In the beginning, Patrick was just a normal five year old boy who played football, army games and all the other things little boys did with their friends. But he always had that extra something that nobody else did. He didn't particularly think it had a name at that age, he just assumed everyone else could do what he could, until he started school. When the other kids realised that he would talk to people that weren't visually there some of the kids would avoid him or make fun of him.
That's when he realised that he was different. He often wondered if he was the same as his biological parents and maybe they had the same abilities as he did. Patrick had been adopted as a newborn baby so he knew nothing about his birth parents. He would make up scenarios in his head sometimes, where he and his birth parents would sit around a table talking to spirits that had passed and wanted to give a message to a loved one. Patrick did not have the desire to meet them but his scenarios gave meaning to his ability to speak to the dead.
Any spirit could visit Patrick at any time and sometimes he found it good company. If the spirit was not good company however, they could sometimes get angry if they hadn't had a good soul whilst they were on earth, he would try to block it from his mind. He particularly liked it when his Grandpa came to visit him, which was his father's father.
He would say things like, "Patrick, you'll understand that one day, all this has happened for a reason." Patrick didn't understand at the time but he would later in life.
One cold February morning of 1984, Patrick was sitting at the desk by his primary three classroom door. His teacher, Miss Donald was giving a maths lesson. The class was freezing cold and it had been snowing non stop for a whole week. Patrick wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention as he didn't have a big interest in maths. That wasn't the only reason why, though. He could sense something, he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that a big change was coming. That sensation of butterflies in his stomach just got stronger the more the clock ticked by.
As he gazed out of the window where his desk was situated at the back of the class he saw the large flakes of snow flutter down on to the grass where later in the spring, the daffodils would begin to sprout. The sky was completely white and even though he could hear the murmur of Miss Donald's voice at the front of the class, he could feel the silence outdoors. As he fell deeper in to his daydream, he continued to watch the snow fall with some snowflakes bigger than others. Some flew directly towards the window from where he gazed and others swirled around the sky before settling on a spot to land. He looked out to as far as his sight would allow him and he could pick out the silhouette of a man. He knew instantly that it was his Grandpa, which made him smile. Patrick watched as he made his way over to the window, like any normal human would he walked through the snow but behind him there were no footprints. Even though his movement imitated walking, his Grandpa's form seemed to float gently, as if his own spirit carried him through the cold wintery air.
Grandpa? Patrick spoke in his mind, never daring to allow the class to hear him.
Hello Patrick, his Grandpa smiled gently as he finally reached the window.
Patrick blinked and in that split second, he felt his Grandpa's presence on the other side of his body, sitting next to him on the empty chair.
I like when you visit, it makes me happy.
Me too, his Grandpa replied. You feel it, don't you?
Yes but I don't know what it is. Do you know?
Patrick knew that his Grandpa was referring to the change in the atmosphere, the feeling that something big was going to happen but not knowing what that change was.
Yes, I do know. But you must experience it on your own. If I tell you what it is, then you may not be able to fulfil your purpose.
Patrick felt confused but he decided that his Grandpa always knew best and that he would never keep anything from him that could harm him.
Ok. Can you at least tell me when? He tried to make his young voice sound brave at the unknown but there was still a quiver of fear hidden under the front.
Yes, it is going to happen today and very soon.
As he looked at Patrick with a gentle glowing smile, his appearance began to fade. Patrick did not like this part of his Grandpa’s visits but he knew that he could not stay. As Patrick returned his gaze to the window, he saw his Grandpa walking back in the direction which he had come from, again imitating the action of walking but somehow appearing to float. Patricks heart ached each time his Grandpa left, it felt like he had died all over again. But as time passed and his grief slowly lessened he had learned how to deal with it. He knew it was easier for him to cope with the loss as he was still able to talk to his Grandpa and feel the comfort of his presence every now and again. Patrick understood that his Dad and his Gran were still incredibly sad about their loss and the reason for this was the knowing that they would never talk to him again, touch him or hear him. But Patrick could and for a long time, would hear him and see him. The comfort of this was soothing since his family were still very much in the grieving process. For Patrick it could become quite overwhelming at times, especially since he was still a child. In Patricks head, he felt older and more knowledgeable but on the outside he was merely a child who had lost a grandparent, one who he was very close with and who knew his secret.
He did not know how to behave when it came to his Grandpa's death. He did not think that it would be good for his own dad to see him upset as it may set off his own emotions however, he did not want it to seem as though he was unaffected by the situation. Thinking in these ways made Patrick grow up quicker than he should have, allowing his ability to develop alongside his early maturity.
Patricks attention clicked back into reality when the head teacher, Mr Parkinson came into the class. The feeling in his stomach abruptly stopped. Behind Mr Parkinson was a girl, the same age as him, or roughly there about.
"Miss Donald, this is Jodie Jenkins." Mr Parkinson led Jodie over to Miss Donalds desk and began to write something on a piece of paper.
Whilst Mr Parkinson was writing, Patrick couldn't help but look at Jodie in absolute knowing that the feeling he had been having and what his Grandpa had talked about was to do with her. The big change that was running through his head as the clock ticked by each second seemed to make the sound of a click just as soon as Jodie had stepped into the room. The strange thing was that Jodie was looking at Patrick with the exact same expression on her face as he had. To him she glowed.
"Class, this is Jodie Jenkins, she is our newest pupil to the class so make her feel as welcome as she should be please." Miss Donald smiled at Jodie and ushered her over to the seat that every child in the class had avoided.
Words were not exchanged during the rest of the lesson, it was only during lunch time that Patrick spoke to Jodie for the first time.
"My name is Patrick," he said as they gathered their belonging to head to the cafeteria.
Jodie glanced at him and said, "I know."
Patrick paused for a moment and immediately understood what the click in his head had meant when he first set eyes on her. She can do what I can do!
Jodie glanced at him and as she did she raised the side of her mouth, releasing a very small smile. I sure can.
The school cafeteria was buzzing with children every which way you turned. The noise was loud and echoed words bounced off the walls. Unless anyone focused on two particular children having a conversation, no one would be able to define the nature of the hundreds of conversations that were taking part around Patrick and Jodie.
"So, why did you move school?" Patrick asked.
"I was bullied in my last school because people didn't understand why I was different. They all thought I was weird and picked on me for talking to myself. It got so bad that I didn't want to go to school."
Jodie stared out at the other children in the large hall while she spoke. "That's when I realised that I should use my brain to talk to them rather than actually talk out loud," she said as she nibbled on a sandwich that she had
taken out of her lunch box.
Patrick could see that Jodie felt sad about what had happened to her but he could hear her thoughts telling him that she was glad that she had met someone else who was exactly like her.
Days passed and Jodie and Patrick spent a lot of time together, at school, after school and any other time in between. Not a lot of conversation took place, or so it would seem to those around them. Their conversations were kept private between their senses and their own minds.
Patrick had learned that Jodie's senses weren't as similar as his in the way of vision. Jodie was also more able to switch off, but mostly she would keep her senses open. She felt that she was given this sense purposefully and that she would be able to use it to someone else’s advantage at some point in her life.
Patrick talked to her about his Grandpa and all the things that he said about Patrick having a purpose too. Jodie felt comfortable around Patrick and she understood him like she understood herself.
"I think that we were meant to meet Patrick," Jodie said as they played on the swings next to Patricks house.
"I think so too," he replied as he manoeuvred his legs to reach the highest height he could. The air swooshed passed his ears as he gained height and fell back down again. He could see his Grandpa sitting on the roundabout opposite him and he was smiling.
"My Grandpa is over there," Patrick said.
"He is?" Jodie couldn't see him.
"Yep, he is smiling. He told me about you."
"He told you about me?" she sounded surprised.
Patrick stopped the swing and sat still next to Jodie. "Well, not about you but he said that he knew that a big change was coming. I could feel it that day, in class just before you came in. My Grandpa came to see me and he said that he could feel that something was going to happen and he knew what it was but I had to figure it out for myself."
His Grandpa was gone again.
"Well I am glad that it was me. Although I don't think that I have been much of a change, do you?" Jodie asked curiously.
"You will be, but I don't think that whatever it is will happen for a while. I think that we were supposed to meet for a reason and we will find out why in the future."
He is right you know. In the future you will know exactly why you were supposed to be together, Patricks Grandpa spoke to Jodie. Patrick heard it too and they both smiled.
Jodie only ever heard voices, she never saw the spirits themselves. She liked to listen to the voices. Mostly they described how they missed their human life and that they would love to come back to do all of the things they hadn't done that they regretted. The voices varied in age from children as young as seven to the elderly. There were voices of health, disease and illness but all of the voices that Jodie sensed were those that led happy lives.
She had never experienced any unpleasant spirits.
Jodie discovered however that Patricks senses were not always as pleasant the way her own were.
Three
Twenty six years later
Patrick lay in bed. He tossed and turned, threw the covers off and pulled them on, opened the window, then closed the window. He repeated this several times before he decided to give up trying to sleep. He got out of bed and turned to look at his sleeping fiancée.
Jodie hadn't moved an inch during all of Patrick's sleepless commotion. He bent down and kissed her slightly on the forehead and then crept quietly from their bedroom, down the hall into the living room. He decided to keep the lights off, he figured that it might help him relax and hopefully he would fall asleep on the couch. He opened the sliding glass door and went out onto the balcony. He took a deep breath and looked out at the express way that his building faced onto. The road was deserted, well it was four o'clock in the morning. There was a slight breeze in the early morning air. Patrick took the cigarette pack off of the table and slid one out. He studied the lone cigarette for a moment, wondering if lack of sleep was worth a smoke. He had been on and off smoking for a couple of months now, but the last few weeks were like hell without them. He kept a pack in his apartment at all times. He thought that it be better to have them there in his opinion. It would be better to have one cigarette than be seriously stressed about trying not to smoke at all. Jodie always found this amusing.
"It's just your way of not giving it up completely!" she would laugh.
He decided his lack of sleep over the last few weeks definitely was worth it and lit the cigarette. He drew deep on the tip and savoured the nicotine that would sail through his body within moments and held it for a few seconds.
This will calm my nerves surely, he thought to himself. He exhaled slowly. Patrick's sleepless mind began to wander now that he felt more relaxed. He thought about the dreams he had been having and about the random women in them. They were women he had never met before, women he did not recognise.
He thought about them, all three of them. Their distressed mannerisms, tattered appearance and obvious fear in their eyes were what made him question the dreams. Of course, everybody dreams at night, but not everybody's dreams kept them awake for most of the night. He felt almost sure that it had to be something to do with his ability to communicate with the dead but he had never experienced it this way and in mass volume like this before. One of the women was around his age. She was small, about 5ft 1" and well dressed and she would just appear to him. She wouldn't say anything but just look at him, however as the nights went on her appearance and manner changed. Her clothing became tattered, her hair was hanging all around her face and she had bruising all around her neck and shoulders. She reached out to him and tried to speak, but all that came out was a croaking, gasping sound. The weeks drew on and as the dreams continued a second woman had appeared. At first she was just like the first woman, very well dressed and pretty. She looked in her late twenties or early thirties at a push. Again no words were spoken, just looks exchanged and as the nights went on, her appearance and manner also changed with her hair hanging around her face and her clothing soiled with what seemed like grit and oil, as if she had fallen on the pavement on a rainy day.
Her injuries seemed similar, but she also had scrapes and grazes on her face. She reached out for Patrick too, as if asking for some kind of help. Her voice was almost non existent. She clawed at her throat as if she were suffocating and gasping for air. The dreams didn't frighten him as such, they just woke him at all times of the night and got his mind ticking about who they were and why, night after night they continued to contaminate his sleep.
He drew deep on the cigarette again and turned to face the sliding glass door, pushing the faces from his thoughts. Patrick put the cigarette out in the ashtray and went back inside. He lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Having a smoke had worked, he felt very relaxed and sleepy. As he was drifting off to that place between awake and sleep, he heard an unfamiliar voice draw out his name. It was a raspy voice, almost like someone with a bad throat infection or laryngitis.
Patrick.
He opened his eyes and sat up straight on the couch. Everything looked the same. The room was of medium size for a city apartment. The sofa was positioned in the corner of the sitting room and there was a large rectangular mirror on the wall above it. The television was on the opposite wall and a glass coffee table sat in the middle of the room.
Something felt different. He was cold due to leaving the sliding door open by a quarter of the way. It was July but it was also Scotland, the seasons don't play by the rules here. He stood up and took the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around himself as he sat back down. He felt a slight breeze on the back of his neck and the hairs stood on end so suddenly that he stood back up immediately. Patrick told himself it was because he had left the door open. He was facing the television and when he looked at it there was a face looking back at him, it was the face of the first woman who had been in his dreams. He couldn't decide whether he had actually fallen asleep on the couch and this was another dream or if this were his reality in all its fin
e form.
Her face was partly covered by her hair which seemed wet and straggly. As he looked on, his stomach was beginning to do somersaults and he felt slight nausea setting in. He spun around quickly to see if the woman was behind him, where she should be in the reflection. Before he could do anything the face reappeared in the mirror which he now faced, with the most expressionless look on her face. Patrick had never felt so frozen with fright but unusually he didn't feel any different. It wasn't like in the films where the character see's a ghost and the temperature drops and you can see your breath in front of you. The room was of normal temperature and he definitely couldn't see his breath in front of him. He tried to stay as calm as possible but he couldn't move. He was routed to the spot with fear. He had encountered spirits appearing to him many times before, but never something so graphic and sudden like this. He took the deepest breath he could so he could shout out for Jodie, whilst keeping his eyes on the woman in the mirror. She seemed to be getting closer, as if walking out of the mirror toward him. Patrick was absolutely helpless with fear of not knowing what was going on, his body began to shake and he was breaking out in a cold sweat. The woman was no longer in the mirror. She was standing by the edge of the couch, her head was slumped forward but her eyes were on Patrick. She took slow, eerie steps, closer and closer. A hand was placed upon Patrick’s shoulder and he leaped two feet in the air.
"Wow Patrick it's me," Jodie spoke with a startle in her voice at his response.
Beyond Evidence Page 2