The Middle Realm

by Alessia Mattei

  “That was close,” Edgar said. We were several feet away, behind another ancient tree.

  We waited a little longer before we went back. It was a slow process getting it unwound from the tree. We were as careful as possible not to jostle the car around too much. Every now and then we heard the man and woman moving inside. Once we had freed it we slowly pushed it toward the road. Let me just say that it was neither an easy nor a fun task. We had to flee a few times because of other cars driving past. More than likely, the people in the cars would not have been able to see us, but we were not going to take that chance.

  Things were going relatively well until the car got caught in a rut. The car would not move. We pushed and pushed, but it wouldn’t budge. It was already challenging enough as it is for us to move the car, the damn terrain decided not to cooperate with us.

  “This is ridiculous. Trying to move this car is more trouble than it’s worth,” Camille said.

  “Come on, guys. We can do this. It’s what, about ten, twelve feet. We can do this,” I said.

  “Help me,” I heard a voice crying out from the car.

  I stuck my head in to see the girl.

  “Please, help me. You have to do something,” she said to me.

  Wait a minute? She can’t see me, can she?

  “You can see me?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Oh, shit. This is not good. This is bad. Really, really bad. I had to tell the rest of my group.

  “Guys, she saw me,” I said, scared out of my mind.

  “Savannah, please tell me that you’re joking,” Edgar said, trying to keep his composure.

  “Yeah, um. This isn’t a joke. I’m pretty sure the girl saw me,” I said.

  “This night just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it. First Savannah and William encounter ghost hunters. Now we find a Necromancer. What’s next,” Edgar said.

  Poor Edgar was beginning to fall apart. His calm demeanor was fading away. Since he is the leader of our group, he is responsible for our safety. Now that safety is being jeopardized. I’ve never heard the term Necromancer before.

  “Whitney, what’s a Necromancer?” I whispered to her.

  “A living person who can see and communicate with ghosts,” she whispered back.

  A living person who can see and communicate with ghosts? Oh my god. That sounds like Emma. I’m not 100% sure, though. It would make sense. If she can see me, then she can probably see other ghosts as well. If she does turn out to be a Necromancer, which I just know she is, it will explain things. I remember her asking me in the past, if I heard strange noises or saw moving shadows. Now that I have one thing figured out, I can focus on figuring out why Emma does not remember killing me.

  “That’s it, we’re getting the hell out of here. I’m not risking anyone else getting seen by the Necromancer. Luckily the woman will be dead soon and won’t be able to tell anyone. She probably wouldn’t say anything anyway,” Edgar.

  “Whoa. That was major insensitive Edgar? That was some ones daughter, friend, or sister. That’s so mean to say ‘oh, luckily she’ll be dead soon and we won’t have to worry’”, I said angrily.

  “She’s right. That was insensitive,” Whitney said.

  Everyone nodded in agreement. Edgar began to feel bad. He should feel bad for what he said. By now, the car was quiet. We heard nothing. The couple had passed. All around us was silence. I felt horrible. Everyone was right. We shouldn’t have bothered. In the end we weren’t able to anything but cause more pain by moving the car around too much. If one good thing came out of this whole experience tonight, it’s that I think I now know what Emma is. I may not know why she killed me, but at least I know something now.

  Ch. 28

  We resumed our walk again. Actually, it was more of a floating, walking type thing. Edgar and Camille walked ahead. Whitney, William and I followed behind them. Whitney and William were constantly asking me if I was all right. I lied and said yes each time. They continued talking to one another and to me as well, but I didn’t hear a word they were saying. I was too upset about what just happened with the whole not being able to save the couple in the car accident.

  To add insult to injury, having to see Edgar and Camille holding hands and walking happily together depressed the hell out of me. They were so happy and in love. It was disgusting. Excuse me; I think I feel some dry heaves coming on. If I can’t be happy, no one can. Okay, that’s a little harsh. I’m just jealous because I can’t be with the one l love. After all that happened, I had almost forgotten about Alexander. Not in the sense that he has been forgotten forever. More like in the sense that I finally was able to stop thinking about missing him for a short amount time. Thank you, Edgar and Camille, for reopening my wounds, not that they had healed or anything. Now on top of everything else, I was going to start yearning for Alexander again. I know this sounds horrible, but I wished something would happen to him. I don’t think I have to spell out what I’m talking about. I wouldn’t want it to be painful or messy. What am I saying? I’m a horrible person for even thinking it. It just hurts knowing I’d never be with Alexander again. I hated that I’d never experience that kind if love again. I’d never feel the butterflies I got in your stomach when I saw the one I loved. I knew I’d never be happy again.

  A pickup truck full of laughing ghosts roused me from my depressing thoughts. I looked to see Edgar yelling at them. The music was turned off quite abruptly. Finally the damn music is off. The driver stopped a few feet ahead of our group and got out. Well, isn’t this just absolutely grand! This night just kept getting better and better. Yeah, I really should work on my sarcasm. The fact that I didn’t say it out loud for all to hear is progress. The man was tall with a muscular build. He had probably done strenuous work while he was still alive. He was certainly the kind of man you would not want to mess with. Edgar didn’t seem to be intimidated by him. He walked right up to the man. Edgar please be careful, I kept thinking to myself.

  “Sir, you have no right to be playing your music at such an indecent volume. I ask that you keep it at an acceptable level. My friends and I have had a rough evening and do not wish to listen to your noise,” Edgar said. “Besides, the other spirits all around us are trying to enjoy the evening. It’s hard to enjoy anything when you are making such a racket”

  “What are you, the noise police? I don’t have to listen to you. Nobody else around here seems to be complaining but you. We can play our music as loudly as we want. Right, boys?” he said. The spirits on the truck yelled back in agreement. William even shook his head in agreement, but I think that was just so the male ghosts on the truck wouldn’t single him out. Smart move, William. Smart move.

  The man signaled to one of his ghostly buddies to come back him up, just a precautionary measure it seems. For some reason I looked in the direction he was waving his hand. That’s when someone on the back of the truck caught my eye. Well, hello! He was the most gorgeous guy I think I’ve ever seen. Move over, Robert Pattinson and Ryan Gosling. Wow, I am speechless. Maybe things were going to start looking up for me. Maybe there is a God? Just kidding. I know the man upstairs exists. I had to wonder, though: Could this be a sign that things were improving? I really hoped so, because the past couple hours had been a living hell. Well, maybe not a ‘living’ hell in my case, but they have been pretty bad.

  The cutie on the truck may not have had a pulse, but that is okay, because neither did I. Well, look right there. We already had something in common. All jokes aside, maybe I would find love again. Love seems to have a funny way of striking at times when you least expect it. Love is like Spiderman. It has these Spidey-like senses that tingle when a person is in need of love. Then love finds the two people who are meant to be together and catches them in its web. So I thought I’d find love again that night. Stranger things had been known to happen.

  As I looked at the young man, he was not a pretty boy. He had a bit of a scruffy look to him. He looked like a real man’s
man. As I watched him, I felt something quite unexpected. Earlier I said I would probably never feel butterflies in my stomach again. Well, I have just been proven wrong. I didn’t know how, but I was feeling them right then. I didn’t know how the hell was it even possible. How can I feel butterflies in my stomach when I don’t even think I have a stomach anymore? Hm. This is something to ponder. That is when I’m not thinking about the cute ghost on the truck.

  By now, Edgar and the owner of the truck were in full-on argument mode. I just tuned them out. My focus was on the hott ghost on the back of the pickup. My sexy ghost was sitting on the very edge with his legs dangling off the back. This handsome spirit looked like he was tall due to the way his feet almost touched the ground. If the truck were to hit a big bump in the road, my ghost would end up flying off the truck. That wouldn’t happen, though, seeing as he was a ghost. The young ghost had dark hair. I couldn’t tell his exact eye color, but they were light. The handsome young man looked like he may have been my age, give or take a few years, when he died. At first it seems wrong to pursue this ghost, but then when I think about it, Alexander would want me to be happy. Who knows when I’ll see him again? Now that I am done justifying things, I can now move on to more pressing matters. Is the sexy ghost single? There’s only one way to find out. I broke away from Whitney and William.

  “Savannah, where are you going?” Whitney asked as she dragged me back to where we had been standing before.

  “I was going to go talk to that cute ghost over there,” I said pointing to the cutie on the truck.

  “No you’re not,” she said.

  “What? Why? It’s not like he can kill me. I’m already dead,” I said.

  “That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s just that you’re still new to the whole spirit thing. He’s already been dead for quite a while. I’m worried you’ll say something wrong and offend him. Then he’ll get his friends involved. It would just be an absolute mess,” she said.

  “I won’t say anything wrong. I just want to talk to him, you know, get to know him. What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

  “He has to initiate it, not you. If he wants to talk to you, he will go to the leader of our group -- that would be Edgar -- and ask to speak with you. If you were older, you would go to his group leader and ask to speak to him. Does that make sense?” she asked.

  “Yeah. This whole group thing makes it difficult to form relationships,” I said.

  “Well, you’re safer in a group than alone. You have the guidance of the older spirits to help you adjust to the afterlife,” Whitney said.

  In the spirit world, ghosts tended to stay together in small groups. Camille told me it wasn’t always that way. Ghosts used to be solitary beings, just roaming the earth alone. As technology advanced, things became more dangerous for spirits. Camille said groups are important in two big ways. The first is safety. As they say, there is safety in numbers. With ghost hunting becoming a popular pastime, it was important for spirits to look out for one another. Every day new technology was coming out which was making it easier for ghost hunters to prove that spirits did in fact exist. The second thing is that being a spirit could get lonely. Your group pretty much became your family. The older ghosts were the ones who were in charge. They had a say in who joined the group and they could kick out a spirit who refused to cooperate. Your group became a support network for adjusting to the afterlife. They guided you and taught you the ropes.

  “I need to talk to him?” I said. I was starting to sound a little whiny.

  “You’re a new sprit. In order for you to get involved with older spirits, they have to initiate it. There’s a spirit hierarchy. The longer you’ve been dead, the more authority you have. I thought Edgar explained it to you,” Whitney said. “Besides, soldiers have a lot of extra baggage.”

  “Wait a minute, he’s a soldier?”

  “Yes. How could you miss his uniform?” Whitney asked.

  A man in uniform, I like. This could be interesting. I didn’t even see his uniform; I was too focused on his face. I turned to look at him once more. This time I noticed his uniform. The only thing that worried me is the whole “extra baggage” thing. “What did you mean by extra baggage, Whitney?”

  “The best way to explain it would be that when a soldier is killed in action, they supposedly die with honor. This is not completely true. In some cases it is, but in most it isn’t. Many of these soldiers made a promise to fight for what they believed in. When they are not able to make good on that promise, they feel like they have failed, they feel like they have let down all those who believed in them and were counting on them. They also feel that they have let themselves down. Their spirits cannot rest. They feel that they need to somehow redeem themselves. A soldier will hold himself responsible if he is killed in battle,” Whitney said.

  “Shouldn’t they feel honored having died fighting for what they believed in?” I asked.

  “You would think so. Unfortunately they see themselves as failures, while the rest of us see them as heroes. There is nothing cowardly about dying for what you believe in. They just don’t see it that way,” Whitney said. “So, do you still want to get to know the handsome young soldier?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Even after what I told you?” She asked.

  “Yes,” I responded.

  “I’ll have to tell you the story about the Civil War soldier I saw for a while in the 1960s. Not tonight, though. I’ll make you wait,” she said with a smile.

  Even after all Whitney told me about soldiers, I still wanted to get to know the one in the back of the truck. I was sure he’d been through a lot. I’d had my fair share of challenges in life, granted they were nothing like what he must have been through. I was willing to take a chance. Maybe Edgar could do something. As I was thinking of ways to somehow talk to the handsome young soldier, Edgar, Camille and William walked back to where Whitney and I were standing. In a few more hours I would have to get back to the hotel so I could go to Connecticut with Emma I wonder what she doing? She is probably asleep.

  “So, Is all the drama over? The ghost’s finally turned their music down?” I asked. “I have to leave in a few hours.”

  “Yes. The driver would not budge at first. He felt his group was above everyone else. Luckily Camille was able to use her womanly guiles to get him to change his tune, so to speak. Let’s just say that he’ll be enjoying his music elsewhere. ,” Edgar said.

  “Hey, can we get going?” I asked.

  “All right. Let’s go to the barn,” Edgar said.

  “A barn? Why a barn? What’s so great about a barn? ” I asked.

  I feel I should point out it’s different with horse farms and stables. I’m probably just biased though because of my love of horses

  “This barn is special,” Edgar said.

  “How is it special?” I asked.

  “It’s like a special club for the dead,” Camille said.

  “It might not be too crowded. Most spirits seem to be outside enjoying the night,” Whitney said.

  “When is it not crowded? There are always plenty of spirits there,” William said.

  “So this barn is like a nightclub for ghosts?” I asked.

  “Pretty much” Edgar said.

  This could be interesting. A ghost nightclub. . I guess it made sense to have one. Ghosts needed a place to hang out and socialize outside of the places the frequented most. I didn’t know how much ghosts actually socialized. I thought they were too busy terrifying the living. Apparently there was a need for a ghost nightclub or there wouldn’t be one. I wondered if it would be at all like a nightclub for the living. I wondered what kind of music I would hear.

  “Savannah, you’ll love it,” William said. “You will see many spirits form all different time periods and walks of life. It’s a great place to ghost watch.”

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. All of these spirits were human at one time. It made sense that they would retain certain behav
iors even after death. Hey, maybe I’d see the hot soldier again. This whole visiting-the-barn idea was sounding better and better every second.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Ch. 29

  We passed a stream, which I would have given anything to be able to jump into and splash around in. After that we were offered a ride on a wagon, but Edgar said we could walk. Thanks, Edgar. After a while, the barn started appearing in the distance. It was big, brown and old. It looked like something out of a horror movie. It was noticeably leaning to one side. It looked like the slightest breeze or a butterfly landing on it could knock it over. That’s how very unstable it looked. To the patrons who I’m sure frequented it, it didn’t really matter if it fell down while they were in it. It’s not like they could get hurt. I’m sure they wouldn’t be happy about it. I imagined the goats, chickens, cows, sheep and pigs that once called the barn home are long gone. I imagine there were rats and spiders and bats and other yucky creatures that had taken up residence in the dilapidated old barn. They might not be able to hurt me, but they were disgusting nonetheless. As we got closer, I began to hear music, jazz music. I would have pegged ghosts to be more into the type of music played at funerals played on an ancient organ, not the musical styling’s of the great Louis Armstrong. Don’t get me wrong: Louis Armstrong’s music is amazing. It was just kind of surprising. Just because they were dead didn’t mean ghosts enjoyed depressing funeral music. Being dead was depressing enough as it was. I couldn’t blame them for liking jazz.

  “I wonder if I’ll see my soldier,” I blurted out loud, rather excitedly. Oops. Yeah, I should have kept that one in my head. All right, I’m an idiot. Memo to self: Filter thoughts before speaking.

  “You wonder if you’ll see your what? I hope I didn’t hear ‘soldier’?” Whitney said.

  “What soldier are you talking about?” William asked.

  “I said ‘Folger,’ not soldier, okay?” I lied. Yeah, like a ghost had any reason to be talking about coffee. I never really drank much coffee when I was alive, so talking about it now made no sense.