The Seven Spirits

Megan laid her book flat on her desk and rubbed her face. How can I be out of breath and exhausted just from reading? Connor stood next her.

"Wha'cha reading?" She peeked at him through her fingers.

"Under the Bleachers by Seymour Buttes," Megan's voice dripped with sarcasm. Connor smiled cunningly.

"Have you read his other works with I. P. Freely?" Megan laughed.

"What is it called?"

"Yellow Spots on the Wall." She placed her forehead on her desk and shook her head. Bantering with him is so much fun.

"Anyway," Connor continued, "Anything you wanna do tonight? It is Friday." Megan sat back and folded her arms. 

"I think another go at the seance thing would be nice, don't you think?" Connor's eyebrows shot up his face. 

"I thought you didn't like that stuff." Megan shrugged. 

"I've gotten a little more curious about the supernatural," she said casually. That dream has me spooked.

They were back at Madam Agatha's seance house once again. The perfumes stung her eyes and the air was heavier than she remembered. 

"Welcome back," Madam Agatha said mystically after she had recognized them. Connor hung up their jackets. This time with them there was an older couple, maybe in their late sixties, with walkers and all. Agatha gently seated all of them. There wasn't a weegie board, but just a crystal ball that seemed to have smoke or fog inside it. It was constantly swirling and twisting. Almost entrancing. 

"Now," She said quietly, after everyone was seated comfortably, "Who would like to go first?" Waiting a moment, Megan slowly raised her hand and said she would. 

Madam Agatha took both of her hands in hers across the table, the crystal ball between their hands. 

The End

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