Excerpt: Song of the Ancients

Chapter 10: The Fool’s Journey

Thanksgiving morning dawned cool and crisp, patches of frost covering the dried grass of the lawns up and down the street. But it would burn off shortly, so I decided to walk to the shelter. It was time to lighten up and be thankful for the everyday things within my control, such as friends, food, and lending a hand to others whose lives were less fortunate than mine.

Both my shop and the bookstore were closed today, and the entire staff was volunteering at a woman’s shelter in town. It was privately run, and overwhelmed this time of year, so we were fixing and bringing baked goods as well. I had been assigned dessert and my warm kitchen smelled of pumpkin pie spices. The simple scents put me in a decidedly better mood.

I wrapped the pies and put them into a handled sack, fastened my cloak on over my sweater and jeans and headed out the door in high spirits.

As I stepped into the street to cross, a deathly white face swept by me, long grey hair streaming behind it, dark eyes dilated and frightened. I watched the apparition fly into the busy street and into the path of a black pickup truck heading north. The driver of truck had his hat brim pulled low over his eyes, but it was clear he saw the woman in front of him. In fact, he was aiming for her. I turned away to avoid seeing the impact. There was no screeching of brakes, no blaring horn. Only the muffled thud of impact.

When I turned back, the ghost was gone. In its place an elderly woman lay in the street, her head and shoulders a sodden mass of blood and shattered bone. A crowd was gathering. Someone shouted, “Call 911,” but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I’d already seen the victim’s ghost.

I felt the bile welling up in my throat as I backed away from the scene, tripping on the curb and falling awkwardly, skinning both palms when I tried to break my fall. There was nothing I could do to help, and certainly no way I could explain what I’d seen. I stumbled away, my destination forgotten, the pumpkin pies smeared on the sidewalk.

I sat in the lengthening shadows in my kitchen, oblivious of the day’s passing, trying to assemble the shattered images of the morning into some semblance of rational thought. Did I really see that woman killed? I wasn’t sure if I’d seen anything, or if my over-stimulated brain had finally blown a fuse. I was jumpy and the house made me claustrophobic. The phone rang persistently but I was in no shape to talk to anyone. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I had to know. I bundled up again and headed out into the night to retrace my steps.

The intersection was empty. No broken glass, no blood, no sign of an accident. The remnants of my pumpkin pie had been swept into the gutter. I had been here. But it appeared that nothing tragic had happened.

I’m having a breakdown. The thought was almost a relief. I drew in a breath of the cold night air and began walking toward downtown.

Several of the restaurants were open for Thanksgiving diners. I looked through a window at the happy faces and froze. Everyone I looked at was surrounded by a hazy mist. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Maybe the window was fogged. I walked closer. Nope, the plates on their table were clear. Only the diners’ heads and shoulders shimmered with the luminous light. I shivered and walked quickly away from the window.

Auras? I stared at each person as I passed. Yep, they were all lit. Why would I suddenly see auras? Some psychics claim to see them, but there are others reasons. One of my girlfriends suffered from migraines. In the throes of an attack, she once told me she saw flickering lights which eventually obliterated her field of vision. I looked at the street around me. The street was quiet; the lights lining the avenue were distinct. No, I didn’t think this was the beginning of a migraine. I set myself a challenge. Auras are supposedly different colors, depending on the person’s physical, emotional or mental states. I would stay calm and study people, test the theory.

Two little girls were surrounded by white auras. Their mother’s was a pink flare. Other people were less distinct, swirling mists of blue or violet. In the next restaurant I passed, a man in a suit had a brown, ragged, canine aura, so subtle it was almost a scent, betraying his civilized veneer. He reminded me of a Rottweiler secretly planning to sample the hand that fed it, as he eyed the young waitress taking his order. Despite his menace, I giggled. If only I’d had this power earlier in life. Wonder what my ex’s aura looks like. Woof, woof. Or rather, wolf, wolf. I thought about the golden halo often painted around the head of Jesus in pictures. Imagine the changes on this earth, if people could see the auras of their leaders and choose them on that basis.

Without realizing it, my random people aura-watching had brought me to the soup kitchen that had been my destination that morning. The dining room light seemed a friendly beacon in a hostile world. I crossed the street to the shelter.

Immediately, I had second thoughts. Standing in front, deep in conversation with Kamaria, was Nicholas. He was the last person I wanted to see. We’d had no contact since our confrontation on Halloween night. I tried to double back, but it was too late. They’d already seen me.

I must have looked a wreck. Kamaria ran up and wrapped her arms around me, and I immediately burst into tears.

“There, there, it’s okay, calm down,” she murmured into my hair. She held me and rubbed my back, saying nothing more, until I had wound down to an occasional wet hiccup.

Nicholas was standing nearby, arms crossed in front of his chest. I was surprised to see neither pity nor revulsion on his face. Instead, he was agitated, his hands in tight fists.

“We’ve been out looking for you,” he told me gruffly.

“When you didn’t show up, Alexis called your house for hours,” Kamaria explained. “Finally, she got worried enough to start calling around to the rest of us, looking for you. When no one had seen you, we really got worried. What happened?”

The Thanksgiving dinner plans seemed like distant past, so much had happened. But now I was beginning to think I wasn’t losing my mind. Before answering, I took a step back and stared at both of them.

Kamaria’s aura was white; Nicholas was surrounded by lavender mist. No enemies here, my new aura-enlightened mind informed me. I took a deep breath. “I need to speak to both of you. I need your help.”

As it turned out, neither of them was surprised. Kamaria had already told Nicholas about our séance. That’s what they’d been discussing so seriously when I arrived at the store. They had no idea what my mother’s warning was about, but it seemed to have everyone uneasy.

I told them about seeing auras and sensing the good – and the bad -- in the people around me. I also told them about the accident and seeing that poor old woman’s spirit in the moment before her death.

“Are you sure it wasn’t déjà vu?” Kamaria asked me, “maybe flashing on an event in your past? Have you ever witnessed an accident?”

I frowned at her. That would explain why there was no evidence of the accident when I went back to the scene. But I would remember seeing a hit and run accident, I was sure. I would have been a witness. I would have testified. I shook my head. “No, this wasn’t a memory.”

Kamaria narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “Maybe not your memory,” she began thoughtfully. “But maybe someone else’s. A psychic occurrence.”

I was already shaking my head. “No. No!”

She raised her eyebrows at me. “I knew you had some latent powers from the beginning,
I’m enough of a sensitive myself to see that.” She raised a hand to halt my protest. “What I don’t understand is why they’ve come upon you so suddenly...so dramatically. What’s different in your life lately? What would cause such an abrupt change in your perception?”

I looked at Nicholas. I knew what was different. I was staring at him.

He was very quiet and still, studying the sidewalk beneath his shoes.

I turned on him and squared my shoulders. “You.” I willed him to meet my eyes, but was unable to keep the pitiful quaver out of my voice. “You’ve turned my life upside down. I’ve been terrified… confused…wondering if I’m crazy. Maybe I am crazy, but I feel like this is your fault. But instead of helping me, you’ve been nasty and insulting. You turned away from me. You told me I was a failure! ”

Nicholas waited a long moment before he answered. “I am sorry I was so harsh with you that night, Samantha.”

Those were the words I’d hoped to hear for the last month. He stepped closer to me and took my arm, rubbing it gently. This small, kind gesture was so unlike him my eyes blurred with tears.

I turned away and swiped the tears aside with the back of my hand. Kamaria was watching us, wide-eyed. So he hadn’t told her everything that happened between us Halloween night.

Nicholas squeezed my arm. “I’m terribly concerned for you, Samantha. You are so raw, so untrained. I question how you will cope.” He gave me a rueful smile. “When I’m worried, I tend to snap at people.” I snorted. He took his hand from my arm and began to pace. “You know only the most rudimentary methods of focus and control. And you know even less how to protect yourself.”

I straightened my shoulders, ignoring the self-doubt his words caused to churn in me. He was not going to do it to me again. If my visions weren’t a psychotic break, if all of this was really happening, I was going to need help. Lots of it.

“Then quit pushing me away.” I answered with a calmness I did not feel. “Teach me.”

Nicholas and Kamaria exchanged a quick look.

“Do you think I should be the one to do this?” he asked her.

She started to reply, but I cut her off as my temper flared. It was time for Nicholas to put up or shut up. “If you’re not going to help me, why did you come here? You could have sold that house through a realtor. You’re here for me, I know that. What I don’t know is why.” I was yelling, I realized. So I clamped my mouth shut, gritted my teeth and waited.

Finally Nicholas shrugged. “As you wish.” He turned to me. “When is your next day off?”

“Monday.”

He nodded. “I’ll be at your house on Monday.”