the street confirmed my suspicions. Three little winged things were trying to get my attention.

  I wondered if I should have called Dr. White first.

  I kept running, looking down at the pavement, the cars, the streetlamps, anything that wasn’t verdant and lush. Thank goodness I lived in the city. If I thought I was losing my mind here, out in the country it would have been a one way ticket to Looneyville. As a child, I’d almost gone there, permanently.

  A few thoughts crept into my mind as I ran. I tried to flick them away, but they were insistent on being pondered. The biggest one was the little trip I had taken. It had to have been a bad mix of something that triggered that, or maybe withdrawal from my meds. Putting on a pair of earrings doesn’t take one down memory lane, especially when a figment of my imagination told me to put them on. How could I possibly have known what had happened to my father? He had died of a heart attack, according to Joan.

  What scared me the most, I think, was the possibility I was losing my mind.

  But then I thought about those diary pages again and that my grandfather had seen the little green guy, and had received a cufflink from Aunt Marigold.

  This was seriously messed up.

  The other thing that kept inching its way into my mind was ... what if all of this was real? What if it wasn’t meds or hallucinations? What if, for a moment, all of this was actually real?

  Then my mother really did adopt me because she wanted to preserve the life of her own offspring; the little man and all his winged friends were actually real; the earring given to me by Aunt Marigold must be connected to him; the woman must know something about all of this because she’s mentioned in the diary pages; the little trip I took last night was not conjured up by bad alcohol or withdrawal; and my life was going to end sometime in the next year and two days.