Finding the body of the girl was shocking to anyone but it was the most devastating for the parents. Mr and Mrs Cruz were standing in front of it, which was covered with a grey blanket. The couple were holding hands tight. Then the mother let Paul’s hands go and Paul had to catch his wife because she was about to collapse.
’Mrs Cruz are you sure you want to…’ - the medical examiner asked.
’Just pull out that damn blanket for God’s sake!’ – she was wailing.
But they were not ready. Nobody is ready for seeing his or her own child’s lifeless body. Then, after the doctor pulled the blanket up, the mother broke out crying in desperation. She went down on her knees, holding her husband’s legs. Her voice was not human now, it was taken over by some otherwordly painful sorrow. Paul was shaking his head, refusing everything that he was just seeing but facing a terrible truth made him cry too, hugging his wife. There was no point in saying anything. The grievous moment was putting weight on us all around the scene. Everyone was feeling the same pain.
And Leah was there, standing near her parents, watching them in silence. I had to contact her later. We looked at each other and we didn’t have to talk. She exactly knew what I was thinking of: that we were going to meet in the meadow down the road, not far from the crime scene, when the people were gone.
By the time I got home, it was drizzling. The air was damp in the wet and motionless ranch, crickets were chirping in the background. Despite being a bit chilly, I decided to stay on the porch: I took out a bottle of Jim Beam from the fridge (the one I had brought from Seattle was long gone, haha) and poured some into a glass. Then I covered myself with a blanket, sat down on a chair and was trying to relax. Instead, different pictures of my childhood and my old life came to my mind.
I remembered the first time I met one like them. He was called Scott and we played a lot together in the playground. At least, I thought he was a real friend until my parents and other parents started worrying about me. I was different. Up to a certain level, it is normal for a child to have an imaginary friend but when you couldn’t wait to meet him and play with him, that was a concern. What the weirdest thing must have been to my parents was that I would rather have chosen him to play with than with real children. That was a serious concern.
Then Scott told me he was murdered and wanted the police to catch his murderer. His case file was still open, I guess. He also said if I helped him, he would tell me where I could find some pocket money. Since was a loyal friend and I loved Scott as if he had been my brother, I was committed. One night, I sneaked out of our house and headed for the location Scott had mentioned. My reward was in an alley, in an abandoned black rucksack - some coins from a homeless person - exactly how it was described by Scott.
I think that was how my obsession with money started. I begged my parents to go to the police and let me explain what I knew about a child called Scott Hicks who I believed was murdered. My parents were reluctant at the beginning but if that was how I would give up on my strange habits, then they gave it a go. At the police station, I exactly told them what Scott had told me: that he was kidnapped in the street in broad daylight and was put into a dark basement and kept there for some time. But on one occasion, when he was given some food, there was a struggle and one of the kidnappers accidentally killed him. I gave them the same location and the description of the building.
The police put the building under surveillance just in case and they eventually were convinced that the people who lived in that building played roles in human trafficking activities. There was an ambush and the police found a group of human traffickers in the house and were able to link them with Scott. The clues that I gave to the police remained unexplained. My parents and the police just accepted it as a lucky hunch. It could happen, sure. But I knew I was different. Scott crossed in peace and I didn’t need to ask for pocket money from my parents anymore.
I trained myself and developed some practices in how to deal with them. I have read hundreds of books on the topic of the Afterlife and spirits but none of those books made it up for my first-hand experiences. I improved hundreds of techniques on how to summon them, how to send them away, and how to handle them; they do not differ from humans except for the fact that they are able to know anything they want.
Sometimes, however, I am really fed up with them. They are annoying, sometimes irritating making you feel guilty, but it is probably my subconsciousness that I feel so sorry for them.
Based on my interpretation and experiences, they are spirits who have stayed on Earth for different reasons. Most spirits cross and reach the Light but there is a number of them who remain here. I just call them remnants. They are trapped spirits; trapped by their emotions or unsolved problems of their past life. They are unable to let emotions or feelings go, which keeps them here. They are prevented from finding the way to Afterlife and refuse help from other entities because their personal goals are not fulfilled. Still, I think they could cross if they wanted but the thing is, they don’t want.
I cannot see those who have already crossed unless they want to show themselves; they are in a different dimension but those who are still connected to our physical world, can see me and I can see them.
Remnants are different from other spirits from the Afterlife because our passed relatives can visit us whenever they want; remnants just ignore them and all the members of “spiritual government” (if such a thing exists) as well. Remnants are always here in non-physical form; however, the way they sense is completely different from us: they probably do not sense time and space. It might seem that they have been here for a long but they may perceive this time as a minute.
Everything happened according to our plan. I went home, had a nap and I ventured out again. It was just my thing not wanting them in my house or where I lived. My home was a peaceful place and I wanted to keep it that way. And probably they had a glimpse at some ethical codex of the Universe or something because they, fortunately, did respect me and none of them had ever disturbed me in my home.
So I went home from the crime scene and waited until all the people went home and nobody could see me. Although it was still dark and probably cloudy as usual, the forest seemed somewhat more friendly. Despite the fact that I was alone, I did not feel threatened. When I arrived at the scene, there was not a soul, just as I hoped.
I approached the crime scene again and as I expected, she was standing near an old oak tree, her arms crossed.
‘You mentioned something about a garden.’ - I told her.
‘I thought you have changed. Isn’t it what you said?’ - she asked.
‘I am not gonna say what you want to hear. Do we have a deal or not?’ - I asked.
‘We do. But tell me one thing. Why are you helping me?’
‘What kind of question is that? I have no secrets in front of you! You can see all my thoughts and emotions! You know everything, even how many times I go to shit a day! You have the answer!’
‘Yeah, well, I know that you are a selfish greedy bastard whom nothing interests but money. But hey, I can read your mind, you know that and do you know what I can see?’
‘Please, don’t read me!’
‘Well, I don’t even have to read you, just by looking into your eyes I can tell you that you feel terribly sorry for me! Mr Marsh, you may want to look like a tough wannabe villain but in the deep, you do have a heart!’
‘Right! So why are you telling me this if you know the answer? Taking advantage of being a ghost, huh?’
‘I just wanted to hear it from you! And you know what? ‘I also know you would ask me out for a date right now if I were alive!’
‘Well, you look much prettier than on the riverbank.’
‘Hey, fuck you, man!’
‘Well, yeah, I am sorry. It was below the belt, I know. So let’s get down to business.’
‘Tell me something, Mark. Don’t you feel guilty about what you do? Taking advantage of your gift by exploiting innocent and vulnerable people? Stealing their savings, that that they could only ’
‘Hey, let’s clear up something here. You are the one who found me. And if it wasn’t for me, you would get stuck here forever, in this shithole. So it is basically you, who owe me and yes, I absolutely want to be compensated. And please, don’t be a hypocrite! You should know how important money is in this fucking physical world! So whoever’s money I take, that person contributes to a better world, because I am the one who fights the bad guys!’
‘Are you? You would be nothing without us! You wouldn’t be able to give clues to the police and look at you, anyway! Even with your wonderful gift, you are so miserable, you are on the run and you can’t even have a decent life! The money provided by your “clients”, so to speak also goes down the toilet because you just spend it on alcohol, women and drugs! ’
‘Who the fuck cares how I live or what I spend my money on, I help the police catch the bad guys! I am making the world a better place! But anyway, why should I explain myself? You are nobody to me!’
‘I am not sure your spiritual guides would agree with you.’
‘I don’t give a damn. So who was your murderer? I can’t wait to see his face when the police ambush that motherfucker!’
It was very obvious why Leah stayed there. The bond between some remnants and humans can be several negative emotions like hatred, anger, malice, loathing, jealousy, and resentment, which are all barriers and keep these remnants here. These are heavy feelings and it is often difficult to let them go. But once the remnant learns how to set peace in their mind and let these feelings go, they will be able to go to Afterlife.
Most remnants who I come across and were murdered are looking for the truth primarily to bring peace to their families. In this particular case, Lead was unable to let the truth go away. She just wanted to make sure the truth would come out about what had happened to her.
Before Liah could answer anything, I noticed somebody moving behind me.
‘You can’t sleep, son?’
I jumped.
‘Oh my god, sheriff. You scared the shit out of me!’ - I said.
‘To be honest, if it was anybody but you around here, I would have taken him to the station. It’s rather strange that someone is walking around a crime scene late at night, isn’t it? I thought you had gone home.’
‘Well yeah, but I couldn’t sleep. You know, I just can’t get my head around the fact that you told me. That crime rate is so high in this seemingly peaceful place.’ - I tried to find an excuse.
‘Yeah, so you don’t feel safe here, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Still, you have come out here, where the murderer could be around.
‘I am not afraid. I have learnt a lot of things the hard way, sheriff. I know how I can protect myself. But it’s not a crime to take a morning walk, is it?’
‘No. As long as you don’t cross the crime scene line.’
‘What? First of all, it was you who wanted me to join you. Secondly, as soon as I saw the body and the crying family, I decided to help to catch the bastard, whoever did this. So I have come here in the hope of finding some clues or something.’
‘So have you?’
‘Not yet. But murderers like going back to the crime scene, you know.’
‘Well, if you have such a great eye for police work, how about helping us?’
‘What…what do you mean?’
‘I am sure Noah and the mayor have already told you about the increasing crimes here. Things don’t look good at the moment, my son and my goals are to stop crime and set the peace back in this town as it was before. But you, on the other hand, are new here. You have no friends, no conflicts, no business with anyone. You could just mingle with the locals.’
I started to understand where it was going. It was something I didn’t want.
‘I am not sure that’s a good idea.’
‘Oh, I am sure it is. Who could have a better insight into crimes than a criminal itself? Yeah, that’s right kid, I know why are here. Before you came here, I did some background checks on you and what I saw took me by surprise. You are wanted for theft and you are on the run. A phone call and the federal agents will be here. You know, there is an extradition agreement between the US and Canada, right? But I can keep my mouth shut and you can stay here in peace, you can have a decent job, rent your accommodation as long as you give me something in return.’
Now I was trapped.
‘Are you blackmailing me?’
‘Call it what you want, kid. I am just saying, all you have to do is to report any suspicious activities that you witness: shoplifting, burglaries, domestic violence, physical attack: just be on the lookout, that’s it. Be especially cautious about this murder. Look around, ask around, nose around and we may catch the culprit. And you won’t have to worry about the US authorities.’ - he said. A cool breeze started stroking my face.
‘Now go home, son. It was a long night.’ - he added.
At least, that was something I could agree with him.
So what could I do? I took the sheriff’s offer and told him to keep in touch. Since I was hiding from the police, I needed to cooperate. There was a federal arrest warrant on my head. During my last mission, maybe I went too far: a remnant in the shape of an old lady found me to help her reveal her murderer. The first suspect was the husband but the murderer wasn’t him but his lover. The women committed the murder alone and the husband had nothing to do with it. All I needed to do was to attract the attention to an important clue: Mrs Rios had a cat and the cat rubbed around her leg that night and the hairs got stuck on her boots. Additional circumstances proved that the only way she could get those hairs was that she had to be at the scene around that time.
To return the favour, the remnant gave me the day and time when I could break into their mansion safely and told me the code for her safe - even the husband didn’t know the code by the way. So I managed to get into the house, I found the safe and the code did work. Unluckily, however, the husband came home, saw me and he activated the security system. After a few days, my face was all around the media and I lost the money while making off. I was hiding in one of my friend’s basement, using a VPN on an old computer to find a place to go and plan my escape. I got some clothes, food, cash and whiskey, of course, then I left in the middle of the night without telling my friend where I was going (I also deleted everything in my browser). The only mistake I made was that I didn’t change my ID and I thought I could cover my ass on this island.
I wonder if Emma Rios misled me or if she didn’t know that the husband, Ben would come home. I think even remnants cannot predict the future - I don’t think it’s something determined. But I couldn’t ask her to explain herself because, by the time her murderer was found, she had already crossed to the Light and I was on my way to Black Rain.
Anyway, that was the only occasion I allowed someone to pay me after the job and not before. Never ever.
You see, that’s why I wanted to break up with my old life.
***
I was so tired that I just wanted to go home, to my trailer house, my new home, which seemed to be the perfect hideout for me and it was probable that I would have to spend quite a long time there. While I was thinking of laying in my bed, I noticed something and I realised the night wasn’t over yet.
‘It seems someone has the chance to make up for your bad deeds!’ - Leah was standing outside my fence. I appreciated that she didn’t break into my privacy though.
‘You find it funny, huh?’
‘It is funny to me. You will have to report anything which is a crime, including theft!’
‘Yeah. But you don’t want me to rat myself on, do you?’
‘That would be a proper payoff. Your spiritual guides out there would appreciate it, I think.’
‘Look, I am exhausted, would you please tell me about the garden you mentioned and how to solve your case?’
‘There is a huge brown barn at the end of Bay View Lane. You won’t miss it. An old couple lives there, Mr and Mrs Graham. Mrs Graham is a real nagger and her poor husband lives like a prisoner. Not to mention that Mrs Graham is a spender and the husband tries to hide as much money as he can, to save up for their grandchildren. Some of his cash is buried at one of the corners of their garden. I am not gonna tell you where his other savings are though -. The fence is slightly damaged, so you can get it easily. Once you are “paid”, we can meet here again and talk about my business.’ - she said.
That was all fine by me, so we then said goodbye and went into my trailer because I was so sleepy that I almost fell on the floor. I laid down in bed and listened to the sound of the raindrops as they started to hit the roof. In a few seconds, I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up at around noon. I was supposed to help Carol Moreau with the shopping but I didn’t care. I already quit. They would notice, haha. I was waiting for the end of the day so I could venture out to the address Liah had given me. Just before it got dark, I dressed up, took a flashlight from the drawer (I had already done some shopping a few times), and poured a glass of Jim Beam. I needed some whiskey to calm down my nerves. I drank it and stepped out of my trailer and started walking toward my car. Since I was going to resign, I would have to give the car back to the town hall but I would probably just rent it from them. I was going to live on my own, wouldn’t I?
As I was thinking about these things, something caught my eyes and I stopped. I was looking at a rock on the side of the mountain and a figure on it. He was standing on the peak, waited for a few seconds and jumped into the depth.
‘Oh my god!’ - I said.
But I knew what I had seen. Because it hadn’t been the first time I saw it. It wasn’t a remnant. It was a residue. I could recognise them from hundreds of miles away.
I would say, residues are mental expressions of the personality triggered by a traumatic event. They are connected to a place to repeat the same thing over and over. This one jumped into the deep repeatedly. Unlike remnants or spirits, residues have a very limited consciousness with the fragment of personality and emotions, the person had at the particular traumatic moment. Residues contain the traits of the original personality but the whole consciousness is not present.
They are the everlasting remains of our emotions. They outlive us and never stop. They are our silent representatives of our us. They will always remember the moment we created them, carrying the residues of feelings left behind, regardless of their nature: happiness, delight, ecstasy, joyfulness, sadness, depression, grief, sorrow or darkness.
They are everywhere. They carry the sensation of the present or the past. If you listen to these feelings, they talk to you.
They are the talking memories.
If you are sensitive, you can even sense them. Mediums usually do.
First, when I saw them, I had no idea what they were. I tried to talk to them but they never answered. Then I realised, they couldn’t be remnants, they were something else. I found them interesting though as they did the same things over and over. They are connected to a certain location or object and they become inseparable.
So when those “ghosthunters” visit a haunted building, what they experience are not ghosts but residues actually - the fragments of someone’s memory. They are attached to the walls, the carpet, the posts, the stairs and other objects. When they produce sounds and visual appearance - screams, voices, shadows - the phenomenon is called residual haunting. But they do these things on-intentionally, they don’t even know they exist.
Old hotels, mansions, hospitals abandoned asylums, cemeteries, prisons, historical battlefields, and crime scenes are the best examples of a residual haunting because traumatic events were very frequent at these places. Why do you think some houses or hotel rooms where brutal murders took place are haunted? Can you imagine how many residues could be in an area where earthquakes or other natural disasters happened? You might have heard stories of the earthquake in Japan in 2004…
Poltergeist is a similar thing, their existence is in a foggy, vague state. They do not exactly know what is happening to them; they are the prisoners of the physical dimension. And the reason why they move objects or disturb electrical appliances.
I normally don’t have business with residues. How could I, anyway? They are not intelligent, I can’t benefit from them. But if I wanted to, I could probably solve thousands of unsolved murder cases just by observing these residues at crime scenes. At the same time, that would be suicide. Hundreds of criminals and murderers would try to hunt me down and kill me because I could have them put in prison in no time.
Now you probably understand why I don’t talk about my gift to anyone. I would be dead. I only work for the Other Side and not the living people. They would quickly realise what I can do and everyone would want me to find out what happened to their relatives or family members. So it is better to keep a low profile.
When I notice a residue, it’s only my personal interest that could make me investigate. If I find them interesting enough, I might do some research but the cause of death I find are usually accidents.
I was still standing there, between my trailer and the fence and I was watching the rock.
I didn’t want to be distracted from my mission but that residue I had been seeing made me feel uncomfortable.