The Tidings - [Ghost Huntress 0.5 - A Christmas Novella]
companions of late.
    I try to shuck off the warning Farah gave. Not to end up like her. To take the time to appreciate life and enjoy things more. Can I? Is that possible when I have a gift like I do? When I’m visited by spirits like her? And now, I can expect three more spirits over the course of the night.
    WTF? Geez Louise! Who will they be? What will they expect of me? Do I need to get dressed and be ready, sitting on the edge of my bed?
    This is seriously the last thing I want to deal with right now.
    I turn off the nozzles of the shower and reach for a towel. The Downy-soft fabric is comforting against my skin as I wipe away the water. I shake off what happened earlier. The visit from Farah was nothing but an apparition. My mind playing tricks on me. My psychic abilities poking fun at me and making me see things that weren’t even there.
    Back in my room, I change into my flannel Sponge Bob—there will be no judging—pajamas and toe socks with the black cats on the bottom. I spend fifteen minutes upside down as I blow dry my hair, brushing it to smooth out the curls.
    Finally, I lie down on the bed and crawl under the covers. My teeth chatter slightly as I hear the familiar hiss of the heater coming to life. This is certainly no Chicago winter, but I’m still absolutely frozen to the bone. I squeeze my eyes shut, thinking the temperature drop might be due to paranormal activity. Can’t they leave me alone for one night?
    I peel my eyelids open and fortunately there aren’t any visitors in my room. All of the lights are off except for the ones that swirl around the tiny silver and pink Christmas tree I got out of the attic. The mauve hue reflecting off the tinsel warms and relaxes me as I sink deeper into my mattress.
    In the darkness, the shadows of two cat tails reflect on the side wall. Before I know it, Eleanor and Natalie hop up on the bed and end up in one big furry bundle at my feet, washing each other and purring at the same time. See, even my cats are busy multi-tasking.
    A deep sigh escapes from me as I close my eyes. Tomorrow’s a big day. Christmas Eve and all that the day implies. I have to be at the church early for the parishioner’s breakfast, followed by wrapping presents for the kids at the cancer hospital in Atlanta and other duties. Then, the icing of the day: Kaitlin’s big Christmas Eve performance, followed by Loreen and Mass’s wedding.
    My mouth yawns wide, nearly dislocating my jaw. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this tired before. It’s as though someone slipped me a Benadryl or five.
    Fighting the exhaustion won’t do me good anymore. Not when tomorrow is going to be a back breaker for me. I have to be on, on, on.
    Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I see that it’s a smidgen before eight-thirty. I know it’s early, but I’ll just meditate and unwind. My eyes flutter shut again and I start counting backwards from one hundred to help me relax.
    “One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. Ninety…”
    Next thing I know, I’m out like a light.

S TANZA 4: T HE F IRST V ISITING S PIRIT
     
     
    I wake up thirsty and needing to pee.
    Rolling over to my right, I try to see my clock, but it’s so damn dark, even the numbers aren’t illuminated. In fact, my entire room is blanketed in utter blackness. Either my pink Christmas tree burned out or someone unplugged it while I was asleep. I can’t make out any shapes, furniture, or windows in my room. It’s as though I’m in some sort of antechamber, locked away from everyone and everything. I squint into the darkness, wishing I had the excellent night vision that my cats possess. No such luck.
    Then I hear the clanging of the chimes from Mom’s grandfather clock. It sounds out, echoing around me almost, as I count along with the dongs. Twelve. It’s midnight already? Damn, I must have been more wiped than I thought if I’ve slept for almost four hours already. But how can I be hearing the grandfather
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