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It isn’t lost on me that I’m trusting my life to a Viking who evidently couldn’t find his way out of the cave when he was alive. I can only hope he mapped it out better in his creepy ghost phase.
After a few more moments of chasing Viking lights, I’m finally at the mouth of the cave.
I want to sink to my knees with glee that I won’t drown in the cave.
But I can’t because I’m still very much at risk of drowning in the open air. The currents are dangerously strong as they pull against my knees. I push forward, heading for the only side of the cove that isn’t a cliff.
The fog hasn’t cleared, and I can only hope I’m taking the quickest route possible.
My mental mantra starts up again.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Maybe I’m turning into an adrenaline junkie. I can see the draw. I certainly don’t feel numb now – the desire to live courses through my veins with renewed vigour.
Finally, the water grows more and more shallow. I don’t stop, even when I reach dry ground. I know the tide will catch up to me momentarily. Instead, I wheeze as I make my way back up the embankment, questioning my life choices.
I collapse onto the ground once I’m well above the tide lines. When I look down into the cove, I see the light of the Viking spirit fade away into nothingness.
I try to smile – it’s difficult to do when you’re gasping for breath and shivering.
While I can’t undo my past, this is something I can do that makes a difference, even if it’s only in the afterlife. I can help spirits find their way out of their tortured prisons, even if my own guilt keeps me in mine.
Chapter 6
WHILE I LOVE MOST ASPECTS OF LIVING ON THE NORTHERN COAST,the wind here is going to give me white hair.
Sure, you could laugh at the fact that a self-declared ghost-whisperer is afraid of wind. But when every building literally shakes from the force of the North Atlantic ‘breeze,’ a bit of wariness seems valid.
My apartment isn’t too far from campus, so I walk to save on parking and gas. Unfortunately, my quickest route cuts through a forest. And while this is usually a beautiful and relaxing walk, today’s wind is clearly out to destroy my peace of mind.
I hustle down the path, glaring at the thin, spindly trees that rattle and sway like wacky inflatable tube men.
Don’t you do it. Stay rootedwhere you belong.
Yeah, I mentally threaten trees. I’m not perfectly sane, I know.
The campus and the forest next to it both face the ocean. Logically, I know these trees have been buffeted by these gusts for longer than I’ve been alive. The evidence is in the dark green moss that hangs from every branch.
Today, the moss combines with the dappled sunlight from the overhead canopy to give the illusion that the forest is shivering. Or maybe that’s just my body – it’s cold enough.
I finally caved this morning and busted out my scarf and rubber boots – or my ‘all-seasons’ as they’re called out here.
I pick up my pace, eager to be well away from the dancing trees. All around me, I can see branches – some at least as thick as my arm, littering the forest floor.
Well, that’s slightly foreboding.
The path is empty, save for me. Maybe locals know better than to walk through forests during windstorms.
Or maybe a tree has already taken them out.
I should get these intrusive thoughts under control.
More than likely, most people are doing the sane thing and are still in bed, not out at the crack of dawn because a demented professor is a “morning person.”
I guess getting crushed by a tree would save me from my morning tutorial.
I’m in my third year of college, and the classes in my schedule this term are mostly fun to learn about. I’m double majoring in history and English, so I have the advantage of being able to pick and choose most of myclasses. A perk of double majors, the prerequisites are a bit more loosely defined than single majors.
