Visitation
I recognized the shimmer from the porch when Phil had told me that Andi had died, but this was much more intense. It seemed they were forming themselves into something almost corporeal. A small light seemed to step forward, and reached for Phil's other hand. He offered it without hesitation, and I recognized Emma, the little girl who had showed herself to us when Ben and I were still living at the boarding house. She smiled at us and Phil whispered, “You've done well, little one.”
I began to recognize other figures, Maggie, the prostitute from the Hathaway, Sylas and Marcus, the boys from the basement of the boarding house, Members of the congregation were also to be seen. But one figure still remained elusive. It was the first to form, and had grown brighter than any other before finally allowing me to recognize her. It was Andi. She was young and beautiful, more beautiful than any living woman could be, but she was still recognizable as Andi.
I didn't know how to respond. I had seen ghosts before, but except for the congregation, they usually showed up as individual spirits or a couple. Why suddenly was I seeing them all together?
Phil broke the silence faintly, asking, “Can you tell us now?” His voice trembled, but it didn't seem like fear. More like excitement as if a long awaited event was about to happen.
Andi smiled and lifted a hand to caress Phil's face. “Yes.” Her voice had the depth of a thousand voices, but the gentleness of a whispered lullaby. It was terrible and wonderful to hear, and the air reverberated with the sound of it for long minutes. When the echoing of it faded, the silence was absolute and painful.
Turning to me, she said, “The time is almost at hand. The dominion of shadow can not hold. The long labor shall end. The weary shall find rest. Troubled hearts shall find peace. And the broken will be made whole. The season of light shall brighten the Earth, and all shall be well.”
I struggled not to fall to my knees as the words circled around the room, reverberating and overlapping inside my head, until I thought I might go mad. “I don't understand,” I managed, beginning to feel faint.
“Do not be afraid,” she continued. “You are not alone. You are surrounded by this great cloud of witness.” She raised her arms to indicate all the spirits who stood behind her, As she gestured toward them, more shimmered to life behind them, and as I tried to make them out, the walls seemed to dissolve, and countless flickering lights spread out to what seemed infinity. “Your strength is the strength of thousands, and your voice, the voice of multitudes.”
With that the spirits began to fade, seeming to evaporate with the echoes of her voice. The last to go was Emma, the little girl. She seemed to cling to Phil, reluctant to leave. Finally, I heard Andi's voice once more as if from a great distance, saying, “Though darkness surround you, remember, it cannot overcome the light.”
The room returned to normal, but I knew nothing would ever be normal again. We stood in silence, trying to process what we had just experienced, until Phil finally muttered, “Where's that drink?” and turned to the bar.
“What just happened?” I asked, directing the question mostly to myself. Phil didn't answer. He was busy pouring himself that second drink and swallowing it in one gulp.
Once he had poured his third drink, he turned to me and asked, “What? What did you say?”
“I just...That was Andi, wasn't it?”
He nodded a yes and took a sip. “She told me she needed to speak to you this morning. That's why I called.”
“But what's this all about?” I wondered out loud. “Was that some sort of prophecy or a warning? Why so cryptic? Why didn't she just come out and say what she needed to say? Why wrap it in puzzles and vagueries?”
“No idea,” he shrugged as he moved to one of the armchairs and sat down.
I followed him and sat on the couch facing him, still struggling to reconnect myself with everyday reality. “And that was no ordinary ghost,” I suggested. “I mean, she was always a powerful psychic, but that was a bit overwhelming. It was more like...I don't know, an angel or something.”
“I know.” Phil whispered. “Up until now she has never appeared as anything more than that faint shimmer you saw on the porch, But this morning...Well, it took everything I had to hold myself together when I called you. This morning she appeared to me...I can't quite describe it. She was almost solid, but it was as if a thick veil blocked her from view. Even with that, she was still blindingly bright. She didn't speak, but I could sense the power of her voice behind her thoughts and it was terrifying. She said you needed her, you needed her message so you could be forewarned, and most of all you needed hope.”
“I'm not sure just how 'forewarned' I can be with that vague talk of being surrounded by darkness, but the vision of the cloud of witness was pretty powerful”
“Cloud of...? What?”
I explained the vision of an ever expanding multitude of ghosts stretching far beyond the limits of the room, and Phil insisted he had seen and heard no such thing. In fact, he insisted that he had only seen the one figure of Andi, and that even Emma, a long familiar friend of his, had remained nothing more than an invisible presence.
“It seems Andi gave you more of a vision than she allowed me to see,” he muttered as he finished his drink. “But what I saw was plenty enough.” He regarded his empty glass and rose to refill it.
I headed him off, and steered him toward the kitchen. “How about I make you a nice cup of coffee?” I suggested, guiding him to a seat at the table. The effects of the three large gins were beginning to be noticeable, and while he clearly wanted more alcohol, he was easily distracted and did as he was told. “And I think you might be a little happier in the morning if you drink this.” I placed a tall glass of water in front of him and helped him lift it to his lips. “Just pretend it's vodka.”
While he dutifully drank his water, I put the coffee on and found him some solid food. I stayed with him until he began to sober up a bit, and wondered why this vision was so disturbing to him. Granted I had had much more experience at dealing with ghosts, and as such was probably a bit more desensitized to the supernatural, but his distress seemed deeper than that.
After I had managed to get a second cup of coffee into him, I suggested that it might be best if he took a brief afternoon nap. He was still drowsy despite the coffee, and agreed readily. He was on his own at the boarding house for the next few weeks, so I promised that I would stop by later and fix some dinner for him, but he hardly noticed the offer as I walked him back up the stairs. I tried to get the dress he had laid out on the bed out of the way, but he flung himself on top of it immediately, and there was no moving him. Between the stress of the day and the alcohol he was asleep before I left the room.
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