Wounded souls of eternal silence E-Book

Iris Höbert

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 70

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Ein Mädchen, das mit Verstorbenen in Kontakt treten kann, ein junger Mann, der es aus einer anderen Dimension besorgt beobachtet, und der Tod höchstpersönlich, der in seiner schwarzen Robe düstere Pläne verfolgt - ein Wettlauf gegen die Zeit, bei dem es nur einen Gewinner geben kann. Wird das Gute siegen oder nehmen die dunklen Gedanken überhand? Das Kreuz leuchtet hell, doch auch die Sense glänzt bedrohlich.

Leseprobe

The Author

Hey! My name is Iris. I live in Austria, where I’m currently attending 12th grade, studying for my final examinations and fulfilling one of my biggest dreams: publishing my very first own book!

I’ve always loved writing. It already started in preschool, when my first story was about a giraffe and a little hedgehog becoming best friends. For all those years, I’ve dreamt about publishing one of my stories. Now, more than ten years later, the moment has arrived. I can’t believe I’m really holding my own book in my hands right now. That feels absolutely surreal!

This story is a project very close to my heart. That’s why I feel even more honoured to be able to present it to everyone, who wants to be part of a journey leading through mysterious dimensions.

… with the help of my amazing future husband, who designed the cover of this book and supported me all along.

Thank you so much. You’re the best. I love you.

Table of Contents

It’s time

Through life and death

Too yellow, but too dark

Quiet steps

The dark side of the sun

Lucid dreams

A purple sky

Shooting stars

Epilogue

Ella’s song for the Parkers

Dedication

It’s time

My fingers were almost frozen as I turned the key around. I still got chills every time I opened that big gate. It seemed to me like a mysterious portal leading to a completely different world. It was a world full of sadness, a world full of anger, pain, fear and unspoken thoughts, but still: to me, it was the most peaceful place on Earth.

With quiet steps I entered and locked the gate behind me. I looked around. The heartless winter wind was blowing through my long, brown hair and made it float as if the rules of gravity didn’t exist here. The sound of silence was reflected by my ears. I took a deep breath and let the cold, fresh air fill my lungs. Couldn’t I stay here forever? Far away from those people, far away from all those troubles, far away from those circulating thoughts that made me lose my mind every night. Couldn’t I just stay here at a place where communication worked differently? Here at a place that only I understood.

I took another deep breath and slowly started walking. In my right hand I was holding a black cross. Even though it was freezing cold here and my breaths turned into ice as soon as they had left my body, I still felt this special warmth inside my stomach; a feeling very difficult to describe. It was this feeling of being home and being accepted. A feeling of finally fitting in.

I sat down on a bench. Now everything was right in front of me: every stone, every name, every date. The heavy fog draped around me, hugging me as I was sitting there. I was fascinated by that view. So, this was the place where everything seemed to end. You come to this Earth, you live your life and as soon as your chapters are written, you close your eyes. First, you leave a big gaping hole in loved ones’ hearts. They cry, they long for you. They would do anything to make you come back, but one day, all their tears have dried. They think about you once a day, once a week, once a month, once a year; and then they forget about you. You’re watching them. You’re standing there, waving, screaming. They can’t see you, they can’t hear you.

I had often asked myself what that sense of life could be. Before we are born, our life’s energy already exists. It floats somewhere out there in the quantum fields as information regardless of space and time. Then, one day, we come to this planet called Earth. The energy turns into a state that we describe as life. And still, I ask myself: What is it, this thing, that we call life?

A quiet noise pulled my thoughts back to the present time again. My heart was beating fast as I watched one of the headstones opening itself. The time had come again. I stood up, pressed the black cross, that I was still holding in my hands, against my chest and mentally prepared myself for another journey to a hidden world: The World of Death.

Through life and death

I was sitting at a big table when I opened my eyes again. In front of me, there was a young family having dinner. The family consisted of a mother, a father and a little boy, who was playing with some potatoes on his plate instead of eating them. “Caleb, I’ve told you a hundred times that potatoes are no toys! Eat them or go to bed!” the mother screamed angrily. “Mary, he’s a kid!” the father pointed out and tried to calm his wife down, but she became even more aggravated, left the room and shut the door with a loud bang behind her. “Daddy, what’s wrong with mommy?” the little boy asked and kept on playing with the potatoes. The father put his arms around his son and whispered, “It’s the loss, Caleb. Mommy is missing her own mommy. Things will be better. We just need to give her time to grieve.”

“I wish I could tell her that everything’s alright,” a voice whispered. I turned around. Next to me, there was an old lady sitting. Her eyes were full of tears. “Good evening,” I said quietly. The lady looked at me and nodded. “I wish I could tell her that everything’s alright,” she repeated as her voice broke.

This wasn’t the first time I died. I mean, I hadn’t really died. I kind of died. I died without actually being dead. It’s nothing like reincarnation or rebirth. I had never really believed in that. It’s more like changing from life to death. I’m neither alive, nor dead in that sense. I know that this sounds very confusing and I have no idea where my ability comes from. It’s just there. I was born this way.

I had always had a special connection to that topic of death. When I was about five years old, I saw a black shadow in the shape of a person floating through my room for the very first time. Immediately, I could see the shadow was a man, who had died in a car crash in the year of 1989. I don’t know who gave me that information. It was written in front of my inner eye like school exercises on a blackboard. I told my parents about it. I came running towards them, screaming, “Mom, Dad! There’s a dead man inside my room. He was killed in a car crash twenty years ago! He needs my help!”

A few days later, I was committed to a psychiatric ward where they suspected me to suffer from a multiple personality disorder and schizophrenia. Some weeks later, I was sent home again with the diagnosis of being highly intelligent, highly sensitive, hyperactive and a bit autistic. There were neither signs of a multiple personality disorder nor of schizophrenia. The therapists explained my spiritual experiences as a way of seeking attention. They were sure that I would stop talking about those things as I got older. They thought it’d all just be my childish imagination. I knew that this was not true.

Through the years, I still kept on seeing dead people floating around as black shadows. I learnt to keep everything to myself: all the shadows, all my experiences, all my troubles. I knew that nobody would ever believe me.

I spent a lot of time in my hometown’s graveyard and invented a game called “Grave guessing”. I started to count how many shadows I saw floating above each grave. After I had finished counting, I checked my guess by looking at the gravestones, where the dead people’s names are written. About 99.9 percent of my guesses had been correct. Once, I overlooked a little boy, whose shadow was hiding behind one of his grandparents, but that has been my only mistake so far, I think.