Beneath the Elder Tree Read Free Page A

look. Why don’t you give yourself a mature makeover?’
       ‘I said spirits who are here a long time can change their appearance. I’ve only been here nineteen years, since you were born, and that’s not enough time for a spirit guide to learn all the tricks of the mirror world.’
       ‘How long does it take?’
       ‘It can take decades for most spirits. Some can-’ She shook her head and her eyes flashed red. ‘I don’t want to talk about this right now. Let’s change the subject.’
       I didn’t press her, even though I knew she was hiding something from me. I was getting a sense that there was a lot more to the mirror world than what she’d told me thus far. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know; the whole notion of being trapped in a parallel universe, or whatever it was, had me scared stiff. I just wanted to go back to my normal life. I wanted to go back to having a life.
       My grim musing was then interrupted. Approaching us was the blurred image of a guy I had a bit of crush on. He was strutting up the pavement towards us and my gaze became hooked on him. I’d watched him in the local nightclub almost every Saturday night for the last year but had never built up the courage to talk to him. I slowed as he passed us and admired him one last time. He was still as alluring as ever.
       ‘Stop that.’ Emily’s eyes flashed red yet again. ‘Let it go.’
       ‘Stop what? I wasn’t doing anything.’
       ‘Why are you denying it? There’s no lying in this world, Lucy. We both know exactly what you were doing and it’s not permitted here.’
       ‘I was just looking at him, Emily.’
       ‘You have to forget about lust and love, Lucy.’
       ‘You’re just jealous because nobody checks you out.’
       ‘Nobody is checking you out either.’
       ‘At least my eyes don’t change colour.’
       ‘Don’t they?’
       ‘Do they?’
       She stopped by a café and pushed me close to the front window so that I could see my reflection. To my astonishment the irises of my eyes were rising from purple to bright orange.
       ‘Why do they change colour like this?’ I wondered, moving my face closer to the glass. ‘Does it serve a purpose?’
       ‘It’s to do with the emotions we feel. Orange, pink and purple reflect levels of tranquillity and curiosity, blue displays sorrow, red betrays anger, white is a representation of fear.’
       I stared at my reflection, purposely dwelling on the bitterness I felt about being dead. The colour of my irises rose from a subtle orange to a blazing red. Being dead was tragic. Being able to change the colour of my eyes was rather wondrous.
       ‘I know it looks cool but try not to concentrate on feelings that make you angry.’
       ‘That won’t be easy. I’m dead, you know. I’m not feeling very good about things at the moment.’
       ‘These emotions will pass in time.’
       I allowed the anger to dissipate and my eyes returned to a more neutral colour. I continued to watch myself for a few moments more, and noticed it wasn’t just my eyes that had changed through death. My body was thinner and my skin seemed to have a sheen that made me look like a waxwork figure. There were deep shadows encompassing my eyes, and my cheeks were sunken. I looked inhuman. At least my long black hair hadn’t thinned out like my limbs had. It meant I retained some of my living appearance.
       ‘How come I can see my reflection if I’m not really here?’
       ‘Because we interact with the world of the living on a basic level. Oh, remember to stay away from flash photography. It’s the only thing that can pick up traces of us. Believe me, you don’t want to spark off any ghost stories or scare some poor tourist half to death when he uploads his holiday snaps to his laptop.’
       ‘So those photographs you see from time to time with smudged faces of people that weren’t there are actually real?’
       ‘Most are