She had always known she was a white witch, but it was only recently that she had found out that she was also a shaman. The knowledge had come to her after a particularly striking episode when she had been dancing to trance music and had experienced a shamanic journey into another world. She never consumed drugs so knew that there had to be truth to that journey. It was a world where spirits walked in fumes with nothing separating them from other human beings. She had looked around her in the night club and nobody else seemed to be noticing the spirits yet all of them were dancing to the same music she was dancing to.
She looked around her fascinated. The stroboscopic lights cast around filled the fumes of the spirits with various lights making them look like rainbows disintegrating on the dance floor. She wondered what the spirits were doing in the night club. Were they not meant to be somewhere more peaceful, she thought? One spirit seemed to realize that she was looking right at it and not through it and came up close to her. She was not sure she felt comfortable enough this close to it and raised a hand. It went right through the spirit who laughed. It was not a wicked laugh, just a friendly amused one. She laughed back. They were not as terrible as many made them to be. They only wanted to be part of this world just like us, she thought.
That was all before she discovered the extent of the Shamanic gift. How it could allow her to summon either the raven’s rains or the fires of the phoenix. That was before she discovered that the combination of the witch capacities and the shamanic gift could help mold consciousness itself
She walked out on the balcony where the cool wind soothed her inflamed head as the sun slowly set down and darkness spread over the landscape. She decided it was no point thinking so much anymore. She would put an end to everything once and for all before the night was over. She went back inside fumbling in the dark for the small bottle. She felt that turning on the light and facing everything in the glaring flood of the neon would reduce her resolve to nothingness. Her cool hands felt the cylindrical shape of the small bottle and she sighed with relief. She slowly emptied the contents into her mouth drinking profusely after every handful. She felt that three handfuls should be more than enough and went back to the balcony where she sat down in the armchair and slowly let herself slip into a soundless sleep.
When they found her, her limbs were rigid and her face was expressionless with its eyes curiously staring instead of being closed. The maid who had come to wake her up had been unable to open the door and had had to get the help of some outside labourers to break it open. The funeral was quick and barely attended by anyone. Her friends like her hair had considerably thinned over time and of the few left almost none had been informed of her demise.
A couple of weeks later strange noises would emanate from her room and passers by could glimpse lights going on and off in what had been her room. The landlord dreamt of her on a nightly basis and swore that he felt she had actually visited him every time. He had felt her chilly hands reach out to his chest accusingly and could hear her saying that it was by his permission to spy on her that things had gone awry leading to her fateful demise. A few other people who had been in her entourage during the last days reported the same nightly visits and shuddered at the memory of her ghostly appearance and cold hands. Nobody could rent the house because of the strange noises and the flickering lights which scared away most of the tenants. Eventually the house was sealed up and only teenagers daring each other would visit it at night to brave the haunting.
Disappearance – Adam Hurst Gypsy Cello & Pipe Organ
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