Come Along with Me by Shirley Jackson Read Free Book Online

alert, dishonest.
    I was in a great hall, lofty, pillared, reaching into the distance. There were flowers in great pots, and—the old crystal palace, maybe?—tall glittering walls; there were many people. I waited quietly, not knowing who was going to come around asking, and waited and waited, and then found one man singled out, almost drifting to where I waited, almost moving without movement, surely without sound. “A tall man,” I said, and heard my own voice remotely, “a tall man, wanting something. He has gray hair. He is not very old, but he has gray hair.”
    â€œMy father,” someone said.
    â€œ
My
brother,” someone else said.
    â€œExcuse me. My father.”
    â€œHe says,” and I raised my voice, hearing it speak out there, to them, while I listened inside, “he says to take up the book he left behind, the book that he held in his hands near the end, the book he was holding in his hands. He says to take up the book and turn to page . . . page . . . page . . . it has an eight and a five.”
    â€œDad?”
    â€œI beg your pardon. My brother. I know the very book.”
    â€œAn eight and a five; find the page and there will be a message—a letter?—a message. He says he left a message.”
    â€œAsk him if he is happy. Tell him it’s his sister asking.”
    â€œExcuse me—”
    â€œHe does not know the word happy. He is here, and that is all. He is going now.”
    â€œI’m sure it was my father; if I had been given a chance to speak—”
    â€œSomeone is here,” I said. I heard my voice saying it. “Someone is here asking for Alice? Anna? Angela?” I knew even then there was something wrong with Angela, but I had forgotten what. “Alice?”
    â€œMy wife? Her name is Agnes.”
    â€œShe is ill, is she not? Someone is asking if she is better, if her illness has abated; someone is asking that you tell her the old medicine is better. Someone wants her to know that she is being taken care of, someone is over her now, comforting her.”
    â€œBut the old medicine didn’t—”
    â€œTell her someone is caring for her. She will be better.”
    â€œWill you ask my father to come back again? I must speak to him, really.”
    â€œThere are many many many here, some of them wanting to speak, some of them moving away. One who wants to speak is asking for a daughter, but it is not a father who wants a daughter; someone is asking for a daughter. Is there a daughter here?”
    â€œMy mother? My
mother
wants to talk to me? What for?”
    â€œAre you well? Are you contented? Someone is asking if you are well.”
    â€œIt’s not my mother then, because she—”
    â€œGone now. Some are pressing close to me, some are far away. Here is someone with a message. Do not forget old Ginger.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDo not forget old Ginger.” My Lord, I thought, from somewhere far away, old Ginger was
my
cat. Messages for myself. Better quit soon. “Do not forget old Ginger,” I said, as though I ever could. “Here is someone asking, asking; a message for a wife.”
    â€œI don’t want it,” Mrs. Faun said; I could hear her voice thin and annoyed. “Tell him to go away again; I don’t want to hear anything he has to say.”
    â€œSomeone is here, someone who wants to ask about a little child. Was the little child lost? Did it ever come home again? Where is the little child?”
    â€œGet my father back; we don’t know any little—”
    â€œNow there is a message here, a message for T. L.”
    â€œMe? The first initial’s really J., but they always called me Teddy; I guess it’s for me.”
    â€œGood fortune in store for you, T. L., great good fortune is being warned against; do not be deceived.”
    So that was my first seance; it couldn’t have been a very good one,