Magic

I am back to the story once again. Clara has sat down to continue because I have told her to. She sits at her computer, fingers poised over the keyboard. I gather my senses, ready to dictate.

Chapter One

Last time, I told you the truth — that I, Liza, am the one telling this story.

We are interrupted by a telephone ringing. Clara sighs and rises from her chair. She answers it.

"Hello... Oh, hello, dear. I was just settling down to write. Is there a problem?"

I already know who it is. Her husband, John. They've been married three years and are very happy together.

"No, Clara. I wanted to remind you about dinner after work."

"I haven't forgotten. I just need to get a few words down for chapter one. My editor's been chasing me about this new idea. Then I'll get ready and take a taxi to meet you."

"Don't work too hard. You know how you can lose track of time."

"I won't. The prologue flowed so easily, but this chapter is different. If I don't write it now, I'll lose it."

"You are making notes, aren't you?"

"Yes, but it doesn't always work like that."

"Six-thirty sharp. Outside the building. Please don't forget."

"I promise, John. See you later."

Finally.

She can talk for ages.

Clara sits back down and begins typing as I press the words into her mind.

When I first arrived in Heaven, I was given time before being assigned to anyone. I chose Clara. She was new to writing then - uncertain, open. She seemed the easiest choice because there wasn't anyone else like her, and her previous guide had been promoted to a higher realm, so I stepped in.

I helped her become a published noveslist. I fed her fantasy worlds. She followed my whispers faithfully - except when she fell in love.

Romance. Endless romance. Clara was brimming in it. It was exhausting.

But now, since they have married, things have settled down.

Before she learned to hear me, she drowned herself in horror novels by Stephen King and blood-soaked films, that clouded her energy. Fear makes it harder for spirit guides to reach you. I had to adapt.

Of course, with time, I learned how to get through to her easier by navigating her dreams and putting myself in them. I invited her to meet in a garden of roses and lilies - her favourites. We sat at a small white table and drank tea beneath a sky too blue to belong to Earth.

"Hello, Clara. I'm Liza, your spirit guide. Come sit with me."

Her soul took the chair opposite mine. She smiled - uncertain.

"So, tell me, Clara, do you enjoy writing fiction? Would you like help?"

"Am I dreaming?" she whispered.

"Yes, you are, but I am real."

"I don't understand. What is a spirit guide?"

"It is someone assigned to help you navigate your human life. I am yours. I want you to remember this dream. Use it any way you want. Picture it. Write it. Use it."

"This is strange."

"Do not overthink it. Your body is asleep. Your soul is here. Anytime you need me, say my name, 'Liza' and I will be listening to your thoughts or you can speak aloud to me, but talking with your mind is just as good."

"Am I going mad?"

"No. You are waking up."

"But where are you from? Where is this place?"

"This is your sacred space where you can visit when you meditate. All you do is remember. Envision it; that is close your eyes and see it in your mind and you will be there. I can come to you and we can talk whenever you want."

"But how can that be?"

"I will help you to learn more. All you need to do is find a spiritual book about Spirit Guides. Find one or two."

"Okay."

"Good. Now go back to sleep."

I watched her disappear into her body. In my realm, time folds easily. I could already see what would happen next.

But the next day, she remembered the dream - and did nothing. Fear still held her. Horror still clung to her thoughts. It would take patience. Even I had things to learn - how to reach her more clearly, how to bend magic gently instead of forcefully. I had to learn how to use my magic and trust in it. Plus, I had to find a way to get her away from horror and fear.

Clara stops typing.

She sits very still.

She remembers the dream as if it happened yesterday, though it has been four years.

She got up and fetched her mobile that lay on a cabinet in her office. She opens Google. Searches for libraries.

And I smile.

Today, she will finally find the book.

To be continued...