Photo by Yaopey Yong on Unsplash
Eleanor Bradly moved in and out of the heavy downtown traffic with ease. A light mist engulfed her car. The windshield wipers squeaked across the damp surface. Her pounding headache intensified. She had to get home before…
The swirling images meshed together into a glob of nothingness. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Why? Her eyelids were heavy as lead. She tried desperately to fight the urge to succumb to the darkness.
Voices. A male voice. Repeating her name. Over and over. “Eleanor Bradly. Can you hear me? Eleanor Bradly. Open your eyes.” She wanted it to stop. But something inside told her—listen to the voice. “Eleanor Bradly. You need to open your eyes,” came the stranger’s voice once again. Eleanor clenched her jaw. She struggled to unlock her sealed eyelids. Her mind faded in and out. Distorted images. Focus on the voice!
The lights were dim. An older thin man in a long, white lab coat. Eleanor could see the stranger’s face. Peppered gray hair. Wrinkles pulled into a wide smile. Green eyes peered above the thin wired glasses set on a pointed nose. A square clean-shaven chin. He held up his index finger.
“How many fingers can you see, Eleanor Bradly?” asked the male voice. He stood waiting for an answer. Eleanor squinted. She could see clearly—one.
Eleanor swallowed. Her throat was dry. “One,” she croaked. The mysterious male gave a solid nod up and down.
“I’m glad you’re back. You gave us quite a scare for a moment. How are you feeling, Eleanor?” His voice soft. The thought of her body had not entered her mind. She wiggled her fingers and toes. She hesitated.
“Any pain?” he asked. She slowly shook her head side to side. Eleanor glanced around the white room. Why was she in the hospital?
“Do you remember what happened to you?” he asked. She realized this man was a doctor.
“No.” The single word sound strained. The man came closer to the bed. He gently placed two fingers on the inside of her wrist then looked at his gold watch. Seconds later he took a step backwards. He crossed his arms and tilted his head.
“You don’t remember anything…anything at all?” he asked again. Eleanor sorted through the web of images. A car. Her car. Traffic. A headache. A bad headache. And then…nothing.
“Not too much. Driving and trying to get home. A headache…” her voice trailed off into silence. The doctor placed his hands within the pockets of the lab coat. He tilted his head to one side.
“You blacked out, Eleanor. And then hit a car. It could have been worse. You were lucky the vehicle was parked. You sustained a head wound. Slight concussion. Minor scrapes and bruises. I’d say you were lucky, Eleanor. It could have been much, much worse. I’m going to let you rest for a bit. The nurse will be in to check on you.” The doctor turned to leave.
“Wait!” she called out. “What’s your name, doctor?” He glanced back over his shoulder.
“Dr. Ebstein. Now rest.” And the man left the room. Eleanor suddenly felt spent. She closed her eyes and decided this time not to fight the darkness.
The dark coat stranger kept his back to Eleanor. The fedora hat tipped slightly to the right side. She knew him even without seeing his face. Eleanor called out. Her words drifted away in the wind. He did not move nor turn around. What is this place? Her muscles were taunt. Legs strong. Yet, she still could not move. Then slowly, slowly he inched his way around to face her.
A cold shiver jerked Eleanor from the peculiar dream. A nurse was checking her blood pressure. The warm cuff inflating to the brink of pain. She smiled at Eleanor and gave a quick nod of approval.
“Perfect. Dr. Ebstein will be in shortly. I’m sure you’ll be released today, Ms. Bradly.” The attendee turned and left Eleanor alone. The pain in her head was gone. She felt refreshed.
Suddenly, the wood door swung open. Dr. Ebstein walked in and glanced down at Eleanor. For a brief moment, he did not speak. Eleanor stared at the doctor in white. She still could not remember what happened and how she ended up at the hospital. In fact, she had no clue on how long she had been here. Or for that matter, what day it was either.
“Well, well, Eleanor. The color has returned to your face. How are you feeling?” Dr. Ebstein crossed his arms. A gold watch poked out from his long sleeve.
“Actually, I’m alright. Muscles are tight. No headache,” she responded. His head moved slightly.
“I’d say you’re good to go home. I’ll prescribe migraine medicine for your headaches. It’s not a cure, but it can be a deterrent. If you have any other questions, please feel free to give my office a call and they will schedule an appointment. Good luck to you, Eleanor.” Dr. Ebstein tapped her covered foot. Eleanor watched the doctor as he left the room. She glimpsed her clothes neatly folded in a pile on a chair.
Easing herself up, Eleanor sat at the very edge of the bed. Her feet dangled. Without hesitation, she plopped down onto the cold, linoleum floor. Minutes later, Eleanor was dressed and ready to leave. She pulled open the closed hospital door and exited down the long hallway. Outside the sun shined brightly. She squinted at the blinding sun. It was then she remembered she had been in a car accident. Where was her car? At a body shop? At the junk yard? Did it get towed to her house? Eleanor never bothered to ask. Nor did she bother asking the doctor how long she had been in the hospital. Where was her briefcase? Inside the car? With no cell phone or wallet, Eleanor had little choice.
“Excuse me. Is there a phone I could use? I was just released from the hospital and my briefcase is…is, I guess still inside my car. I was in a car accident. And I’m not sure where my car is either,” explained Eleanor. The attending receptionist was stoic. The senior citizen pointed to an off-white courtesy phone on the tiny table near the waiting room chairs.
“Thank you very much,” said Eleanor. She picked up the phone then stopped. Who could she call for a ride? For a moment, she couldn’t remember her brother’s number. As she began to set down the phone, a number popped into her head. Quickly, she placed the call.
“Hello?” answered a deep male voice. Eleanor blinked. “Hello?”
“Gabe?” whispered Eleanor. Silence filled the line between them.
“Eleanor? Is that you?” asked Gabe.
“Can you pick me up?” asked Eleanor. “I’m…I’m at the hospital. I had a car accident. I don’t remember much. I was just released. And I don’t know where my briefcase is or my car, for that matter.”
“A car accident? How could the hospital release you without giving you any kind of information…especially the whereabouts of your car?” Gabe exhaled. “Was it totaled?”
“I…I don’t know. My briefcase was in the car. It had my wallet and cell phone. It’s not at the hospital. I’m just confused, Gabe.” Eleanor ran her fingers through her mussed-up hair.
“I’ll be right there. Which hospital, Eleanor?” he asked. Eleanor looked around the waiting room. People moving back and forth. A huge sign hung over the exit.
“Center Side Cedar,” said Eleanor. “I’ll be right out front. Thanks Gabe.”
“See you soon,” replied her brother.
They both remained silent as he maneuvered in and out of afternoon traffic. Gabe had taken the liberty in contacting the police with regards to where his sister’s car had been towed. Within thirty minutes, Gabe pulled into the only impound lot in Grand Rapids. Eleanor instinctively reached for her purse. But it wasn’t there. She let out a huge sigh.
“It’s okay, I’ve got this,” said Gabe. She gave him a half smile.
“I’ll pay you back. Hopefully, my wallet is still inside my briefcase and everything else,” commented Eleanor. The two of them walked to the small brick building. Inside, behind the shatterproof plexiglass, sat a female police officer. The long ponytail pulled behind her pretty, young face, swished back and forth as she skirted to greet them.
“May I help you?” she asked through the round mic. Eleanor leaned closer and explained her situation. The officer gave a slight nod.
“Give me a moment,” replied the young woman. She disappeared through a door. Gabe was looking out of the window at the locked, electronic metal gate. Eleanor shuffled over to her brother.
“I guess she’s looking for my car,” commented Eleanor. Gabe did not reply. Minutes later, a tapping noise emanated from behind the partition. Eleanor instantly turned around.
“Ms. Bradly? You do realize your vehicle cannot be driven. You’ll have to arrange for a tow truck. Then it can be released. The investigation on the accident is still pending. You may want to inform your insurance company.” The female officer waited for a response.
“I understand. But I need to retrieve some personal items from my vehicle. There is my briefcase…cell phone, things of that nature inside my car. Any chance you can take me to my car and I’ll just get them out?” asked Eleanor.
“I’m sorry. I cannot allow you inside the impound lot.” The young woman turned to leave again.
“Wait!” called Eleanor. “Please, could you go and get my things? I really need them. I don’t even have the keys to my apartment.” Eleanor placed her hands together as if she were in prayer. The officer hesitated.
“Sure. Give me a couple of minutes.” Leaving Eleanor standing there. Gabe finally turned to face his sister.
“I hope your things are still in the car, Eleanor. Just because they’re cops don’t mean they won’t take them. Not all cops are honest.” Gabe turned away. Eleanor nibbled on her thumb nail. Several minutes passed by. She crossed her arms and thought about the accident. Why can’t she remember what happened?
“Gabe, did the doctor tell you what happened…what happened to me?” she asked her brother. Once again, he turned to face his sister. He gave a quick shake of head back and forth.
“Just that you blacked out and hit a parked car. Some bystander called 911 and the ambulance came and the paramedics took you to the Emergency Room at Cedar. Your car was towed to the impound lot. That sums it up little sister. You’re lucky it wasn’t much worse. Now, the million-dollar question is why did you black out?” explained Gabe.
Eleanor shrugged her shoulders. She had no clue. Suddenly, the side door opened into the waiting lobby. The young officer step inside. She was holding Eleanor’s briefcase.
“Here you go, Ms. Bradly. I checked the floor of the vehicle. The briefcase was intact.” Eleanor smiled at the woman.
“Thank you. I will call my insurance company right away. They can decide what to do about my car.” Eleanor touched her brother’s arm. The two of them left the impound lot.
As they drove away, Eleanor quickly checked the inside of the briefcase. She felt the keys at the bottom of the bag. The cell phone screen touched her fingers. Eleanor let out a huge sigh.
“Is it all there?” asked Gabe while he glanced at his sister. Eleanor gave a slight nod.
“It’s all accounted for including my wallet. That’s a relief. Can you take me back to my place, Gabe?” Eleanor placed the briefcase on the floor between her legs.
“Sure. Did you want me to come in for a bit? I can help you get settled…” his voice trailed off.
“I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to lay down and take a nap. For some odd reason, I feel exhausted.” Eleanor looked out the side passenger window.
“Well, you’ve been through a lot, Eleanor…with the accident…and just being released from the hospital. I’d say anyone would be exhausted after all that just happened.” Silence filled the moving car.
“It could have been so much worse, little sister,” said Gabe in a low voice. “You could have been…” Gabe stopped talking. His eyes watered. Eleanor watched her older brother tear up.
“But I didn’t, Gabe. I’m fine. Just a little tired. How about lunch tomorrow? I’ll let you treat me. Seaside Café. One o’clock?” asked Eleanor in a light voice. Her brother forced a half smile. He turned the steering wheel a hard left then started to slow down in front of the two-story apartment building. Gabe stopped the car. Eleanor unbuckled her seat belt then reached down for her briefcase.
“One o’clock—sharp,” he said. Eleanor leaned in to her brother and placed a quick peck on his stubbly cheek.
“See you tomorrow…and thanks again.” Eleanor slipped out the passenger door and gave a quick wave over her shoulder as her brother drove away. She fumbled for her keys to the weather-beaten metal door. With only four apartments, it rendered itself a quiet and peaceful place to live. But before she could stick her key inside the lock, it slowly opened up. Eleanor backed up to let whoever it was out. Instead, a tiny white haired elderly woman peaked out. Her granny glasses in the middle of her thin, pointed nose. Many wrinkles pulled across her aged face.
“Hello, Mrs. Jenson,” said Eleanor. The old woman shuffled further out the opened door. The flowered dress hung loose on her frail frame. Her bare feet riddled with arthritis.
“And who are you?” she asked squinting. Eleanor gave a sad smile. It must be hard never knowing what memories would still be there each day. Mrs. Jensen had been diagnosed with the beginning stages of dementia.
“I’m Eleanor Bradley, Mrs. Jenson. I live in the apartment directly above you—apartment number four.” The old woman tilted her head.
“Eleanor…oh, Eleanor. Why deary, have you seen my cat? She must have got out. I don’t why she insists on running outside all the time?” The old woman took another step outside. She looked all around.
“Mrs. Jenson…you don’t have a cat,” stated Eleanor. The aged lady’s eyebrows crunched.
“I don’t? Oh, that’s right. I have a dog. Now where did she go? I let her out to do her business and that silly mutt ran off,” she huffed. Eleanor gently took hold of the elderly woman’s elbow.
“Mrs. Jenson…you don’t have a dog, either. Let’s get you back inside. You don’t have any shoes on. How about a cup of tea?” asked Eleanor while guiding Mrs. Jenson back inside her cluttered apartment. Once inside, Eleanor helped her to the couch. Seconds later, Mrs. Jenson had fallen asleep. Eleanor draped the worn, torn blanket over the sleeping lady. She quietly left locking door behind her.
Eleanor walked the two flights of steps to her own apartment. Using her key, the door opened into her cozy dwelling. Oriental throw rugs decorated the varnished wooden floors. An oval shaped table with two spindled chairs doubled for her kitchen table and desk. White cupboards, which needed painting, were way beyond their use. But Eleanor considered them antiquated. A single based sink and a black and white tiled countertop shined. The appliances were second hand and well used. The kitchen opened into her living room space which housed one brand new cushioned couch, an end table with a lighthouse lamp, and a poor excuse for a recliner. The 42-inch screen television was mounted on the wall above the fake fireplace. Down the narrow hallway was a half-bath and shower and her 10x10 bedroom. It wasn’t much, but Eleanor called it home.
Eleanor tossed her keys into the shell-shaped half dish on the countertop. She felt tired and drained as if she had exercised all morning. Plopping down onto the comfy couch then rested her heavy head. Her eyes dry and itchy she briefly closed them. Within minutes, Eleanor was fast asleep.
Swirling dreams and images of people she did not recognize. Asking. Pleading for her help. Help with what? She tried to speak, but no words came out of her mouth. The room around her had light blue walls. Bright. Cheery. But full of people. Strange people. Young and old. Asking and pleading…pleading and asking. She shook her head back and forth. Everywhere she turned—strangers. All wanting--her! Suddenly, her breathing slowed and the spinning images slowly disappeared. Eleanor gasped for air then quickly leaned forward. Her eyes popped open. Sweat lined her upper lip and brow. Glancing about her tiny apartment, she realized she was alone.
Eleanor got up and called her brother, Gabriel. He answered by the second ring.
“You, okay?” he asked before Eleanor could get out a word. She smiled
“Yes…yes…I’m fine. I just had a strange dream even though I was barely asleep for…” Eleanor did not finish her sentence. It was then she noticed the clock on the wall. If it was correct, she had been asleep almost three hours. How was it possible?
“Eleanor? Are you still there?” asked Gabe. Eleanor walked quickly to her bedroom. An alarm clock sat on her dresser.
“This can’t be,” she mumbled.
“Eleanor! Please answer me! What’s going on?” pleaded her brother. She gently sat on the edge of her bed.
“I thought…I thought I closed my eyes for a second but…it seems I took a nap for almost three hours,” she explained. Gabe cleared his throat.
“Happens to me, too. You just got out of the hospital, Eleanor. Cut yourself some slack. You're tired from the drugs they probably pumped into you after arriving at the hospital. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“So THAT’s why I had such an unusual dream,” said Eleanor. “Must have been the medication.”
“You want to tell me about your crazy dream?” asked Gabe. Eleanor hesitated.
“Why not? So, I was in this room…bright colors. Just standing in the middle of this room surrounded by people—strangers. They were all talking to me. Asking me, pleading with me, to do something. I don’t know what. I tried to talk, but it was as if I had no voice. Scrambled words coming from all different kinds of people—young and old.” Silence filled the line between them.
“Maybe you had some type of out-of-body experience. I’ve watched a few shows about how head trauma can open a door to the other side,” replied Gabe. Eleanor couldn’t believe her ears.
“Are you saying I’m connected to another realm…as in dead people?” Eleanor exclaimed.
“I guess. I mean we don’t use our total brain capacity. In fact, we use very little. And some people I know, don’t use their brains at all, but that’s a totally different thing in itself. Anyway, I’m just saying you should consider the possibility, if you keep having the strange dreams or tell your doctor. They’ll arrange for another MRI. Or send you to a shrink.” Eleanor sat quietly.
“If it were me, I keep a record of the dreams. You’ve had bad headaches since you were a little girl. Maybe the car accident just reinforced a connection…a connection to the other side,” said Gabe.
“You’ve never talked about this subject with me. I mean, I’ve read books on the afterlife, but never once considered myself a medium of sorts,” said Eleanor.
“The connection could have been there the whole time. But you may have not recognized it. Just keep an open mind, Eleanor. And jot down anything you can remember when you dream. Did you want to stay with me?” he asked.
Eleanor thought for a moment. “No, Gabe. I’m fine here in my apartment. I’ll keep a journal in the nightstand. This way when I get up in the morning, I’ll jot down what I can remember. Why don’t we meet for lunch in a couple of days? It will be my treat.” Eleanor smiled.
“Sounds good to me. Just send me a text with the info. And Eleanor?” he said.
“Call me day or night. I’m here if you need me. Take care, Eleanor.” And with that said he disconnected the call between them.
The night was filled with a mirage of distorted images. People, endless people, reaching and trying to grab Eleanor as she waded through the sea of visions. Deep within her mind, she knew she was fast asleep in bed and that she was caught up in a tangled mess of dreams.
She awoke to the sound of her cell phone playing a familiar tune. Eleanor rubbed her dry eyes and reached for her phone. Blurred letters and numbers appeared on the screen.
“Hello?” she answered in a whispered voice. Static filled the line. “What in the name…” clicking off immediately. She dropped the cell phone back onto her nightstand. Eleanor sat up and glanced about her dark bedroom. Smokey apparitions evaporated as she gasped. Instantly, she threw back the covers and stood up. Alone. Spooky spirits lingering about her cozy apartment. Maybe she did whack her head in the accident. Besides the crazy dreams, now she could see ghostly shapes while she was awake!
Eleanor looked at the tiny alarm clock sitting on her dresser. Six o’clock. She stifled a yawn. It was then she remembered the journal. She reached for the small, lined book and the pen. Quickly, she jotted down what she could remember of the strange dreams and the wispy mirage.
Was Gabe serious about her connection to the next realm? Had it been there the whole time waiting to be opened? How could she deal with something so taboo on a daily basis? Who would believe her if, indeed, it was true?
The insurance company claimed the car irreparable. Eleanor sighed. She sat at her kitchen table and sipped the lukewarm coffee. She was scheduled to work the next day. Now, she’d have to take a bus downtown until she could find another decent, yet cheap, car. Uber was too expensive. She grappled with the idea of calling her brother and asking him for a ride. But then dismissed the thought entirely. Why should he spend his time carting her to and from work each day? It was too much to ask of her sibling bond.
The remainder of the day was spent catching up on emails and lightly cleaning her apartment. A couple of times, Eleanor went down to check on Mrs. Jenson only to be received by a vacant knock on the door. Worrying for the elderly, sweet woman, Eleanor tried once more around nine o’clock that evening. Finally, the squeaky door opened a smidge. Mrs. Jenson peered out.
“May I help you?” asked Mrs. Jenson in a shaky voice. Relieved, Eleanor leaned against the hallway.
“Hello, Mrs. Jenson…it’s me, Eleanor. Eleanor Bradley from the upstairs apartment? I thought I’d come down and see if you needed anything. I tried a couple of times today knocking on your door, but you must have been busy or taking a nap,” explained Eleanor. The old woman smiled.
“Eleanor…you say?” Well, I surely wasn’t taking a nap. You see, deary, you don’t need sleep when you’re dead!” exclaimed the aged senior. Eleanor’s eyebrows crunched together. Not sure how to respond to such an odd statement from her elderly neighbor.
“Just making sure you’re doing alright,” replied Eleanor. “Have a great evening.” Eleanor turned to leave.
“Oh Eleanor?” called out Mrs. Jenson. Eleanor faced her neighbor. “Thank you so much for all your help and concern over the years. You were a blessing, my dear.” And then Mrs. Jenson gently closed the door. Eleanor remained motionless. What was all that about?
Walking slowly up to her apartment, she thought maybe Mrs. Jenson was having a good day—a lucid day. But once inside, she jotted down in the journal her strange encounter with the elderly neighbor.
The following morning, Eleanor got up early in order to catch the 8:20 a.m. bus. As she headed down the steps, the door to Mrs. Jenson’s apartment was open. Two men were carrying out the old, worn sofa.
“What’s going on?” blurted Eleanor. Her heart thudded inside her chest. The younger of the two men slowly set down the ratted piece of furniture.
“Just cleaning out the apartment so a new tenant can move in, ma’am,” he said. Eleanor stepped down two more steps and peered inside Mrs. Jenson’s place.
“Where’s Mrs. Jenson?” she asked the man. Both men shrugged their shoulders.
“Mrs. Jenson? The elderly woman who lives in this apartment?” insisted Eleanor. Her face flushed.
“I heard she died a few days ago. We were hired by the landlord to move out stuff. We don’t know much more. Give him a call.” And with that said both men picked up the sofa and eased it out the front door to the dump truck.
“Few days ago? How’s that possible?” mumbled Eleanor. “They’re crazy! I just talked to her last night.” Eleanor quickly left the building to catch the bus. Many commuters were using the public transportation system leaving her with a back seat. She watched the traffic move slowly beside the bus. Her thoughts flew instantly to her neighbor, Mrs. Jenson. The moving men were probably wrong. Maybe Mrs. Jenson was taken to a care facility. At least there, someone could keep an eye on her. Eleanor noticed Mrs. Jenson’s behaviors were becoming more and more bizarre due to the progression of the dementia. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to slowly lose your mind. But then again, how would you know if you were losing your mind?
As the bus quickly emptied, Eleanor realized she was alone beside an old woman who held on to the metal bar attached to the seat in front of her. The elderly senior was humming a familiar tune. It was then Eleanor knew. It was a Yiddish song her grandmother would sing to her when she was a little girl. How can that be?
The old lady turned to face Eleanor. Her smile tugged at the endless wrinkles embedded into her aged face. “Hello, Eleanor. I missed you so,” she said with a slight German accent. Eleanor blinked several times. It can’t be!
“Grandma?” whispered Eleanor. “How…how…you’re dead…you died when I was…” Eleanor’s voice trailed off into silence.
“You’ve grown into a beautiful woman…my little Elle.” A name used only by Eleanor’s late grandmother.
“This isn’t real,” exclaimed Eleanor glued to her seat. The elderly grandmother smiled again.
“Anything is possible, Elle. You have a gift. A special gift. I had it too. Reach out and accept your destiny, Elle. It’s awaiting you. Don’t be afraid.” Suddenly, the bus came to a complete stop jerking Eleanor from her trance. The backdoor of the bus opened. It was Eleanor’s stop. A whisp of smoke dissipated where her grandmother sat.
“Grandma?” Eleanor stood up and twirled around.
“Hey lady! Are you getting off or what?” yelled the impatient bus driver. Eleanor’s heart beat against her chest. Was she losing her mind?
“I’m getting off!” replied Eleanor loudly. Almost tripping down the three steps to the concrete, she hurriedly moved away from the bus. As it slowly crept away, her deceased grandmother waved. Eleanor lifted her hand to the impossible image inside the bus. No one in their right mind would ever believe her.
A horn blew as she stepped off the curb. Eleanor jumped back. She waited anxiously to cross the four lanes of traffic. But it was never ending.
“I’m going to be late for work,” she muttered. Without hesitation, Eleanor moved swiftly toward the corner. The light changed. She dashed across the road staying within the boundaries of the fading crosswalk. Eleanor pushed on the heavy glass door. A few patrons turned to look at her as she entered the diner. Jack Wilson, the owner, was wiping the counter.
“Morning, Eleanor…I saw you get off the bus. Car trouble?” he asked. Eleanor forced a smile as she passed him.
“You could say that,” she replied. Eleanor opened up a side door that had the word OFFICE stenciled in black letters. She plopped down in the rickety wood chair at the worn oak desk. Eleanor turned on the computer. Instantly, it came to life. As she started her data entry work for the day, her thoughts drifted back to the strange incident on the bus. Was she dreaming or was it truly her grandmother in spirit?
Eleanor kept typing. Minutes later she called her brother from the diner’s landline. He answered immediately. Before he could say a word, she delved into what had happened at her apartment building with Mrs. Jenson and her brief encounter with their dead grandmother on the bus. Gabe remained silent.
“Did you hear what I said, Gabe?” Eleanor’s blood pressure increased. A slight pain inched its way behind her left eye. “I think…I think I’m going crazy!”
“I heard. We discussed this before Eleanor. I truly believe the accident only confirmed the realization of your gift. Our grandmother was different. Mom would get so upset when people called grandma a ‘crazy lady’. But I believed her when she would tell us stories. Why else would she tell them? She could see people—dead people. Communicate with them. And you can too!” he exclaimed.
“So…so THAT’s why I have…what you call a gift? Because our grandmother could see things others can’t? Is that what you are trying to tell me? What if I don’t want it?” Eleanor couldn’t accept what seemed to be so obvious.
Her brother sighed. “Accept the inevitable, Elle. Don’t fight it. Embrace it. Who knows…you might find it useful,” he chuckled.
Eleanor closed her eyes. She felt defeated but also elated. Her life was changing—for better or worse? Only she could be the judge of what her future could hold.
Alice Baburek is an avid reader, determined writer and animal lover. She lives with her partner and four canine companions in northeast Ohio. Retired from one of the largest library systems in Ohio, she challenges herself to become an unforgettable emerging voice.
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