Spirit Talker by Rebecca Laffar-Smith

Author:Rebecca Laffar-Smith [Laffar-Smith, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Experience Possibility Publishing
Published: 2021-10-09T05:00:00+00:00

20

A

long minute passes in silence. Jenn holds the torch to her chin. It casts deep sunken eye shadows and creates an odd red glow as the light passes through layers of skin. As the silence lingers Synthe shifts in her spot. I pull the blankets a little tighter around me.

Georgia seems most uncomfortable. She leans forward, clutching her fingers in her lap. Eventually she gasps out, “Jenn! Just start!”

Jenn just looks at her. She gives her a dead stare. Then, suddenly, her eyes roll back and we can see the whites. Georgia screams and Jenn cracks up laughing. She looks at each of us in turn, then begins.

“It was a dark night and the coastal winds had picked up. They howled along the sand dunes and whipped up the sand until it stung on the skin of three young boys,” she began. “Now, when I say young, I mean our age. And they probably shouldn’t have been out as late as they were because they had school the next day. Maybe karma has something to say for what happened to them.”

Synthe snorts. “Karma?”

Jenn fixes her with a look.

Georgia leans forward. “Don’t interrupt.”

“As I was saying, three boys ventured along that beach one dark night.”

“How is this related to the old power station?” Synthe asks, interrupting Jenn again.

Jenn grimaces. “I’m getting to that, if you would just be quiet. So, where was I? Yes, the three boys, spray cans stashed in their backpacks, were heading along the sand dunes to the old power station. It loomed ahead of them, dark and foreboding. Their torchlight cast a beam upon the crumbling walls and shattered windows.”

Jenn waves the torch around the tent. It creates an atmospheric simile that helps add foreboding. “But they weren’t alone,” she continues. “They couldn’t see him, but the old duty manager still patrols the old power station. The boys ventured inside, shouting and laughing to each other as they painted the walls in their latest tags.”

“Hey you!” Synthe shouts, her voice deep and menacing. We all jump, even Jenn.

“Synthe, would you stop?” Georgia glares at her.

Synthe lifts her shoulder. “Nothing wrong with the occasional jump scare.” She tries to look innocent. I wonder if there’s a hint of her own fear there. Sometimes people do stuff like that just to make themselves feel less afraid, but Synthe looked more bored than bothered by Jenn’s story.

Georgia rolls her eyes at Synthe. “Can you let Jenn tell the story?”

Synthe sighs. “Fine.” She lays down on her stomach and props her head on her palm. “Tell the story.”

Jenn smiles and puts her feet on the floor, leaning forward as she sits. “The boys had been there perhaps an hour when things started to get strange. At first, they thought it was just the wind. It creaked and groaned through the old bones of the building.” Jenn added sound effects for the creaking and groaning. She was really making a production of this. I’d have to up my game if I want to compete on their story telling level.

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