Apparitions of 7

 The wind blew shaking the panes of the window. The howl of winter sang through the trees of Charleston, chilling any passersby clear down to the bone. The shaking of the windows awoke Lois, who was normally a light sleeper anyways. She lay still for a moment, listening to the familiar sounds of December winds; rustling of tree branches, snow blowing across the ground like frozen sand, the shaking of the windows when the wind’s intensity increased.

And the scream.

The sound of the scream froze her blood more quickly than even the frigid outside. She leapt to her feet and rushed to her daughter’s room. She had never heard Colleen make a sound like that before.

She raced down the hallway, coming to the door. At the door she hesitated, and felt ashamed for doing so. Her daughter might be in danger, but something she could not explain made her fear what was on the other side of this door. Steeling herself, she turned the knob.

Colleen was curled in her bed, sobbing. Later on, Colleen would tell her that she could not recall the dream, nor the frantic sobs when her mother entered the room. What Lois would never forget was the white figure that had been hovering over her when she entered the room.

“That makes seven,” Vincent said matter of factly.

Gerald stared at the newspaper for a long moment then looked up at Vincent.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

Vincent felt frustrated. He knew Gerald could practically read minds. Shouldn’t he know already?

“I don’t know. Do something! Stop this!” Vincent exclaimed.

“It’s not anywhere near that simple. We don’t even really know what’s going on.”

“But you know something you haven’t been telling the rest of us,” James spoke out finally. “That night at the edge of the woods near my house. We could both feel something moving in the shadows of the trees, even though it didn’t make any sound. You went quiet for a long time. I thought maybe you were just scared out of your mind, and I was about to drag you back inside. But your eyes were clear. You were thinking. Concentrating on something, but I couldn’t figure out what. I kept looking where you were looking, but I couldn’t see anything,” James continued.

James stared out the window for a few moments, looking at the tree line behind Gerald’s house.

“Then you started whispering. Almost like you were talking to whatever was out there, but I couldn’t make out whatever it was you were saying.”

“Grey tongue.”

Everyone waited for Gerald to continue, and turned to stare at him when he didn’t.

Vincent decided to break the silence, “I know you probably think that answered something, but none of us have any idea what Grey tongue is. Do you get it when you kiss a dead chick?”

Gerald looked up to see Vincent grinning. Despite the circumstances, Vincent was trying to keep some humor about this. Gerald appreciated that.

“It’s the language that Silverhorn taught me. It’s how I use… what he taught me.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“How to use ‘it’, the energy between matter, the power of thought, spiritual energy. There are a lot of different ways to describe it. Silverhorn simply calls it The Grey.”

“How come he’s never contacted me?” Vincent demanded.

“He has, you just don’t remember it. He visits in dreams. When you’re ready it’ll all come to you at once.”

“Is that how it happened with you,” Vincent asked.

“No,” Gerald replied sheepishly.

“Then why is it supposed to happen to me that way?” Vincent asked, becoming irritated.

“I don’t know. Silverhorn simply informed me he could do it that way. I’m not sure what he’s waiting for. Because I could really use your help right now.” Gerald said.

“What are you talking about?” Vincent asked.

Gerald looked at James and Vincent, knowing there was not really words for this.