Paranormal Anthology With a TWIST (2 page)

Suddenly, through all the banter whirling inside my head, I heard
the most angelic voice. The voice seemed to cut through all of the muddle,
speaking to me with such love it made my heart melt.

Orella, darling. I
need you to know how special you are. You have a gift. You have my gift. I’ve
known all along just how unique you are.

A gift? Pfft.

I looked around at my dad and my aunt. I knew they couldn’t hear
her, but I still needed to see if they had any reaction to her voice echoing
inside my befuddled brain.

Come closer, Ella.

I’ve never known the voices to speak directly to me. But she was.
She was speaking to me. She was saying my name and beckoning me to come to her.
Was this really happening? Or was this some sort of brain damage caused by the
accident?

I could feel the excitement bubbling up in my heart at the
possibility my mom was actually speaking to me. Oh God. I hoped she really was
speaking to me. Because if this was just a new development of my
dementia—I was sure as the sky is blue that I would not survive the
heartache.

To avoid odd stares from my other family members, I tried my
darndest to keep my emotions in check.
Face
like steel, Ella.

Slowly, I used my bruised hands against the cold bars of my
wheelchair to make my way over to my mom’s hospital bed and battered body. My
aunt tried to help me, but I dismissed her with a wave and a small smile.
Gently, I placed my fingers on top of my mom’s limp hand. Her hand was cold.
Ice cold.

Yes, I am cold. My
body is no longer a part of me, so I cannot feel the chill that courses through
my skin.

My hand reacted and jerked back—completely startled she just
answered my thoughts. I opened my mouth and hesitated. I didn’t know what to
say.

Don’t speak aloud,
Ella. All you have to do is speak to me in your mind.

I closed my eyes and bowed my head.
I’m confused. I don’t understand. How can I hear you?

You’ve always been
able to hear me. You can hear anyone’s thoughts. But thoughts have the most
strength when directed at the recipient. Which is why, at the moment, my
thoughts are the loudest voice in your mind.

Looking up at my mom’s face, a face covered in tubes and pads to
monitor her brain activity, I saw no reaction. No light. No life. Not even the
monitors showed activity.

No, darling. My body
will not respond. This is why I’m speaking directly to you now for the first
time. They need to let me go. Your dad knows I do not want to be kept like
this. I’ve instructed him in the past to let me go if I were ever in this
state.

A tear trickled down my face as I thought,
But, you can’t leave me
. I may have been acting selfishly, but I
couldn’t bear to lose my mother. I needed her. Especially now that she’s
telling me I’m not a total nutcase.

I don’t want to
leave you. I know how much this will hurt. But, I’m not here. Not really. My
lungs won’t inflate. My heart won’t beat. My mind is barely a whisper. You… you
are the only one who I am even able to say goodbye to. I needed you to know of
your gift and how much I truly love you. Remember, the best and most beautiful
things in the world cannot be seen or even heard. They must be felt with the heart.

My mom always used that variation of Helen Keller’s quote, but it
didn’t occur to me why she changed the words until now. Now I knew her
variation was deliberate. She wasn’t just a mother who couldn’t remember the
famous words. She was insightful—and I knew deep down that losing her
would break me.

A thought came to me as she said her goodbyes.
Does Daddy or Aunt Sybil know? Do they know
I can hear you? Do they know I can hear them?

Daddy knows nothing
of our gifts. I worry it will make him nervous or he may not understand. I have
told Aunt Sybil, but she does not share the same gift and is skeptical of my
sincerity. She does not know you possess the same soul-seeing abilities as I
do.

Soul-seeing
abilities?
I asked, unsure of what she was actually telling me.

You are a soul seer,
Orella Hugh. Your clairvoyance makes you exceptional. There are not many like
us, who can read thoughts, read the souls of others…

“Miss Hugh, are you with us today?” the booming voice of my art
teacher interrupted my memories, bringing me back to the present.

I looked up and nodded quietly, unable to keep the sorrow from my
face. My mother’s death may have been nearly six years ago, but the
pain—the searing hole in my heart—made it feel like I was losing
her over and over again. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my waist in a
desperate attempt to hold myself together—sure as shit I would fall apart
at any moment.

I’ll teach her to
daydream in my class
, Mr. Burns thought as he asked out loud, “Well, Ella? Can you
give your opinion on Degas’ painting of the Absinthe Drinker?”

God. Really? Why
would he think it’s helpful to call me out like that?
I mentally rolled
my eyes in an attempt to express my irritation without him noticing.

Looking up at the projected image, I spoke confidently, explaining
the image I already studied in high school and hearing my mother’s voice echo
the answer in my head. “Some say the L’Absinthe painting is a representation of
the increase in social segregation during the fast-growing stages of Paris. The
woman in the painting is an actress and the man is a bohemian painter, although
I do not remember their names. The café…”

As I droned on, the classroom door opened, saving me from
continuing.

Chapter Two

I quickly looked down at my sketchbook to avoid the scolding gazes
of my judgmental classmates. I wanted to hold my head up high to prove to these
people I was not a chickenshit that hid behind her sketches and smarts. But my
immediate reaction betrayed me and I bowed my head, biting my lip to stifle the
smile I wanted to unleash at the fact I answered the professor’s question to
his satisfaction.

Unfortunately, while I could avoid their stares, I couldn’t avoid
their thoughts. Murmurings of
weirdo
and
know-it-all
swam through my
brain. Their reactions to my knowledge of the painting were actually comical.

Suddenly, their thoughts shifted away from me and toward the guy
who just walked through the door. Unsure of what I was reacting to, my body
immediately sparked to life, like an engine finally turning over in an old
automobile. A different aura filled the room and all the cold thoughts
surrounding me were suddenly blanketed with warmth.

Wow, he’s a looker…

Oh my. Look at that
hair. I hope he sits over here!

Damn! He’s hot.
Wonder how I can get him to notice me.

Holy bucket of
biceps! I’d like to sink my teeth into that a…

The girls’ thoughts were going wild and I couldn’t help but
chuckle at their shallow cognitions. One girl looked my way, obviously
wondering what I was snickering about.

Out of curiosity, I looked up. You know what they say… curiosity
killed the cat. When I brought my eyes front and center, I locked stares with a
pair of beautiful, green eyes. Green eyes that brought shame to the most
magnificent of emerald gems. As obvious as my attraction was, I couldn’t seem
to look away. There’s definitely something to be said for lust at first sight.

And it definitely was lust. I had never reacted to a man like I
did at that moment. It was all I could do to keep my ass planted on the stool
and not streak toward him and pounce on him like an excited house cat high on
catnip.

Finally gaining some semblance of control and forcing myself to
retract my focus, I trailed my gaze from head to toe and took him all in.

Holy sack of
suckers. I don’t think I am going to survive this encounter without making
myself out to be some sort of fool.

Standing next to Mr. Burns was a wickedly handsome guy with dark,
short hair, longer on top, and a tight black t-shirt over disheveled blue
jeans. Immediately, all the murmuring thoughts faded away as he smiled at me.
All the ogling voices in the room silenced as my focus penetrated every inch of
this man. It was as if no one else in the room even existed.

Seems so cliché, I know. But I have no other way of explaining the
piercing connection I felt when he looked at me with such power and intensity.
Plus, a girl is allowed to fantasize about lust at first sight, right? Guys
already patented their lust for T-and-A. Us girls? We deserve to claim our
romantic fantasies.

Feeling as though he could see my inner most secrets, I blushed
and looked away.
Did I actually just
blush?
The uproar from all the voices suddenly reverberating back into my
head was nearly deafening, causing me to wince. I had to control the
overpowering urge to look back into his piercing green eyes, wondering if it
was my focus on him that caused the voices to quell. I’m sure he probably has a
million girls who throw themselves at him daily. Plus, he’s probably just as
shallow as they are, if not more. Most beautiful men tend to be total jerks… or
gay.

I had to stifle a snicker at the last thought.
Christ, I hope he’s not gay.

“Ahh, yes, Mr. Chantrey, we were just discussing a classic
painting by Edgar Degas. Please, find a seat anywhere and we will continue,” Mr.
Burns said as he gestured towards the empty stool near the back… near me.

He’s coming to sit
near me! Lord. Ok, keep your cool, Hugh. He’s just a guy. It’s not like you
have a chance anyway.

The gorgeous man headed towards me and grabbed a stool at the same
high-top wood table I always sat at…
alone
.
With a light scraping noise, he inched the stool closer to me and sat down. The
smell of leather and a hint of cologne wafted in my direction, making my hand
grip the edge of the table and my eyes flutter shut at the thought of him so
close.
Get a hold of yourself, dumbass!
My heart began to pound in my chest and my lungs expanded with rapid breaths.
Why is this guy affecting me so much? It’s
baffling. I’ve never been…

My thoughts were cut off by a confident voice.
You affect me too, sweetheart. With that
golden-blonde hair falling over your cute face. Man, you smell great. Wonder
what your name is.

My head immediately jerked in his direction to meet a smirking
hottie looking at me from the side.
What?
What did you just say?

His smile dropped and his brows furrowed as his head turned in my
direction and his stare intensified.
I
said, I wonder what your name is. There’s no way you can know what I’m sa…

Holy Hell! You… I
can’t believe you can hear me!
My thoughts practically squealed as I bit my
lip in an attempt to stifle my audible voice.
No. It’s not possible
, I thought as I shook my head.
Just a coincidence. Just a coincidence. He
can’t really hear you. You’re such a nutcase.

He suddenly chuckled and projected his thoughts directly to me.
Your name is ‘Holy Hell?’

I gasped as I looked directly at him and covered my mouth with my
hand. I felt my fingers shake slightly against my lips, clearly going into
shock over the situation.

“Ella? Are you ok?” Jesse whispered as she leaned from her table
towards me. Even though I didn’t know anyone in this class very well, Jesse
seemed nice and her thoughts always seemed to confirm her sincerity. I had to
look in her direction to make sure she actually spoke to me. There is nothing
more embarrassing than answering a question someone didn’t actually ask out
loud.

Looking in Jesse’s direction, I just nodded and briefly smiled.

Ella. Such a pretty
name
,
the confident voice said, cutting off all the other muffled voices in my head.

I looked back toward the pair of eyes swirling with shimmering
dark emeralds. I was completely speechless… or, thoughtless.

For once, Ella is
thoughtless. Call the President. Sound the National Guard. It’s definitely a
day to remember.