Talk To Me

Chapter one

May twenty-fourth

Present

Oliver sat on the mossy grass, his legs crossed beneath him. The forest stood almost silent, just a few birds chattered somewhere far away. Fresh spring leaves rustled above his head. The man's hands touched old leaves, which were left behind in the autumn. He clasped his fists, crushing brown petals in his hands. He peered towards the hollow pit, which was still there.

"Talk to me," he murmured as a sharp frown made its way between his temples.

He waited for an answer, but nobody replied to him. The sun started setting, and it looked already dark. He raised his eyes from the ground and studied the forest. He hoped this was the time he would see her, but he remained alone. For the last few weeks, Oliver visited this peculiar site almost every day. He continued the search for his sister, but there remained no sighting of her.

Oliver took out a golden necklace from his black coat pocket and rubbed the engraved back of the locket with his thumb. The unevenness of the surface appeared sharp on his skin.

"Come on, Leah. You promised you would never leave me." His silvery eyes watered. "Talk to me." He peered at the darkening sky for a moment. Soon, his gaze came back to the pit.

But again, Leah didn't show up. Oliver thought the pendant would be helpful. He lied to the police, just one time. Convincing them that the pendant was a family heirloom. They discovered the necklace on Leah's body and took it as evidence. The experts found nothing helpful in the jewelry. And yesterday they gave it back to Oliver. He never saw the locket before, but he had believed his sister's spirit got attached to it.

Disappointed in his gift again, Oliver stood up and walked towards the forest clearing. Putting the locket into the back pocket of his jeans when he reached his car. Oliver ignited the engine of the Chevelle and soon took off. He felt uneasy the entire drive toward his childhood home.

When Oliver reached Garrison Rode, his hands gripped the steering wheel more firmly, turning his knuckles pale. As he turned into the driveway, his father already waited outside, forcing Oliver to sigh. James paced back and forth on the pavement near the house.

James always looked young for his age. But losing his beloved daughter aged him by ten years in the last few weeks. What once stood as dark chestnut-colored hair now resembled mud shade with white streaks just above his ears. Even the bristles on his chin seemed grayer. Bluish bags hung underneath his orbs, and new wrinkles formed on the outside of his azure eyes.

James opened the car door. "Well?" he asked, not even waiting until his son got out of the car.

"Nothing, Dad," Oliver replied, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I really tried." Oliver stepped out of his car.

James waved his hands in the air, "You are doing this on purpose." He pointed his index finger toward his son. "Try harder. You didn't have to try before. But when I need this from you, you can't do it?" he scoffed. "You helped strangers, but not your father." He gaped at Oliver.

Oliver wasn't looking at his father. His heart already suffered plenty, "I want to find her, too. You know that without Nana, I lost it." His tone remained pleading, searching for understanding. "I didn't do my part, and now this is a consequence of that."

"Do you really think so? That you lost it?" James asked in a softer tone.

"I hope not," Oliver replied, glancing at his father.

James never understood Oliver's gift and even despised his son's ability. But now James wished there would be use to this talent. Five years ago, Oliver tried to get rid of his gift. It felt too hard for him to handle the surrounding spirits all by himself. Now he wanted to have his ability. Nothing worked, and his father's disappointment hurt him even more.