Words from the Other Side

One morning, I went out for a walk earlier than usual, not feeling like being around while Susan and Mike were at the Manor. Don’t ask me why, the moment I got to the Quabbin, I didn’t feel like sitting to listen to some music and just stare into nothingness, like I used to. I felt I needed to learn more about communicating with ghosts and all that, so I decided to watch some of what Trisha had called the pros.

I’d noticed that YouTube ghost hunters talked a lot about one Brandon Price, leader of a team called Haunters, like he was the grandfather of paranormal investigation, even over the Warrens and Hans Holzer. A quick search taught me that even though Haunters hadn’t been among the pioneers of that particular TV niche, they already had nine seasons and counting. And they were considered the best of the best.

Before subscribing to the streaming platform that hosted all their seasons, I searched for anything about them on YouTube. Didn’t find any episode for free, but I did find a ten-minute clip. That would do. I’d already watched so many ghost hunters, it took me a few minutes to see if the teams took their thing seriously or they were just clickbait clowns.

Only three minutes into the Haunters video, I was already snorting and grumbling.

Now I knew where the worst Youtubers had learned all their stupid clichés.

The four ghost hunters looked like one of the rock bands Mom listened to, all of them wearing black from head to toe, and a hot macho frontman: Brandon Price, creator, executive producer and lead investigator of the show. Anything else in your spare time, dear?

But no matter their looks, they actually behaved like teens on spring break.

Not only were these Haunters so loud, it was also plain to see some of the alleged evidence of paranormal activity was fake. They had a zillion static cams all over, plus the handheld cameras they carried around, yet most things happened off-camera. Not to mention a great deal of what they got was personal experiences, like being touched, hearing voices no mic captured, catching a glimpse of a shadow right outside the cam field, feeling cold spots their thermal cam didn’t register.

At least, I had to give them they didn’t fake objects flying around or smoky apparitions. No need. The faintest knock got three replays, and even though they played tough, calling out and provoking, the rockstars hightailed screaming like little girls from any distant noise. And these guys were crazy famous for this? Frigging clowns! I would’ve liked to see them spend a single night at the Manor.

“I ain’t wasting a dime on you,” I promised.

On my third week in the Manor, I decided I felt brave enough to take things one step further with my invisible roommates. I downloaded a free app, said to use the phone mic to detect ghostly sounds and turn them into words from a word bank, one at a time. It was a simpler, cheap version of the Ovilus, one of those crazy-expensive cutting-edge devices ghost hunters used.

I waited until Susan and Mike were gone for the day, mustered all the courage I might have, and went to the east parlor. Following the advice I’d found in some reviews of the app, I turned off the internet on my phone. Then, I sat on the couch under the window as usual.

I needed to breathe really deep and clear my throat before speaking, in the most natural and casual way I could manage.

“I’d like to try something,” I said. “If any of you would like to talk to me, maybe you can use this.” I pointed at my phone on the coffee table. “That’s supposed to capture whatever sound you make and turn it into words that an electronic voice will say aloud, for me to hear it. Does anybody feel like trying?”

Silence. That complete, absolute silence that upset me more than the constant little noises. Then a voice came out of my phone, pushing me to the brink of a heart attack.

“Hello.”

I was grateful I’d picked the female voice, that didn’t sound as creepy and robotic as the other options. Anyway, it scared the living shit out of me. I needed a minute to put myself together again.

“Sorry, you took me by surprise,” I muttered. “Hi, thank you. May I ask your name?”

This time, the answer came right away.

“Ann.”

Crap. Out of respect for Joseph’s wife Ann Marie, many Blotter women were called Ann something.

“Ann. Which Ann?” I tried.

“Marie.”

Really? “Joseph’s wife, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

Wow! Ann Marie had been the big matriarch of the family. Well, it made sense that if she was around, she would be the first to make contact with the alien invader. Especially in her parlor.

“So nice to meet you, Mrs. Blotter! Sorry, that was loud.”

Okay, I was at that point when all the ghost hunters I’d seen lost it. She was there and she was open to communicating with me. Now what?

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Mrs. Blotter? Or maybe you have a message for somebody? It may take us a while, because this thing spells out only one word at a time, but I’m ready and willing to try.”

“Welcome.”

Don’t ask me why, but my eyes got full of tears in a heartbeat. Yeah, I was excited and upset and scared to no end. But at that moment, I knew she was welcoming me to their home. They accepted me. And for some reason, that touched me deeply.

“Thank you,” I muttered. “I didn’t lie when I said I’m so happy to be here.”

“We know.”

Wow! Two words! That was some ghostly energy manipulating the app! Wait. Don’t lose sight of the objective. You wanted to communicate with them. Then do it.

“We? May I ask who else is here with us?”

“Edward.”

“Your firstborn?”

“Yes.” A pause. “Joseph.”

“Your husband?”

“No.”

“Wait. Please, let me go grab my notes.”

I rushed up the stairs. This was plain crazy! I was really talking to a ghost? Or Susan had put something funny in my lunch? Or maybe I was about to wake up from one of those blurry dreams you can’t recall after? I hurried back to the east parlor with my notebook and opened it on the page where I’d scribbled a family tree with the names I’d found in my readings.

“Joseph, Edward’s grandchild?” I tried.

“Hello,” the app said instantly.

“Hi, Mr. Blotter. Sorry, I don’t mean to disrespect any of you, but you’re all Mrs., Miss or Mr. Blotter. May I use your first names to address you?

“Yes.”

“Thank you. So, nice to meet you, Joseph. Is it just the three of you here?” Just!

The full answer took some time, as the invisible ghost of Ann Marie Blotter named them all and I looked them up in the family tree. Jeez! I’d been right when I’d felt it was like sharing the house with half a dozen people! By the time we were done, I’d learned I was living with Mrs. Ann Marie Blotter, her son Edward, his grandchild Joseph, Joseph’s daughter Lizzie and Joseph’s twin cousins, Charlotte and Charles. Those last two had died in their seventies, hardly weeks apart, of natural causes and away from the Manor. But, for some reason, they’d chosen to return to the Manor as six-year-old children. They were the ones I’d hear giggling and coming with me for a stroll in the woods to the Quabbin.

My head was spinning.

“I— I don’t know what to say,” I mumbled, going over the notes I’d taken while talking with them. “There’s so much I’d like to ask you, but right now I can’t—”

The app cut me off. “Dinner.”

“Sure, right, it’s dinner time. Sorry to keep you so late.” I had no idea if ghosts ate ghostly food, relived memories of family dinners or what, but it seemed the polite thing to say.

Their answer took me completely aback, slowly and word by word as it came through the app. “You. Eat. Recover. Talking. Takes. Energy.”

“Okay.” I stood up, my head still a mess after such an experience, and paused halfway to the door. I didn’t feel a fool when I turned to face the seemingly empty parlor. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep the app working from now on. In case you need to tell me anything.”

I was glad to hear the answer from my phone instead of the air around me like the first time. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you, all of you. Really. It was awesome.”

“Goodnight.”

I nodded, grinning. “Goodnight.”

Don’t ask me what I had for dinner, ‘cause I don’t even remember cooking for all that matters. I was like a zombie, my mind a twister that mixed all my emotions together. I only remember noticing my phone had no battery left and getting in bed. Next thing I knew, it was morning again.

I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said that evening changed my life forever.

It did.

It altered my whole vision of the world, of life and death, of anything I’d believed so far.

It changed pretty much everything.

But most of all, it changed my life at the Manor. Now I knew that whenever I heard a faint murmur echoing my good morning or my goodnight, it was actually a response. I wasn’t crazy. These people were as real as it gets, even if I couldn’t see them.

That morning, I didn’t hang around while Susan and Mike were in the Manor. I needed fresh air, so I went out as soon as I finished breakfast. Halfway to the Quabbin, I noticed the twins’ noises didn’t follow quietly anymore. Now they knew I knew about them and was okay with their presence, it was like taking a stroll with two real, human kids running and laughing and playing around.

Over the following two weeks, Ann seemed to take on the duty of educating me about them and their habits. She blew my mind every damn time. With the patience of a mother of three, grandmother of seven and great-grandmother of twelve, she explained their situation the best she could.

As far as I could gather, they were all obviously intelligent spirits. Meaning they kept track of time, they were well aware of the world of the living around them and they could choose to reach out in order to interact with us, like they’d done with me. However, they also existed in some kind of parallel timeline that neither of us could quite grasp. Because even though they were all from different generations and historical periods, they stayed mostly in that alternative dimension, where they could coexist all together at the same time and live like a family, completely apart from my physical dimension. Does it make any sense?

Ann wasn’t sure what would happen to them as time went by. She mentioned one of her granddaughters, Ann Claire, who had come back to the Manor after dying somewhere else, but she soon started to sort of lose her sense of self. Like, she progressively forgot who she was, and started changing. They saw her lose her human shape, until she turned into a blurry shadow and ended up fading away, like a mist blown by the wind.

Ann feared her grandchild had gotten lost forever, and the same might happen to all of them lingering at the Manor. They’d refused to go to the light and move on, still holding on to the family and the home they loved so much. But Ann suspected the light wouldn’t remain within their reach forever.

“So, the trick is being able to realize when your lingering time is over before it’s too late,” I said, thinking aloud.

“Yes.”

“That way, you can move on to whatever awaits beyond the light out of your own will, instead of losing yourself and fading away.”

“Yes.”

“You are the eldest. D’you think your time is near?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you know Edward will look over the others after you leave.”

No response. Odd. Ann always replied.

“And Joseph will be waiting for you in the light.”

I needed to keep a grip on myself not to flee when I heard a sigh from the other end of the parlor couch.

“You miss him?”

“Always.”

“You are a lucky woman, ma’am. You get to spend so many more years with your family, even those you never met in life. And when you’re done here, you know you’re going to the man you love, and the others will eventually join you again.”

“But. How.”

“Ha. That’s the sixty-four million dollar question, right? That, nobody knows. But it’s gonna be him, and it’s gonna be you. They say feelings are but chemical reactions of our glands, but I’m getting to think that true, deep feelings like the love that binds your family together, come from the soul and don’t need a physical body. No pun intended, you guys are the living proof.”

Her pause made me wonder if I’d gone too far, talking to this proud 150-year-old lady like she was a friend my age.

“Thanks,” she said then, and I blushed like a fool.

Lucky me, the twins came to the rescue. Their light footsteps tapped on the wooden floor down the hallway and into the east parlor.

“Play,” the app said.

Ann had already told me they all liked what she called my odd modern music, especially the twins. Another thing that made me blush.

Now I smiled and stood up, looking out the window.

“I have a better idea. It’s a wonderful afternoon and we’ve been in here all day. Let’s go to the Quabbin.”

The app remained silent, but the light footsteps hurried away toward the front door.

Good thing my friends knew I wasn’t fond of social media around the clock, so they didn’t harass me, asking me about my new house and my new life. They assumed I was still adjusting and would be back online in no time. Great, because my new life would’ve been kinda hard to explain. I laughed till tears rolled down my cheeks, picturing a selfie on I*******m, the footer reading something like: just had tea with a 150yo lady and I’m heading out for a walk with two 70yo children.

Yeah, well.