Three Word Wednesday- Third Eye- Part 2

Three Word Wednesday- Third Eye- Part 2

This is a WIP I've been working on and as far as I have gotten as of today. I've changed the title of the WIP from Wake to Third Eye

Douse; verb: [With object] pour a liquid over; drench; extinguish (a fire or light).

Naughty; adjective: (Especially of children) disobedient; badly behaved; mildly rude or indecent, typically because related to sex.

Pale; adjective: Light in color or having little color; (of a person's face or complexion) having less color than usual, typically as a result of shock, fear, or ill health; feeble and unimpressive; verb: Become pale in one's face from shock or fear; seem less impressive or important. 

If you missed Part 1 see http://sheilaghlee.blogspot.ca/2013/02/three-word-wednesday-wake.html

To visit talented writers posts that post for three word Wednesday- http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

                                           Third Eye

    I felt hands pull me from the waters, but I couldn’t open my eyes. I heard the sounds of people scurrying and faded in, and out, as great waves of pain racked my head. I felt myself leave my body, and I go to a place where there appeared a great light, at the end of the tunnel. I knew I had a choice,to go down the tunnel, or to go back. I chose to go back.

   I sensed a strong pull, and then I am near my body but outside of it, I felt a strong pull, and then I am near my body but outside of it, but my body resisted pushing at my soul, like it wanted to keep me out. I gave myself over to the pain of my shell, and fully entered it. My carcass seized, and rattled, and it was then I felt the pain relentlessly capture me in its vice. Trapped in the circle of agony I blacked out.

  I awoke a week later in the hospital. My head ached and I couldn’t begin to understand at first why I was there.I just wanted them to douse the light that hurt my eyes. I did however, after a few minutes, start to wonder, what had happened to bring me here. Then I remembered it all. 

  How Grandfather and I were on the Victoria and it had capsized. My eyes searched the room for my mother, and there she was beside my bed in a chair. Grandmother was in a chair on the other side.I tried to speak, but my words came out garbled, so I motioned to ask how Grandfather was. My mother understood, but her answer? Crying. They avoided my eyes, but I demanded with left hand motions to know the truth and Grandmother told me. Grandfather had died saving me. He had got me out of the rubble of the broken deck, and had struggled with my unconscious body, to get me to shore. Between the water and his heart exertion, all that effort had killed him.

   I felt that I had killed him and cried for hours making myself ill, but then Grandmother had taken me in hand saying, “You are such a naughty child. Do you have any idea how people were lost? How many families grieve for their loved one? Do you think you are the only one to lose someone? Would you make his sacrifice less?”

   “Others died?” I motioned when she didn’t seem to understand my speech.

   “I thank the good lord, that your Grandfather was able to save you. They are still not sure of the count of lost loved ones, but at last count the missing are two hundred.” Grandmother explained.

   Two hundred people, missing? Impossible! The water didn’t look that dangerous. I thought.

  As Grandmother searched my face she grew angry and I could hear steel in her voice as she said, “It is very dangerous when you overload a boat. There must have been six hundred and fifty people aboard and that boat was made for only four hundred and fifty. The other passengers raced to the right side to look at that boat race and tipped the boat. Even though some like you and your grandfather tried to right it; it was too late. The boiler rolled off its mount and took out the main supports for the top deck where you were standing then the awning below crashed into them trapping them. The dresses trapped most of the women and girls. It would have trapped you if your grandfather hadn’t torn yours off, and brought you to shore. He saved you the old fool... saved you, but lost his own life. So don’t you dare throw that all away in self-pity. You are a Kendall and a Yarborough, hold your head up and show the world he was right to save you.”

    I don’t remember the actual aftermath of the accident, they say that’s a blessing; but I say it’s more like a curse. Sometimes when I’m asleep at night, I do remember and I awake with tears across my face. The nurse told me about all the funerals in the last week. It had been true that most Londoners, have lost a loved one. Funeral processions have taken nearly a week as well. There had been so many funerals they had run out of coffins. Grandmother had to special order Grandfather’s coffin, all the way from New York City. She had had it specially shipped along with some others she had paid for neighbours. 

    But I’m leaving some things out, that I suppose you dear reader need to know. The head injury I sustained, caused a few problems. At first they didn’t realize how bad, but my speech was slurred from the first and when I tried to get up from my hospital bed, I fell flat on my face. My legs wouldn’t work. My right arm and hand were weak and I dropped things.

   A passerby had breathed air into my lungs, as I had not breathed when brought to shore but still the doctors were puzzled, they thought the head injury had damaged something in my brain, or perhaps the loss of oxygen, was from apoplexy. 

    I grew frightened and Grandmother told me to be brave. My brain was damaged, the doctor decided. That is why I couldn’t speak clearly or walk clearly. It didn’t feel damaged, but why could I speak distinctly, or stand up and walk? 

   Through all this though, I was grieving, grieving deeply.  My Grandfather Kendall had been my rock. He had protected me from the power that my grandmother held and wielded. Grandmother Yarborough was a pillar of the community and a very wealthy widow. She had a lot of sway in our city of London, but Grandfather Kendall had more. She had even more sway in our house in which she reigned as Queen. My mother since my father had disappeared eight months ago, was a shadow and agreed with whatever Grandmother said. Grandfather Kendall therefore became my lifesaver if he saw that she was curbed my “enthusiasm” as he called it, he would stand up to her and she would listen.

    How I had loved him. When young and listening in corners where adults could see, I had ferretted out that Grandfather Kendall was her beau. He had broken faith with her, for my father’s mother Emily, and then Grandmother in turn had settled on Henry Yarborough. Henry had died and left her a very rich widow when Mother was only a year old. 

   Grandmother Yarborough appeared to still hate my Grandfather though. So imagine my shock that she would listen to him at all when it came to me. Grandmother would smile and she would then do as he had asked. It all seemed peculiar to me, until I had heard what she had done the day he died. Annie my maid said had when they had told Grandmother I would be okay, but Grandfather was gone Grandmother’s hand had gone to her heart, and then she turned pure white and retired to her room. When they had seen her again two days later, she had red rimmed eyes, but she was colder somehow like a light had gone out inside of her. 

   I thought about all this, instead of the future I saw before me, of not speaking, or walking clearly, but those thoughts would not stay away and I grew more terrified as it grew dark. In dim light I lay awake wanting nothing more than to be home and have my Grandfather near me. That is when I saw him. Clear as day standing near a pillar in the room.

   “Well, about time. I thought you never see me Mary Katherine,” he responded.

   “But you are dead,” I stated pulling the covers high over my head.

   “Yes, my dear. It was my time.”

  “You are dead. You really should go to where you belong,” I shouted at him.

   “Mary Katherine, I can’t go. I told them you needed someone, so they said I could come to you instead. You need me and here I will stay,” he replied.

  “Why come to me?” I asked pulling the cover down from my face.

  “Lots of reasons, as I said you need me. I may have died saving you, but a long time ago I wronged your Grandmother. I need to watch over her and make sure she is okay as well,” Grandfather responded. “You’ll see me now and again, as I long as I am allowed to stay.”

  “Why can I see you?” I demanded to know.

  “The head injury you have darling girl has given you a rare gift. You will be able to see shades, haints, as some call them. I asked a boon to say a goodbye to my darling granddaughter, and they granted me this assignment.”

  “Assignment?”

  “Yes, you need me honey, to get control of all this new ability and to learn to walk and talk again. Those spirits will keep coming and they may want you to help them. All the dead who are lost may want you to help. You can’t help them, if you can’t walk and talk,” Grandfather explained.

  “All the dead? I can see all the dead now? I don’t want to see the dead,” I responded knowing my words were slurring but he understood.

  “We don’t always know what the future brings darling girl. This is a rare gift that can help others.”

  “Take it back I don’t want this gift.”

  “Sweetheart, you were spared so you could use this gift. You won’t always see me but know that I am always by your side. Now work to get better, so you can help others and make me proud,” he had said his figure shimmering and fading into the night, but I knew he return.

   I thought I had to be dreaming, or my brain really was damaged. People couldn’t see shades, only crazy people saw haints. Was I crazy? No, I saw my grandfather I knew I had. 

    With acceptance they started coming to me, ghosts of people who had died in the hospital. I begged them to give me time to recover and then I would help them fulfill what they needed to do. They seem to understand, that my body needed to heal as I could not even communicate with the living. They went away, but like my Grandfather I knew they’d be back. I made the mistake of telling my Grandmother the next day and she called doctor. They both agreed that my head injury had made me imagine the haints. They drugged me and treated me like I was feeble. I heard their whispers as the doctor asked grandmother whether she wanted to transfer me to the other hospital. I knew I had to keep quiet about the shades, or they would lock me away in the other hospital, the London Asylum for the Insane. Days went by, but finally they were convinced it was a brief slip into madness.

    The day came that I went home in a wheelchair and with a new nurse companion, Gertrude. I didn’t like Gertrude she was gruff and very strong. Her hands were big and manly and held great strength. She could have picked up patients of three hundred pounds, so picking up mere hundred pound me, she could do almost with one hand. Gertrude helped me to do exercises each day, if you can count yelling at me, to move and pulling my limbs until they hurt help.

    I complained to grandmother who didn’t understand. She told me to wait it out. That pain was necessary for success. My speech did not improve either. I began to think Gertrude a waste of Grandmother’s funds. Grandmother, along with the doctor (she had consulted in Europe) advised me to take singing lessons to improve my speech. My Grandmother wanted a professor of music, Doctor W.T. Erith, to come to our house and teach me how to sing, but he was far too busy and she had to settle for Mr. George Sippi, the choral master of the St. Paul’s church to come teach me.

     At first Mr. Sippi at despaired that he would ever be able to teach me any music as he couldn’t understand my words but slowly I found myself singing clear words. Mr. Sippi declared my singing voice enchanting and invited me to join his choir when I was able. I gradually was able to speak again. 

     It had been almost a year since Grandfather had died and they have treated me like spun glass. Granted I too had been in the same accident, and it was a miracle that I had lived but I had recovered. I finally walked, with a limp, a cane assisting me.

    The only problem, now that I appeared better, the shades were coming. I tried to chase them away. I tried to explain how close Grandmother watched me, but one persistent haint kept returning. She materialized day and night by my side. I tried chasing the shimmer woman, away to no avail. If only I could see her face, and lips, then maybe I’d hear her, know what she wanted, and she go away.

   “Please Kiki you know me. Please help me.” I finally heard.

   I knew her? She didn’t look familiar. But that who would look like someone you knew with their hair golden color hair, discoloured with leaves and dirt and dripping? I looked closer and to my surprise saw my childhood companion Agatha Brimley.

  “Agatha is that you?”

  “Finally you see me, for who I am,” she commented.

  “See you for what you are?”

  “Your friend, but never the less a shade. I am doomed to stay here until you help me Kiki.”

   “How did you die Agatha?”

   “Kiki, I was on the Victoria.”

   “But I didn’t see your name in the death roll,” I protested.

   “That’s because I am Mrs. Thomas Cooke now,” Agatha answered.

   “I am sorry Agatha.”

   “I do not need your pity, I need you to tell Tom where I put the banking.”

   “So what do you want me to do?” I asked.

   “Tell Tom where the money is.”

   “I can’t they’ll lock me away.”

    “Please Kiki, Tom in grieving and  lost his job. My little Tommy will starve without those funds. Tell Tom you spoke to me on the boat and I told you where I hid the money when I thought I would die.”

   “Where is the money?” I asked resigned.

   “The money I “banked” lies buried in the backyard under the oak tree in a canning jar. Not the little one, but the big one.”

  “Okay I’ll tell your Thomas.”

     It was Gertrude’s half-day this was the day to go see Mr. Cooke. I dress in my coat and try to sneak out the front door cane in hand.

“Where do you hope to go missy and where is Gertrude?” Frederick the butler asked.

      I hadn’t anticipated that Grandmother would have him guard me from leaving, but I thought quickly and answered softly looking slightly embarrassed, “I’m going to buy some clothes. It’s Gertrude’s half day,”

    “Wait here,” Frederick said and then went back inside only to usher out my maid Annie.

    Annie was extremely tall and gangly and had red hair she tucked under a maid’s cap.

   “You go with the miss and makes sure she gets back safely,” he ordered, “If she needs a hansome carriage, you hire one and take her wheelchair. Maybe you should take the footman, Andrew?”

   “No, we’ll be okay. I can look after my miss. I maybe light but I’m strong. I will get her home safely.

   “I don’t need the wheelchair,” I protested, but it was as if Frederick refused to hear me, as Annie obediently pushed it.

    “You better call a hansome if she needs one, or it’s your job Annie,” Frederick cautioned.

    “Frederick I am quite capable of making my own decisions,” I stated.

    “Yes, miss,” Frederick answered but I could tell he didn’t mean it.

    Now I’m forced to take Annie along and the haint, my former friend Agatha, follows us. I must not look at Agatha, for fear Annie will tell my Grandmother I’ve lost my mind.

   “This isn’t the way to Kingsmills,” Annie complained.

   “We do not go to Kingsmills.”

    “Then where do we go?” Annie asked.

   “To visit Thomas Cooke,” I replied.

   “Are you interested in this young man? Do you have an understanding? You shouldn’t be seeing young men on your own. It’s unseemly,” Annie asked.

   “You are with me, besides his wife gave me a message for him,” I replied.

   “Thomas Cooke, why does that name sound familiar?”

   “His wife died on the Victoria. You must have read the newspaper accounts.”

   “Your memories came back, so you can help this family, it’s good that I go with you to make it proper. Charitable deeds, are a staple for young ladies,” Annie replied sounding relieved.

   “Yes that is true,” I lied. “I remember what she said.”

   But really I thought Annie had now given me an excuse to use with Thomas Cooke, that would seem appropriate.

  “Where do we going then?”

  “Richmond Street it’s not far from Kingsmills, so afterwards we can go to Kingsmills and they will never know where we went.”

   “I’m supposed to report all to your grandmother.”

   “Don’t worry Annie. We’ll be safe and no one needs to know.”

   “Okay, but if she asks me directly if you went to see this man, I’ll have to tell her the truth.”

   “Fair enough, now let’s go to see Thomas Cooke.”

    We arrived at the house of Thomas Cooke and I grew fatigued. I had to rest on my cane for a moment, before we went to the door. To my surprise. when we asked for Thomas Cooke, a balding man with shock white hair about sixty-years of age answered, “I’m Thomas Cooke, how may I help you ladies?”

    Agatha had married an old man?

    I had barely began to open my mouth, and say I had a message from his wife, when he seized my arms and shook me. I felt such a cold emanating from him, I tried to pull away in fright. I felt the same feeling, just before I surrendered to the light in the water of the Thames. As he continued to hold me fast Annie struggled with him and threatened to call the Bobbies. The cold started to seep into my bones, and steal the life out of me. I must have fainted. When I came to, I sat in my wheelchair, and another man stood beside Annie. Annie ran smelling salts under my nose.

    “Are you quite all right miss?” asked the man.

    I looked at him he was tall about six feet and young, maybe thirty? His hair was black and waved back but cut short around his ears and neck. His eyes were piercing and brown and held concern for me in them. I felt flattered and then embarrassed .I’d fainted.

   “This is Detective Benjamin Bristol. He heard my shouts for the Bobby, and he stopped his carriage,” Annie explained.

   “This man assaulted you?” he asked gently.

    “She’s one of those charlatans, that prey on the grieving. She deserved much worse,” shouted Thomas Cooke.

    “That’s not true and if you had let my miss finish speaking, you would have known she did charitable work. Helping sinners like yourself find peace with the last words of his wife.”

   “See what did I tell you sir? Charlatans, both of them.”

   “My miss was on the Victoria and injured. She just remembered what your wife said to her, and you treat her like this. Look how pale she is.You should arrest him sir for insulting, and assaulting my miss,” Annie insisted.

   “You saw my wife on the Victoria?”

   “I did and she told me “The money I “banked” lies buried in the backyard under the oak tree in a canning jar. Not the little one, but the big one.” I muttered my voice barely audible.

    Not even a thank you out of the man. Poor Agatha I could almost think her better off dead if it wasn’t for her motherless child.

   “Now see what you did. I’m in for it now. My miss is barely recovered. I need to get her home,” Annie shouted angrily.

   “Would you like to lay charges Miss?...”

   “Miss Mary Katherine Kendall and no I would not. I would just like to go home,” I answered.

   “I’ll be happy to escort you home,” Detective Bristol replied looking concerned at my appearance.

    Detective Bristol then lifted me up into his carriage and placed my wheel chair on top of it with the help of the his driver.

     I admit I felt drained and wanted my bed. I vainly hoped I didn’t look too wan. This man appeared interesting and attractive. I didn’t want to ruin my first impression with him. But then I realized how foolish that was he’d already seen me unconscious. He probably thought me frail and weak. I wished he had met me a year ago.  I  then heard my Grandmother’s voice in my head, “If wishes were horses then beggars would ride” and I knew how fruitless that was. I must accept my new condition at least I could now walk and talk, maybe he would still find me attractive? 

     Why did I even care? I’d just met the man and he was a police detective which was below what grandmother considered our social circle. My grandmother would scold me for my fancifulness. I closed my eyes for a moment and much to my chagrin fell asleep. 
     I awoke not until the next morning in my own bed, when Annie came in and said “Your grandmother is fit to be tied. Detective Bristol is downstairs. I must help you dress. He wants to talk to us. It seems Mr. Thomas Cooke was murdered last night.”

                                                         ****

© Sheilagh Lee February 27, 2013

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