Exerpt From 'Fleeting Life'

Something caught her attention out the corner of her eye and when she turned she was surprised to see a little girl sitting there, staring out across the pond with a sad look on her face. The same hazy quality masked the girl, so Elena assumed she was living and didn’t try to talk to her. She just watched, until the girl turned and spoke.

“Can you help me find my home?” the little girl stared directly at Elena. She checked behind her that the girl wasn’t speaking to someone else. There was no one else there.

“Are you talking to me?” she asked.

The little girl nodded and looked about to cry. “I don’t know how to get home.” She said, her bottom lip quivering.

Elena didn’t know what to do. If this girl was living and was able to see her then who else who was living was able to see her. She was positive that she wasn’t on the living side of the veil. She could feel it.

“Are you lost? Where are your parents?” she asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” she replied, beginning to sob. “I don’t remember.”

Elena thought a moment. She didn’t quite know how to handle the situation. The child was obviously very upset, but she needed more information to be able to help her.
“Ok, look, I tell you what. If you tell me what your house looks like and everything you remember about it, then perhaps I can help you find it. Does that sound like a good idea?” she asked, as she slid closer to the little girl, putting her hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know,” sobbed the child, and brought her hands up to her eyes. “I can’t remember anything anymore.”

“Ok, shhhhh… shhh..”She tried to soothe her but the child shook as she wailed.
“Can you tell me your name?”

The little girl looked up at Elena with a sadness in her eyes so profound that she was taken aback a little. It was only when she turned back to look at her the second time that she saw the blood spilling down the side of her face. She hadn’t noticed it before because it was on the girl’s right side, and Elena sat to her left. Instinctively she went to stem the flow but on closer inspection she could see that the wound was more serious than she first thought. No one could survive a blow like this, she thought, and then it hit her.

The little girl hadn’t survived.

She was ghost just like Elena, and she was stuck in the in-between, not knowing where to go or what to do.

“How long have you been here?” she asked, smoothing the girl’s hair. The little girl looked up at her, grateful for the attention, and gradually stopped sobbing.

“I don’t remember,” was all she said.

Elena frowned and held the girl close, soothing her with soft noises and a rocking motion.

“Can you tell me anything that you do remember, sweetheart?” she asked, looking helplessly into the girls eyes.

”Yes. I remember the man,” she said.

“What man?”

“The man with the rock. He was so angry. I keep seeing him all the time and I can’t stop. He’s in my head. He wont go away and I cant get him out.” The girl’s eyes were wide with fright, and Elena was speechless. What could she answer to that?

“Do you see your man?” the little girl asked, reaching up to touch Elena’s bloody hair at the back of her head. It was then that she realised what the girl meant.

“Sometimes, sweetheart, sometimes.” Was all she could say as she hugged her close.

“That’s how it starts” the little girl said, pushing away, “just sometimes, and then its some more. And then you start to forget things, like your Mummy’s name, and then all you can think of is the man. And you can’t get back. And you can’t see anything else but the man, and its really dark.”

Elena sat back, a little frightened at the change in the child. She was speaking with a ferocity in her voice that sent a chill up her spine. “What do you mean, what are you talking about?”

“It means she’s in purgatory,” Scatman’s voice echoed across the park eerily, making Elena jump. She hadn’t heard him approach. He stood behind them in his trench coat, looking domineering, and his usual smile and good-natured demeanour was absent.

Elena stood up and turned towards him. “Purgatory?” she looked down at the child who stared out straight ahead.

“She’s an old ghost, that one. She’s so old she doesn’t even remember who she is anymore. Her hell is being stuck on the wrong side of the veil, wandering around lost with no memory of what she was here for. All that stays in her mind is the man who killed her and she lives that over and over, day after day, year after year.”