Free Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity) by Anabell Martin

TV screen was black. She looked up at her own reflection in the blank screen and then down at the remote laying on the sofa by her outstretch legs.
    “Cut it out, Fred! I was watching that!” she said to the empty room. She picked up the remote and turned the TV back on.
    She watched a couple of game shows, but when a generic reality show came on, she felt her eyes begin to droop. She was tired but not ready to go to bed. She hadn’t slept well in days thanks to Fred constantly uncovering her feet. So she reclined back on the sofa, shifting her legs to the over-stuffed ottoman in front of her. Perhaps a catnap would do her some good. Maddie was at choir practice and wouldn’t be home for a while. If she did take a nap, she’d be able to stay up and watch Wind Dancer with the girls later tonight. She rested her head on the back on the sofa and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was asleep.
    When her breathing evened out, a little figure moved from the corner and approached her slowly. It held out a wispy hand and touched her hair. As Lindsey lay there fast asleep, the little shadow person began to lift her hair and twist it. A second shadow moved in beside the first and a soft giggle floated gently across the darkening room.  In the corner, close to the painting Darby had hung their first day in the house, the gentle sound of humming could be heard. A peaceful, but playful calm settled inside Retreat House.
    The sound of Aimee kicking her clog off by the stove woke Lindsey the next morning. 
    “Nice look, homey!” she said when Lindsey stumbled into the kitchen, stretching, with one eye squinted open and the other completely closed. She was stiff from sleeping on the sofa; she must’ve been zonked to sleep so motionless for so long.  She wiped her eyes and went to the fridge to get some orange juice. Aimee was looking at her, smiling as if she wanted to laugh but was holding it in.
    “What?” Lindsey finally asked. Did she have drool dried on the side of her face? A booger hanging out of her nose? She wiped her face self-consciously.
    “What are you doing with your hair?” Aimee asked, her eyes alight with humor.
    Lindsey reached up to run her fingers through her long, brown hair, expecting knotty bedhead. Instead of tangles, she found locks of her hair wrapped together and sticking out from her head at odd angles. She ran to the mirror in the foyer. Her hair was full of tiny, twisty braids that stuck out all over her head.
    “What the hell?!” She yelled, trying to comb the tight braids out with her fingers.
    “Mom! See, this is what I’m talking about. I didn’t do this and I was here alone last night.”
    “Ooooh. You think the ghost braided your hair?” Humor danced in her eyes as she smiled over her cup of coffee. “Then again, that was a pretty scary sight this morning, so maybe you’re on to something.”
    “Mom! I’m serious. There is something going on here, especially at night!”
    “Oh, honey, I bet this is one of the girls playing a trick on you. Go upstairs, get a shower, and then go over to the barn before you go to work. Tell them it was very funny.” Aimee kissed her on the forehead and then headed up to her own room to crash.
    Lindsey stomped back to the kitchen to get her juice. This was annoying. Everyone thought she was nuts. But she knew something was here. But how could she prove it? She couldn’t.
    “Fred! Why don’t you do things when other people are around so that they see that I’m not crazy?” Nothing happened in response. Maybe he’s still asleep , she joked to herself and went upstairs to get ready for work.
    Lindsey worked until a little after four in the afternoon. The Artisans Center was fairly dead and Karen blamed it on the impending storm.
    “Everyone’s got to go out and buy some milk, eggs, and bread,” she joked.  “Why don’t you head home and get yourself ready for your first dose of Southern Summer weather?”
    The drive home was ominous. Thick,