Authors: Deanna Kahler
Sara's Soul
Sara’s
SOUL
DEANNA KAHLER
Copyright © 2015 Deanna Kahler
Author photo by Steven Jon Horner Photography
Cover by SelfPubBookCovers.com/FrinaArt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced without
permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are either a product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN: 0692225471
ISBN-13: 978-0692225479
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to anyone who has struggled with life and doubted the existence of an afterlife. May you take comfort in the possibilities
of a world beyond.
Chapter 1
Desperation
Sara clutched the bottle of pills in her left hand, tears streaming down her face. The pain, the sadness, the despair—they were all too much for her. She had reached her breaking point. She knew that better days had once existed, but they seemed so far away now. All she could see were the many haunting images of suffering and death that plagued her mind like a disease. Death had always followed Sara since she was a child. She tried to escape it, but it gripped her tight. No matter how hard she fought, she could not free herself from its iron-tight clutches. Death was all there was for her. And what better way to beat death than to join it? Then she would finally be free.
Five years had passed since that horrid day, the day her mother had died, when Sara was just fifteen years old. To her, it felt like yesterday. Sara could still see her kind smile and smell her lilac perfume. She remembered the way her mother’s crimson hair lit up like a wildfire in the sunlight. And Sara would never forget that magical sparkle in her mother’s blue eyes whenever she would talk about spirits and “the other side.” But most of all, Sara remembered her love. The kind of love that can only be shared by a mother and a daughter. Star was Sara’s whole world. And then, in an instant, she was gone. Cancer had claimed her body, and for years Sara had hoped it hadn’t claimed her soul, too. But now she feared it had. There was no sign that her mother’s spirit had lived on. No much-needed messages from beyond. Instead, Sara was left with a painful void in her heart that nothing and no one could seem to fill. Even five years later, her emotions were still raw.
Losing her mom as a teenager had always been one of the most difficult experiences of Sara’s life. Her mother was ripped away from her at a time when Sara needed her most. Now, as a college student, she found that life had become harder instead of easier. Sara was supposed to be an adult, preparing for her future career and enjoying the best time of her life. She should be meeting new people, hanging out with friends, and dating guys. Instead, she was trapped in a frightening world that followed her wherever she went. Sara didn’t see spirits and a glorious afterlife like her mom did as a psychic medium. Sara saw death. Lots of it. Everywhere. And it was tearing her up inside.
Sometimes she saw pools of blood, along with the gruesome details of an accident. Other times, she witnessed a debilitating disease taking over a victim’s weary body. But no matter what the visions showed her, what she felt was even worse—the stabbing of a knife as it ripped through flesh, the piercing of a bullet into a major organ, the gasp for a last breath of air. Sara felt it all as if it were happening to her. And in the days that followed these horrid visions, she was left with an emptiness too profound to describe.
What kind of a life could she live when she was overwhelmed with such suffering and pain? Surely, her mom would have known the answer. Her mom would have known exactly what to do. However, she was nowhere to be found. For the last five years, Sara had waited for her mother’s spirit to come and let her know that she was okay and had safely arrived in the afterlife. She was certain her mother would visit her after death and help explain her so-called “gift.” After all, Star had been a psychic medium. She knew things about people that she had no rational way of knowing. She claimed to communicate with the spirits of those who had passed and often spoke of how beautiful the afterlife was. She said “they” had showed it to her in visions and dreams. She seemed so sure it was all real. Her conviction even had Sara believing for a while.
As a young girl, Sara was a dreamer and would often fantasize about what Heaven would be like. She knew she was psychic, too, and hoped she had inherited her mother’s amazing gift to communicate with the deceased and see the world beyond. She didn’t. Sara knew things before they happened and could see the morbid details of how someone had died, but that was the extent of her ability. Why were her visions so agonizing and depressing?
Now, as Sara stood in her empty living room, her heart felt heavy with burden and the void in her soul was just too much to bear. She glanced down at the bottle of pills still clutched tightly in her hand. It seemed the only way, but a part of her was still scared.
She peered out of her bedroom window into the darkness. The stars were out tonight, thousands of them, parading across the sky in all their glory. Living in rural central Michigan made it much easier to see the stars than if she had lived in a large city or suburban area. Even so, the stars somehow seemed brighter and more prominent than usual. She felt as if she were staring at thousands of tiny intense spotlights, all pointed directly at her. Sara’s audience was watching her, waiting for her next move. What would she do? How would this story end?
Not even Sara knew the answers to those questions. She remembered a time and place where the stars held such hope and promise. Life wasn’t always so dismal. The faded images of a happier time filled her mind now, as she stood on the threshold between existence and nonexistence. Sara saw herself as a little girl. She was just four years old, standing in the backyard of her safe and cozy white-sided ranch with forest-green shutters. Pine and maple trees framed the yard and created a comforting barrier of safety and security.
It was long past dark, but it was such a beautiful night that Sara and her mom hated to go back inside. So instead they enjoyed the pleasant, soothing summer breeze that caressed their skin like a hug from a beloved friend. And they did what they liked to do most: gaze at the stars. Sara was so mesmerized by their brilliance and beauty. One particular star was special to her; it glowed blue and was brighter than all the rest. She thought of it as her guiding star, imagining it would one day lead her to her destiny. The sky was a fascinating place, filled with wonder and treasures to discover. As a small girl, she dreamed of traveling to the moon, of one day reaching the heavens and seeing the angels. Her mother assured her that that would be possible. She told her that the life that awaits after death was more incredible and amazing than she could ever imagine.
“But how do you know, Mommy?” Sara asked.
“Because I’ve seen it,” her mother replied.
“But you’re not an angel,” Sara protested, her innocent blue eyes filled with curiosity.
“No, but I have a special gift,” her mother explained. “I can communicate with spirits. My gift allows me to see glimpses and visions of the world beyond. I call them echoes of paradise.”
“Will I have this gift, too?”
“Only time will tell, my dear,” her mother said with a wink. “But I do know one thing for sure. You have been blessed with empathy. You will change the world one day, Sara.”
At the time, Sara believed her. It was such a magical night that anything seemed possible. Sara recalled how the evening breeze tickled her face and tossed back her bouncy red curls. She was eager to learn all that her mother had to teach and was thrilled at the possibility of communicating with angels and spirits.
But time was not kind to Sara. She did indeed have some sort of psychic ability, but it was more of a curse than a gift. It had nothing to do with mesmerizing angels or a glorious afterlife. Instead, her foresight only allowed her to see the details of someone’s death—how they died, where they died, what they felt and thought as they passed. Sometimes her visions were terrifying; other times gruesome. And they always ended at the moment of death. There was never anything after that. For this reason, Sara had come to believe that there wasn’t anything more to see. She never saw any evidence of the afterlife her mother had so eloquently described from her visions. To the best of Sara’s knowledge, she was never visited by spirits or angels. Even her own mother—who claimed to have this gift of communicating with spirits—had never so much as paid her a visit after she died. Surely if there were an afterlife and those who died really could communicate, her mother would have been the first to reach out to her.
Life as Sara knew it sucked. She felt trapped in a dark world of hopelessness and despair. The suffering she witnessed was enough to convince her that life was no more than a fluke of nature. Her studies in biology at Central Michigan University reinforced her empirical, scientific beliefs. Sara was fascinated with genetics, as well as the study of cells and microorganisms. She spent a lot of time at the lab, looking at living things under the microscope. Another passion of hers was the biology of the brain, how it worked and why. To her, life was merely a collection of cells and systems, and when they died, it was truly over. She wanted it to be over. There was nothing more for her here. Her mother had been dead for five years, and she had never known her father, who had died of a heart attack when she was a baby. She had no siblings, no living grandparents, and very few friends. Most people were scared off once they realized she possessed unusual psychic abilities. Many people found it creepy.
In high school, her best friend, Makayla, was so spooked when Sara had given her details about her little brother’s death, she spread rumors through the whole school that Sara was possessed by the devil. Everyone avoided Sara for a long time, and they would shoot her fearful glances and whisper in the halls. Eventually, they realized that Sara was not actually evil. Maybe it was because she had volunteered to help kids with special needs as a co-op student. Or it could have been the time when she sang a beautiful rendition of “O, Holy Night” in church on Christmas Eve. After that, people began speaking to her again, but they were still nervous around her, and it was very difficult for Sara to form close relationships with anyone. Who in their right mind wanted to hang around someone who repeatedly saw visions of death and dying? The world certainly would not miss Sara and, to be completely honest, she would not miss it either.
Sara took a last look around her bedroom, her safe haven. Its walls were painted a rich gold, and accessories of deep red complemented the décor. Her plush bedspread was a solid red accented with gold satin pillows. Her pine dresser held a bouquet of red roses in a polished gold vase on one end and scented candles in shades of gold and red on the other. A small overfilled pine bookshelf stood along the wall adjacent from her bed and held the many books Sara had read when feeling lonely, which was often. Romance novels were her favorites, especially those with happy endings. She had hoped that by surrounding herself with bright, vibrant colors and exhilarating love stories she would invite brightness, joy, and love into her life. What could she say? She had always been a hopeless romantic. But unfortunately love never came knocking at her door. Sara was a pretty girl, with the same wavy crimson hair as her mother and sparkling sapphire-blue eyes. She had an innocent sweetness about her, and the way she arched one eyebrow when thinking was both cute and sexy. Men liked her and immediately felt comfortable with her, until they found out her secret. Then they were so freaked out, they never called her again.
Her hand shaking, Sara removed the cap from the bottle and poured a bunch of tiny white pills into her other hand. She stared at them for a few minutes, as her eyes blurred and the pills became tiny, fuzzy smudges, like they were slowly fading away. It was time for Sara to do the same. She raised her cupped hand to her mouth, ready to toss the pills inside.
Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering jolted her out of a dazed state. She watched in slow motion as the pills spilled from her hand and scattered onto the tan carpet below.
What the hell was that?
she thought angrily.
Sara slowly headed from the privacy of her bedroom down the hall and into the family room, where the noise had apparently come from. She flicked on the lights and cautiously scanned her surroundings. As her eyes gazed across the rich black leather sofas, zebra print accessories, and pewter lamps, she saw no evidence of intruders. Her eyes stopped suddenly in front of the gray brick fireplace. Scattered across the hardwood floor were tiny pieces of glass and a pile of chalky gray residue. The polished-glass urn that had once held her mother’s ashes had somehow fallen from the mantel.
“Dammit!” Sara yelled. She knew she couldn’t end her life quite yet. As much as she wanted to, she had to clean up the mess. Her mother deserved better than to be left all over the floor like an insignificant pile of dust. She went to the closet that held a broom and dustpan. She carefully separated the pieces of glass from the ashes and began gathering them into her dustpan. As she did, she remembered her mom’s precious final days.
Sara was just thirteen years old when her mother, Star, became ill. Her grandmother had gently broken the news to her and explained that her mom had breast cancer. Star bravely fought the disease for nearly two years. In her final days, she was in a lot of pain at home, and Sara did whatever she could to take care of her and comfort her. She brought warm bowls of chicken noodle soup to her bedside. She often bought fresh flowers and placed them in her mother’s room to help lift her spirits. Sara remembered one day how she squeezed her mother’s frail hand tightly and told her beautiful stories of what a wonderful afterlife awaited her. At the time, Sara believed it. She was certain her mother would be greeted by shimmering light, magnificent angels, and loved ones who had gone before her. They would welcome her with open arms, filling her with love and peace while guiding her to her final destination: a Heaven that was beyond her wildest dreams and filled with the omnipotent, loving presence of God.