My Little Shadow: Chapter 8

Patterns in shadows reveal our darkest secrets

“Wow. That was some meditation, Sarah. I’ve not come up against anything like this before. The energy I connected with felt disjointed, if that makes sense.” Her steadying breath was shakier than she intended. “It was difficult to get a handle on it, but I did pick some stuff up.”

Legs crossed, elbows on my knees, I leaned forward, eager to hear what she’d encountered. “Of course. Start talking, lady.”

“Okay.” Wendy’s smile faltered, not quite reaching her eyes. “There’s a young girl here. Around ten or eleven years old. Feels like she lived years ago. She follows you around because she likes your energy.” A cloud of sadness descended over the room. “The girl likes the way you act like the mothers on television and in the movies. She’s lost. Craves a mother’s love. She didn’t have much of that in her life, as short as it was.”

Wendy stopped to pick at a loose string on her jeans. Captivated, she pulled and tugged at it while she talked. The mundane task allowed her to focus on the details of her interactions with my little shadow friend in her meditation.

“I heard her whispering to someone, but not what was being said. This other spirit was hiding from me. He was just outside my field of vision. When I asked her who she was whispering to, she told me she whispered to the ‘one who came before’ her. She got all quiet and fearful when I ask why they were important.” Wendy looked up at me, eyes wide and apprehensive. “The name Victor came to mind. I’m assuming Victor is the ‘one who came before her’. She likes to play games. He taught her the games she plays that brings her closer to his victims. He doesn’t like it when she refuses to play his games.”

The energy of the room changed tone, moving from sadness to worry to outright terror. I found it difficult to breathe, my breaths turned shallow and frantic. Hand to her throat, massaging it as if to encourage smooth, easy breathing, it was obvious Wendy felt it, too.

Sean, take it away. Please. This is not mine. This is not Wendy’s. Victor is doing this to us. He is exerting his power. I refuse to give him mine.

I reached out to my guardian for assistance. The vise of Anxiety gripping my chest, stealing my breaths, eased. My breathing settled. I reached across the coffee table to take Wendy’s hand.

“Wendy, remember to ask for help. Ask your guardian to take this away. It’s not yours.” When working with spirit it is important to remember that you are in control, not them. To relinquish your power is to allow them to be in control. It’s not always easy to remember to ask for help when you are in the thick of it, as Wendy was now. My job, as her spiritual counsellor was to help her work through it.

Her fingers squeezed mine. Red crescents throbbed where her nails dug into my skin. I endured it as I talked her down from the overwhelming panic invading her, directing her to the other side of it all.

“Look at me, Wen. You got this. Do not give him your power. He is trying to control you. Show him who has the power here.” Wide-eyed, panicked eyes bore into mine. I watched as she muttered the words to her guardian, needing the physical act of speaking to ground herself. Soft nods as the panic ebbed and flowed, a sense of calm taking its place. One last deep breath, a grateful smile, and Wendy was ready to continue.

“Thanks, Sarah. That was… was intense.” An uncomfortable laugh accompanied her words. “I panicked. Didn’t know what to do. Thanks for helping me. I appreciate it.”

“I get it, I really do. Had to ask Sean for help just before I helped you. This Victor is powerful. Vindictive. Resentful. He doesn’t like that I won’t let him in and hates that she won’t help him.” We stared at one another for a moment, allowing the energy to settle around us.

“Sarah, she enjoys being here with your family. She doesn’t want to leave. Crossing over is not what she is interested in. At all.” Wendy looked to her left, sensing the shadow girl there with her. They stared at one another, each trying to figure the other out.

“Yes, I know what you’re saying. I told her I could help her cross over the other day.” I laughed remembering the sassiness of her answer. “She told me, in no uncertain terms, she likes it here and didn’t want to go away. Her words. I don’t think getting her to cross over is going to be an easy sell. She sees it as a negative, not a positive.”

Wendy’s carefree laugh told me she’d recovered from the close call with Victor.

“I can see that. She watches you with rapt attention and, when you are cooking or crocheting, she is right there with you.” A nostalgic smile lit her face. “This girl was taught to knit by her grandmother, but you were the first person she saw crocheting. She had no idea what it was until you amazed her with waht you created with your little hook and some yarn. You amaze all of us with your crocheting creations.”

Worry knotted Wendy’s eyebrows. “She likes it here with you and your family, but you need to be careful, Sarah. This little one may play games with you. Things might go missing or get moved around.” She shook her head, uneasy. “I feel, too, that she is under the influence of someone smarter, older, and more negative than she is. He is controlling her. This Victor, the ‘one who came before her’. I don’t like her being here with you and your family. It makes me feel uneasy.”

“Are you uneasy because this girl is here with us?” I sat back cupping a mug of tea. “Or because the ‘one who came before’, this Victor, is here with us as well?”

The gravity of Wendy’s words hit home. This Victor targeting my home and family didn’t thrill me, either. An effective way of dealing with him began to form in my mind. I pushed it aside, promising to work on it and find the perfect time to implement it.

“You are right there, Wendy. Things have gone missing.” We both laughed as I recounted my crochet hook disappearing in the sun room only to be found by the coffeemaker and my favourite recipe card showing up inside the Dutch oven. “It’s all been in fun, so far, but I’m working on a plan to help her find her way home.”

I told Wendy about my middle of the night encounter with the ‘one who came before’. Hand to her mouth, eyes widened, she apologized profusely for bringing this entity to my doorstep.

“Wendy, please don’t worry about it. I’m not. There is a reason this girl was brought to me. I feel pushed to help her cross over. You were the means by which they brought her to me.” I smiled, reassuring her I wasn’t upset. “It’s all good. Promise.”

Wendy relaxed, worry sitting on her shoulders, her back bowing under the weight. Discussion of her meditation, a quiet rehashing of the methods she used and what she experienced brought more points to light. I filed those points and discoveries away for future reference.

It had been an intense meditation for Wendy, and session in general, so we lightened our chat by focusing back on her visit with her mother and the recent revelations. Wendy’s body language eased, the weight lifting off her shoulders as she reverted back to the happy woman who’d walked into my home earlier that morning.

The girl reappeared, slithering along the wall as she entered the room. She assumed she was undetected, since neither of us looked her way, but I sensed her presence. She’d slunk in front of my bookcases, when a movement in the window opposite her caught my eye. It wasn’t the ‘one who came before’ this time. This energy was brimming over with love and amusement. I heard the name Phyllis and rolled with it.

“Hey, Wendy, do you know anyone named Phyllis? From down East, maybe?” My question caught her off-guard. Mouth twisted, she thought about it before shaking her head.

“No, not that I know of. The name doesn’t sound familiar for anyone I know… wait. Hold on a minute. I think I remember seeing the name ‘Phyllis’ now.” She brightened with a memory as she told me, “It was on a headstone around my Uncle’s grave, dad’s brother. Kevin lived with them back in the day, when he was in University. He loved it so much, he bought the property next door and moved down East permanently.” Wendy lost herself in thought as she rolled the name around on her tongue.

“Phyllis. Yes. I remember commenting on how young she was when she died. She was one of Uncle John’s neighbours, I think. Years ago, mind you, but I remember hearing about her. She was only nineteen. Do you think she has anything to do with the girl here?” Concern darkened her eyes. “The girl I met today is so young. How could they be the same person?”

When the name ‘Phyllis’ passed my lips, the girl spun to look at me, fear dripping from her. I did my best to reassure her. Tone softened, I showed her all the love and acceptance in my heart.

Is that your name, little one? Phyllis… is that you?

Anxious, she shook her head a little too fast, a little too much. Confusion and defiance fought on her face. She glanced at me, an unspoken question deep within her gaze. Maternal instincts on high alert, my heart ached for you. I vowed to help her. If only she’d let me.

I don’t wanna be Phyllis. It’s no fun. I don’t like it. She looked down at the floor, scuffing the toes of her shoes on the hardwood. It’s lonely to be Phyllis.

Oh, I’m sorry it’s so lonely to be Phyllis. I like Phyllis. I’d like to get to know Phyllis better. Do you think she’d come visit me sometime?

Phyllis gave me a wary look. It was unclear if she would come back to visit me or not. She didn’t look as if she wanted to be around me just then, never mind seek me out. My words and maternal energy intrigued her. Intrigue was good. It kept her interested. Also kept her coming back. Her curiosity made her want to figure me out.

I turned away from Phyllis then and back to Wendy. “So, Wendy, do you know anything else about Phyllis? Other than she is from Nova Scotia.”

“Hm, I don’t know too much at all. Anyone I could ask has passed. Only thing I remember is that, according to her grave, she died back in the sixties. She been gone for years.” Wendy rubbed her temples with a sigh.

“That makes sense.” Nodding at Wendy’s words. “Phyllis feels like a far older soul than she is presenting to us. I figured the number fifty that kept popping meant she was in her fifties when she died. Must mean she died over fifty years ago.” I recalled what she’d just told me. “My little shadow friend just told me that being Phyllis wasn’t fun, it was lonely. Often, after their death, spirits will revert to when they were happiest. Saddens me to think eleven-years-old was the happiest she was in her life. Poor thing.”

A prolonged silence followed my comment as the two of us sat contemplating the poor soul and what the life she died to escape from had been like.

Wendy’s session timed out, but we continued on as we always did, taking it to its natural conclusion.

Wendy stood, wiping her hands on her thighs after stacking her mug on top of her saucer. She straightened her top and threw her bag over her shoulder.

“Thank you, Sarah, for another enlightening session.” Her genuine smile earned one in return. “I’ve learned so much this past week, I’m not sure how to process it all.”

“No doubt, Wendy.” Laughing, I slipped my arm through hers and we walked to the door together. “You’ve been through a lot, more than most people could handle, and you’ve handled it beautifully.” Wendy pressed her thumb down on her key fob and the engine of her Cadillac Escalade roared to life as the front door closed behind us. “Make sure you take the time you need to regroup this weekend, okay? You’ll need it after this morning’s festivities.”

Wendy slipped the key into the SUV’s ignition, putting the window down before closing the door. Smile on her face glowing.

“I like seeing that smile of yours, Wen. There weren’t a lot in the early days of our working together. Nice to see it more often than not now.” A wink softened the potential harshness of my words. “Bye, love. Have a good week. I’ll see you next Thursday.”

“Bye, Sarah.” She popped a pair of oversized, round-lensed, leopard-print sunglasses on her face. “See what you can do about getting that girl to cross over. It’s not good, her being her with you all.”

I nodded, tapping the car twice, for good luck and safe travels. Then, radio blaring some early Madonna hits, Wendy’s fingers waggled out the window as she drove off.

She was right. Phyllis needed to cross over. Needed to find peace and leave our home in tranquility once more. Or as tranquil as it gets.

All I have to do is find the time to connect and see if I can help her find what she needs to cross over.

With a silent plea to spirit for some help, I headed back into the house to see when I might be able to set aside some time for a meditation. Or an intervention, depending on how you looked at things.

Keep reading with My Little Shadow: Chapter 9 here:

To start at the beginning, here is My Little Shadow: Chapter 1: