Authors: Linda Foster
Unnatural Souls
US copyright ©2016 by Linda
Foster
All rights reserved. No part
of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher, except for inclusion of
brief quotations in a review.
Published in the United
States by Glass House Press, LLC, 2014. GLASS HOUSE PRESS and
colophon are trademarks of Glass House Press, LLC.
_______________________________
ISBN:
978-0-9977461-2-9
Library Of Congress
Cataloguing-in-Publication is on file with the
publisher.
________________________________
Cover by White Rabbit
Designs and Creations
Book Design by
Inkstain Interior Book Designing
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3
1
First Edition
JOURNAL ENTRY—APRIL 4
I’M GOING
CRAZY.
There was no doubt in my mind of that
simple and terrifying fact. And the situation I was facing right
now only made me more positive.
I dropped my pen and ducked out of the
way as another book whizzed by my head, then jumped onto my bed and
thrust my back against the wall, hugging my legs against myself.
And for what felt like the thousandth time—that day—I prayed for it
to stop.
Around me, books, papers, pillows, and
my laptop were swirling through the room in a supernatural
whirlwind. Which meant that my normally carefully organized pink
and white room was now covered by the chaos of my other belongings.
A place of calm and peace, turned to hell. Drawers were opening and
closing, spitting out their contents and adding to the mess that
flew around the place. They’d been doing it on and off all day. How
everything was moving, I didn’t know … but this wasn’t the first
time. Not by a long shot. I’d endured months of this
torture.
If only the flying objects
were my sole problem. But no, that would be too easy. I was
also
seeing people who
weren’t there, moving places in the blink of an eye without meaning
to, and having visions of events that later came true. Take your
pick—I had somehow hit the mother lode of crazy jackpot.
God, I just wanted it to
end.
I should have died.
The thought suddenly drifted through my head,
just like it had been doing at least a dozen times a day—since the
day that had changed my life. And with it, my lower lip began to
quiver.
That was where it all
started, I was sure of it. Ever since I
hadn’t
died, this madness had been
life. And it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I could feel the sting
in my eyes and the warmth as a few stray tears began to slide down
my face. Then a familiar pressure settled on my chest, and I gave
up and let the sobs come. I just wanted to go back—back to when I
was normal. Before all the strange things started happening, and
ruining my life. But that wasn’t possible. Not after what had
happened.
There had been an accident … an
accident that should have taken my life. I was in a coma for weeks,
and the doctors had given up hope. My parents were ready to pull
the plug as well, from the stories I’d heard … but not my brother.
My sweet, innocent, guilt-ridden Ash. He’d vowed to save me, no
matter what it took.
And that’s when things had started
getting weird. I’d found herself in some sort of ghost-like state,
able to see and hear the world around me, but unable to
communicate. And I’d watched, horrified, as Ash had met with a
strange man … and made a deal for my life. He’d sold his soul for
me, and I’d been helpless to stop him. Then, right before Ash had
shaken hands with the man, there’d been a flash of bright
light.
Next thing I knew, I was
awake in the hospital, back in my body. I’d been ready to write off
what I thought I saw with Ash as a dream—after all, who in their
right mind would have
believed
it?—but the weirdness started that very
day.
I had made remarks to my
parents about people I saw at the hospital, people no one else
seemed to notice. The doctors chalked it up to stress, but I
couldn’t quite accept that. I tried to, for a while, because who
was I to argue? Then I spent a week in the hospital,
seeing
people. Stress, I
kept telling myself. That was what the doctors said, and it made
sense.
