Waiting Spirits by Bruce Coville Read Free Book Online Page A

grandmother had told her not to do it. Brian was pleading with her to get her family out of the house altogether. And here she was, trying to make contact with the ghost again.
    Somehow, being forbidden to do the automatic writing only made her want to do it more. And the more she tried not to think about it, the more her mind turned in that direction. It was like being on a diet and trying to ignore the last cookie in the cookie jar.
    And her curiosity was driving her wild. Why did the spirit stare at Carrie? What did the words, “Welcome home” mean? And why was the ghost weeping in the night? Lisa felt as though she would explode if she couldn’t find the answers to these questions.
    She had gone to the library after leaving the beach. It closed early on Saturday, and she had just barely made it. But she had found a small book on spiritualism that had a whole chapter on automatic writing. One of the points it made was that the activity didn’t require a group; one person alone could try to induce a trance.
    Lisa got up and closed the bedroom door, hoping Carrie wouldn’t barge in. She didn’t want anyone to see what she was doing. She frowned. Really, she only wanted to help the weeping woman. But she felt vaguely… dirty. It was the deception, she decided. She had told her grandmother she wouldn’t do this any more.
    She drew the shade against the twilight. Somehow it seemed to make sense to darken the room.
    She returned to the desk, picked up her pencil, and closed her eyes.
    â€œWhat next?” she asked herself. She tried to recall the instructions in the book.
    â€œMake your mind a blank” was one of the things it had said. She tried to put everything out of her head. It was amazingly difficult. Her brain seemed rebellious, unwilling to think about nothing. As soon as she thought she had her mind clear, a stray thought would come wandering through, seemingly from nowhere. If she tried to ignore it, it would practically jump up and down shouting for attention. And as soon as she did give it any attention her mind was off and wandering, so that a few minutes later she would realize with a start that she had been completely distracted from what she was trying to do.
    â€œO spirit from the other side,” she whispered. “If you wish to communicate, now is the time. Give me your message.”
    Nothing happened. She waited, trying to empty her brain, to make space for the spirit to work through her.
    â€œSpirit from the other side,” she whispered gain. ““Give me your message.” She realized her tone had become almost demanding.
    â€œYou’ll never contact the other world that way,” she muttered. “Calm down, Burton, before you scare her away.”
    She found the idea somewhat amusing—that the ghost might be scared of her, instead of vice versa. She began to imagine herself face to face with the spirit, standing up to it with fearless ease.
    She smiled at the imaginary picture.
    It wasn’t until a moment later that she realized her hand was moving.
    Lisa looked at the paper in disgust. It was covered with a series of looping scrawls. If any message was hidden there it was beyond her comprehension. The whole thing looked as if it had been done by a baby, or maybe a crazy person. She wadded the paper into a ball and tossed it in the wastebasket.
    She hesitated, then placed her hand on the next sheet of paper. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate on emptying her mind. It was a little easier this time, but her hand lay still and unmoving.
    Suddenly Lisa shivered.
    Someone else was in the room. She could sense the presence as surely as if it had been announced with a trumpet fanfare.
    Yet everything was silent.
    She looked round uneasily. “Where are you?” she asked, her voice quavering.
    No answer.
    Lisa jumped. A drop of water had fallen on her wrist. She looked at it as if water were something she had never seen