Molly stirred in her sleep, rolled over to find Will in bed next to her, and wriggled over to snuggle into him. Lapping up the warmth and smell of his skin, she loved feeling him so close after sleeping in an empty bed for what felt like way too long. Feeling Molly move, he turned over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight, relishing the touch of her skin, having missed this over the past few weeks. There was no rush to go anywhere this morning. With no idea what the time was, nor having any desire to know, Molly pulled the duvet up over their heads, her fingers found their way to his ticklish spots. Soon the playful giggles gave way to passionate kisses and they disappeared into a world of their own for the day…
By the time they woke again it was 2pm! Ravenous, Molly went out into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, something to eat and brought it back to bed. It was not until the late afternoon she followed the urge to go upstairs to The Attic. The atmosphere in The Attic that day reminded her of the treehouse she had as a little girl. The treehouse was not a structure as such but a long horizontal branch in a beautiful old peppercorn tree. It was a place that was just for her, where she could let her imagination run wild. This was what she had called The Cubby, as Grace had reminded her the other day. This was where she could play safely with her ‘invisible’ friends.
Recently her writings had taken on a new format and style, quite different from her previous work, and she was loving it. She felt so alive working up here and her creativity flowed with ease. As her fingers playfully tapped on the keyboard, the words seemed to flow through her from a magical source.
Writing intuitively, the manuscript was gradually weaving a story together. Recommencing meditation had opened a new world to her of automatic writing, expanding her imagination, the characters in her stories were of the invisible people who had passed through her life from time to time. ‘Spirit People’ she had named them, people who would come to visit when she would do a Tarot reading or during the middle of the night to comfort and reassure her. These Spirit People seemed to be suspended beyond Time, existing in a place somewhere between Heaven and Earth…somewhere like The Attic…Molly had a glimpse of what was coming together. But it was only a glimpse, there was so much more yet to come, beyond her wildest daydreams!
With a deeper sense of knowing, she was now beginning to understood the connection with Grace Forrest, although her mind still struggled with the concept that they could possibly be one and the same Grace, previously known to her as her guardian angel.
As she sat quietly staring out the window now, Molly focussed on her breathing and drifted easily into meditation. She loved that floating sensation – light, carefree, at ease. And of course, this made communicate with Grace Forrest much easier. Thoughts of Grace’s unpublished journal drifted through her quietened mind as Grace watched on, gently placing the thought seeds into Molly’s mind, inspiring her with creative ideas. The alarm on her phone brought her back to reality. The 20 minutes had passed so quickly. She looked around the room and saw Grace sitting up on the daybed reading through the old journal. It appeared as if she has been doing this for quite some time. Molly was becoming accustomed to Grace’s presence being more visible and really enjoyed her company. She stood up and stretched and sat on the daybed next to Grace.“I am not sure how we are to do this Molly. I think it needs to be transcribed as a novel, to help the reader receive the information more willingly as a story, a fantasy.”
Grace took Molly’s hand and looked deeply into her eyes, her brilliant blue eyes touched her soul, just for a moment, and it took her breath away. “There is something I need to share with you. Get comfortable on the daybed and close your eyes,” Grace began, brushing her hand over Molly’s closed eyes, whispered some words of Magic in a language she did not understand. Molly’s mind drifted into a sleepy space somewhere between dream state and ghostly impressions. Grace took Molly back to the 1890’s of when she was living here in the house, after Callum had died.
Images flickered through her mind and became clearer. Molly watched on like a silent observer of an old movie – The scene was of Grace sitting in the captain’s chair by the writing desk, staring out the window. The sadness on her face was heart wrenching. Day after day, she sat there, dreaming of Callum returning home. Lucy took care of her, bringing her meals and cups of tea. Gradually Grace began to respond to the nurturing. In her heart she knew that Callum would return for her, eventually, when she herself was ready to step into the Spirit World. One day, as the North wind blew through the open attic window, she felt a shift within her, and needed to do something to help herself step out of the debilitating grief. So Grace prayed, asking God to send her some help, to give her a purpose to continue living. With her head resting on her arm, she then fell asleep at the desk, the daylight faded as the sun set. Lucy had come up with an evening meal for her and finding her asleep, placed the tray on the sea chest, gently wrapped the woollen shawl around Grace’s shoulders and snuffed out the candle. As the full moon rose whilst she continued to sleep, something magical began to happen. By the light of the bright moon ‘They’ came. Like sparkles of fairy dust, ‘They’ came in through The Attic window and danced around the room, filling it with laughter. The mischievous fairy-like sprites brushed the walls with Celestial paint, activating the room as a portal beyond time and space, a doorway into the next world. The room began to fill with Spirit People, one of which was Callum. He stood by his beloved wife, whilst she slept at the desk, captivated by her vibrant aura ‘Grace by name, Grace by nature,’ he said. The night air was warm, being midsummer – the eve of the Summer Solstice. Through the open window the warm breeze gently caught a few loose strands of her hair. Callum watched on, spellbound by the profound beauty of his wife.
Meanwhile the mischievous fairy-like creatures continue to caste magic around the room, bringing it to life, bringing renewed life to Grace. They were transforming the room, activating the portal between worlds, into a place where the Lost Souls and Spirit People could come and visit. It was a safe place to share their stories, which would in turn help them to move on, or understand why they may need to remain in this World Between Worlds, as Guardian Angels themselves for their loved ones in the Physical World. Grace was about to experience a level of existence previously invisible to her and to most of those living in the Physical World.
Callum reached over, not wanting to disturb his wife and carefully picked up the ink pen and wrote a message for her on the page of paper partially tucked under where her head rested in the crook of her arm. In hand writing that was so typically his, he wrote three simple words.
Write to me!
Their job completed, it was time for the magical visitors to leave and Callum to go with them. He softly brushed the hair back from Grace’s face and gently kissed her cheek before leaving, stirring her from a deep sleep. Grace smiled with thoughts of Callum, as she drifted in and out of sleep. The stars in the night sky begin to fade and the light on the horizon was ignited by the coming day. The temperature dropped just before the bright sunlight announced the arrival of dawn. The coolness was enough to wake Grace. Sleepily, she sat up, shivered a little, shut the window and pulled her woollen shawl tightly around her shoulders, savouring the delightful, lingering sensation of Callum’s kiss.
Grace looked around the room, taking a moment to wake up, she noticed a difference in the atmosphere here. Was it just her sleepy eyes, or is the chandelier sparkling just that little bit more? Catching the rays of the rising sun, it caste rainbows around the room, up the walls and across the ceiling. Is that laughter she could hear? It all made her smile. Today was a new day and she felt it. For the first time since Callum had passed over, she felt excited. As she looked out the window at the beautiful sunrise, something caught her attention. Out the corner of her eye she saw something familiar – On a piece of paper was Callum’s handwriting! It was unmistakably his! It said three simple words…
Write to me!
How she had missed writing to him, like when he was away at sea! From inside the drawer in the writing desk, she took out a fresh piece of writing paper and refilled her ink well. Patting the paper fondly she whispered to the room, “I’ll be back soon!” Grace went downstairs to the kitchen, lit the wood stove, placed the kettle on top and prepared some breakfast. She thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to cook breakfast for Lucy and Patrick! They have taken such good care of me, even when Callum was alive. They have been so patient with me over the past year, taking care of the management of the household and gardens. Today I want to celebrate with them, for I have grieved long enough.’ Today was the first anniversary of Callum’s passing, such perfect timing.
Molly’s eyes opened suddenly, her pupils dilating as they adjusted to the light in the room. Excited by what she had just seen, she wanted to get it down in writing before the memory faded. Turning on the laptop, she rubbed her hands together eagerly. “Thanks Grace!” she said out aloud, but felt she was now alone in the room, leaving her to wonder if it had all been just a dream…
The Attic 