The Clairvoyant

Chapter Two: Little Girls Who See Things and Little Boys Who Don't

    The little girl's mother might not have heard her daughter call herself a liar and scream that she would stop seeing things, but the sixteen year old boy hiding behind a tree in their neighbor's yard did.

    He mowed the lawn of the house the girl had been taken from, and he knew she was a little odd. He had stumbled upon her in the backyard once, when she was talking to thin air. Except, it wasn't thin air to her, and she was deep in conversation. He had heard her mother strike her, too, and call her a demon.

   Now he approached her, outwardly calm, inwardly quaking with a cold fire fueled by hatred.

    "Tommy, welcome. Can you feel the cleansed air, son? Is that what drew you to this area?" Asked Mrs. Ripley, smiling as she faced her house.

    "How could you do that to your daughter? She had a gift. I think many could see what she saw if they were as innocent and open as she is."

    Mrs. Ripley turned to him, livid. "No. She was born cursed, not defected or mentally deformed. Cursed by the devil himself." She regarded the boy coldly, her previous warmth gone. "Get off of my property, Thomas."

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   Father Thomas Blundell sat in Sheriff Taylor's office and waited with him for the third part of their party to arrive. From there, the trio would go to the Greenville House and try to figure out what kind of entity resided there.

   He did not, for one moment consider letting Miss Ripley know he had known her before she had been... removed so cruelly. She would not remember him, and he would not reopen old wounds. For surely her wounds still hurt.

    Sheriff Taylor twiddled his thumbs and whistled. He was ill at ease around Thomas, but what person wasn't around a Priest? Humans were only sinners after all. Even if they all could be redeemed, that didn't mean they believed it.

   The door to the office slowly opened and both men stood as a young girl with mousy hair and green glasses perched on her nose entered the room. She was wearing a large sweater and a cautious expression. Surveying the two men, she waited for one of them to speak, not daring to offer any information until asked.

   "Welcome Miss Ripley, and thank you for agreeing to this excursion on such short notice. I am Sheriff Taylor, and this is Father Thomas."

    He shook Mary's hand vigorously. She smiled the minute her skin touched his, as if she suddenly thought of something funny in her head. With a slight smirk she looked down at their hands then back up at the Sheriff.

   "Sheriff Taylor, I recommend you rein in your excitement. We might not find anything tonight, and if we do... excitement might overpower common sense. I promise this house will not interfere in next year's election in any way but positively."

    Sheriff Taylor dropped her hand and stared at Mary in shock, his mouth hanging open.

   "That is almost exactly what I was thinking." He smiled again and patted her shoulder. "Oh Miss Ripley, you have just made me believe things I never did before."

   "I'm glad. But I promise that I am not a mind reader." She turned to Thomas. "Father." She stated simply, holding out her hand to shake.

    Thomas was wary as he extended his. What if she... found something about their past experiences?

     The minute her hand grazed his, before their fingers even interlocked, Mary recoiled as if he had electrocuted her. "You are keeping something from me that is about me. I must applaud you though." She paused, looking deeply into his gray eyes. "You are quiet with your feelings. I cannot pick up very much."

   "I guess the Lord protects me in this instance. But... can you really detect all that just by touching someone?"

   "Yes, if I focus hard enough. Are you going to be exorcising the house?"

   "Yes. If it needs it."

   "Then you and I will be working closely. If only we could arrest ghosts though."

   Thomas chuckled. "Sheriff Taylor would be perfectly capable for that, if they could be."

   Sheriff Taylor beamed at the compliment. "Why thank you, Father. Now shall we be off to the Greenville estate?"

   "Yes, please." Mary said.

    The two men followed Mary out the door and into the parking lot. She headed to her own car.

   "Will you not be riding with us?" Asked the Sheriff, not masking his disapointment.

   "I will. But I'm  bringing mine to rest just outside of the property. Demons have possessed cars before. Better to have a second outside of the property to be prepared. There is a tree at the corner, just before the property comes into view. Pick me up there." She disapeared into her '73 green Volkswagen Bug.

    Father Thomas Blundell and Sheriff Taylor got into a police vehicle and tailed the little car all the way to the tree. Thomas listened to Sheriff Taylor's excited chatter the entire way, wondering, all the while.

    Once Mary Ripley had joined them once again, she began asking questions about the house. She hunted for details about the murders and deaths, the previous owners, and even asked if either of them knew if the house was built on top of something, like an Indian burial ground or graveyard or chasm.

   "Don't pull into the drive!" She exclaimed just before Sheriff Taylor made the turn.

   "Sorry." He said.

   But Miss Ripley was staring intensely at the house. "Allow me to get out first."

   She stepped out of the car and stood, facing the Greenville House, which had a wild lawn and ivy covered walls. Plants were also sprouting on the roof.

   Father Thomas drew down the window, and she gestured for them to come out. He regarded her for a moment before looking at the house, then back to her.

   "How and what do you feel, if I may ask?"

   Mary drew in a breath. "Nothing and everything. I feel no presence at all, as if this was just a random condo in a modern subdivision with nothing unusual around it. Like it is sickeningly normal. I feel nothing, and at the same time, I feel an immense power oozing from every corner, even coming from the blades of grass. Something is there, and it is not just the mold and plants. Keep your cross handy Father, and your bible too if you have it."

   Thomas did.