by Matt A Byron
She stared at the bedroom door. Any feelings of fear slowly turned to anger. All the windows in the room were closed, and there was no air flow to account for the door closing as it did. Something was in her home, and it was toying with her. She knew not to let her fear get the best of her and besides she had grown up seeing the spirit world so she shouldn’t be afraid of it.
She walked over to the door and without a moment’s hesitation pulled it open. The hallway was dark but empty. She moved down the hall turning on the lights as she went.
“I’m not afraid of you. Show yourself, you coward,” she yelled.
Nothing moved. Feeling invincible with anger, she moved through each room shouting the same words until she came back to the front room and realized nothing was there. The dark corner she looked at earlier did not seem to occupy the same darkness she saw earlier, but she still felt like she wasn’t alone.
She felt that something was there with her, taunting her, watching her. Never before had she felt any fear because of the spirit world, they seemed complacent to mull around their way, but now this was different. She had read stories about evil spirits, possessions, and demons but had never encountered anything like that. She didn’t think anything that malevolent was playing hide and seek with her, but she knew that this encounter was not like anything she had been through before.
“What do you want? Why don’t you show yourself?”
Nothing moved. The room was deathly silent. She moved through the house as a feeling of uneasiness coursed through her veins but still she could not find anything or anyone looming in a dark corner ready to say “boo.”
Thinking of everything that had happened the past few days, her thoughts were like a whirlwind inside her head. She knew that her ability would someday have unwanted consequences. The day, she assumed, had finally arrived. The walls felt smaller, the air seemed thicker, and she needed to get away from whatever thing occupied her house. She knew she wasn’t alone but whatever was there didn’t want to show themselves. She only had one alternative, leave. She wasn’t leaving in fear, she was not easily spooked, but more so out of frustration. She needed to clear her head, to figure out what was going on.
She went back to the bedroom to retrieve her purse, looked inside to make sure her cell phone and car keys were inside, they were, and headed back through the house.
When she reached the front door, she stopped suddenly when a wall of cold air blew across her face. The air in the home wasn’t on, and she hadn’t opened the door, yet the cold air was unmistakable. When her fingers touched the brass door knob, she felt the coldness had encompassed the entire surface, and she quickly moved her fingers away.
She took a breath and a vapor trail escaped her mouth. Something wisped by her ear once and then again. She held her breath as it happened again. This time, it sounded like words. She strained to listen, as she was able to make out the word “Get.”
A few moments later it happened again but this time, it was clearer and sent chills through her whole body. She grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open as the last words faded from her ears: “GET OUT!”
Her sisters red Ford Mustang was parked in the driveway and as she pressed the unlock button on the remote. Looking over her shoulder back at the house she arrived at the car when something moved upon her from her left.
She spun around quickly as a woman’s voice began speaking really quickly. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. She first saw the blond hair then the woman’s eyes which appeared over shaded with makeup and then was the microphone that was pushed in her face. Looking for the microphone, there was a big man behind holding a camera over his shoulder looking into a viewfinder.
Glancing between her and the cameraman she couldn’t understand what the woman was saying as the microphone danced in front of her. The car door was successfully open. The woman stood not more than two feet away from her, the camera guy’s left eye squinted at her, she wanted to run back inside or jump into the car, but she did neither as all she was able to do was stand there motionless.
“Susan Ramiro, channel 3 news coming to you live here with Emery Hallindale, as some of you may know her better as the spirit woman.”
Living in a small town as Emery had her whole life, everybody knew her business. When news of her ability first became public, the finger pointing and name calling began. Spirit woman was a name a newspaper reporter gave her and in a town of 3500 people, you stand out pretty quickly if someone gives you a unique moniker.
“You have been through such an ordeal this past week, with the shooting and the loss of your sister, are you worried that the shooter is still at large?”
“I can’t do this,” Emery said.
She turned away, hurried into the car and slammed the door shut. She rammed the key hard into the ignition and turned it. The reporter remained at the driver’s side window which was rolled up. She was still talking as she peered in at her. She threw the shifter into reverse and pulled out of the driveway, switched it into drive and sped off leaving the newswoman and cameraman behind in her front yard.
She made it three blocks when her cell phone rang, the theme song to the pink panther. She plucked the phone from her purse and answered.
“I am so sorry, I just saw it. Are you okay?”
She didn’t immediately recognize the voice.
“This is Detective Saunders; I’m placing a call over at channel three and putting a stop to this.”
“What if this creep watches the news? Jesus Christ, I can’t do this right now,” she rang off and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. She hit the steering wheel hard with her right hand and screamed. She was breathing heavy, tears welling up; she pulled the car over and threw the shifter into park.
She took a couple deep breaths and then looked at herself in the rearview mirror when she noticed her sister sitting in the passenger seat.
“You okay?”
Turning to face her, “Why did you leave? What the hell is going on Mel?”
“There are things that I just know, I don’t know how but I do.”
“What kinds of things. You have to tell me, I feel like I am losing my mind.”
“Remember that woman we met last year, the one with the funky name who owned that spiritual shop?”
Emery thought about it for a moment and then, “Renna?”
She had met Renna Abigail Brooks last year when they happened to come across her store when it first opened. She was an older woman in her mid-fifties who loved to talk about New Orleans, where she grew up. She was the only person other than her sister that seemed to understand her and accept her for who she was. She embraced her gift as she called it.
“She can help. She would understand.”
Help with what she wondered. What was she talking about? She knew that Renna was a spiritual person, and she had a warm heart, but she wasn’t sure if Renna’s beliefs were grounded in reality or blind faith. Witch doctors and voodoo priests were a little much to believe in, but then again she saw dead people and who would believe that.
“How can she help? You’re doing it again Mel, just tell me already.”
Her sister said nothing for a few moments but instead looked out the back window. When her sister turned back to look at her, she saw a frightened look come over her face. Emery felt her chest tighten. She had only seen that look on her sister’s face one other time so she knew something was wrong.
She threw the car in drive and headed to Renna’s shop. She saw her sister glancing out the back window a few times but never said a word. The fearful look on her sister’s face was the same one she had the day of the shooting. Something scared her, something real. Something was coming.
Chapter Six