Free Seven Point Eight by Marie A. Harbon Page A

who understands you. After all, we don’t want you going down the wrong path, do we?”
    “I’m fine, really.”
    “You know, it doesn’t make you weak to need others.”
    Sam began to play his guitar, a mixture of wild riffs and soft melodies. Bill smiled, listening to the music emanating from Sam’s anger, its raw power and energy, and he nodded in appreciation.
    “Beautiful.”
    Sam paused, damping the vibration of the strings and he remained silent for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply. It was rare he played for another person, although he couldn’t quantify whether a dead person still counted as a legitimate audience. He played a softer, more delicate tune, including an arrangement of chords off the top of his head. As he played, picking the strings delicately, he closed his eyes and visualised the tune as a landscape. In his mind’s eye, it became a symphony of colour and vibration, an undulating horizon of sound and each new hill, or feature on the landscape predicted the next chord or string to pick.`
    Sam was now engrossed in the guitar, so Bill decided to make an exit.
    “Well, if you need us, we’re always around, but you can’t avoid who you are forever.”
    Sam had his own path to follow, but in the war between the soul and the will of the conscious, albeit angry mind, the latter could easily overpower the subtlety of spirit. Another day may yield greater dividends, so Bill faded from sight. Sam paused, those final words ringing in his head.
    ‘We’re always around, but you can’t avoid who you are forever.’

5
    The Waking Dream

      Saturday 3rd November 1990

    Why does it always take so long to recover from a hangover? Ava thought, finally able to stomach a meal.
    Sam’s 18 th birthday had necessitated a legal drinking session, and she’d joined a large group of college art students in his local pub. She felt like the odd one out at first but as the night had progressed, she’d drunk sufficient alcohol to adapt to a younger mind set and by the end of the night, it became clear she’d regret it in the morning. It had been great to see Sam again, and what a polite yet intense young man he’d become. After vowing to keep in regular contact with him, they’d hugged and then she’d fallen out of the taxi.
    Life had moved on since the completion of her degree, with repeated job searches and deliberation over whether to continue studies at a higher level, all tainted with financial stress. Ava finally secured a job at a small laboratory not too far away, although she did wonder sometimes what the prospects were for promotion. She wanted to make it independent of family help, despite her uncle’s offer of assistance.
    She fancied a quiet Saturday night. As a student, she’d pored over text books about genetics. Now she’d finished, she felt like indulging in something superficial and steamy. A dusty Jackie Collins book sat on her bedside table, so she dismissed the unwanted particles with a gust of breath and located her bookmark. Before long, the words and ticking clock caused her to drift off to sleep.
    However, she awoke not too long after. An odd tingle crept across her skin, as if the air were filled with static electricity, penetrating her body and pulsing through her nervous system. A shift of perception occurred, like a blurring and a crackle of the air itself.
    She sensed a presence in her room and a humanoid figure emerged. It moved towards her, emitting a soothing energy, although the only features it possessed were eyes that glowed iridescently, moving through the hues of blue, purple, and pink. Strangely, it seemed to have large wings that were folded behind its back. There was nothing rational about this visitation, yet it felt real and gripping, holding her attention like a visual vice. As it neared her, however, its face began to take on form and transmuted into a young man with fair hair, whom Ava instantly recognised.
    “Michael?”
    The figure of her ex, Michael, albeit