Spirit Stone

                                 

                                Chapter One

               

    This morning was shaping up to be a disaster. It was just 11 am and already he

had grit in his teeth and dirt in his eye. Digger, as his nickname readily explained

was a gravedigger in a small community cemetery located in northern New Jersey.

The neatly maintained community cemetery sat on a hill just slightly off of the main

road in North Madison. The cemetery stared directly down into a panoramic view of

the post 9/11 New York City Skyline.
 
      Mrs. Anna Kolinsky, age 92, was being buried this very afternoon. Digger’ was

working on her grave when suddenly he heard it.

“Wrong time of day for this.” Digger thought quickly, startled.

    “John Henry Matheson!” Digger was hearing his name called loud and clear.

It was a woman’s voice. It sounded aged, but strong. It felt like it was coming from

behind him.

    “Not now, please not at work.” Digger thought as he put his shovel down

carefully and stepped out of the shallow grave.

    Digger had some experience with hearing weird and unusual things. He often

heard voices whispering to him at night. He was too scared to try to make out what

the voices were saying. When the voices first started whispering, he would often

jump up and look behind him even when he knew he was alone.


      Sometimes it felt like a crowd whispering. He learned to control the impulse to

whirl around and confront his tormentors when he was around other “normal”

people.     
   
He was beginning to suspect the voices were coming from inside his head, but

they sure sounded like they were behind him, or sometimes beside him.
     
Those “shadow voices” as he thought of them really freaked him out. When they

first started three years ago, he thought he was losing his mind. He never told

anyone about the whispers. The fact that he was hearing things remained a deeply

rooted secret. He knew “normal” people would think he was crazy.

He didn’t want anyone at work to know about the problem because he was afraid

that he would be fired. He started this job right after he graduated North Madison

High with honors. He needed to help his mother make ends meet. She depended

on him because his father was dead and he was an only child .He would never say

this to her but it felt like she sucked out all the oxygen in the air when she walked

into a room.

      His father died without an insurance policy or any kind of savings. They lived

pay check to pay check every month before he died. His mother did not work. She

suffered from “nerves” and her “health was fragile”. Personally, Digger thought that

she did not want to work because she was just too fat to move around.

    His father was buried at North Madison cemetery after the heart attack that

stole his life in July, right after Digger’s graduation in June of 2007. The whispers

started in August, a month after his father’s death. When he was hired in

September to work in the cemetery, he was still hearing “the whispers”.

Preoccupied with experiencing the voices, he usually just tried to ignore them and

slept a lot at home in his room as they got louder. Sometimes he would try to

drown the whispers in loud music, and cranked up his ipod as loud as it would go.

His mother didn’t care about what he was feeling or experiencing as long as he was

bringing in a paycheck.

    He was hired under his real name John Henry Matheson, but there was another

John already working at the cemetery. One of the regular guys, Ryan, shouted “hey

digger” when John was digging a grave one morning and the name stuck.

    He liked the other cemetery workers; they were “normal” guys. They could never

find out about “the whispers”.  Digger was eighteen when he took the job at the

cemetery, but some of the other guys were older, the “lifers” were fifty and older. 

    Ryan was twenty one and had no problem supplying Digger with some beer

after work. Ryan and he were fast friends by the end of September.  Digger noticed

that “the whispers” were barely audible after a couple of beers. Then when he

looked at his father’s grave, all he thought about was that his dreams of going to

college and leaving town were as dead as his father. Now, when he looked at his

father’s tombstone and imagined his casket he wished he could jump in with him,

maybe then the voices would be as still as the grave.

      Digger was 21 now and drank alone. Ryan was long gone to another dead end

job and Digger no longer spoke to him. It was easier that way. Controlling the

voices rapidly took over his life. There were no “whispering voices” when he was

drunk. Or maybe he just noticed less. He was usually good and drunk by the time

the evening news was on at Billy Goat, the local pub.

He never drank on the job and by morning he was always sober and ready to go to

work. The voices never came in the morning. He knew he drank so much because

those damn voices scared him, but they couldn’t beat Johnny Walker Red neat with

a beer chaser.

    The experience this morning was different. He was hearing only one voice. This

voice scared him and commanded him all at the same time. It sounded “regal”. He

looked behind him and all around him, just to make sure it wasn’t a person or some

being that he could see speaking to him. No one was there. Plus, he could still

think and hear his own thoughts. That was probably because he was still sober. He

needed a drink fast.The voice responded to his thoughts in a scalding tone

    ” John Henry. You do not need a drink. It’s 11:15 in the morning. Just listen. It’s

about the grave your digging. It’s for me. I’m Anna. I have been trying to reach you

for months.  Hear me now. Do not be frightened. I do not have much time to

explain. I’ll be passing after my body is buried. You must help me.”

    John Henry thought. “Oh shit, I’m really fucking losing it now. I’m thinking the

voice of the dead lady I’m helping to bury today is talking to me. Fuck it. I’ll check

the health plan. There has to be a doctor that keeps his mouth shut. I’ll just go to

see a psychiat..  ”

    The voice interrupted his thoughts,

    “Digger! You must listen. I am not your illness. If you help me, I promise the

whispers will go away. I will reward you by healing your mind for the time you hold

the stone.”

    Digger suddenly felt calm and thought,

    “Wait, this must be something else.” The voice spoke again inside his mind.

    “No,Digger, not something else, someone else. I told you. I am Anna Kolinsky,

the one for which you dig today. I am able to communicate with you because I am

a strong spirit.  I am a gypsy queen.  What you needed to know is that I am the

leader of my community and have six children. None of them are worthy to receive

my gifts.  My children are beggars, thieves and drunkards. I know someone more

worthy needs my gifts, so I transfered my powers into an amber stone, before I

became too ill.

    My children do not know about the powers of the stone. I am deeply ashamed of

them and therefore will pass my powers on to you. You are the only one worthy

within range of my telepathic powers to be the keeper of the stone. In my visions I

see you holding the stone for the one who will seek it. I see that when he arrives he

touches the stone and it turns blue. You are able to hold the stone until he arrives.

Guard  the stone. It heals. You are the reason I make sure that brown amber stone

is placed in the center of the cross on the lid of my casket.


      My children do not have access to my casket before my death. My visions tell

me that they will try to steal all my jewelry as I lay on my death bed , so I had the

stone embedded in my casket prior to my illness.


The stone is magically cast. It stays embedded in the casket until you tapp the

bottom of the stone three times and say my soul’s name, “Anna”.

      The stone heals your mind as long as you wear it next to your skin. You notice

the changes in your life once you hold the stone. I see them try to steal the stone. 

I see that you fight not to allow it. Go now. Guard the stone.”

    When the voice stopped Digger sensed that if the stone remained embedded in

the casket at the time of the burial it would be lost. He was determined to get the

stone before the casket was buried in dirt. He somehow knew the dirt would

destroy the stone, and he would lose his chance for a new life.

    “Well, what the hell. If I see the stone I will take it. Let’s see if it really happens.

I’m not hearing any more voices. I’ll just finish the grave and watch the funeral from

a distance. I have binoculars in the shed, I’ll watch from there.”

To be continued.....