Free A Guide to the Other Side by Robert Imfeld

bunch of annoying ghosts on our hands, and you’re going to be zapping them away all night with your new blue magic.”
    â€œI wish I could sigh,” she said, shaking her head. “This would have been the perfect time for one.”
    Â Â *  *  *  
    The next couple of hours were the most hectic I’d ever experienced. Ghosts swarmed me: I was a flame, and they were moths.
    I had to stop saying my introductory sentence to people because I had too many messages to deliver. Floor after floor, room after room, person after person, I was chased by loved ones and spouted off as many messages as I could breathe, each one as nonsensical as the next, but filled with meaning for the receiver.
    â€œMa’am, don’t go visit her, your husband says she’s not worth your time, especially since you’re in the hospital and it could be limited.”
    â€œShe was right about the first one, sir. I don’t know who the ‘she’ is or what the ‘one’ is, though—sorry, that’s all your sister told me to say.”
    â€œYou need to make the trip. Huh? Oh, sorry, you need to make the trip soon, like tomorrow. I know you’re in the hospital. Sorry, I’m just delivering the message from your mom.”
    â€œI’m supposed to mention a green duck to you. That’s all they want me to say. I know it’s weird, but your grandparents are the ones who said it, not me.”
    Toward the end of my time walking the halls, the messages were thinning out, so I was able to stop and chat a little bit more. As I passed by one room, I noticed a little boy staring intensely at the woman resting on the hospital bed.
    I walked in slowly and knelt down next to him.
    â€œHey there, buddy,” I said. “My name’s Baylor, and if you want to say something to your grandma, I can help you out.”
    He turned to me, his eyes full of concern. “How’d you know she’s my grandma?”
    That was a tough question for me to answer. The ghosts don’t need to tell me. Sort of like how Kristina can show me auras, I can sense the energy running between the loved ones. I can tell right away what sort of relationship people shared, and continue to share.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” I asked.
    â€œLouie.”
    â€œWell, Louie, I guess I just know certain things,” I said.
    â€œCan I help you with something?” the woman in the bed asked. She had a shock of tidy white hair, which didn’t move an inch as she leaned over the side of her bed to watch me.
    â€œHi there,” I said, standing up. “My name is Baylor Bosco, and I can communicate with people who’ve crossed over.”
    â€œYou what ?” Her voice quivered.
    â€œUm, I can talk to dead people.”
    She shook her head, her mouth slightly open. “My drugs are really messing with my head right now.” She shut her eyes tight, clenching her face together like she was bracing for a punch. Then she opened them again, looking disappointed to see me still standing there.
    â€œGrandma’s funny,” Louie said, smiling sadly.
    I smiled at him and looked back at his grandma, whose face had contorted into a pained expression. “I’m too afraid to ask why you keep looking down at that one spot.”
    â€œWhat’s your name, ma’am?”
    â€œElmira,” she said. “Elmira Ashworth.”
    â€œElmira, your grandson Louie is here.” He’d walked to the bed and peered over the foot of it, his eyes just barely peeking over the edge. “He’s wearing a blue baseball hat and uniform. All that’s missing is a glove.”
    She didn’t say anything. She just looked at me, terrified.
    â€œLouie, do you want me to tell your grandma anything?”
    He seemed just as upset as his grandma was. I bent down again to talk to him quietly.
    â€œHey, buddy, it’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have