A Death Displaced by Andrew Butcher Read Free Book Online Page A

the horrific witch-burnings on the island, the story tells of the willow tree withering and dying. No evidence has been found to prove or disprove the tale, but this willow tree has been planted in memory of the legend, and in memory of the innocent people who were burnt alive.
     
    Juliet had never cared much for the history of Lansin Island. But, with the phenomena she’d been experiencing, she contemplated if the legend could have been real; after all, stranger things had happened the past few days than an oversized tree living a long life.
    It began to rain steady drops, so she made a move, ducking her face away from the rainfall.
    Tamara’s house, to the left, two doors down, looked like the oldest cottage around. It was fairly small, but the roof appeared newly re-thatched. Plant pots were dotted about and vines neatly climbed up the sides of the building. The cottage looked loved.
    With only two minutes until her start time, she knocked on the door and hoped she wasn’t disturbing an appointment already in action.
    The door opened slowly.
    ‘Hello, hello. You must be Juliet Maystone. Please come in.’
    ‘Hello. Yes, that’s me,’ she confirmed as Tamara directed her inside.
    ‘I’m Tamara. It’s wonderful to meet you. Come take a seat.’
    The room they were in had a low ceiling, wooden furniture, and a floral rug in the centre. The rug seemed old, not tatty, but the design was outdated. Juliet thought of the word ‘hovel’ as she gazed about herself, though the room wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest, just small and confined.
    An open fireplace was to the far side, lit, and warmly clothing the living area. Although it was cosy enough for Juliet’s standards, she could imagine the entire place going up in flames, with its thatched roof and all.
    ‘I just bumped into … Peter? He said hello and that you’d know him.’
    ‘Peter’s a conspiracy nut. He didn’t ramble in your ear for too long, did he?’ Tamara asked.
    ‘No, just a little.’
    Juliet sat down across from Tamara after being offered a hot drink but kindly refusing. She noticed a large chest in the corner of the room, intricately detailed with a pattern of flowers and leaves, and next to it was a broom.
    An image of Tamara flying on the broomstick popped into Juliet’s head, but she quickly batted away the fantasy, condemning herself for being so childish and for getting into this situation in the first place.
    ‘So why did you come today?’ asked Tamara. ‘You didn’t give any information when you booked. I haven’t prepared like I usually would.’
    ‘Sorry. I didn’t know how to say it over the phone, and I’m not sure what you can do to help.’ After a pause, she added, ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’
    For the first time, she noticed what Tamara was wearing. The medium had on a dark purple robe that covered her whole body. It didn’t look as ridiculous as Juliet would have expected, but it did clash hideously with her orange hair.
    Tamara asked, ‘Do you believe I can help you?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘You don’t seem to know a lot.’
    ‘I know a week ago I wouldn’t even have thought of coming here,’ she replied, sounding more curt than intended.
    ‘Do you not believe in the work I do then?’ Tamara’s voice was raw like a sound from the earth itself, grindingly natural.
    ‘Not really … no.’ She winced. None of this matched her frame of reference.
    ‘Please leave then. I can’t help you.’ Tamara glided to the front door and held it open. Juliet rose proudly to leave but as she reached the exit she expelled a heavy breath and began to cry.
    ‘Are you okay?’ The medium closed the door and turned to her guest.
    ‘This isn’t like me. I never cry like this. It’s not that I don’t believe in the work you do. It’s just that I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I’ve had a horrible week, seeing things that aren’t really there, that aren’t possible. I need