What Dreams May Come: A Paranormal Anthology
By Gail Harkins
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About this ebook
The supernatural world doesn’t confine itself to the days around All Hallows Eve, when the portals between worlds are open. Sometimes the spirits slip through and choose to linger. Sometimes they have never left.
Ghosts are not a topic of easy conversation, as the heroine in “Light and Shadows,” the first story in my short story anthology, “What Dreams May Come,” learns too well. And yet...the spirits will have their way. That cloying scent of magnolia where there should be none, a cat running berserk late at night, an image that watches us as we hover between sleep and wakefulness...Is it real or merely our imaginations? What can we do about it?
And, from a ghost’s perspective, why would we want to do anything? Bodyguard Victor Sun, the ghost in the second story, “The Guardian,” has never heard the words “Mission accomplished.” After his sudden death, he soldiers on, orchestrating the lives and loves of succeeding generations of the Li family, whom he swore to protect. But, can flesh and blood stand up to a ghost?
Can reality stand up to dreams? The title story, “What Dreams May Come,” begins with a recurring dream of ancient lovers that is sufficiently worrisome that Kate agrees to past life regression therapy. Is her financé Henry really the ancient warrior Hinto? If they are one and the same, is that a reason to end the engagement or for wedding bells to ring?
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What Dreams May Come - Gail Harkins
What Dreams May Come – A Paranormal Anthology
Gail Harkins
Copyright ©2012 Gail Dutton 2012
Published by Rainforest Press at Smashwords
Cover Design: Sean Dutton
Cover Photo: Gail Dutton
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Light and Shadows
What Dreams May Come
The Guardian
Afterword
Also Available
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to my husband Randy who, though he believes there’s a logical explanation for everything that goes bump in the night or merely stands and watches, provided invaluable encouragement and a critical eye. Any mistakes are mine.
Thanks also to my son Sean for lending his talents in the art department, and his patience as I said, Love it! Now can we just…?
and to my son Scott for his enthusiastic support in this and other literary endeavors.
Light and Shadows
1967 – The year my brother didn’t come home from Vietnam.
I awoke in the middle of the night. Senses alert. Straining for whatever awakened me. The scent of honeysuckle drifted through the open windows. Frogs croaked in the distance. Otherwise, my room was silent.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, scanning the darkness. In the blackest corner of my room, a column of light stood, indistinct, not quite hidden in the shadows.
Mother!
I screamed. She came running, feet slapping on the hardwood floor. Flipping on the light, she searched my room, my closet, under my bed. It was nothing, honey, just a cloud crossing the moon… tree branches swaying in the wind…maybe a reflection of the moon in the mirror...
Nothing. It was always nothing. I retrieved my old teddy bear from the closet and hugged it close, just the same.
Autumn came. Windows were closed and draperies drawn. There were no more shadows, no more ghosts.
1978 – The year I drank my first champagne.
The scent of magnolias permeated the sultry night air. Air conditioners worked overtime to keep apartment temperatures a relatively cool 90 degrees. My apartment didn’t have air conditioning, though. The cool marble library and the refrigerated computer room where I worked became my refuge. Any place to avoid my super-heated apartment. But, eventually, I had to come home.
It was nearly midnight as I crossed campus toward my apartment. Sidewalk shadows shortened and lengthened as others like me passed the street lamps lining campus paths. Soon, though, I was alone at the edge of campus, where the lights ended.
Crossing the street, a jukebox blast of Rod Steward escaped from Eskimo Joe’s as drinkers slipped out and began their march home. Two dogs and a cat – regulars – sat on the bar’s stone steps, waiting for their masters. Hey Shelley,
I called. The German shepherd raised her head and smiled, tongue lolling to the side as her tail thumped the warm steps. Hey, Gabes.
The cat rose and followed as I turned up the unlit alley behind the bar and approached the darkened house I called home.
I unlocked the door and stepped into the kitchen’s yellow light. Gabriel meowed and wrapped himself around my legs. I leaned down, stroked his fur and picked him up for a good nuzzle before pouring a dish of milk. When he was done, he batted open the old-fashioned screen door and left. I latched it behind him. The windows were open for whatever breeze