I missed my grandmother terribly after she passed away, and I wished that I could speak to her one more time.
One day, I stumbled upon a website for a psychic who claimed to be able to connect with the dead. Skeptical but intrigued, I decided to make an appointment.
When I arrived at the psychic’s office, I was nervous but excited. The psychic, a middle-aged woman with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, welcomed me warmly and led me to a small room with a table and two chairs. She asked me to sit down and relax, and then closed her eyes and began to concentrate.
I sat quietly, waiting for something to happen. After a few minutes, I felt a sudden chill run down my spine. I looked up at the psychic, who had opened her eyes and was staring directly at me.
“I sense a presence,” the psychic said, her voice low and intense. “It is someone very close to you.”
My heart began to race. “Is it my grandmother?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The psychic nodded. “Yes, I can feel her here. She wants to speak to you.”
I felt a lump in my throat as tears began to well up in my eyes. “What should I do?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Close your eyes and concentrate,” the psychic said. “Clear your mind and let her come to you.”
I did as I was told. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and then waited. After a few moments, I heard a voice in my head. It was my grandmother’s voice, clear as day.
“Rachel,” the voice said, “I’m here.”
I opened my eyes, startled. “Grandma?” I whispered.
The psychic nodded. “She’s here, Rachel. She’s speaking to you.”
I felt a surge of emotion wash over me. I had always wanted to speak to my grandmother one more time, and now I had the chance.
“Grandma, is it really you?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Yes, Rachel, it’s me,” the voice said.
I felt tears streaming down my face. “I miss you so much,” I said.
“I miss you too, Rachel,” the voice said. “But I have to go now. Remember, I love you.”
And then the voice was gone.
I sat in silence for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened. I felt a mixture of joy and sadness, and wondered if I would ever be able to speak to my grandmother again.
As I was leaving the psychic’s office, I felt a strange sensation. It was as if someone was watching me, following me. I looked around, but saw no one.
When I got home, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. I felt a cold breeze in the room, and heard strange noises in the hallway. I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
That night, I went to bed early, hoping to get some rest. But I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard my grandmother’s voice in my head.
And then, in the middle of the night, I felt something touch my shoulder. I opened my eyes, and saw my grandmother standing at the foot of my bed.
“Rachel,” my grandmother said, her voice low and raspy. “I need your help.”
I sat up, staring at her in disbelief. “Grandma? What’s wrong?”
“I’m trapped, Rachel,” my grandmother said, her eyes filled with fear