A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 3)

Chapter Twenty-Six

I know I claim this a lot, but I think I'm dead. Not spirit dead, or banished dead, or Beginning dead. Nothing dead. Empty dead. No past, no present, no future dead. I can't hear anything, can't see anything, can't feel anything, can't taste anything, can't smell anything. Dead. There's no other explanation. I'm nowhere, I'm no one. Dead.

Just as I have myself convinced, everything crashes around me.

I gasp for air, except there isn't any. Darkness is swarming me, burying me, dragging me to... somewhere, something. Its claws are digging into my skin, except I don't have skin. I don't have anything. There's no air. I can't breathe. Then suddenly, there are voices. Screaming voices. Strained voices. They're pleading, begging, screeching in agony. I try to cover my ears, but I don't have any hands. I don't even have ears to cover.

The screeching doesn't stop, and the heaviness weighs me down. It's dragging me somewhere, and I'm close. I'm so close. Just as I'm about to reach whatever it's pulling me towards, the feeling lifts. It lifts, and turns into something brilliant. Something warm, something inviting. It's nirvana. It has to be.

The feeling wraps itself around me, and it occurs to me: the voices aren't screaming. They're singing. It's a melody, and they just want my help. I can help them. I can set them free. They don't have to live like this. I can help. I want to help. I listen to them, open myself up to let them in, to--

No. No, this is wrong. This is all wrong.

I pull back, force my mind to repel the allure, the false promise. It's a lie. It's all a lie.

Then suddenly, there's light. I see light. There's so much light. This light is more inviting than the darkness could ever dream to be. It's perfect, not manufactured, false perfection. It's real. It's white. It's good. It's so good. And there are voices. Warm, soft voices. Good voices. The most sincere, honest voices I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. They can help. The want to help.

Finally, what I have to do dawns on me, and I remember what happened twelve years go.

I fall into it, and as I almost did with the darkness, I let the light free. I open it up, and I don't know what it is, but I release it. I bring the brightness back to earth.

I shoot my eyes open, and they're real. I have eyes. Real, physical eyes. The scene before me is black. I'm slumped back against a rock, and my mind is clogged with fog, and I want to let go. Of what, I don't know. But I want to let go. As the mist in my head clears, I realise I can't. I can't let go. I have to keep hold of... of it, of whatever it is, for the sake of everyone, everything.

My vision clears, and I see Annabel. I see Carmen, Tom, Jamie, Lucy. They're staring at me. Carmen is shaking me, calling my name, but I can't speak. I flicker my eyes behind them to see Ava, the blessed stones still in her hand as she tries to push the darkness away. She's weak. She's barely standing. There's so much darkness.

As my vision clears enough for me to make out the beach, the ocean, the rocks around us, it happens. The darkness, the black bursts of energy, the dark spirits that have taken over every corner of this beach are swallowed up by the brightest collection of white lights I've ever seen.

"What the..?" Jamie stammers.

What?

"Is that real?" Tom gapes as he, Jamie, Carmen, and Ava stare into the sky.

Wait, what? They can see this? The sensation to let go, to release whatever it is I'm holding onto overwhelms me, but I grit my teeth and push against it. Not yet.

With my friends distracted, I pull myself to my feet. I have to lean on the rock behind me to stay upright, but I keep myself steady. Connor wasn't lying when he told Lucy he can bring spirits who have moved beyond this world back to earth. What he failed to include was that he needs me to do it, and that I can choose which side.