Quinn talks with Rosanne Dowell
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Thank you for coming out here today, Rosanne. Are you comfortable? Here, let me help you with that blanket. Go ahead and lean back against Clarabelle’s headstone. She doesn’t mind. Comfy?
Isn’t it pretty here? Aren’t those oak trees magnificent? Especially now that they’re getting their fall color. I really should apologize for making you hike all the way out here. I know graveyards aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I enjoy the silence. I find the presence of the living strangely unnerving, especially during a haunting.
Have you ever been on a ghost hunt? Oh, you have. How exciting! I’ve been on some great ones with Liam. And cemeteries are my favorite, as you could probably guess. Who’d you see? Oh, you got some nice orbs on film. Next time let me know where you’ll be, and I’ll take Liam there. He’s very good. Most of his orbs can be seen with the naked eye. One time he even had a whole room screaming just by ringing a tiny bell someone had placed on a table.
But a few haunts have scared the daylights out of me. Those are the one’s were we ran into a true medium, someone with the energy to make contact without our aide. You don’t understand? Take us chatting here, for example. You can see me because I wish it. A medium can see me because they wish it. It’s very painful, and I’m terrified of being trapped in-between the two worlds. It’s very dark there.
So, to get back to an earlier question. Do I enjoy being a specter? The real question is whether I’d prefer to be alive. Most definitely. There’s so much I miss… But I have Liam’s company on occasion, making it bearable. And you can’t tell him this, but I do get a kick out of a good haunting. Liam says he knows a ghost who’s met the ‘Grey Lady’ in the York Theatre Royal,
. He says he wants to take me
there one day, but I don’t know. I seem to tire easily these days. I wonder if
I’m beginning to fade… UK
Pardon? Oh, you want to know about my book ‘The Trials of a Lonely Specter’. It’s about a haunting me and Liam went on and the frightening mediums I met. It was the most painful experience of my life. I have to confess that I haven’t read the ending to the book yet. I’m a little afraid to know what lies in store for me. You’ll have to let me know how it goes, the next time we meet!
Oh, do you have to go so soon? That’s okay. I understand. It just gets a little lonesome, sometimes. Let me help you up. I really enjoyed our visit, Roseanne. Come by any time!
‘Trials of a Lonely Specter’
Oct 14, 2011 http://bit.ly/rhfkBG
There’s been an accident. Quinn believes he’s dead, though Liam insists otherwise. But if that is the case, why does Quinn see the two of them as ghosts? And why does Liam play along? Exposed to mediums and apparitions, Quinn has to make a decision: either accept his fate or risk everything to trust Liam one more time.
He came-to with a cry and sat up, embarrassed to find he’d been lying on Liam’s thighs. His friend patted his cheek then nudged him aside, rising fluidly to his feet.
Quinn stood as well, then froze in sudden confusion. He’d forgotten something important. “What happened?”
He was surprised when Liam gripped his arm, his face alert, more alive than he’d ever seen it. “You fainted. Look.” Liam urged him to the mirror. “What do you see?”
“I see you,” he said, exasperated, then blinked in surprise when the room went absolutely black. Liam shifted his weight and the orb he could so easily call up illuminated his handsome face in the mirror. Quinn jumped when the faces of the women appeared behind the ghost. He wanted to turn away but Liam’s hold on his arm tightened.
“What do you see?’ Liam breathed in his ear. The subtle voice meandered through his head, bewildering his senses. Liam’s reflection watched him eagerly, though the women remained passive, focused. He realized what they were doing, and whimpered as prickles of heat started up his body.
“Don’t let them,” he begged as flames licked along the edges of his nerves. Liam crushed his hand. Quinn stared at him in disbelief as the pain mounted in his body. He cried out as the very atoms of his being were seared and began disintegrating.
The pain was excruciating, Liam’s betrayal hurting worst of all. With all his will he gathered the fragmented pieces of himself. Screaming in pain, he tore his hand from Liam’s, stumbling backward as he did so. The women gasped as he passed through them. Ignoring Liam’s despairing call, he raced from the room, plunging headlong down the stairs, regardless of possible injury.
Outside, the moon had risen, lighting the dusty road. It wouldn’t have mattered had there been pitch darkness. He could see in the dark, provided he concentrated. He hastened from the house until the blinding tears made him stumble off the road into a grove of oaks. He sat with his back to one of the ancient trees and let the dark engulf him. Exhausted by emotion and hurt, he drifted into a fitful sleep.