The Seance

I’d never been to a medium, always believed they were conmen. No one can really speak to the dead, right? But when he came to town, something drew me there.

Perhaps the recentness of my loss, or the things left unsaid. But something, and when the seance began I couldn’t look away.

The set was corny, too Hollywood for what he claimed to do, but something about him stood out, something powerful. Connected.

“There’s a presence in the room,” he said, “from beyond. A spirit needing closure.”

Then he stared up where I hovered above him.

“Spirit, what’s your name?”

Talking to the Dead

Before I could talk to the dead, I lived in existential fear. I think we all do. We go through life on some level wondering: is this all that is?

Once I began seeing and speaking to the dead, I finally knew part of us lived past death, but now I feared the dead. They were everywhere, grasping, wanting, hungry. They hounded me, I feared they’d drive me mad.

Now I control my gift, and I’m at peace. I speak to the dead, but when I wish, on my own terms. I’m content, not afraid.

Truly, I’m a happy medium.