Chapter 5: A Lost Soul
I return to the earth world; I took longer than I had time for with BJ. The bell had been ringing frantically.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
I find myself at a scene. A small plane had crashed. Two of the five people on board would survive. I was here to collect the three who will not. The plane was in pieces. There was a heavy smell of smoke.
The accident had been reported, and the airport wasn’t too far, so services would be here soon to help. The once green grass was nothing but dirt now, it had created a massive ditch as the plane had slid over the land with force. I could hear a heart-stopping, the beat weakening in my ears.
I found the body, still in her seat in the wreckage. Her face was flopped down as if she was staring at the ground and her clothes were torn and half ripped, large burns covering most of her body. Debbie Lucke, a fifty-nine-year-old woman.
“It will be over soon.” I whisper.
Her information continues to pour into my head. She could not have children with her late husband, Eric Lucke. But she took in her sister’s only child, Kayla, who was now twenty, after her sister Heather passed away. Debbie and Eric’s life had been hard. I remember Eric’s memories. He treasured his family.
“Such a wonderful man.” I whisper fondly.
I am running in a field of wheat; I run free as my eight-year-old self. I squeal as my younger sister Heather is beside me now after jumping out. We run through the wheat together, trying to avoid any snakes we might pass. Our daddy is checking if the wheat is ready, our two border collies run after us. They bark as they love this game!
I reach the age of ten, my mother is home-schooling heather and I. She tells us we will take over the farm someday, but for now, we are kids and need education. She teaches us how to bake with nothing but a few pantry items, and she tucks us in at night. Our daddy is always tired from a hard day working on our farm, but he says it is how we put food on our table.
I am standing at an altar, saying my vowels. I am wearing my mother’s wedding dress; it is white and very soft sheer-like fabric; it is slightly off the shoulders and lace skirt with pale pink flowers that had been scattered over it. I wear a veil; it covers my face until my husband is asked to kiss his bride. I have thousands of butterflies in my stomach. Both Eric family and my family are seated, watching in joy as Eric lifts my veil.
The time is skipping forward; I am holding a phone to my ear. An officer is explaining the situation to me. My husband takes the phone as I fall to the ground sobbing. My blue button-up dress is wet with my tears.
I have lost my sister. Her husband had hit her too hard and too much. I wanted to take our shotgun and kill him. I lay on the floor I grew up on. I feel as though in this house on our family’s farm; I am closer to my sister. I received her daughter on this same night. They had taken Heather’s husband to jail.
Debbie’s soul is leaving her body, I pull her down and ground her. I have to give her a brief speech as we both walk to the next soul that is leaving their body. Debbie follows, she is mature and understood everything. We stand next to a woman, her tattered clothes barely hung on her body.
A large bleed was coming from an artery in her leg. Her time was ending quickly as the blood poured. Eighty-year-old Edna Blake, a retired schoolteacher. She never married and never had children. She threw herself into teaching her students. Her down-to-earth personality was a touching experience as her memories flashed through.
The sound of loud planes are flying over, I feel the floor beneath me shake. The air is so thick with filled smoke and ash I am coughing so hard my lungs hurt. I stare out my window and beyond the tall buildings, there is an orange glow. I can hear gunshots, it feels as if they will never stop. I am curled in the corner of my room with my brother and our mother. My father was fighting for our freedom, I just want him home.
I must pull myself from the things Edna has seen, I admire her powerful will and the time she dedicated in her living life. But I have one more person to collect, I need my mind in one piece and I won’t forget how real the gunshots sounded very quickly. I walk over to the remaining soul, after giving Edna the brief speech, and Debbie stands there helping soothe the poor confused Edna.
I can already tell the last soul is troubled. Derek Hedly, thirty-eight. my feelings of concern grow when he doesn’t rise to the sky, instead, his soul is weighted to the ground. He looks like a shadow, his movements are robotic. I can already tell he is halfway lost and if I do not take care of it, then I will have to act the least favourite part of my job. I have to allow his memories in, if he is savable his troubles will be in his head.
There is a pain, it’s stinging over my back. A warm substance is oozing from the painful areas. My father is yelling at me, screaming how I killed my mother. I hold my lip, but it trembles, I know sound only makes it worse. I want to know my mother; I wished she had survived my birth. For ten years he has whipped me with a belt and for ten years no one bats an eyelid towards me.
I spend whatever time I can to hide in my room; I hate living. I watch all my friends play catch with their dads, their mum’s keep their house filled and neat like a home. My home is covered by cobwebs and ankle-high piles of dirt. The water is barely ever warm, so I freeze in winters just to stay clean. My father feeds me bread and cheese, my stomach always gurgles with hunger. Sometimes, my neighbour, Miss Wilkons will sneak me a plate of roast beef.
I stand facing myself in the mirror, my facial hair has grown and my eyes have sunken bags under them. I barely sleep, the nightmares in me are real. But my father says a man doesn’t cry, so I won’t. My wife yells at me saying I am nothing more than a shell and our son deserves better. I agree, they both deserve better. I am a private hired pilot; I know the next flight that is booked will be my demise.
As I stand in the grassy area, with Edna and Debbie. I shudder at the cold feeling his memories sent through me. Derek’s soul was angry, a shadowy figure that was sounding more and more nonhuman with every minute and growl. A deeply troubled soul.
He was stalking around the crash site, the sirens were arriving, and he was getting too close. I worried about what he would do. I walked after him, I tried to talk to him. He was refusing to listen, and my attempts became more and more panicked with every minute that passed. His hunger would only grow as he stalked for the essence of a pure soul to feed on, as an insatiable hunger began to grow inside him.
“I will have to end his suffering.” I whisper.
I kept Debbie, and Edna close as I waited for his first move.