Whispers of Death - Lisa

My room was cold when I awoke. My blanket was pulled about me like a dark shroud, yet I shivered. My room was quite dark, yet I imagined that I could see the puffs of breath emanating from my dry lips. In my mind's eye, light puffs showed as steamy greens and blues and floated from my mouth to the crumbling yellow plaster ceiling of my humble room. rnrnGingerly, I stretched a leg off the side of my narrow bed and touched my toes to the cold cement that was my floor. It was cold enough that I wanted to recoil, but I needed to walk across the room and flip the switch on the little space heater that sat in the corner. The glowing red switch on the heater indicated that it was plugged in, and at that same time mocked me, goading me forward to press it. rnrnI slipped out of bed and rushed across the room with a gasp, my thick comforter wrapped about me like a cloak and flipped the switch. The fan in the heater came to life with a quite hum, and I relished in the sudden warmth in the air immediately in front of me. rnrnIt was several minutes that I stood there grinning and warming my icy hands crouched in front of the squat heater. Several minutes before I turned back toward my bed, only to find a shape sitting upon it, barely visible in the dark. rnrnI gasped and took a step back, nearly bumping into the heater I was just a moment ago enjoying, but I stopped myself from reacting further. I had, after all, received frequent visitations from apparitions in my youth, and so a figure appearing in my room without notice or sign of entry was not entirely new to me. rnrnInstead of dashing out the door that was only a foot or so to my left and storming into the safety of the warm living room where my father slept on the couch upstairs, I took a tentative step forward and reached toward my bed saying, "Hello? Is someone there?"rnrnEither imagined in the dark or real, the figure seemed to shift at my voice, and I heard a small sound, not so different from the rustling of leaves. This made me freeze, heart pounding, before I actually reached my bed, a mere 2 feet outside my arm's grasp. rnrnBriefly, I thought of turning on my lamp, which was on the other side of the room from my bed, accompanying a small desk, but I would have had to turn my back to the bed while I fumbled with the lamp, and I was not sure what the figure would do if my eyes were off it for even a moment. rnrnI thought that the best course of action was to determine if what I now dealt with was a threat before risking it being out of my sight do I asked it a question instead. In a shaky, uncertain voice, I asked, "What's your name? If you're actually there, you owe me a name."rnrnThis was a tactic for dealing with spirits that my grandmother, who was a spiritualist taught me. The figure didn't answer, but the rustling sound occurred again, making me sure that it was moving. I steeled my nerves and asked the question again in a more forceful tone, adding again, "You owe me a name."rnrn"Lisa," came a raspy voice from my bed, "Lisa is my name."rnrnMy heart pounded like crazy in my chest. My mind raced, running through options and questions I should ask. I had had many visitors in my short life, but none that was quite like this. This seemed threatening and strange to me.

Page created by: araknay on 2017-09-26 21:16:16.

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