GHOST OF THE LIVING

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The darkness ruled. Then the flame came to overthrow its power. A miniature orange explosion threw flickers of light out into the room, forcing a little darkness to retreat into the far corners. Match came into contact with charred wick and the candle burst into life, dancing and swaying along with Michaela’s breathing. She was taking long, deep breaths. Remaining calm was of utmost importance. She had been training for months now and after many successful attempts at lesser targets, she was sure she could achieve the big one this time. She opened a window, allowing the gentle breeze to waft into her bedroom, inhaling deeply the clean air into her lungs. Then she walked to her door, and after checking she was alone in the house, locked it; always an important thing to do when one was going to leave the physical body. After all, she wasn’t going to be around to look after it.

She returned to her scented candle in the middle of the floor; lavender to help her relax. She sat cross-legged on a cushion in front of it. Staring directly into the bright flame quieted her mind. She let all her thoughts, worries and anxieties escape her and drifted into a half-conscious, dream-like state. She involuntarily fell backwards but, learning from past experiences, had placed cushions behind her to avoid injury. She lay there on the floor, eyes flickering beneath her eyelids, completely calm, unaware of her physical surroundings. Her body felt heavy; she wasn’t able to move her limbs but that didn’t concern her; she wouldn’t be moving it anyway.

Michaela’s mind awoke, just her mind. It reverted to that now-familiar heightened level of thinking; it was like she was experiencing without fully digesting – that would come later. It felt so right, like this was the way things were supposed to be. She could hear sound coming from all around her; it was a low-pitched hum. It was followed by several quick bursts of coloured light flashing across the retina of her eyes. A firm tugging sensation pulled her from her physical body then came a soft click. She wasn’t rising or falling; direction was irrelevant. She felt cool air rushing over her astral body, a body very different to her physical one. She was a non-descript shape, a mass of energy, a mist. She could still feel that attachment to her physical body but now she was free. Truly free, to go wherever she wanted.

She was overcome with ecstasy, pure bliss filling her heart. An Out Of Body Experience had to be the best feeling in the world! She looked around her bedroom, it looked so different to what it had only half an hour ago, now she had spherical-view; allowing her to see all corners of the room at once. Her eyes were adapting and everything in the room had its own light, giving off a tranquil glow. Once she was comfortable with the transition, she set her mind to the task at hand.

Chester. She was going to visit him. Now she was in a Wicca circle that always stressed the ethics of practising magic, including etiquette. Rule number 1 of Astral Projection: Always have permission from the person you are going to visit. She didn’t know Chester Bennington, had never spoken to the man. She knew it was wrong to invade his space like this but the desire to see him in the flesh was too much for her to resist. The posters of him on her bedroom walls only served to tempt her further. Besides, she had the most honourable of intentions. She would only watch him for a while to see his life, maybe touch his hands; she had a fascination with hands. She had no intention of violating his private life; she had more respect for him than that. No peeping at him in the shower, no looking while he was dressing, well not unless it was an unavoidable accident.

She set her thoughts on him. She’d watched countless interviews with him, had seen him in concert. She had closely examined his energy. Now she tried to match his frequency. Behind her she saw three figures watching her; they were her guides. She let herself be directed towards Chester. It didn’t matter where on the globe he was; distance had no significance, wherever he was, she would be guided to him. She felt herself moving at immense speed, dipping and diving as she went along. She was above the waves one second, far beneath them the next. Then she was flying above land, land that changed in profile every few seconds: cityscape, pasture, woodlands, and mountains. She slowed down smoothly, her abstract astral shape changing as her velocity decreased.

The picture in front of her came into focus. She was outside a house, which she recognised as Chester’s. She could feel his energy, it was close. Circling the house a few times re-affirmed her intuition; Chester was inside. She fought hard the excitement creeping up on her; it would bring her back to herself. She entered the house and her skin prickled; being in his home brought her closer to him. She heard noises coming from the kitchen and followed them. There, right in front of her, he stood.  He was standing in front of a kitchen worktop, slicing vegetables. He wore a bright red apron sporting the phrase “There is no fucking chicken today!!!” Michaela thought this was cute, especially seeing as he had a bowl next to him with chicken breasts in it. He chopped rhythmically, humming a tune Michaela didn’t recognise. Michaela’s fluidic body was frozen. She watched him expertly slice and dice the vegetables with a large Chef’s knife. The sunlight glinted off the blade with every stroke and mesmerised her. Once the vegetables were chopped, he sliced the chicken, and then he moved to the large gas stove. Placing a wok on the flame he began to cook the meal, still humming that tune. Michaela moved towards him, making him look over his shoulder. Seeing nothing there, he shrugged and continued cooking. Michaela looked at his hands, reaching out she touched them lightly. Again Chester frowned. She grasped them gently but firmly, running her fingers across his skin. She liked his hands, they were so expressive. Chester, feeling something on his hands, pulled them into his chest hastily and with a furrowed brow. Eventually he shook his head and muttered to himself and continued cooking. He was more aware of a presence than anyone else Michaela had ever visited this way. Maybe he had the gift himself, she thought.

He began dishing up just as the front door banged.

“Hi babe” he called.

“Mmmmmm, smells good hun,” replied Samantha. She walked into the kitchen with an armful of shopping bags and placed them on the counter.

“Buy anything nice?”

“Yep, and…I got a ‘lil something for you too” she whispered her last remark suggestively into his ear as she put her arms around his waist and kissed his ear lobe. Chester turned around to face her and the couple locked lips in a tight embrace. Michaela hadn’t banked on Samantha being with Chester when she visited him. She didn’t like it. Seeing pictures of the two together often made her seethe and this was the live show. It made her furious. She summoned new energy from deep within herself and moved towards the counter where Chester had been cooking. She reached out and directed energy at an empty plate, sending it to the floor with a load crash. Chester and Sam jumped at the noise and broke their embrace. Chester frowned again at the many broken pieces of crockery lying on the floor. He was sure that plate had been far enough in on the counter so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Weird” he mused.

“What’s so weird about a broken plate?” asked Sam as she bent down with a dustpan to sweep up the mess.

“That was far enough in so it shouldn’t have fallen off”

“Maybe I knocked it with the bags or something. Forget it, it’s just a plate”

“I been feeling weird for the last half hour…like there was somebody in here with me” confessed Chester.

“Maybe we have a ghost!” giggled Sam. The sound of her laughter irritated Michaela and she directed energy at a bowl full of fruit on the counter. It toppled down on top of Samantha, hitting her on the side of the head. She released a cry of pain and surprise. Chester stood open-mouthed looking at the bowl in horror. He had seen it move of its own accord and land on his wife. He had seen it with his own eyes. He bent down and helped Sam up off the floor. She had a lump on her left temple that was going to end up the size of an egg. Chester took a packet of frozen beans out of the freezer and placed against her head. Sam winced in pain, still a little disorientated.

“You should sit down,” he advised, worry etched in his voice.

Michaela couldn’t stand it, seeing him cradle Sam in his arms like she was a china doll or something. She let her rage take over. She flew about the room creating a strong wind. Chester and Sam’s eyes widened in terror. Michaela summoned more energy from within and directed it at objects around the house; pictures of Chester and Sam came flying off the walls; little trinkets from his travels around the world went crashing to the floor, bottles of liquor smashed on the carpet, leaving large dark stains. Chester stood up from his seat, still holding Samantha protectively in his arms. His eyes were wide and red from the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He was shaking violently and every hair on his body was standing on end.

“What do you want?!” he screamed desperately. The desperation in his voice made Michaela pause for a second. She looked at him, the one she looked up to, listened to every day, wrote about, and dreamed about. Now she was hurting him, the tears showed her that much. Why was she doing this? She had come here with the best intentions, not to cause havoc and rampage through him home, leaving him and his wife a pair of nervous wrecks. She let go and immediately felt herself being pulled back to her physical body.

She flew back faster than light, gently resting back into her earthly shape in her bedroom floor. She opened her eyes and squinted. Her mind was still fresh with the memories of what she had done…but they were the only memories she had. Everything else was gone: her name, her identity, her childhood experiences, everything. She was disorientated; she didn’t know where she was. She sat up slowly and hugged her knees to her chest. She sat, rocking back and forth for several hours waiting for her memories to come back to her. But they didn’t. She was nameless, to herself anyway. The only thing she could remember was the fear in his voice and the pain in his eyes…it played over and over because there was nothing else in her head to think of.

A bad deed had come back on her…. multiplied.

THE END | Short Fics

Part 1