that had best not be vibrated.
—Charles Dickens
Ember Snowdon
I try to keep things calm, predictable and boring because I'm a mess when I follow my impulses.
Maybe I should amend my previous statement and add the prefatory phrase, up until now, because lately I've been acting more on instinct.
Most people see that as a virtue—I don't, because unless I figure things out and have a plan, my life always goes awry...
Like the situation I find myself in now.
Marnie Benson was right.
She's always the sensible one and she warned me against getting involved with the Mandela Society because acting spontaneously isn't me and takes me far outside my comfort zone.
And so, here I am, meeting secretly with Ember Snowdon in her mystical apartment that channels the vibe of a bygone time and transports me to another world.
Did I mention the girl was beautiful? It's not just an after-thought, it's the crux of the problem and violates my basic rule—stay aloof and don't get involved.
Too late now.
"Your grandmother seemed like a seer," Ember says , "did your mysterious experiences always centre around her?"
I shake my head. "No, I seemed to always have strange things happen to me but thought it was the result of growing up in an Irish household. My parents were also superstitious and open to anything mystical."
She thoughtfully nibbles on a slice of pizza and then asks, "can you give me an example of a 'weird' thing that happened to you where your nanny was not involved?"
I nod. "I'll tell you about something that happened when I was eight that could not be excused as a dream because it happened during the day."
Her eyes grew wide with anticipation.
"One late fall afternoon my friends and I were playing at the neighbourhood park. We gathered a pile of leaves in the middle of a concrete wading pool and were taking turns diving in, when my friend Billy Holden discovered a strange black rock."
"He would strike it against the concrete and red sparks would fly out. He called it a flint. We all began taking turns making sparks and they glowed brightly as it grew dark. One by one my friends were called into supper until only Billie and I were left."
"He handed the rock to me and said solemnly, 'put this somewhere safe because I'm going to be called in any minute now". I knew why he couldn't take it home. He had been caught and punished by his dad for lighting fires, so I nodded assent and a minute ltaer he was called in as well."
"I reasoned that if striking the rock produced a small shower of sparks, what would happen if I tossed it high into the air and it fell to the ground? It might explode! The prospect excited me, so I tossed the rock as high as I could and it described an arc and impacted the stone bottom of the wading pool."
"What happened then?" Ember asked.
"A huge white orb burst from the rock and came whooshing towards my face. It stopped a few feet away and I could see it hover like a tiny Moon before me. As I gazed at it, the face of my Grade Three teacher appeared in colour, clear as a photograph."
"Wow!" she gasped, "that must have been terrifying. What did you do?"
"I was absolutely terrified. It was almost dark by this point so I turned and ran home and never breathed a word about it to anyone. The next day the rock was forgotten and was never mentioned again by any of my friends."
"But why was the face in the orb your grade three teacher?"
"We were very close and I was in love with her. Sometimes if a boy in the class teased me, she'd keep me back and talk to me in the classroom and sometimes she'd even let me sit under her desk away from prying eyes and she would sit in her chair protecting me. She used to wear a kilt, with reds and yellows, the colour of autumn leaves."
"So you were a heart-breaker even then?" Ember grinned.
"I'd hardly consider myself a heartbreaker now and besides she was my teacher—she was at least twenty—an older woman in my eyes."
"Do you still prefer older women?" she teased, a mischievous smile on her face.
"No, I had a bad experience," I found myself saying, "and I've sworn off all women."
"Maybe you need a Miss Tracey to change your mind."
She stared into my soul and I felt naked before her gaze.
"I have to go," I said, getting hastily to my feet.
"But we haven't discussed what I wanted to ask you."
"Another time," I blurted out and pushed through the door.
"I'll hold you to that," she said as I headed down the stairs.
I got outside in the frosty fall air and took deep breaths. I was trembling and filled with dread.
What have I done? I moaned, and regretted not listening to Marnie's advice.
This was no different than being haunted by ghosts of spirits past, except this girl somehow managed to draw my soul.