by Kahlen Aymes
"I'm glad I'm here too, Roni. I should be here more often. Present. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."
"Let's not look back on the past. Let's just move forward," I said, relishing in the feel of his fingers as they glided along my knuckles.
He shook his head. "We need the past. It's what binds us. It's what we learn from. If we don't have the past, then we can't have a future."
I licked my lips. "I guess you're right."
He smiled, brushing his lips against my knuckles. I felt it. I really felt all of it and closed my eyes, relishing in the feel of his touch.
"The past is what brought me to you. All those years ago at Kara's party when we had our first kiss, then every kiss after. When we went to high school, sneaking kisses in the hallway and the day we kissed at the altar when we pronounced man and wife. I never want to forget a second of those past kisses and hopefully future ones. If this dream is the only chance I get to make up for all those times I didn't kiss you and should have, then I hope I can make up for that."
He put his hands on the side of my face and pulled his lips to mine. A kiss that lit a fire to my very core.
There wasn't any more darkness.
And slowly I found myself finding the light.
Chapter 10
Trigg
Dreaming.
She was really dreaming.
The doctor left me standing there, thinking on his words.
I pulled up a chair to her bedside and leaned down, looking over my beautiful wife.
I didn't care that she didn't have any make up on. Or her smile was missing.
She was alive. She was dreaming.
Maybe of me.
I spoke softly to her, kissing her knuckles, before I leaned over her. I had an entire conversation play in my head.
"I don't want to forget our past. The past is what brought me to you. All those years ago at Kara's party when we had our first kiss, then every kiss after. When we went to high school, sneaking kisses in the hallway and the day we kissed at the altar when we pronounced man and wife. I never want to forget a second of those past kisses and hopefully future ones. If this dream is the only chance I get to make up for all those times I didn't kiss you and should have, then I hope I can make up for that."
Slowly I moved my lips to hers and was surprised at the warmth that radiated from them. From my sleeping beauty. I kissed her one last time and then sat up, watching her lie there.
There was a loud buzzing on the machine and her eyelids slowly fluttered before I witnessed the most beautiful thing in the world: my sleeping beauty woke up.
About the Author
Magan Vernon has been living off of reader tears since she wrote her first short story in 2004. She now spends her time killing off fictional characters, pretending to plot while she really just watches Netflix, and she tries to do this all while her two young children run amuck around her Texas ranch.
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To read other titles by Magan Vernon and to learn about upcoming releases, please visit her website.
Awakened
by Amber Garr
December 23rd
When the Baby Jesus crashed into the floor, I’d reached the last of my patience.
“George!” I cried out to a fading wisp of haze. “I told you to stop doing that to me.” A phantom laugh echoed through my living room, grating on my last nerve like the tiny holy shards now lying around my feet. Yet before I could chastise the infuriating spirit, the cracked porcelain Baby Jesus head floated up into my vision. A single painted eyeball stared at me with a blank expression.
“He’s never going to act his age is he, Ms. Elise?” Caroline asked. The teenage ghost offered what was left of my figurine. The nativity set would never be the same.
“No, he’s not,” I grumbled, taking the tiny, broken head and trying to figure out if I even wanted to bother finding the glue. Despite George being in his forties when he died, he still acted like a child.
“It’s because he’s a guy,” she said, cocking her hip and looking every bit as much as the living teens in my world today. But the full-bottomed skirt, southern belle dress, and delicate lace gloves covering her hands, would forever define what century she’d lived and died in.
“I don’t even know why I bother decorating,” I mumbled to myself. Bending over to pick up the rest of the Holy Spirit, I noticed George’s ethereal form now lounging on my couch. He was lucky I couldn’t kill him twice.
When I stood, Caroline suddenly appeared in front of me, bright red hair flowing out behind her in waves. “You do it because it’s the proper thing to do,” she stated, answering my rhetorical question with her still noticeable southern accent. “Plus, it is your home and your favorite holiday.”
She was right. But I didn’t love the Christmas season purely for selfless reasons. This was also my busiest time of year.
As though reading my mind, Angela walked into the room from my office. Her navy heels clicked on my wood floors, and the black rimmed glasses held back a mess of blonde curly hair. Papers filled her arms, several dropping to the floor along the way. Only she hadn’t yet noticed that my spectral visitors now followed behind her, picking up the discarded pieces and making it look like she had a veil. Albeit a veil that floated in midair and would surely scare anyone not used to working with the ghosts who liked hanging around a medium.
“Hey Elise,” she called out with a shaky voice. Her eyes darted around the room and when she turned to look behind her, the papers fell back on the ground. With tense shoulders and a tight grimace, Angela scooped up what she needed before walking over to me. “I have your schedule—oh, what happened?” Looking at the broken Baby Jesus head with one eyeball still in my palm, her expression turned suspicious. “Is George here again?”
I sighed. George, my otherworldly escort of sorts, had a really bad habit of visiting when he wasn’t invited. As a medium, I’m used to hearing and seeing spirits trapped in our world. But since George was my translator to the realm beyond, he had the ability to appear in near-corporeal form in my vicinity whenever he wanted. And that’s what he’d done just a few minutes earlier, causing me to drop the most important part of my favorite nativity set.
“Yes, he’s here,” I groaned, nodding my head behind me to the brown leather couch. He gave me a smirk and a small wave in response. Angela looked out above his head with a squint.
Even though she’d been my personal assistant for two years, Angela was still uncomfortable with the idea of spirits and my close connection to them. Her face paled when the indentation on the couch cushion moved from one side to the other—an old trick George loved to play on people. She couldn’t see him, at least not without me conducting a proper séance first. But she knew he was there. Many humans were sensitive to a ghost’s presence—Angela just hadn’t known that those chills really meant something until she started working for me.
“So how many do we have today?” I asked. Using my hands, I gently picked up the largest pieces of porcelain, resolving to vacuum the rest up before my first client arrived.
“Just one,” Angela replied once she tore her eyes away from the coffee table now spinning on its own.
“Only one?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes. And it’s in thirty minutes.”
Still stuck on her first answer, I stood, leaving the pile of Christmas dreams on the floor. “Why do I only have one? It’s almost Christmas Eve.” This was the season where the living wanted to reconnect to their dead loved ones. I typically had a least ten readings a day this time of year.
“They booked you for the full day,” Angela said. Shuffling through her papers, several more fell back to the ground. She’d yet to accept the ease and efficiency of electronic documents. And considering she was in her late sixties, I doubted that she ever would.
“The whole day?” I asked, intrigued. “Like they hired me for the whole day?
”
Angela smiled up at me in a motherly way. “They paid you for a full eight hours.” Being my assistant, she knew just how much I needed the rush of the Christmas holidays.
Intrigued, I asked, “What can you tell me about them?”
“Not much,” she replied, setting her glasses back on her nose. “The man wouldn’t give me any of the regular information we require.”
“And you still made an appointment?” I raised a brow, giving Angela a hard time.
Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I did, Elise.”
Shifting through her papers, she finally found the one she was looking for. George appeared next to Angela, the breeze from his arrival lifting the edges of her hair. She tensed, shoulders high and lips pressed together. I glared at him while my assistant regained her composure.
“I think he’s someone important to politics,” Angela said, brows pinched in concentration. “The man who made the appointment even gave me a fake name.”
“How do you know that?” I tried to get a look at her notes but George stepped through Angela, the paper now resting somewhere between my living room and his rib cage. Although I wanted to smack him in the head, I’d learned through the years that if I ignored him, he’d eventually mind his own business.
I also didn’t want to freak Angela out any more than necessary.
“The client’s name is Abraham Washington.”
I looked at my assistant in question. Sounded like a normal name to me.
“Abraham Washington?” She shifted her glasses back to the top of her head and sighed. “Abraham Lincoln and George Washington? Get it?”
“Maybe.”
With a sigh, Angela took a few steps away from me, disentangling George in the process. He disappeared from the room in a huff. “He’s someone famous. I know it.”
Her sincerity made me smile. If I was going to have a famous politician in my living room in thirty minutes, then so be it. Although I did need to vacuum the mess George made... “I’ll take your word on it.”
That seemed to satisfy her, and after a few tips about what she thought I should wear, Angela headed back into my office. I hadn’t had my business very long, so we currently worked out of my house. Despite Angela’s concerns for my safety in regards to clients knowing where I lived, it had been working out okay. But if the business continued to grow, I probably needed to look into other locations.
Daydreaming about a large office suite and picking up the last remnants of Baby Jesus kept me busy, so when the doorbell rang thirty minutes later, I jumped. I’d managed to change into a skirt and jacket ensemble, but hated how constricted I felt. A small clip held back my chin-length blonde hair—the shortness due to a recent haircut to clear away the remnants of a bad dye job. Angela said I looked professional. I thought I looked stuffy and uptight.
Muffled voices filtered in from the front hallway when Angela greeted our guests. I finished organizing the magazines on the coffee table and fluffed the pillows on the couches. It was a nervous habit of mine. I never knew what kind of spirit I’d be asked to contact, and my nerves would try to get the best of me in anticipation. It probably didn’t help that I had a roomful of excited ghosts waiting to see what would happen.
“He’s very handsome!” Caroline shouted in front of my face. She wasn’t one who typically materialized unannounced, so I reined in my annoyance.
“Who?” I asked, finishing with the last pillow and wondering where George was hiding. I may actually need his help soon.
“The tall man,” she said with a giggle.
“The client?”
“No, his escort. He definitely looks like someone who could protect you.” Caroline lifted her arms and twirled in a circle, feet a few inches off the floor and ghosting in and out of the coffee table. “I wish I could meet someone like him.”
Lost in her own thoughts, I let her have her moment. I often felt bad for Caroline. Dying young hadn’t allowed her a chance to have some of the experiences all girls dream about. No courtship, no wedding, no family. Instead she was stuck between worlds, forced to watch the living enjoy life. And while that seemed to satisfy her most days, there were times when a hint of sadness would show through her regretful, dark eyes. I’d often wondered if she would have chosen to take her own life again if given a second chance.
“Ms. Elise?” Angela’s voice broke into my thoughts.
Putting the pillow down, I turned to face the mysterious client with a fake name and an apparently large bank account. But instead of seeing a person I may have recognized as a politician, my eyes focused on a rather large man with short, cropped hair and a dark scowl.
“Ms. Elise, this is Gallus,” Angela said with a smirk tugging at her mouth. “He is here to make sure that your house is safe.” Then Angela winked—actually winked in way that made me suspicious. She’d been complaining about me living as a single woman for a number of years now.
I would have either said something to her or would have been offended by the idea that my house was unsafe, except that I couldn’t stop staring at the giant man in front of me. Muscles pulled tightly against the tailored navy blue suit, making me wish he would at least take his jacket off. Intense eyes that seemed to look right though me, locked me in their gaze. His persona screamed danger, yet I felt instantly drawn to him for some reason. His focus, his strength, his...being spoke to me in a way I’d never experienced before.
“You’re staring,” Caroline whispered in my ear.
Gallus’ sharp eyes refocused on the place Caroline was standing and then quickly dodged back to me. Had he seen my ghost? Caroline’s giggling stopped suddenly and now we both stared at the man with inquisitive eyes.
“There’s something different about him,” Caroline whispered.
“He’s a dead guy,” George groaned into my other ear.
I tried not to jump, but George had startled me. Angry with his behavior, I clenched my teeth and spoke quietly to the annoying ghost. “Stop threatening him, George. You can’t harm him.” Besides, why would you want to hurt that beautiful face? The words flittered through my psyche without any filter. Embarrassed by my sudden surge in hormones, I thanked the world that this man could not understand my thoughts.
But Angela’s smile continued to grow as though she knew exactly what I was thinking. I gave her a look and pushed my way through George.
“I’m telling you, he’s a dead man.” George continued to complain about my guest.
Stepping closer to Gallus, I had to lift my head quite high in order to speak to him. How tall was he? “Why would my house be unsafe?” I asked, a slight flirtatious tone slipping into the question. Angela made a small noise.
The scowl on Gallus’ face lightened and a hint of a smile glistened underneath. “I’m sure that your house is just fine. I simply need to follow procedure.
One of the magazines on my coffee table slid to the floor with a slap. We all turned at the sound, but only I could see George standing there with his hands on his hips.
“Are you really going to let that thing in here?” George asked.
I forced a small laugh. “Oh, I must have stacked them too close to the edge. Please, Gallus, check out the safety of my home while I fix this.”
Turning away from my guest, I stomped over to George. “If you don’t want me to send you away permanently, then you need to start behaving yourself.”
“But he’s—”
“I don’t care if he’s a walking corpse who wants to eat my brain later. He is a guest with a paying client. A very well-paying client I might add. So don’t screw this up for me.”
Realizing my voice was probably carrying through the room, I took a deep breath and swallowed my annoyance. I needed George, and he knew it, but I really would knock him out of this realm for a while, even if it would only last a few hours.
The sound of expensive shoes clicking on the floor brought my attention back to the hallway. Gallus stepped aside, and behind him, a small man with cro
w’s feet and peppered grey hair entered. His timid movements contradicted his powerful position, as I instantly recognized him as a State Representative. In fact, I think I’d voted for him several years ago. With hands twisting and eyes darting around the room, Mr. “Abraham Washington” couldn’t have been more nervous.
When he caught my gaze, he immediately stepped forward and held out his hand. “Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice, and for clearing your schedule.”
Wrapping my palm around his, I tried to ignore the sweat mixing between our bare skin. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Washington.”
He smiled, and about twenty years of tension fell away from his face. “I’m sure you know that’s an alias by now.” Dropping his grip, and tugged at his sleeves. “But I like the name, none the less.”
“It’s a good name,” I said and received a nod of approval. “Please, come sit and let me know what I can do for you.”
Angela took her cue and left the room while I escorted my guest toward the couch. Gallus followed closely behind and took a seat right next to the politician. Although surprised, I didn’t comment on his position. He wouldn’t be in the way, but I did worry that he’d be a distraction. For me.
“Tell me what I can help you with, Mr. Washington.”
“Please, call me Jerry.” He smiled again, and this time it lit up his face. “I’m sure you know my real name by now.”
I nodded and waited for him to continue. George floated around the back of their couch, eyeing up both guests and paying close attention to Gallus. The man, who looked like a Gladiator trapped in modern clothing, made a slight movement. I wondered if he could sense George’s obnoxious presence.
“I understand that you may be able to contact someone who has....” Jerry looked around the room and began twisting his hands again. “Who has crossed over?”
“Crossed over?” I asked, unable to hide my smile.
“Yes?” Jerry leaned forward, forehead wrinkled in concentration. “That is what you do, right?”
“Yes,” I said, touching his hand in assurance. “That is what I can do. I just haven’t heard that term in a long time.”