Strange Dominions: a collection of paranormal short stories (short story books)

The bracing cold barely fazed the revellers as they made their way to the town centre. Unseen, a solitary figure walked among them as they hurried towards their meeting point in the town square, a distant choir of angelic voices beckoning them on. Sensing their excitement and common purpose, the unsettled phantom followed.

How often she had witnessed the scene: the enactment of their hopes and dreams for the year to come, a dream she was no longer a part of. A welcoming touch, a word of kindness, the hopes of a better tomorrow, all the things that gave purpose and meaning to life, were now denied her. Stripped of memory or hope her unhappy soul wandered through the crowd.

In the early days of her passing she had wished for a sign, anything that might trigger her memory as to how she had become trapped in a world between worlds. There had been no heavenly light at the end of a tunnel, nor loved ones to welcome her into the Kingdom. She knew only the lonely and cold embrace of purgatory.

Stripped of name and countenance – for ghosts she soon learned cast no reflection - she lived her life vicariously, choosing at random any group or individual who offered some kind of temporary solace from her sombre thoughts. She had witnessed the joys and loves of countless families and individuals. Inevitably, such experiences were bittersweet and served only to bring home to her how utterly alone she was.

Of her many hauntings one family in particular stuck out: the young Lawrence couple and their only child, James. It was her meeting with James that made the encounter all the more memorable. She could still vividly recall her encounter with the seven-year-old on that snowy Christmas Day morning so long ago.

*****

Again, it was a single random act of curiosity that had drawn her to the Lawrence household. On entering she was immediately struck at how different it was to the others in the street. Clearly, this was the home of a less affluent family. In the corner of the room stood a Spartan Christmas tree, its drooping branches lacking little in the way of decoration, other than homemade baubles and wraps of tinsel. She stooped to read the labels on the four lovingly wrapped presents at the base of the tree. They were all addressed with the same name: ‘James’. Saddened by the scarcity of gifts, she rose to her feet and made to leave when the sound of movement in the darkness caught her attention.

As she stood by the window a small hand, holding a brightly lit torch, appeared from behind a slowly opening door. Then a head appeared, followed quickly by the body of a small child clad in pyjamas and dressing gown. This, she surmised, was the recipient of the gifts that lay beneath the tree. He crept stealthily into the room on slippered feet and closed the door behind him.

She smiled as he hurriedly tiptoed to the tree, his face beaming with anticipation. Scanning the presents with his torch he began jumping up and down with glee.

“Yes! Yes!”
he whispered, excitedly punching the air with his fists.

His childish outburst over, he sat cross-legged in front of the wilting branches and picked up the largest of his presents and began feeling it, his eager little fingers exploring it in minute detail to ascertain what lay beneath. The others were explored in the same manner. Then began the inventory.

“Fire truck,” he said, placing the largest present in front of him.

The next gift went to his left as he announced, “Cowboy outfit.”

“This one’s easy,” he declared of the third gift, laying it on his right. “Eagle Annual.”

Picking up the last of his presents and shaking it he said, “Hmm. Don’t know ’bout this one, but I bet it’s good anyway.”

Placing it between his legs, he picked up the largest present again and fondled it. This, his unseen visitor guessed, was his favourite.

She laughed inwardly as she watched him play with the unopened gift, mimicking the sounds of its engine and siren as he pushed it along the carpet. Then suddenly he stopped, his head turning slowly to face the window.

“Hello,” he said, timidly.

This had never happened before, and was so unexpected that she just stared at him in astonishment.

“Are you one of Santa’s helpers?” he asked. “Only, you don’t look like one.”

She looked down at her faded jeans and worn out shoes and jumper, and laughed. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“I think you must be, cos I can see right through you.”

“Can you? Then I guess I must be.”

“You look awfully tall and sad for an elf.”

“Do I?”

“Maybe it’s cos your ears haven’t grown properly.”

“Yes, your probably right,” she said, smiling at his naivety.

“Bet you know what this is,” he said, holding up the smallest gift that had baffled him earlier.

“I’m sorry James, I don’t.”

“But you
must
know. You’re one of Santa’s helpers.”

She had to think quickly on her feet now. “Yes I am, but I don’t wrap the presents. I just help deliver them.”

“Oh! Okay then,” With that he momentarily resumed his play before looking up again asking, “What’s your name?”

Caught completely off guard she struggled to come up with a name befitting an elf, but couldn’t.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a name.”

“That’s silly. Everybody has a name.”

After a moment’s silence she replied, “Elves have to earn their name by helping Santa.”

“Oh! Well if I was Santa I’d call you” - he thought for a moment - “Little Ears!”

“Well when I see him I’ll tell him what you said,” she chuckled.

Getting to his feet and pulling a Christmas stocking from the mantle piece and tipping its contents onto the floor he asked, “Are you hungry? There’s oranges, tangerines, nuts, and some chocolate. Chocolate’s my favouritest,” he announced, holding out a small bar to her.

“No thank you. I’m not hungry.”

“Aren’t you going to open your presents?” Little Ears enquired as he unwrapped the bar.

“Oh, no. I have to wait for mom and dad to get up first. They like to watch me open them.”

“Yes, I suppose they do,” she said.

“Do elves get presents?”

“No, they don’t.”

“What makes
them
happy then?”

“Watching others open theirs I guess,” she smiled.

Popping two squares of chocolate into his mouth he began studying her intently.

Feeling a little uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze she asked, “What is it, James? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I was just thinking about how you feel.”

“I feel fine.”

James laughed. “I meant how you would feelif I touched you, silly elf.”

“Oh, I see. Well there’s only one way to find out,” Squatting low, she held out her hand.

He approached her cautiously, reached out and touched her fingertips. “You feel like a snowman!” he said, withdrawing his hand, “But that’s probably cos you live in the North Pole.”

“Now try holding my hand properly this time, James,” she encouraged.

The plucky youngster did as he was asked, only on this occasion his hand passed clean through hers, as she knew it would.

James laughed out loud. “Wow! That was fun. I felt tingly all over.”

“Well now you know how an elf feels.”

In truth, she too had felt something; it was the soul of an innocent. In her wanderings she had encountered many souls and each one was different, but there was something about James’ that was quite unique.

“Mom and dad will pee themselves when I tell them I’ve be talking to an elf with little ears. They probably won’t believe me. But when they see you th-!”

“No, James! You mustn’t tell anyone about me,” she cut in, “It must be our little secret. Besides, most grown ups can’t see us and there aren’t many children who can see us either. Only the very special ones can.”

“Hope I’m one of the special ones.”

“Me too.” she said, adding, “I’ll make you a promise; that as long as you can see me I’ll come visit as often as I can. How does that sound?”

James was overjoyed at the prospect of having such a special friend and for the next five years their friendship flourished, until one day fate intervened.

After one of her more prolonged absences from James, when she continued her seemingly never-ending search for her former life, ‘Little Ears’ eventually returned to the Lawrence’s. Six weeks had passed and the scene that welcomed her was far from what she had expected. The house was now little more than a burned out shell.

Her desperate search for the Lawrences was proving fruitless. Being trapped in her spirit body made it impossible to follow normal lines of enquiry. Despite this she continued to visit the house during its renovation in the hope of learning anything that might give her a clue as to the family’s whereabouts. The bombshell was dropped late one afternoon when she overheard a conversation between two workmen at the house.

“It’s a cryin’ shame, Bob,” she heard one say to the other, “An entire family wiped out overnight. I heard they had a little kid, too.”

“Yeah, so they tell me. Don’t know that much about it to be honest.”

“Me neither, but that’s what I heard anyways.”

Devastated by the loss of her only companion, Little Ears vowed never again to befriend another living soul and left, never to return.

*****

Many changes were to take place over the next ten years, one of them being the current New Year’s Eve firework display being held in the city centre. It offered Little Ears a brief distraction from her forlorn circumstances, and to feel like she was alive again, a part of the living mass of humanity she had been ripped from so long ago.

The bronze statue of the cavalier on horseback gradually came into view as they crossed the bridge leading onto the square. By now a large crowd had congregated at its base. Only two minutes remained of the old year. Here and there people were looking at their watches in anticipation.

The choral music from the tannoy finally began to fade out as the time approached. The New Year was now only seconds away as the voice from the speakers, in unison with the crowd, counted down the remaining ten seconds.

A spontaneous outpour of
‘Happy New Year’
erupted from the eager crowd as the heavens exploded in a pyrotechnic display of colours and patterns.

Sitting atop the statue, Little Ears watched the celebrations unfold. From her vantage point she could see the distant horizon and the brightly lit towns and villages that lay between, each illuminated under a canopy of exploding colour. Beneath her the partygoers were in full swing, dancing, singing and carefree.

Though she was no elf, Little Ears could be just as mischievous. One of her favoured party tricks was to put in an appearance in photographs. In the south corner of the square she noticed a small group of friends had congregated to have their picture taken. They had recruited the help of a bystander to take the photo and he was in the process of framing the shot when she put in her début, just as the flash fired.

In the blink of an eye, she appeared at the photographer’s side to see her handiwork appear on the digital screen. It was just as she had expected. To the left of the group was a strange, amorphous light.

The young man scratched his beard and looked up. “I’m sorry but it hasn’t come out very well,” he said, apologetically. Deleting the image, he took another snap. This time there was no troublesome artefact. Thanking him, the group moved on.

For no apparent reason the tall stranger began to chuckle to himself. “And when did you learn to do that trick?” he suddenly asked.

Little Ears looked around, convinced he was talking to someone else, but there was no one close at hand to hear him.

He turned and looked directly at her. “Yes, I’m talking to
you
,” he announced.

Little Ears was flabbergasted and a little embarrassed at having been caught out in her childish prank.

“Cat got your tongue, Little Ears?”

“How do you know my name?” she stammered.

“Because I gave it to you, silly little elf. I know a lot of water has passed under the bridge since we last saw one another, but I didn’t think I’d changed
that
much.”

The penny finally dropped.

“James! Is it
really
you?”

“They call me Jamie these days - but yes, it’s me.“

The urge to hug him was almost overpowering. “You’ve grown so much!”

“That’s what happens to us mortals on this side of the veil,” he joked.