by Matt A Byron
She heard the sound of approaching sirens, the room felt empty as she couldn’t look away from the corner of the room where her sister had vanished forever.
A few minutes later police officers arrived with their weapons drawn. One officer was yelling something at her but she couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t move her eyes from the corner of the room. A female officer arrived and brought her to her feet. She took Emery by the arm and led her outside. She saw Trevor waiting by a police cruiser. Splashes of Red and blue lights lit up the night. An ambulance pulled up, the roar of its siren slowly faded as it came to a stop. She saw Detective Saunders and his partner arrive. As they approached, tears exploded from her, and she had to be held up by the female office. All the anger, all the grief, all the fear and all the sadness that had been pooling inside broke loose, and she no longer tried to hold back, the barrier surrounding her emotions had been broken.
She had later found out that the man was identified as Morten Briggs, an unemployed contractor who had a history with the police. Detective Saunders did confirm a boy was discovered at the small market by the owner, he died from choking. The owner was not seen as negligent. The clerk who was working in the store that day was the owner’s son.
When the police went to notify the little boy’s father of the incident, they had found him dead with a gunshot wound to the head.
The mother of the child could not be located and had been absent for some time. The boy was nine years old. Emery told Detective Saunders the events of the night, including what Mr. Briggs had told her about the boy and how he had killed his own brother because of what happened.
She was kept at the police station for a couple of hours before she and Trevor were released. She repeatedly refused to go to the hospital since her injuries didn’t appear to be serious and rather opted to be taken to Trevor’s home. Her house was still a crime scene, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
Over the next couple of weeks, she encountered more spirits. Although she still occasionally ran into the gray looking spirits, most of the spirits she encountered retained their color and looked to make connections with her. Knowing that the gray spirits were the ones who had stayed too long and had become trapped; she felt deep sadness for them. No matter how much she would try, she never could communicate with them.
At first, it all seemed overwhelming. She was consumed with her own grief, constant reminders of her sister every time she was home; heard a song on the radio or just closed her eyes and thought.
It was Trevor who first urged her to consider communicating with the spirits she encountered. She was thankful that none of them visited her home; they more or less seemed to be confined to a certain location. Or as she thought about it, not confined but lingered.
The locations always held a point of significance for the spirit, a clue on how they came to pass. She learned that in some instances when a person died, their passageway didn’t immediately appear. Sometimes it appeared days later or even weeks while other times it was immediate. She didn’t know why this happened just that it did.
Not all the spirits needed help, some just lingered a little longer holding on to the life they knew before their passageway appeared. Others wanted help in some fashion. Emery didn’t understand at first how she could help them. She learned that each time was different. Some spirits couldn’t accept they had passed, some refused to move on and needed to be encouraged while others sought justice for events that happened to them.
She couldn’t help all of them. She knew she had more to learn. She still carried the grief of her sister’s passing in her heart but it no longer consumed her like it had which allowed her to focus more on her gift.
She found herself out of her house more often, and large crowds no longer seemed as suffocating as they used to be. She still would not go out looking for them, but she also didn’t try to avoid them. If she found herself in a room full of people, she no longer spent her time looking for an exit.
Her friendship with Trevor had become closer, but she refused to take it as Trevor put it, to the next level. Although she had accepted the fact that she was attracted to him and becoming involved with him on a more personal level was something she could see herself doing, she wasn’t emotionally ready for it.
A lot had happened in the nearly three months since Morten Briggs broke into her home and almost killed her. Nearly three months since she had last seen her sister. She never imagined being able to live without her, to tolerate a life without her laughter or her beautiful smile. She realized though that her sister’s imprint was felt all throughout her life, and she was a better person for having had the time she did with her.
The more she interacted with the spirits, the more she understood how to help them. She was still learning, but she felt more confident each day. She did encounter spirits on occasion, whose intent was more sinister than others, but she kept her distance from them. They would generally regard her with bitter contempt but eventually would move on. She never had reason to believe that they could do her any harm, and she didn’t know how to help them so she tried to do her best to ignore them.
On a Friday morning, she decided to take a walk, and she found herself outside the market. She had not been there since the day of the shooting. She looked in the window and almost walked away until she caught a glimpse of the boy in the store. She felt her stomach drop, how could she have forgotten about him?
The boy stood by the ice cooler, looking at her through the window, tears clinging to the brim of his eyes. This was the same look she remembered seeing the first time she saw him. She knew she had to go in there. She took a breath, decided she needed some gum and an antacid anyways and stepped in the market as the bell rang signifying her arrival.
She walked past the counter as an older woman nodded at her behind the thick glass that shielded her from behind the counter. She moved down the aisle and stopped when she reached the coolers. She reached out her hand, the boy placed him in hers, and the two of them turned toward the black mass as it appeared at the back of the store.
The boy seemed reluctant at first as they approached the mass. As they stood just outside of it, she could feel a soothing warmth from it, and when she looked down at the boy, he was smiling. She let go of his hand, and he looked up at her revealing wonderment in his light brown eyes.
She had learned how to use her energy along with the spirits energy to form a bond which allowed her to do things as hold their hand or even hug them if the situation ever arose.
The boy stood there smiling as the mass moved toward him and slowly enveloped him. Before he disappeared, he waved at her.
She thought it was funny that in all the stories ever told about after life experiences it was always described as a bright white light showing the way when it, in fact, it was the opposite. It was always a thick dark mass; the light people saw was at the end of the passageway. She thought of the black mass as a representation of death and once you have accepted your passing by walking into it, only then would you see the light at the end of the tunnel that would lead you to the other side.
About the Author
Matt Byron lives in Southern California. He starting writing short stories when he was younger and took an interest in Thrillers, Paranormal, Suspense, Fantasy and Mystery.
A student of the written word, he loves to read as much as he can. He loves to write stories that take readers on a journey.
Matt is also a big sports fan following Baseball, Football, and Hockey. In addition to writing and sports, he also loves the outdoors and music.
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