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    Soul Mates
    Soul Mates
    Soul Mates
    Ebook269 pages4 hours

    Soul Mates

    By Charles G. Dyer

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    About this ebook

    When Martin Williams wakes up in Elly Blake's body, he sets wheels in motion that will deeply affect him as well as three other people. Not even his old Indian shaman friend can explain what happened in the spirit world. Egged on by her mother, Elly reluctantly befriends Martin. The shaky relationship introduces her to the spirit world.
    It's a domain in which the age-old battle of good versus evil is fought. She meets her spirit guide, and is convinced to join the fight against demons. She finds that dealing with the death of her father could have been so much easier.
    Will she finally change her solitary ways and find love?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharles G. Dyer
    Release dateSep 17, 2014
    ISBN9781310849701
    Soul Mates
    Author

    Charles G. Dyer

    Charles Dyer is a consulting engineer, former senior lecturer and former technical magazine editor. He creates 3D models to help with visualisation and realism in his writing.

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      Book preview

      Soul Mates - Charles G. Dyer

      Soul Mates

      CHARLES G. DYER

      Copyright © 2014 Charles G. Dyer

      All rights reserved.

      ISBN: 9781310849701

      Smashwords Edition

      License

      Thank you for purchasing this book. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

      It would be greatly appreciated if you could post a review on the site where you purchased this book.

      CONTENTS

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty One

      Epilogue

      About The Author

      CHAPTER ONE

      My vivid imagination often ran wild during the day as well as at night. Sleep never came easily to me. Sometimes, I was not sure if my visions were the products of actual sleep or waking dreams.

      Waking up in the small hours, and tossing and turning in an attempt to snatch a few more hours of rest was a part of my life. So, it came as no surprise when it happened.

      What was a terrible shock was the realisation that something very personal and important to me was missing. A sudden sharp pain between my legs, such as one might expect from an insect bite, made me scratch.

      Finding that part of me was missing had me on the verge of panic. I whipped the covers off and turned on the bedside lamp. The wristwatch that I never took off was nowhere to be seen. An unfamiliar digital clock showed 3:08 a.m., but I was not at all interested in the time.

      I tore my pyjama pants off and stared between my legs with a complete lack of comprehension. My name was Martin, not Martina. The sight that greeted me told another story, one that had me gaping and gasping like a dying fish.

      Whenever I'm nervous or put out in any way, I have this silly almost involuntary habit of running my hand through my hair. Silky soft long tresses of someone else's luxuriant mane replaced the familiar bristly feel that was my brush-cut crown.

      In the few hours that I had been asleep, my sex had changed from male to female. My shaking hands wrenched the tee shirt off to expose a pair of nicely shaped breasts. I had to brush aside a tangle of auburn ringlets as I pinched one of them to examine the pale sun-bleached terracotta areola that was at least double the diameter of the nipples that ought to have been there. Geez, it'll take a half-dollar coin to cover them.

      I slapped my face hard, hoping to wake up from the ghastly nightmare. The painful stinging did nothing to change the situation. Stumbling to the closet, I opened it and stared at the figure in the full-length mirror that was fixed to the closet door that I did not possess.

      A petite well-endowed and completely naked girl looked back at me with eyes open as wide as they could go. Geez! The breathless voice was unlike mine, but her lips moved in unison with my exclamation.

      She was the epitome of my fantasy woman. The only girl or woman I had ever seen naked was my ex-girlfriend. She wasn't a patch on this girl.

      Clearly, my male brain had not fully connected with the female body that it occupied. I should have felt instantly aroused. That was definitely not happening. The sight of her horrified me.

      I was too distraught to really appreciate her beauty. I couldn't string two coherent thoughts together. It was as though my mind was filled with the babble of thousands of people, and not one of them articulated a single intelligible word.

      Granted there had been the odd occasion in my life when I had wished that I had been born a girl. I couldn't help thinking that this was some kind of punishment, some kind of delayed action fulfilment of those wishes. Wishful thinking is dangerous because the wishes may come true.

      As I stood gaping into the mirror, my mind cleared enough to begin a critical assessment of the girl whose body I had commandeered. Geez! What the hell's going on?

      Her face reflected my extreme consternation. It was a far cry from the face I knew and occasionally despised for being a bit too gaunt. My face was supposed to be squarish with a slightly weathered look. Hers was heart-shaped, and like the rest of her body, it was pale. Paler than I'd have expected of a Southern girl, and much paler than mine. Her bright green eyes blinked at me. My eyes were steel-grey. The only fault I could find was that her nose was maybe a bit longer than I would have liked.

      The only bodily hair that I could see was a smattering of light brown fluff on her forearms. I wondered if she shaved or if she had undergone some torturous treatment, such as laser hair removal or wax. I hoped it was the permanent laser rather than the regular wax. I hated shaving and my efforts were limited to my face. The thought of having to shave under my arms and the length of my legs left me cold.

      Her body was slim, but not skinny. Curiosity made me run my hands up her belly and over her breasts. They wobbled provocatively as I released them. STOP! You idiot. WAKE UP! If this isn't a dream, I've got to do something, but what?

      Suddenly, the whole world had grown larger. Door handles were at the wrong height. I felt as small as I had in my freshman year in high school.

      Instead of my suits and other masculine clothing, the shelves and hanging spaces were filled with dresses, skirts and blouses. It was mostly the sort of elegant clothing that one expected a businesswoman to wear.

      It then dawned on me that none of the furnishings in the room were familiar. I was shaking like a leaf in a storm, and my legs felt as though they would not hold me up for much longer.

      I forced myself to walk across the room to the dressing table. It was a Dolly Varden, antiqued in turquoise and white with three drawers on either side. The stool had an inset cushion that was upholstered with a patchwork of hexagonal floral prints.

      There I found a cell phone and a purse. I opened the purse and found a driving licence. The pretty girl in the photo was the one from the mirror.

      Her name was Blake, Eleonora Louise. According to the licence, she was 5' 1" tall, and she was more or less the same age as me. I was nearly twenty-six, but she had just passed that age. The home address of 788 Camelot Lane, Hunter's Creek Village, Houston, Texas was not where I lived. At least it's the same city. Details as fine as this just don't happen in dreams.

      I went over to the floral print curtains and opened them a crack. Between the security lights of this house and the one across the road, I could just make out the details of driveways, lawns and flowerbeds, and a quiet suburban street. Not my street!

      The rustic chunky pine double bed had me puzzled because the closet full of female attire suggested to me that she was single. She also had no rings on any of her fingers. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to take any chances on her being alone in the house or commune or whatever it was that she lived in.

      I pulled the tee shirt back on and stepped into the short pyjama pants. Carefully opening the door so as not to disturb any other potential residents, I looked into the gloom of an unlit passage that went off in two directions.

      The one leg of the passage had four doors that I could see, one of which was open. I tiptoed towards it. Thankfully, it turned out to be a bathroom.

      I found a light switch and turned it on then closed the door behind me. Splashing cold water on my face did not wake me up. The bathroom mirror showed the self-inflicted red marks on my cheek that was a stark reminder of my earlier attempt to extricate myself from the awful dream.

      I peered at the unfamiliar face. Gone was the scar above my left eyebrow as was the one on my right cheek. I checked my body for my old appendectomy scar. It too was nowhere to be found.

      I was still too stunned to voice my horror. I had sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a woman, but never in any of my wildest dreams had I thought that I would be one.

      Not a single thought was remotely connected to this woman, Eleonora. I was still Martin, a graduate civil engineer who worked for a firm of consulting engineers. How the hell can I go to work looking like this?

      The bathroom scale registered 98 pounds. My weight was 170. I can't be imaging all this. She's got a bit of extra weight on her butt. I absently gripped her buttock cheeks and wobbled them to confirm my suspicions.

      I crept out of the bathroom and headed down the other darkened passage to see what else I could find out about Eleonora. The first door was open to another bathroom. The kitchen, dining room, lounge and study followed that. All these doors were open. To me, that suggested that the remaining unopened doors must be to bedrooms.

      Three closed doors equals three other people, I rationalised. But who? Parents? Siblings? Roommates of some sort of commune? I went into the study and turned the light on.

      A wall of shelves straddled a built-in desk. The books were an eclectic collection of classics, fantasy, science fiction, history, art, philosophy and psychology. The last category made me think that I might soon need that kind of professional help.

      My own choices of books were similar except that engineering and computers replaced the social sciences. I pulled out the chair and sat down.

      I pushed a button and the computer lit up. Anxious seconds went by as I prayed that Eleonora had no password protection.

      Exploring her files made me feel like a criminal or a Peeping Tom, not than anything erotic was to be found. Four separate hard drives provided her with two-and-a-half terabytes of storage space. There was no way that I was going to even scratch the surface before dawn

      The current documents tab gave me an insight into her character. She was working on a novel. Ah ha! Just like me, she's an aspirant author. If she had accomplished anything in that direction, I had not heard about it. I didn't think it wise to waste time reading her work.

      Like me, she kept copies of all her incoming and outgoing emails, but trashed the spam and junk mail. The emails were mostly related to research for her writing. It seemed that she shared that habit with me too.

      I wondered if her circle of friends was as small as mine was. Maybe her cellphone is where she does most of her socialising, I thought.

      A directory of photographs revealed that Eleonora had at least three digital cameras; a Pentax, a Nikon and an Olympus. The pictures showed an avid interest in a garden that I assumed belonged to the house I was in. There were hundreds of pictures of flowers, birds, trees and various animals, but none of people and none of Eleonora.

      I realised that the enigma that was Eleonora Louise Blake was not going to be solved by staring at her computer screen at 03:56. I checked the day and date to be sure that my transformation had not occurred over a longer period than three hours. Nope! Same day or night.

      Shutting the computer down, I thought, If I'm in her body then where the hell is she? Is my body still alive?

      In addition to the crazy situation, the night air had turned surprisingly chilly for summer, and it was getting to me. The skin on my arms was stippled with goosebumps. Her nipples had tightened and were poking through the thin material of the tee shirt.

      I crashed into a table in the dark passage. The sharp corner caught me on the thigh. Yah! I yelled a curse of pain and surprise. Shit! I hope that didn't wake anyone. I limped quickly to the bedroom.

      If this is a dream, then it's the most vivid and frightening one I've ever had. I got back into bed and prayed that I would wake up in the morning in my own body.

      I tried to put myself to sleep with a mantra that I repeated silently over and over. It's a dream! It has to be a dream. As usual, I flipped over from side to side for ages before sleep finally gave me a few moments of peace.

      ***

      I woke up with a start. The mess of hair on my, or rather her, pillow told me that sleep had not changed anything. My hands on her delightful breasts confirmed that I was still in Eleonora Blake's body. Geez! What now?

      My mind, however, told me I was Martin Williams. I had no memories at all of who or what Eleonora was. She did not wear a wristwatch as I did. The bedside clock showed 6:27 a.m. Time to get up and face whatever hell awaits me.

      A thousand questions tumbled through my brain. Not one of them was related to Eleonora. Sure, I wanted to know about her too, but I occupied her body. I had no idea where her mind was or what was going on in it.

      The thought of putting on a dress or a skirt was too much to bear. I might look like a beautiful girl, but no ways am I going to look like a drag queen. A search of the closet had me fretting over where she would keep her underwear. Mine was in a chest of drawers.

      Ah ha, her dressing table has drawers on each side of the stool. One drawer had socks and pantihose. Another contained a selection of bras. The third one had panties, and under one pile was a notebook.

      The notebook was actually a diary with minimal entries. Some sort of code marked various days that were nearly a month apart. Oh shit! I thought as the implications of her monthly cycles struck me.

      A quick check showed that I had at least a week to go before I had to worry about that aspect of femininity. I selected a silky soft pair of panties and pulled them on. They were surprisingly comfortable and pleasant against my skin… her skin.

      I opened the drawers on the other side. The top one contained a variety of perfume bottles, some of which had familiar names. The next one was filled with makeup paraphernalia, mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, nail polish and whatnot. I'm not painting myself like a clown. God, I wouldn't know what to put where. And, I'm sure as hell not going out smelling sexy.

      The bottom drawer contained several jewellery boxes and trays with accessories for her hair. I was not interested in any of that girlie kind of stuff.

      I yanked on a pair of denim jeans, socks and navy blue sneakers with white soles. It was so queer to be struggling into a size 32 C bra that I nearly had hysterics. I put on a plain white tee shirt and a cream shirt over that. It felt odd to be doing the buttons up because they were on the opposite side to what I was used to.

      It took a whole lot longer to brush Eleonora's head of lovely auburn hair into some semblance of order than it would have taken me to neaten up my close-cropped brown hair. It was silky soft and it smelled really good. I didn't know what to do with the long wavy tresses. Once the tangles were out, I flung it over my shoulders. It hung down to my waist.

      With teeth brushed and face washed, I lifted the toilet seat to have a pee. For a moment after I unzipped, I stood in front of the bowl in a state of confusion. Oh God, now I have to sit every time I go.

      I headed for the kitchen. There another surprise awaited me. A large dog basket contained a great black hound that might have been happier in the next-size-up basket.

      She stood up, stretched and pointed her backside at me with a wagging tail. OK, I guess she doesn't know who is lurking in her mistress's head?

      Hi. I petted the Labrador's shoulders. She stepped out of the basket and stood hinting at the door.

      I sighed, found the key on a nearby hook and unlocked it. The porch and neatly trimmed grass in the backyard was as strange to me as everything else. The dog went out and ran a circuit of the yard sniffing about and urinating in a few places.

      Familiarising myself with the layout of the kitchen distracted me enough to jump with fright when a woman's voice said, Good morning.

      I grabbed the counter top for support and let my heart drop from my throat. I turned and faced a middle-aged brunette woman in a dressing gown and slippers. Hi, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You should put bells on your slippers.

      You're up early, she said with a quizzical frown.

      I sucked in a deep breath. Yeah well, I couldn't sleep. And I'm totally not who you think I am. Who the hell are you?

      She filled the kettle with water. Have you fed Topsy?

      Oh, so that's the dog's name. No, I just got here and let her out. I've got no idea what the routines in this household are. Who am I kidding? I should just tell her what's going on. And just what exactly is that?

      The woman hooked two mugs off a rack and placed them on mats on the breakfast nook. I just had to know how many more people lived here.

      I hightailed it down the passage and found that the mystery doors were all open. I glanced into each room and found no evidence of any other residents. One room had an unmade bed, one was a study and music room with a piano, and the last one had a made-up bed, but the closet was empty. I surmised that it could be a guestroom.

      Huh, just Eleonora and her, what, mother or aunt or sister? Nah, she looks too old for that. The knowledge was next to useless. I went back to the kitchen, and decided to eat a cheese sandwich before saying anything.

      The woman had made a pot of tea. My usual breakfast beverage was coffee. I wondered what Eleonora normally ate. I hope to God that she's not a bloody vegetarian. I ate meat every day. Rare exceptions were infrequent fish dishes or some kind of spaghetti concoction.

      This dream was way beyond a joke, and I was growing more frightened by the minute. Am I crazy? What on Earth could have done this to me?

      So, aren't you going to fetch the paper, Elly? the woman asked.

      Sure. I got up and wandered down the passage into the lounge. My instincts proved correct. There was a door leading to a foyer where I saw the front door and a side door that I assumed led to the garage. I found keys on the sideboard and unlocked the front door.

      A short path lead to the driveway. I followed it and strolled down the drive taking in the strange scenery. The newspaper was wrapped in plastic and it lay in the middle of the drive not too far from the street.

      My earlier warped sense of gratitude for being in Eleonora's beautiful young body waned as I thought of how she, or rather I, would react to men hitting on her or me. I certainly did not relish the idea of having sex with a man.

      Would it have been any worse if I'd ended up in the body of an old hag? I shuddered at the thought. Be grateful for what you've got. Geez, this is so unbelievably crazy.

      I looked at the paper through the plastic. Houston Herald, Thursday… A working day! No ways am I going to work today.

      Back in the kitchen, I glumly munched on the cheese sandwich and washed each mouthful down with tea.

      You're a lot quieter than usual, the woman said.

      Hmm, I nodded. I'm not exactly feeling like myself today. I'm going to call in sick. I wasn't even sure if Eleonora had a job, or what hours she worked. I knew next to nothing about the woman.

      Ah, that explains the clothes. Why? What's wrong, Elly? she asked with obvious concern. Her lack of comment made me believe that Eleonora did in fact have a regular job.

      Will this strange woman understand? How can anybody understand what's happened to me? Maybe I should phone myself and see if I'm still me? Where the devil is poor Elly? I shook my head.

      Elly? She touched my hand.

      I jumped in shock. Uh… it's too… weird to explain, I mumbled. I gulped down the last of the tea and left the kitchen.

      ~##~

      CHAPTER TWO

      I

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