Christa gazed on Marla entreatingly, yet with authority. “It is time for you to give up your bitterness. You see that all that can be done has been. Will you carry on the sins that have made this closet filthy since I can remember?”
“They killed my husband!” she said. “Eric, his money, the drink… They killed him.”
“I know,” I said, “but it is time to forgive. Forgive them, Marla. Let go. Give it up to the One who can make things right.” At these words, Marla wept, in anger, and shame, and remorse, and emotions we could not name.
“And cry, Marla,” said Christa. “Cry if you need to. Cry everything you haven’t yet let yourself cry since his death.” In spirit, she hugged Marla. “There is peace now, isn’t there?”
Still weeping, Marla laid down beside Roland, but there was peace.
And no more have I seen her spirit-image, since.
Still, we were not done with the story. Eric was still restless.
To be continued…
Part 8
Part 9
I look forward to reading the rest. Most of my experiences involved non-human entities rather than those left-over echoes of the dead.
I already told you of the goblin-like creature that would chase us down the hallway in our old house in Okeechobee. Something from that creature must’ve followed us; I used to hear sussurations, whispers in my current bedroom.
We sprinkled the floorboards with ash – the essence of purity in many cultures – and invoked the Holy Trinity to drive the spirit away. The only problem is that the damage it did to my family was already done by then. None of us ever really saw it; we could only feel and hear it. Sight such as yours is a rare thing indeed.
I’ll have the rest up as soon as I have a good handle on how to write it. Then of course, there are those stray ends that I don’t know enough about to put them down here…yet.
Thanks for reading. I hope you find it helpful, or at least fascinating.
It seems different when I’m writing about it, than it did when I was living it. It’s much less real, writing about it, even though my memories are quite clear. I can’t get the same “feels”, most of the time, on paper. All I can do is relate the events.