Where Spirits Dwell

Jordan was exhausted from his ordeal so he quickly shed his clothes and entered the tub. He lay back enjoying his soak. But the soothing warmth quickly lulled him to sleep.

He soon awoke to the feeling of being absolutely frozen; it seemed he had overstayed his welcome in the water by over a few hours. Jordan quickly jumped out of the bathtub and put on clothes lying next to it, clothes he didn’t remember being there before.

He went to exit the small room but discovered the door to be locked. He tried turning the handle back and forth, pounding on the door, but to no avail. He sighed and sat with his back next to the door and decided to wait.

He began to huddle closer and was soon openly hugging himself in an attempt to get warmth; an unnatural chill had taken the room. He then felt the hairs rise on his arms, a strange feeling taking over him. He recognized this, presence; it was the same as in the alleyway.

He scrambled for the door, he needed to escape, he couldn’t deal with this, not now, not ever. Then a force seemed to throw him to the floor. He jumped to his feet, fighting the presence. He was forced to the floor once again, this time he didn’t bother rising. He looked and saw mist begin to swirl in front of him and take shape.

He watched in awe as the mist began to take the form of a woman. She was beautiful, with long, flowing black hair, pale skin that seemed amplified by the way her entire body shimmered. He couldn’t believe it, this wasn’t possible she wasn’t, couldn’t, be real.

She smiled at him with a serene grace, “Be calm, child. I am not here to hurt you.”

He almost laughed; the absurdity of the situation was beyond mirth. Finally he chocked out a few questioning sentences, “Be calm? I can’t be calm. You’ve been stalking me, hurting me, scaring me. You’re not even real! Now tell me, why should I be calm?”

The woman looked at him thoughtfully, then spoke, choosing her words, “I am real, as real as you, Old Jack and Mrs. Tanner. Admittedly I am not alive, but that wasn’t the question. I haven’t been hurting you, just trying to catch your attention. It’s harder than it looks, crossing from the other side. I’m sorry if I scared you but it’s time you learned about the gift of your heritage.”

He stared at her, noticing the sincerity in her eyes. He made his decision; he would listen to her, after all this situation couldn’t get any crazier, right?

His determined resolve obvious on his face, the apparition continued, “You come from a line of death seers. People gifted with the ability to cross the boundaries into the spiritual realm. They can see, speak, control and eventually take on the traits of the many ghosts they begin to see. It starts out around your age, messages written on walls, strange chills in the middle of summer, simple things, strange things. But it grows until you are haunted everyday of your life, driven out of your wits, outcast as a mad man. Thus your ancestors decided to make a pact with the spirits; they would be given a spirit capable of guarding them and ensuring that they will survive the rigors of both the physical and spiritual realm. I am that spirit.”

His eyes widened more and more as the conversation progressed. It was crazy yet for some reason, at the core of his being, it felt right. He closed to his eyes, quelling the rampaging questions and emotions within him.

He felt something tickling his cheek and opened his eyes to see the ghost was touching his cheek, “Time is short, soon a barrage of spirits will be pouring in from all directions, their need for attention cannot be denied. We must seal the pact.”