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Ripples on a Pond


The reincarnation of Nero shouldn't have been three and a half feet tall with a mouth full of braces, but things work out in mysterious ways. Ford had previously sat in on a few of Morley's "past life regression" sessions with the girl, but this was the first time Jake would be an observer. It also might be the last, since the girl's family was moving to Pennsylvania in two weeks.

Ford had already briefed him on how this worked. First, Morley would have the girl relax into a deep trance. Then he would have her go backward through time until she found something that seemed important in her past. Usually, this was some early childhood memory, sometimes even birth. Once in a while, however, it would be something from a previous life.

The technique was hit and miss, and detractors had insisted that the phrasing of questions, the room setting, even the results of previous regressions could influence the hypnotized with leading suggestions. These days, therapists who used the technique were careful to leave everything up to the patient's memory, include observers, and thoroughly record the entire session to avoid charges of influence.

"Lizzie," Morley said, breaking the silence. "I'm going to count backwards now, and I want you to recall the peaceful feelings you had last time."

As he talked, he wound up a wooden metronome and placed it on top of the piano at the head of the psychiatrist's chair, then leaned toward the iMac on the table directly to his left and clicked the mouse. The girl was laying down, her eyes closed; a miniature boom-mic hung in the air above her head.

"Three," Morley said. "You are going to start recalling your peaceful place. Your body is relaxing. I want you to feel the relaxation spreading from the front of your forehead down your face and into your chest."

Jake glanced over at Ford, who was sitting on a stool with his head propped up on his elbows. A yawn tried to climb up Jake's throat, but he'd been warned by Morley to stay absolutely quiet, so he swallowed it and tried to pay attention.

"Two. I want you to concentrate on the trees around you. Hear the wind rustling through the leaves, there is a light breeze blowing. Take a look at the clouds above you. Can you see them, Lizzie?"

"Yes," the girl replied.

"One. Your body is completely relaxed now. I want you to forget today. You can look through the memories of yesterday, if you like, but I want you to try to go back farther. Keep going backward until you find an important day. Try to recall as many details of your surrounding on that day as you can."

The girl's body seemed to sink into the couch as she relaxed completely. She appeared, to Jake, to be in a dead sleep. Jake could hear her breathing over the tick-tock of the metronome; Ford and Morley were completely silent.

"Lizzie," Morley said, leaning forward. Jake didn't think it would have been possible, but he'd actually dropped another decibel or two. "Can you still hear me, Lizzie?"

"Yes," the girl said.

"Good. Can you tell me where you are?"

"Yes," she replied. "I'm in my apartment."

"And what do you see around you?" Morley asked. He leaned over and checked, again, that the iMac was still recording.

"I can see my television on the other side of the room. There's a couch and a loveseat here. I can also see my bookshelf. I've never read most of those books, but they impress my friends."

"And what are you doing?"

"I've just put my groceries down. Now I'm looking for my cat so I can feed her."

"Good, good," Morley said to nobody in particular. He leaned toward Jake and Ford and whispered, "Obviously a somewhat modern incarnation. Could be any time before 1988. I'll see if we can find something to date the incarnation and place…"

"There's somebody here," Lizzie said, interrupting him.

"There's someone in your apartment?"

"Yes," the girl said. She started breathing quickly and a worried look came across her face, although her eyes stayed closed.

"He's here!" she shouted. "Oh my God, he's in my house!"

"Who?" Morley asked. "Who's in your house?"

"Zvolen!" she screamed. "Zvolen's here! He's going to kill me! He's coming toward me to kill me!"

"Probably another victim of his," Ford offered.

"Friend of yours?" Morley asked, turning toward Ford.

"Intimate," Ford replied.

Suddenly, the girl sat upright on the couch and clutched at her throat.

"He's choking me!" she shouted. "I'm going to die! He's choking me!"

"I'm going to bring her out of it," Morley said. "She's getting hysterical."

"He's choking me!" Lizzie screamed again.

"Lizzie," Morley said next to her ear. "Lizzie, I want you to start coming forward now. You're going to come back to today and I want you to forget about Zvolen. I want you to…"

"I'm dying!" she yelled. "I can feel myself dying!"

"Lizzie!" Morley said, with authority. "Listen to my voice Lizzie."

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Oh God, Lorna, I'm so sorry!"

Ford's eyes widened to saucer-size and he sat up straight in his chair. Jake thought for a moment that he was going to fall over.

"Lizzie!" Morley insisted.

"Don't let me die! Help! Somebody help me!"

"I can't bring her out!" Morley shouted at Ford and Jake, as if they could help. "Lizzie! Listen to my voice!"

"Jake!" Lizzie shouted, turning her head. "Jake's at the door!"

"My God," Ford muttered.

"I assume that you know who the victim is?"

"Yes," Ford said, his eyes never leaving the girl. "It's me."

"The sword!" Lizzie yelled. "It's the silver that hurts him!"


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About Christopher Ford, Amateur Paranormalist

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