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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2292881-Talking-to-a-Spirit
by Mahe
Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #2292881
What if we were able to contact our deceased loved ones?
The cabochon-cut moonstone seemed to wink as it lay nestled in my cupped hands, the gem itself being the size of a walnut. I held it up against the few remaining traces of sunlight peeping behind the grey clouds and through my curtain-covered window, and the sparse sunbeams lit in its opalescent surface, turning it to a beaming bright white. With a satisfied grin, I placed it down on my mother’s colourfully-dyed shawl, which was surrounded by white and pastel green candles that emitted the scents of jasmine and tea tree. Then I closed my eyes and let my fingers carefully guide me to the wooden mallet and the bronze singing bowl I placed by my sides. After giving it a gentle strike near its rim, a resoundingly soothing vibration echoed throughout my candlelit bedroom; my eyes remained shut and I felt like I was floating as a thick, billowing mist was forming around me, which it was when I opened my eyes.

As I stood up and felt my feet slightly sinking into what seemed to be the billowy surface of a cloud, I spotted a wavering figure approaching my direction out of the mist. The closer it came, I discovered that it was a sweet-faced, smiling woman, dressed in a beige turtleneck and black pants. “My child!” it called out to me with open arms. “My daughter, I never thought I’d see you again!”

I stood rigidly, the moonstone still clutched in my hand. Once the woman stopped and stared in my direction fondly, my face turned as white as the clouds surrounding me, my lips quivering as I shook my head in disbelief when I realised who it was I saw in front of me.

“Mum!” I breathed. I ran toward her and embraced her tightly like I used to all those years ago, and I felt her stroking my hair again. “Is — is it you? Is it really you?”

“Yes, my dear. How wonderful it is to speak to you again.” Mum nodded before taking my hand upon releasing me. “I see you’ve still kept the moonstone I gave to you before you left for university?” I chuckled meekly and nodded in response. “I’m glad you still cherish it. I have kept it with me ever since Grandma handed it down to me before she passed, for she told me that this moonstone has the power to allow the living to contact their loved ones in the afterlife. I didn’t believe it at first, however.”

“Neither did I, Mum. But here we are.”

Mum - or rather, the spirit of Mum, looked around her before returning her gaze to me. “What?” I whisper. “What is it, Mum?” “You have done well, very well, since you were able to move to Australia and follow your dreams as a writer, and find the love of your life, and I am so proud of you. But your bereavement should not hold you back from living your life.”

“But Mum…”

You have to carry on,” Mum breathed with a sighing voice. “But I will be watching over you, as I always have. And I love you, as I have always done. Live with love and compassion, my dear. I love you.”

I stood, motionless, as the two of us stretched out our arms and released each other. The mist and my mother’s spirit slowly disappeared and I woke up back in my candlelit bedroom. By the time I opened my eyes, I heard the gentle creaking of the door opening and my fiancee stepping inside. With a gasp upon meeting my face, he rushed over to embrace me, despite looking at him squarely after taking a breath from tight lips and eyes wet with tears.
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