Once more I am distracted as I work. Words are forming easily in my mind as I type, excited at being able to write a little in my book. The window on my left looks out onto the garden with fields beyond. Without warning, someone has tried to open it. The latch lifts off and unlocks by unseen hands. Damn! My eyes missed it, but my ears heard it clearly. I stand up at the window and notice what has happened. There is no way this latch can detach itself unless lifted physically. A little butterfly in my stomach flutters slightly. Now, what does Spirit want.
I am describing a moment of paranormal experience as I write. Did I make a mistake? Am I being corrected? Without further ado, noises appear from the stairs. Someone has made their way up the staircase to join me. I think they may have closed a door somewhere. I stand at the top of the stairs. Will I ever get this page finished? Can Spirit not just guide me as I sit and write, like they do so often.
I am alone in the house. Amy and the farmer have gone for a walk leaving me to snatch an hour or so in front of a white screen. Now all I can think about is the time. I need to find a clock. Seldom do I wear a watch even though I possess several. I decide to investigate where Spirit have tread. Indeed, my suspicions are correct, a bedroom door has been closed. The same door which mysteriously opened the previous night. It is a heavy door. It does not close properly unless the handle is turned and the door is physically forced. It is the door to Jim's old bedroom.
"Dear Jim, we will count the remaining money in the next few weeks. Please rest assured I will take it all to the bank before Christmas. I know that is what you intend me to do. But you have to give me time. I have not forgotten. I have been too busy. When I continue to count the coins, I would love for you to help."
I am beginning to feel more strongly that Jim's soul is grounded within these walls. His energy seeps from each stone. Memories of his life fill each room. As I enter the spare room, I press the light switch. The bulb has drained, again. The room remains in darkness. I think I need to replace the bulb with an energy saving one, as regular bulbs do not last within this space. I close the door again. Properly. Perhaps I will be left to write, now that I have been made aware that I need to buy a new bulb due to the failure of light in the room which was once occupied by a man who was obsessed by time.
I return to my screen. I can no longer concentrate on the words that once flowed from my mind. All I can think about is the light. Darkness has crept upon the house as it now envelops the fields, surrounding the creatures which live in them. This time, I feel somewhat relieved when I hear the farmer and Amy talking in the yard, further orders to the dogs as they arrive at the back door cold and hungry. I abandon my screen. Words will not flow anyway and I feel it is time to feed my family as they pour into the kitchen, calling out my name.
Being a paranormal enthusiast, in tune with all things unexplained, it came as no surprise to me when my lovely husband, the farmer, announced his birthday was the 31st of October. A Hallowe'en baby, born under a full moon and the influence of a guiding spirit, fifty eight years ago. Unlike me, he has never moved around and has spent his whole life living in one place; this farm. He has never complained. He has always appreciated his surroundings. He has always appreciated life. Two years before we got together, the farmer had a mild heart attack leaving him in pain while on the tractor one afternoon. He spent a week hooked up to machines, smiling at the nurses, seeing the positive side of his experience. He had lived to tell the tale. He would continue to live his life, not to the full, but in the way he had been accustomed to. It had been just twelve months previously that his beloved mum passed and I imagine Jim went through a very difficult few weeks as his eldest son nearly lost his earth life. In those days, two men lived on their own, getting used to a new dawn. Joyce (the farmer's mum) gave life to her son once more, then walked away as his heart resumed its existence.
The farmer has never known riches. He has never experienced extravagance. His love of the farm and his commitment to his work has always made him see the world from a different angle to that of my own. I knew I would find him one day. To have found him in this wonderful place has been a dream come true. For him to have found someone to share his life with, to love him and need him more than he could imagine has been the farmer's path to all the riches I believe he will ever need. Nothing makes us richer than the love of a family and good friends. I can confidently say the farmer and I, not to mention our beautiful daughter, Amy, are truly loaded.
So what is the Jigsaw household doing on Hallowe'en? A party has been planned, just a small one with friends who are visiting from Essex. Amy has a costume to wear, Harry the life size flourescent skeleton is waiting to be hung, apples are ready to be bobbed and someone is going to the Chinese. Tonight may bring some visiting souls, exploring new territory, making new contact. I usually lie in bed wide awake, listening to the radiators cooling down and the floor boards expanding wondering when my attention will be sought. They never disappoint.
Have a happy Hallowe'en, whatever you decide to do. I will look forward to meeting new friends and greeting old ones then I hope to be left to enjoy a good night's sleep. After the witching hour, that is.