Half Life by Heather Atkinson Read Free Book Online

tidying up the mess I ’ ve created I pace back and forth, working myself up into a state.  Three agonising hours tick by and she ’ s still not returned. It ’ s almost time for our show too.  We always watch it together and it wont be any fun without her. 
    Finally I hear the key in the door and I wait to greet her, practicing my apology over and over in my head.  However I ’ m surprised to be confronted by Sally instead. 
    “ Kate? ” she calls.  When there ’ s no reply she looks over her shoulder at someone.  “ It ’ s alright Marguerita, she ’ s not here.  She probably got scared and ran off too. ”
    In walks a bizarre looking woman, middle aged wearing a long flowing multicoloured dress and draped in jewellery and scarves.  Her hair is bright red and her make-up makes Sally ’ s appear subtle.  This must be Marguerita Swirls, the famous psychic.  Let ’ s see just how damn psychic she is.
    “ I sense someone here, ” says Marguerita in a breathless little voice.  “ A man.  He ’ s angry and upset.  He doesn ’ t want us here. ”
    “ Is it Thomas Galbraith? ” says Sally timidly.
    “ Yes.  Thomas, you can ’ t stay here any longer.  Do you hear me?  You must move on.  You must go towards the light. ”
    What ’ s the ridiculous woman talking about?  I ’ ve never seen any light.
    “ This is no longer your house, ” she goes on.  For someone with such a soft voice she is quite a powerful speaker.  “ You ’ re interfering with the living and it cannot continue. ”
    Now I divine what has happened.  Sally thinks she will rid Kate of me forever.  Well I ’ m not going.  Petulantly I kick over a chair and Sally squeals and hides behind Marguerita ’ s bulky body, who appears completely unruffled.
    “ This is a very powerful spirit, ” Marguerita tells Sally.  “ I ’ ve never encountered one so strong.  He must be feeding off the occupant of the house, like a bloated leech. ”
    The comparison offends me.  Sally appears angry and it is clear she only has Kate ’ s best interests at heart and suddenly I find it hard to be cross with her.
    “ She has been tired a lot lately, ” says Sally.  “ I just thought she was depressed. ”
    “ I ’ m going to help you Thomas, ” calls Marguerita theatrically.  “ I ’ m going to send you home. ”
    “ I ’ m not going, ” I yell, knocking the books off the coffee table with a sweep of the arm. 
    Marguerita produces from beneath her dress a book and what appears to be a small wooden rattle.  I worry where she got them from because that dress has no pockets.  Marguerita opens the book and starts chanting in a strange language and shaking the rattle rhythmically.  As she gets into full flow the whole room seems to darken around me, as though night has drawn in early and I drop to my knees as the strength drains right out of me.  All I can do is lie there helplessly on the rug as the world recedes away, leaving me in a terrifying limbo.  I attempt to rise but it ’ s impossible.  I can see my hands are transparent, almost faded away to nothing and I ‘ m icy cold.  Then I am overcome by a debilitating paralysis and can do naught but lie here impotently.
    “ Thomas, go towards the light, ” I hear Marguerita call faintly, the click clack of the rattle barely audible. 
    What is she doing to me?  It feels like she ’ s destroying my very soul.  There is no light.  I see nothing but blackness and desolation.  Dear God please save me.
    In response to my prayer I hear another sound, a very angry one that drowns out Marguerita ’ s chanting.  It ’ s Kate.  Struggling to see through the pall of blackness I can just about make out Kate shouting and gesturing at Marguerita, who ignores her and continues to chant, eyes screwed tightly shut.  Kate snatches the rattle from her hand and hits her over the head with it.  This has the desired effect and finally Marguerita shuts up.  The blackness does