Not All Who Wander Are Lost (Part III)

In front of Maya’s Den shop, a new-age, medieval apothecary shop, Marion paces back and forth agitatedly, flipping her phone over constantly to check the time, as she tries to steady herself on the uneven slabs and cracked pavement. Looming over her are the clouds getting greyer by the second and the rain storm intensifying. The water spills from the overhang, splattering onto the auburn cobblestone. As she checks her phone, her foot catches an edge, causing her to tumble to the ground. Feeling overcome, she remains on the ground, lacking the energy and determination to rise. As she lifts her gaze, Ava comes into view, with her face bearing a cold-induced rash with ruddy cheeks.  

Ava remains paralyzed in place, unable to offer any help to Marion, as she fears they will be sent into their blood-soaked flashbacks in the tub, in the office. 

Marion gathers her strength, hoisting herself up. Without muttering a word, they enter Maya’s Den. 

They approach the register counter and ask for Maya, the psychic medium, specifying that this request is from them. Without fuss, the clerk nods knowingly and guides them toward the room in the back of the shop. 

Upon entering the cluttered chamber, they survey the dimly lit room, with walls decorated in oversized, oppressive red and velvet bohemian tapestry. In the middle of the room, there is an oval table with the ouija board in the middle encircled by bowls with incense sticks placed upright, candles, and divination tools: a clear quartz crystal surrounded by labradorite, smoky quartz, black tourmaline stones, most of which are aimed to remove blockages from the heart and mind, enhances connection with spirits, and most important of all–protection from harm. Next to the oval table lies a wooden console with a dome-shaped Tiffany lamp with a stained glass design and two tall glasses of water situated neatly above.

Ava and Marion take their seats in the worn, Victorian armchairs, upholstered in emerald and scarlet red velvet fabric with deep-button tufting. Their chairs are arranged facing each other, with a tall wooden cherry chair in the center of the oval table. The backs of their chairs are positioned facing away from the door.

“How are you doing?” Marion asks earnestly. Without uttering a word, Ava nods meekly to convey her nonchalant mood, as she’s afraid again she’ll trigger flashbacks for the both of them.

Maya, the psychic medium, opens the drapes wide, blowing in the pungent spicy and sweet scent of frankincense and cinnamon in their direction. “Ava and Marion. I am so glad you two showed up. Please, help yourselves to a sip of water, if you want.” 

Maya waits for an acknowledgement as she takes her seat in the middle. But Ava and Marion remain silent, head down, consumed by their own apprehensiveness and unease. 

“Well, I understand. Before we start, I want to explain how this is going to go. I would like you to focus on what you’d like your intention to be in talking with your past spirits, Dolores Barnett and Adelaide Reed. Having the same goal in mind will increase our success in summoning and having a good rapport with them. Think of yes or no questions you might want to ask…” Ava and Marion nod earnestly.

“As we talked last time, there is a lot of unfinished business, unresolved trauma to deal with. Guilt. Shame. Ava, your past life’s spirit is Adelaide Reed, who was misdiagnosed as schizophrenic by Marion–Dolores Barnett and her team. Nobody heeded Adelaide’s concerns when she confided she was being sexually assaulted by her Uncle Jack, leaving her desolate, alone, in agony that she took her own life. Marion, you as the psychologist, Dolores Barnett, who couldn’t treat Adelaide despite her best efforts. She tried to listen to her, but she couldn’t help her. Her superiors dismissed your approach, and in the end, they sent Adelaide to a type of treatment that numbed her manic episodes, but unfortunately, not the pain she felt inside. Marion, your Dolores, was overwhelmed with unbearable guilt and shame, leading her to take her own life as well.” Maya pauses inquisitively to gauge their reactions. 

Maya continues, “Now, you may want to find your own way in comforting your spirits, either by acknowledging their pain and suffering, and offering compassion. If you feel it’s helpful, you may explain the circumstances and reasoning, but that may not work.”

Maya pauses, “But I should warn you. I do not know exactly what will happen once we conjure their spirits. They were in agony, there was a lot of suffering. They may just want to be listened to, and it might take more than one session. If at any point we feel unsafe, I will use my protection tools and crystals. You can also get up and leave the circle and the room, effectively ending the session. Do you have any questions?”

"No, I just want to end the flashbacks, whatever it takes.” Ava says. Maya shifts her gaze to Marion, who nods in agreement. 

“Very well,” Maya takes a deep breath and continues, “First, I need the both of you to clear your minds like it is an empty canvas and to focus on your breathing.” Ava and Marion close their eyes slowly but remain breathing shallowly.

"Try to feel the weight and heaviness of your hands…your arms…your legs…your feet, and let them fall and relax. Breathe deeply through your diaphragm, located below your heart and lungs. Put your hands over it to feel the rising and falling of your chest. ” Marion guides their hands to their diaphragm. Ava and Marion allow their bodies to loosen, vertebrate by vertebrate.

“Now, I am going to summon the spirits with an incantation. There’s a possibility they may not show up at all, and if they do, I’ll ask a question to see if they are in the room. If they are present, they will typically give us a sign by maybe knocking things over, blowing the candlelight out, what have you. Once they have arrived, you can open your eyes, and we can begin the questions. If we ask open-ended questions, we can place our index fingers on the planchette of this ouija board on the table and wait for them to spell out the words. Are you ladies ready? Tap your index finger to show me you’re ready.”

Ava and Marion both tap their index fingers on the armchair.

Sitting in the middle between them, Maya grabs each of their hands from both her sides, forming a circle. Cupping the pendulum in her hand, she begins her incantation, “Dear Ms. Dolores Barnett and Ms. Adelaide Reed, beloved spirits, we are here to make contact with you in hopes to see what you may want to communicate to us. Please move among us and speak through us. We welcome you with open minds and hearts.” 

The room remains still, and silent, as if time stood still. Maya chants once again, “Dear Ms. Dolores Barnett and Ms. Adelaide Reed, please join us in our circle tonight when you’re ready.” 

The aromatic chamber turns acrid from the incense fragrance into a musty, moth-ball, rotten-egg and cabbage smell. Their bodies are feeling heavy, like an invisible weight has descended upon the room. 

“Ugh, what is that…” Ava remarks. Maya shushes with a loud hiss.

Sensing the spirits approaching, Maya recenters herself and lends words of encouragement. “Ms. Barnett and Ms. Reed, please kindly make yourselves known if you are in the room. We welcome you with open arms, minds, and hearts.” 

As the chamber becomes increasingly burdened by the heavy and melancholic atmosphere, one of the water glasses is inching little by little toward the brim of the console, until it is on the brink of falling, swaying between crashing to the floor or returning to safety, all of which hinges on the fate of the movement of the water.

As Ava inhales audibly, the glass tips over in Marion’s direction, crashing to the ground in smithereens with water flowing in her direction. 

Everyone opens their eyes and turns around to scope out the scene, while still clenching each other’s hands. “Ah, wonderful.” Maya’s tone quivers with apprehension as she responds. 

“May I ask who has joined us? Is this….Ms. Barnett? Swing right if yes, swing left if no.”

Maya releases their hands and holds her pendulum out, awaiting its answer. The pendulum swings left. “Ah, ok. Can you confirm if you are Ms. Adelaide Reed?” The pendulum swings right.

“Wonderful.” Maya mutters as she nods her head in acknowledgement and reverence. 

Maya draws her clasped hands to her heart and says, “Thank you for joining us today. We are honored to make this connection. May we ask you a few questions?” The pendulum swings right.

Ava and Marion lock eyes, puzzled if one of them should start speaking. Taking notice of their body language, Maya shakes her head and raises the back of her hand to their faces. She proceeds, “Very well. We won’t keep you long. But we want to know, are you doing ok?” The pendulum swings left.

“Ah.” Maya says somberly. She signals to Ava and Marion to place their index fingers on the side of the ouija board’s planchette.

“Can you spell it out for us on the board what is afflicting you, my dear?” 

They lay their index fingers on the planchette, attempting to keep it still, while funneling all their focus and attention, awaiting its movement, but the planchette doesn’t budge. 

“Adelaide, my dear. Are you still here?”

The other glass of water is now furiously speeding up toward the edge of the console, meeting its demise with greater force, sending pieces flying in different directions, with one shard of glass shooting straight into Marion’s calve. 

“Ahhh!” Marion releases her index finger from the planchette and attends to her wound. “What the fuck?!” she exclaims, as she bends down, yelping in pain. The shard of glass punctate right through Marion’s pants into her skin and remains lodged. 

“Oh,” Maya acknowledges leadenly. “Adelaide, my dear, we appreciate you making your presence known, but can you communicate with us? Tell us how you feel right now?” 

There is no movement. “That’s it, I am leaving,” Marion gets up but Maya grabs her hand and whispers, “Wait, you can’t just leave right now. We can’t end it like this. We’ve aggravated her, and we need to calm her down.” Maya urges in a hushed tone.

“You mean you aggravated her. You obviously don’t know what you’re doing. This is obviously very powerful and angry…being. This is just not right. I should go.” Marion says agitatedly, as she stands up with her right leg slightly bent inwards at the knee.

Staring deadpan into the flicker of the candle, Ava agrees stoically. “Maya’s right. I can’t live like this with these flashbacks, and I don’t think you can, either. You begged me to do this,” Ava shifts her gaze at Marion, pleading, “We have to see this through, or at least try to understand what she wants and calm her down a bit.” 

With the oppressive, musty air fueling Marion’s frustration, she hastens toward the exit, but takes a tumble on the floor where the water was spilled. 

Maya and Ava let out a muted gasp. Ava sprints toward Marion to help her. Terror flashes in Marion’s eyes, and her sobs echo the room. “Oh my god, what is happening?”

“Maya, I…I think this is a bad idea…You said if we feel unsafe, we can leave. Can we please end this?” Ava urges as tears stream down her face.

“Ladies, we cannot end it this way. Adelaide is much more powerful than I thought. We need to find some kind of a closure before this session ends, otherwise…your flashbacks will become even more intense and frequent…Adelaide does not like to be ignored….especially by you, Marion.” Maya’s words linger in the air, heavy with an eerie sense of foreboding, her resolve unwavering.

Huddling together on the floor, their tears cascade into the pool of icy water as Ava and Marion seek solace in their shared despair.

Summoning her strength, Ava makes a desperate escape as she reaches for the doorknob, but it is burning hot. Ava retracts quickly, “Ow!” 

May turns around in her worn, wooden chair, producing a woeful creak. “Ah, she is signaling to us we cannot leave.” Maya rises from her chair, extending her hand to help both of them stand and guide them back to their chairs. 

They wearily drag themselves back, collapsing into their chairs with a defeated slump. Maya places her clenched hands, with her fingers intertwined, beneath her nose, taking a deep breath in hopes of restoring some semblance of calm. She grabs the labradorite stone from the table–a stone known to ward off psychic attack of an obsessive, negative energy–and places it on her heart, and chants in indecipherable words. She stands up and waves the stone all over their bodies.

As Maya waves the stone, Ava and Marion feel an electrical current pulsating off the stone, pulling them, almost zapping them into an energetic field of a different wavelength. Their bodies soften, their faces slacken, and the feeling of hopelessness and desperation melts into the background, replaced with a renewed sense of strength and vigor.

“Ok, let’s restart again and gather our intentions, focus, and breathe.” Maya recites, as she makes her way back to her chair. “Adelaide, my dear. We’re sorry about the interruption. We understand your tribulations. We want to…establish a…connection for communication. You have to tell us…explain to us slowly how you feel so we can understand. We are here. We will listen. We can offer our support. This is a…safe space.” Maya pauses for a breath and resumes, “Now, please tell us what is afflicting your soul, my dear?” 

They resume their positions, placing their index fingers on the planchette. Ava is biting her lips while Marion is fidgeting. Still no movement on the planchette. 

A powerful gust of wind sweeps in, knocking the red taper candles on the table, when suddenly, the planchette moves furiously across the board, dragging along their fingers–which seem glued–in a whirlwind.

As the planchette moves across the board, its speed decreases, finally slowing down, finding its way over to the letter H. The planchette rests on the H; everyone stares intently with bated breath for its next move. It glides over to I, J, J, L, and stops at M. With perplexed expressions, they ponder about words beginning with HM.

The planchette moves down to the second row to the last letter, Z. It lingers there before inching steadily, passing letters Y, X, W, V…and U.  

The planchette stays on U and drops below to the row of numbers, hovering slightly above the number 6. It glides over, hovering above the letter 4, before heading back upwards to the row of letters, landing on R and dwelling on T. 

Ava and Marion study each other, mouthing the word, attempting to make sense of the word being spelled. HMURT? They wonder. 

“She means…HURT,” Maya proclaims.

As she tries to free her index finger from the planchette, a faint, mournful, prolonged lament of “Ahhhhhh” drifts out from the voluminous tapestries looming behind them. The “Ahhhhhh” gradually evolves into the sound of a young girl’s weeping, fluctuating between a sorrowful lament and an anguished cry. With each billow of the drapes, the wretched cry becoming more high-pitched, the sound intertwined in a haunting symphony. 

As the cry intensifies, reaching a crescendo, their bodies involuntarily tense up with their shoulders hunched up toward their necks, as they are consumed by the heavy weight of turmoil.

Ava and Marion struggle to free themselves from the planchette. It takes life again and steadily moves toward the letter S. 

“It’s HURTS.” As Maya weeps, she reaches a heartbreaking conclusion. “Adelaide, my dear, yes. We understand that your…ordeal was painful…”

“Maya, what should we—” Ava’s voice is drowned out by the mournful lament as she interjects.

The sound pierces through the room, reminiscent of a thunderstorm, as the air thickens and swirls through the room like an invisible tornado. It topples over the Tiffany lamp, candles, the clear quartz crystal, and sends the ouija board soaring through the air. Everyone retreats from the table in terror.

The shards of glass suddenly lift into the air, drawing closer toward the spectators.

“Don’t…move,” Maya says staunchly, keeping her head still, aware that the splinters of glass are hovering beside her near her eye level.

Ava and Marion sit frozen, their eyes wide with terror, as the long shards of glass float towards them.

Recoiling and trembling with fear, Marion murmurs, looking to Maya for rescue, “Maya…,” while Ava sobs inconsolably. 

Maya, in one svelte motion, ducks down, narrowly escaping the floating pieces of glasses, and snatches her labradorite from the floor.

The shards of glasses, once hovering around Ava and Marion’s eyeballs, suddenly plummet, floating above their wrists. Maya immediately ceases her movements. 

The entity gently turns over Ava and Marion’s hands, revealing their bare wrists. The blades gently graze their wrists, tracing a delicate, horizontal line, triggering enough sensation without breaking the skin, evoking a profound ache that mirrors the pain of Adelaide Reed and Dolores Barnett.

Ava, overwhelmed by the horror, unable to escape this nightmare, clenches her eyes shut and releases an ear-piercing, high-pitched deafening roar.

When she flutters her eyes open, she finds herself not in the psychic medium’s den, but inside a five-hundred-square-feet warmly lit office in the 1950s. Sitting on a plush cognac colored velvet loveseat, she sits face to face across from Dolores Barnett, her psychologist who’s been treating her.