The Spirit's Warning
Even as a small child, I could feel the presence of spirits, and even see them, hear them, talk to them. At five, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents' house, which I knew to be haunted by the shadows and shades I saw coasting gently from room to room. But they were benevolent spirits, and I enjoyed their company.
I was going to find my water cup, which I knew I'd left in the kitchen, and toddled into the kitchen. I heard laughter, a bit more maniacal than anything I'd heard in the house before. My young face scrunched into a frown, I climbed up onto the counter and sat there until I heard the laughing again. It seemed to be coming from the cupboard above the sink.
I leaned precariously over the sink and nudged open the cupboard. But there was no pale shape inside. I frowned again, then remembered my thirst, and bent over the sink to drink from the faucet.
An incredibly loud voice cut over the sound of the water: "Be careful, Lorenzo!" It was shouting right in my ear.
I screamed and fell off the counter. There was a sharp pain in my arm, but I ignored it, scrambling to my feet and dashing into the back room.
My headlong run took me straight into my mother's arms. "Lorenzo! What's wrong?"
"Did you hear that?" Tears were dribbling down my face, joining with lines of snot.
She wiped away my tears with the back of her sleeve, trying not to laugh. "No, I didn't hear anything."
Then the voice, again: "Help me, Lorenzo!"
I jumped up. "Did you hear THAT?"
"Sweetie, I can't hear anything." My mother stood and brushed off her shirt. "Are you just playing with my imagination?"
Sometimes I think she was right, but I keep the spirit's words close to my heart. I know to listen to their advice, and I hope that one day, I can find and help every ghost that whispers, shouts, or sings to me.
