Whispered Connections: Firehouse Ghost II

Despair gripped Vic in a vise and whisked him to Jaku’s side. The murderer smirked as he polished the barrel of his .357. “Boom!” He mimicked the loud sound of the gun discharging. “I’m gonna waste that bitch.” He chuckled, imagining the terror on Liz’s face as he jammed the gun against her head and ripped the blouse from her chest.

 “Stop thinking like that!” Vic yelled. “What makes you so full of hate?” Instantly, Vic swam in a sea of images – Jaku brutally beaten by a red-eyed dad reeking of whiskey. Short, fat Jaku, a whipping boy of the high school toughs until he became a back stabber and learned to live by a quick, cruel wit. Jaku’s feelings of powerlessness, hopelessness, and hatred swallowed Vic, suffocating him until he remembered ghosts don’t need to breathe.

Vic tuned into Jaku’s jealousy and anguish of Liz wanting only Vic, not him, never him. How Jaku desired Liz! But she kept putting out her soft tendrils for Vic, day by day stealing his best buddy further and further away, until Jaku’s nerves snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. Jaku hated them both as the source of his pain, and started planning Vic’s murder so he’d have a clear path to Liz without Vic getting in the way.

Aah! The moment of murder! For the first time, Jaku felt power! No more the underdog, now – The Man. Jaku relished the memory of Vic’s look of shock and heartbreak as his eyes locked with Jaku’s over the gun barrel. Better yet was watching Vic’s body twitch and hearing the death rattle in his throat and knowing, big, strong weightlifter that Vic was, he, Jaku, had cut him down to size.

Vic shot himself out of Jaku’s mind. “Thank you, God, that I don’t live in that mind!” Vic prayed. He looked at cruel Jaku sadly. “You thought you were murdering me, but what you murdered was any goodness left inside yourself. I can’t help you. Please, God, let me help Liz.”

That thought propelled Vic to Liz’s side, where she sat on a cushion on her living room floor, chanting and meditating on the word Om. The sound vibrated peacefully, powerfully through Liz’s calm mind and soft lips.

“Om,” Vic hummed. He watched his Om merge with hers, both of them vibrating in harmonious tones. Liz smiled and Vic suddenly saw her as she’d been as a child, as she would be as an old woman, and as she existed now, all at the same time, like echoes and shades of her wholeness in its entirety. And he loved the little girl who played, the pretty woman who meditated, and the old lady who rocked in her chair and thought sleepily of her true love Vic, dead and gone all these years.

Liz’s soft Oms faded, replaced by her loud yell of “No!” I can’t let you go!” She grabbed at the air, her eyes widening in fear that the breeze usually caressing her cheeks when Vic’s spirit drew near was absent. “I miss you so much!” Longing to feel Vic’s loving presence made Liz feel emptier than a hollow cave.

“You’ve got to accept that I’m dead to this world.” Vic gently pushed that thought, calm and steady, into her grieving mind. “Dead, but not gone, just away,  my Lizzy, if you only believe.”

Liz breathed deeply and resumed chanting Om in a shaky voice. “This world feels empty without you. I know we’re supposed to let go of loved ones who’ve flown through the veil. And I’m sure you’re in the Elysian Fields because that’s where heroes go, Vic, forever my hero.” 

Vic found himself tangled up in a purple sequined veil. “A veil’s just a symbol!” he yelled. “Okay, veil, I’m supposed to fly through you!” He struggled, the veil winding tighter and tighter around his strong weightlifter’s spirit body.

Liz concentrated long and hard on Vic flying free – free as a bird, the way he’d told her he felt as a country boy in Pennsylvania riding his motorcycle along dirt roads—happily, with no dark thoughts weighing him down, bolstered up by the feel of the wind against his skin and the joy in his heart.

“Yes!” Vic sighed as the veil dissolved and he flew fast as the wind, exulting in the joy of flying freely until he realized what it cost her to let him soar while she drowned in grief. Instantly, he plummeted down and joined Liz in spirit as her concentration broke and her eyes stung with tears.

“You can be free too, my dear.” With deep concentration, Vic pictured Liz happy, singing a gay song, dancing, fragrant flowers in her hair. But she continued to weep. He painted himself into the picture, dancing with her. She smiled. Vic changed his face into that of a tall, dark, handsome stranger. Liz grew pale.

“Well, maybe you can’t just yet…but I’m dead! You can’t live with the dead!” he yelled, frustrated. His anger turned to tears as he felt her deep sadness.

“I only want you, Vic. I know I have to let you go but I don’t know how.”

An idea illuminated his mind like a sudden sunbeam. “By helping me help you now! So I didn’t die in vain!” Vic suddenly realized what he’d just said and wondered where this wisdom came from. He swelled like a sail in a brisk wind with the strength of his purpose, shot the idea like a rocket into Liz’s mind, and watched her eyes sparkle as they had not since his murder.

“Yes! Of course!” Liz’s slumped shoulders straightened. “That’s what I can do! Make sure you didn’t die in vain! Oh, Vic! Together we can stop him, I know we can!”

Vic wasn’t so sure, as Jaku’s gleeful thoughts of murder and the sense of power it gave him sucked Vic into a vacuum, propelling him away from Liz. “I won’t let you harm my Lizzy,” Vic vowed, extricating himself from Jaku’s viciousness and flying back to Liz.

Vic focused his entire consciousness into a spinning light and swirled himself around and through Liz. “Concentrate on the mantra Om, Liz. That will be our connection.” He vibrated between her synapses, watching in delight as electrical sparks in her brain signaled understanding. “Center yourself with Om. It’s the music of the spheres. Concentrate on Om and you concentrate on me.”

“Om,” Liz purred. Vic felt her delight as he tingled through her cells, merging with her in a way neither one of them had ever imagined possible. “Om.” She created a clear channel for Vic’s consciousness, her heart grown huge with love.

Liz didn’t know Vic was tapped into Jaku; didn’t know that murderer brooded under the weight of idle hours until he could reap his revenge on Liz for stealing his best friend away and desiring Vic, not him. Vic heard Jaku’s last thread of patience snap and his mind clamp down on a deadly thought. “Tonight,” Jaku growled. “While she’s working the midnight shift, I’ll ravish that little flower.” He stroked the barrel of his .357 magnum and flicked his tongue over his lips, imagining they were Liz’s.

Did you miss part of this story?
Firehouse Ghost: Unveiling the Other Side
Whispered Connections: Firehouse Ghost II

Bridging Love and Afterlife: Firehouse Ghost III

Stay Tuned for Part 3…
UPDATE: Read Part 3 Now! Love defies the borders of existence in the breathtaking conclusion of “Firehouse Ghost.” Part 3 reveals the gripping climax of Vic’s spectral journey. Join us for a finale that transcends love, revenge, and the afterlife.

Lizbeth Hartz is the author of the true crime, true love memoir Angel Hero, Murder in Hawaii, A True StoryGet it on Amazon or sample the 1st chapter free there.