Here the séance turned violent. The table shook. The windows flung open. And the medium started talking in tongues. I had been sceptical at first but there was no denying something otherworldly was afoot.
“Don’t let go,” the medium shouted. “Whatever you do, don’t break the circle.”
The girl to my left squeezed my hand firmly as did the old lady on the right. Even if I wanted to break free, there was no escaping now.
“Reveal yourself,” the medium yelled. “Reveal your true form. And speak!”
The table and the chairs rotated counter-clockwise. And as a fierce wind engulfed us all, a force I had no control over compelled me to answer “I am here”.
“Reveal you name.”
“I am Jeffrey Archibald Forsyth, the third Duke of Elmsworth.”
“You are the same Jeffrey Archibald Forsyth who was murdered in this room, on June 22nd 1903?”
“I am he,” my vocal chords said.
“Why do you still roam the netherworld?”
“I am not at peace.”
“With whom is your quarrel that you cannot rest?”
There was no immediate reply.
“With whom is your quarrel?” the medium shouted.
Still no reply. Just an abrupt shattering of the windows.
“With whom is your quarrel?” the medium repeated.
“With Elizabeth Montgomery,” I said. “My wife. My lover. My murderer.”
The room was quiet now. The wind was gone. The table had stopped shaking.
The medium opened her eyes, as did the other guests. They opened their eyes and turned them towards the old lady that had been holding my hand seconds earlier. The young girl could not stand touching the fingers of a murderer and broke the circle.
They are gone now, the people from the other world. And I, my murderer known to them, will not haunt them any more.
Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.