Indelible Imprints

Marilyn discovers she is psychic and learns to read the imprints left on landscapes and abandoned buildings.

Indelible Imprints

Marilyn stood in the art gallery happy to see her photographs hanging on the wall. That would have been enough to make the night special. But her life was about to take an unexpected turn. A middle aged man with dark hair and a mustache approached her. He stopped and looked at the photo on the wall. It was a a picture of an abandoned roller coaster. Trees had grown up around and even through the rails.

“You can almost feel the sadness,” the man commented.

“Yes,” Marilyn agreed. “I could hear the screams of joy echoing out of the past almost.”

“Interesting subject,” he added. “Urban decay. Abandon buildings. It is almost Post-Apocalyptic. What made you choose that theme?”

“I don't know,” she said. She thought for a moment and then said, “I suppose ruins have always fascinated me. Not just ancient ruins, but more modern ones. I remember exploring the foundation of an old burned down house as a kid and it stuck with me.”

“Now that sounds like a interesting story,” he said as he turned to look at her.

Marilyn smiled and shrugged. “I must have been about 10 or 12 years old. My mother and I rode our bikes to the edge of town. There was a gravel lane that went up a hill and ended in the middle of a field. Only there used to be a house at the end of the lane. All that was left was the cement foundations of the house and the barn or garage. We laid our bikes down and picked through the rubble. Most of it had been scavenged already, but there were a few old bottles and some broken bits of pottery laying around. Mom took a few of those blue apothecary bottles home with us. You know what the weird thing was?”

“No, what?” the man asked.

“I was going through some old photos that my Grandmother had and I found a picture of her cousins sitting on the porch of a house in the country. And I recognized not just the land around it, but the house. I knew it was the one we'd explored. I inquired as to where the photo was taken and my Grandmother told me that it was somewhere on the edge of town back in the 1940s, but that the house had since burned down. I asked if it could be where the ruins were and she shrugged, saying it was possible but that she couldn't remember for sure.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have psychic ability?” the man asked.

“Once or twice maybe,” she smiled and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. The air conditioning was on pretty high in the gallery and she was actually getting cold.

“Judging by your pictures and the story you just told me, I'd say you have a very rare and unique gift. You can read the energy in a specific place. You can feel what happened there and the imprint it makes on the land.”

“Well, I used to take walks and try to imagine who lived in the houses I passed by and what their lives were like. But it was just an imaginative exercise. I never really thought that I actually knew anything about the people or the houses.”

“They were old houses weren't they? Built maybe around the turn of the century?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because they have a history. The house has a particular vibe or feeling to it and you can pick up on that. Your imaginative exercises were more than just made up stories. I bet you if you'd researched those very houses, you would have found out details that supported the hunches you had.”

“Maybe. But what does it matter?”

“It matters to many people. Have you ever thought about selling your services as a psychic?”

“No. How could I if I don't really believe in psychics? These incidents are coincidences. They are vague feelings and they don't mean anything.”

“But many people do believe in psychics and they'd be willing to hire you to check out a place before they buy it I bet.”

“Why would they do that?”

“To find out the history of the place beyond what year it was built. They might want to know if the place is blessed or of it is cursed. They might be afraid of ghosts or may even be seeking them out. You never know. You could tell them rather the house is a happy place or if the house is filled with sadness.”

“I don't know,” Marilyn said.

The man dug into his pocket and produced a card. “My name is William Joyce and if you would like some help in finding clients, let me know. “

Marilyn took the white card and studied it. It simply said William Joyce, Consultant, along with his phone number and email address. “What kind of consulting doing you do exactly?”

“A little of this, a little of that,” he said vaguely.

“A con artist?” she said.

“Depends on how you look at it. Con originally meant Confidence. And I am a confident man. I am not someone who stoops to games and grifting. I am a business man and I deliver what I promise. You can look me up Yelp. I've got nothing but good reviews.”

“All written by you, no doubt,” she laughed.

William laughed with her. “Oh, you are quite the skeptic aren't you. Look, I am not asking you for any money up front. I will connect you with clients and ask for only a small percentage of your profit. Think of me like a talent agent that you pay to help you land roles in movies or get manuscripts published. And I will even buy this photograph from you rather you call me or not.”

“Well, I would appreciate the sale. And let me think about the rest.”

“Take as long as you like,” he said. “I am going to go pay for my photo. I think it will look nice in my front hallway.”

Marilyn went home that night and poured herself a glass of wine. She sat down with a good book and tried to unwind. She was reading Audrey Niffenegger's book Her Fearful Symmetry, but she couldn't focus on the Ghostly Tale. She kept thinking about her meeting with William Joyce. A part of her was very curious about what he had to say. The other part of her was skeptical and dismissive. She felt it could be a waste of time. But what if it wasn't?

The next morning she shot him an email inquiring about what steps would need to be taken if she were to set up a business as a psychic. William got back to her within a couple of hours and asked if she would meet him at the address he provided below. She had no other plans that Sunday, so she agreed to meet him.

The place he wanted to meet was on a country road in the middle of nowhere, which puzzled her. She didn't think he meant her any harm, so she drove the 40 minutes to find out the answers to her questions. Her GPS led her down a highway out of town. She turned off on Spring Road and followed the country road up and down hills and around a series of curves. The GPS told her that she had arrived at her destination, but there was no house or office that she could see. That was when a nice white Ford Taurus pulled to a stop beside her on the side of the road.

She turned off her car and got out to meet William. He turned off his car and got out as well. The two of them stood on the gravel shoulder. The sun was beginning to set. Though it was still light out, shadows had descended on the valley they were in. There was a creek that meandered through the meadow. It looked like a cow pasture with its short grass and small twisted trees around the creek, but Marilyn spotted no animals in the field. In the distance there was a forest, but she couldn't see it very well because of the hills.

“What are we looking at?” she finally asked.

“The land. Tell me what you feel about the land.”

“What I feel?”

“Yes.”

“I don't know. It is a lovely plot of land.” Marilyn drew in a deep breath and thought for a moment before adding. “It is a peaceful place. No anger or pain. It is untouched. Pure. I see animals grazing and people walking across it now and again, but that is it. As a young girl, I would have imagined such a place would hide fairies and other magical creatures.”

William smiled at her.

“What?”

“That is what I meant last night. You read the imprint of the land perfectly. Most people would say it was a field or a pasture and not look beyond the purpose of the land. You see its history and you feel something. That is what makes you special.”

“I am still not sure how I turn this vague concept into cash.”

“You have an ability, what you need now is to hone your skills and learn the business end of being a psychic. Although many people possess a certain gift, very few learn how to put it to use. While the initial feeling you get is important, so is research. Picking up on signals from your clients and learning to cold read a room are also valuable skills. People want confidence and they want proof. You are right that a vague feeling isn't enough. You have learn how to turn that feeling into an explanation or prediction, depending on the situation.”

“You're telling me to put on a show for the client? Isn't that what being a con artist is all about?”

“You aren't tricking them or lying to them. What you are doing is putting in a lot of hard work to make your services look effortless. I do believe that there are people who are truly psychic, but that it doesn't strike like a bolt of lightening. I don't think there are ghosts and whatnot whispering in your ear like some spiritual Cyrano de Bergerac. I think that you can learn to pick up on things that others cannot. I think some people are more sensitive to the energies in the land and the people around us. Learning how to read and interpret those signals is a skill that is learned like any other. Psychics get into trouble when they overreach. Maybe someone wants answers and they don't have them, so they make stuff up. Because they have a reputation to uphold, they are often afraid to tell people they don't know.”

“I suppose it is possible that some people are more sensitive than others.”

“Are you ready for your first client?”

Marilyn wasn't quite sure what to say.

William handed her an envelope. “Here is the address and phone number of a client. You can meet them tomorrow and give them your impression of a house they are looking to buy. They contacted me because their 8 year old daughter refuses to go into the house. She was inside for a few minutes initially and walked out. The parents love the house and want to place a bid on it, but the girl won't go back inside. Your job is to tell them if there is something wrong with the house or if the girl is just being stubborn.”

“I can tell them what I think, but how I will I know for sure?”

“I want you to give them your initial impression and then excuse yourself to go to the bathroom or whatever and text me. After you tell me what you think, I will tell you the actual history of the house.”

“But why can't you just present the parents with the history?”

“Because you need to become confident in what you can sense before you use the history to back it up. Just trust me on this.”

Marilyn took the envelope and said she'd call William later. She got back in her car and drove home wondering if the house she was going to look at would give her a definite sense or not. Later that day she went out to dinner with friends, but she did not mention William or her new adventure in being a Psychic. Frankly, she was embarrassed by it still. Her friends were all college graduates who were skeptics. Only her High School friend Lisa would have taken her seriously and been overjoyed at her interest in the mystical. Lisa was, after all, a self-proclaimed Wiccan.

Monday Marilyn drove out of town to the big city and found Pennsylvania Avenue. She parked on a tree-lined road in a nice neighborhood. When she got out of the car and approached the two story house she guessed it was built between 1900 and 1920. It was a nice house, well maintained. At first glance it seemed like the perfect investment for a growing family. She met the mother and father by their Minivan and they introduced her to their daughter Amber. Amber didn't say much when Marilyn was introduced to her.

Mr. and Mrs Calhoun invited Marilyn up into the house while Amber stood outside of the Minivan waiting. Marilyn walked up the steps to the porch and then up several more steps onto the porch itself. They entered the house and Marilyn stood inside the door way for a moment. A wave of anger, pain and panic overcame her quickly. Normally she would have dismissed it as nervousness or pressed on, sure it was just in her mind. But this time, she indulged it and thought about it.

Marilyn slowly walked through the living room and into the kitchen, then back out into the hallway again. She stopped at the stairs and looked at the puzzled couple. “Something bad definitely happened here. I can feel it. If will excuse me for a second, I need to use the restroom.”

The couple glanced at each other and then pointed her toward the bathroom. She slipped inside the small room off the kitchen and shut the door. She locked it and then pulled out her cell phone to text William. She told him she got a very negative feeling about the house.

He texted her back almost immediately. “Yes, a woman was murdered there in 1984.”
“What happened?”

“Her boyfriend came over and they had a fight in the kitchen. He grabbed a knife and stabbed her. She ran from the kitchen into the hallway.”

“And died by the stairs,” Marilyn guessed.

“Yep. House was put up for auction. A newly married couple bought it and divorced shortly after.”

“And it has has sat empty ever since?”

“Yes. It has.”

Marilyn came out of the restroom and then went back to the man and woman who were whispering to one another. She finished telling them about the negative energy in the house, including the information that William had just texted her. “You can try to clear the air and make peace with the place, but I think you are better off just buying another house. This one isn't right for you.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Calhoun said. She looked a little relieved that her daughter wasn't crazy.

The father still wasn't convinced. Reluctantly, he pulled out his checkbook and handed her a check for $250. Marilyn thanked him and then left. The reading had only taken about fifteen minutes, but that was all that was needed.

The next day Marilyn texted William and asked him what the Calhoun's had decided. William informed her that they had decided to get a second opinion. The real estate agent sent someone over that the bank recommended. That man told the Calhoun's that nothing was wrong with the place, but did a Sage Ceremony anyway. Amber still refused to set foot in the house. Mrs. Calhoun was ready to look at another place even though her husband wasn't happy about giving up on the house on Pennsylvania Avenue.

“Can some places not be cleansed?” Marilyn wanted to know.

“Some events leave an indelible imprints on the places in which they happened.”

Marilyn's next assignment was a more of a challenge. She was given the address of an abandoned school. An Outreach Program was looking to buy the abandoned piece of property, but the representatives from the Outreach Program all got spooked and came back saying it wasn't a wise idea to use the school for their program. The investors and people who made donations to this group were frustrated. They thought it was the most strategic spot to begin their clean up of the neighborhood. No other property in the area would provide the space they needed.

When Marilyn entered the neighborhood, so felt lost, empty and sad. Old houses were falling down, but people still lived in them. Windows were boarded up, but children played outside while their families talked on the broken porches. No one was bothering to mow their lawns. The grass was knee high or had been beaten down into dirt patches. Weeds poked up between broken sidewalks and many houses had fences around them. Graffiti covered the blank cement walls and crumbling shells of buildings.

The school was on a corner lot nestled into a hillside. She parked in the empty lot and met with two men. Wyatt was from the Outreach Program and Noah was from the investment firm. They let her in the door and showed her around. She followed them passed the office and down a set of stairs to one set of class rooms. They cut through a gymnasium and then over into a cafeteria. Tables, chairs and desks remained in many of the classrooms. They were left sitting as if the school day had just ended.

Marilyn stopped in one of the empty hallways and said, “This school wasn't a bad place when it was open. I feel the kids were happy for the most part.”

Wyatt and Noah shot each other a look, but said nothing. She wasn't sure if it was an “I told you so” look or a “how the hell does she know?” look

Marilyn continued, “But once the funding was cut and the school closed, horrible things did happen. There was a little girl who was raped and murdered by some men in the bathroom over there. And there was a little boy who was shot by some gang members outside. His body was brought in and dumped in the cafeteria. This place will see nothing but trouble if you re-open it. It needs to be bulldozed. This is not where you want the center of hope to be. This is not the place for your program.”

This time she didn't have to text William. This time he'd given her an envelope with related news stories ahead of time, but challenged her not to look at them until after she was inside the place. And that is what she did. She trusted her instincts and told them what she thought. The thanked her and showed her back to her car. The $250 had been transferred to her account. Noah and Wyatt walked back over to their black SUV and talked as Marilyn turned on her car and peaked at the contents of the envelope sitting on her passenger seat.

There were several newspapers clippings. Several showed students in the 90s winning games and excelling in academics. The last few clippings were about crimes that had taken place in and around the school since it shut its doors in 2002. There was a number of drug related crimes, but also two murders. She'd been dead on, so to speak. She sighed, feeling both happy at her ability and sad that she'd been right about murders.

Later that day she received an email from William saying that Noah and Wyatt had returned with the decision not to invest in the school after all. They trusted Marilyn's input and were looking elsewhere for their Outreach Program. Marilyn was beginning to trust her feelings and was ready to take on more clients. William told her that he knew she could do it and sent her several clients to contact and set meetings up with.

Author's Note

To Be Continued