((Sorry for not updating... I had a much-needed Hiatus. But I'm back!))
Chapter Eight: A Chilling Memory
I'm sitting on Aiden's porch, thinking fast. I can feel bad vibes coming from his thoughts. Well, I don't blame him.
"I want you to stay on earth. To stay with me."
I had thrown a shoe at him.
How dare he say such words to me? He, of all people, knows how much I want to move on. Yet when he puts it like that, he's going to make me feel guilty as hell when I finally leave.
If I ever DO leave.
"Oh, it's you," I hear a voice most displeased say.
"Hi, Sarah," I say nonchalantly. I'm not in the mood to be a bitch. Suddenly I have an idea.
"Still hanging around Aiden's house?" she shakes her head. "Why don't you just go home?"
I shrug. "Too long of a ferry ride. No one can see me anyway."
"What?" she gives me a confused look.
"Give me your hand," I say. I take it and put it to where my heart should be. Her hand slips right through. She gasps.
"I feel solid in any other places," I tell her. "But you can't touch my heart, because it's not there. The heart is the essential part of being alive... and I'm not alive."
I enjoy looking at the shocked look on her face. She stutters and walks away slowly. "Y-you're a dead person?!" she gasps.
"Took you long enough," I say.
A tear runs down her cheek. "Don't hurt me," she whimpers.
I roll my eyes. "Don't be lame. Think of me as Samara the Friendly Ghost. Sarah..." I try to give her a comforting look because she looks so frightened. "You need to trust me."
She stops, and takes a tentative step forward. "How do I know I can trust you?"
I shrug. "You can't. That's the meaning of trust. You do it without doubt."
"What do I need to trust you for?" Sarah asked.
"I need you to trust me to go into your mind," I say. "There's something really important I must see."
"M-my mind?!" she says, her eyes widening.
"I don't have any access to your mind unless you allow me," I say. "Sarah, please, this moment depends on your entire future."
She is silent for awhile. Finally she looks up and gives a small nod.
I stand up. "Sarah, close your eyes."
Her eyelids immediately shut against her will. I plunge into her mind, searching for a memory of a phone call. I'm tangled in memories of Aiden, family reunions, parties. I plunge in deeper and hit a memory so hard that it knocks me to the ground.
I look up. I'm in a living room that's unfamiliar. I look over and see a 5 year old version of Sarah, wearing a party hat and a pink dress.
"It's my birthday!" she says lispily, running around happy. "Mum-mum, Pop-pop, happy birthday to me!"
An elderly couple come out and smile warmly at her. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."
I'm taken aback. There are no signs of Sarah's parents anywhere.
Did Sarah live with her grandparents...?
The phone rings. My breath catches. I know what it's going to be.
"I'ma get it!" Sarah says proudly. She picks it up and says "Hello?"
A wind gushes around Sarah's grandparents and makes them fall to the floor, their eyes closed.
"No!" I scream, rushing to help them. But I can't move. I'm in a memory.
Sarah looks shocked at her grandparents on the floor. Then a menacing voice fills the room:
"The prophecy is now set in motion... nine years from now, you will meet someone, someone who is crucial to your existence. You may choose to aid her, or fight her, for this is a battle between myself and her. Born unloved by her mortal father, and much too loved by her psychic mother, she will be a cursed child, doomed... this battle will end, with only one victorious. Choose to help her, and you shall die. Choose to fight her, and you will live... but with a price. I now give you my powers... and you will know."
A screaming is filling this memory, a screaming so loud that it's piercing my eyes. But when I look at Sarah, I realize it's not her. She's surrounded by a golden aura, and she's shaking...
It's me.
I slam back into reality, in front of Sarah, her eyes still closed. I fall on my knees, disbelieving of what I just saw.
"Open your eyes," I gasp.
She opens them and kneels down next to me. "Samara?" Her tone isn't bitchy anymore, it's worried and concerned.
"Sarah, we need to find out who that caller is," I say slowly. "And I'm going to need as much help as I can get."
((Geez! This plot is progressing slowly. If I'm not careful, I may end up with a 30 chapter fiction! Goodness. I better get to work. lmfao))