Faster Than the Speed of Silence (4/5) By Leah Scarpati

(1/5), (2/5), (3/5), (4/5), (5/5).

I no longer had control of my body and I began talking in a deep monotonous voice. To this day I can't remember what I had said, the whole time I was pleading to Hans in my mind for him to help me. It felt like I was drowning. The spirit left as suddenly as he had arrived and I wasted no time in packing my things together and leaving. All the way home I kept asking Hans why that had happened to me and why hadn't he helped me when I needed him the most. In hindsight I think I was angry as well because if my George had come though instead, I know that wouldn't have happened.

Hans said I had let my guard down too much, but how would George have come through if my guard was built up like Alcatraz eh? I ask you!

George hadn't come through to me at all, I was on my own, I realised that then and the lonelier I became, the more my bitterness increased. I know in my heart of hearts I wanted George to come back to me, to be like nothing had changed, to still be together, even if it was him in spirit wandering around the house, making the place look untidy!. Hans had tried to explain but I hadn't wanted to listen. If the loved ones of complete strangers could come through to talk to me, why couldn't my George? The requests for readings kept coming through, as if nobody realised my world had ended. Life on the outside carried on without me.

The day after that strange reading I was 'approached' in the kitchen. I must admit I've felt bad about how I handled this one ever since but I had to set a precedent. I was sitting at the kitchen table having my morning cuppa when a young girl with her hair in pig tails and a teddy bear in her hand began to materialise in the chair opposite me - in George's chair actually. She didn't even get chance to form properly, never mind speak before I put my hand out to prevent her wasting any more of her energy. "But...my Mummy!" She cried, and I just cut her off, dismissed her cold and quick without any consideration. Spirits don't intentionally bother people just for the sake of it, and when she realised I wasn't playing the game, she began to fade as quickly as she appeared.

She deteriorated in front of me like a watercolour painting in the rain, the last bit of her to go was the red and white checked school dress she wore. I've never forgotten that. Hans didn't speak to me at all that day, but I could tell he was disappointed in me. And something else must have shifted on the spirit side, because nobody ever visited me again.

So I've deliberately contained myself within this house for the past five years; fooling myself into thinking I was happy in my own company, pretending that I didn't feel the odd tell-tale drafts or chill and that I didn't hear the odd voices of souls who passed invisibly around the house, pleading to me to be acknowledged, helped.

Continued .... Next Page (5/5)

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