Magic - Chapter Two

Author's note: Today, my stream of consciousness flows easily without having to think through the story. Therefore, I am letting my subconscious do the work. I am writing this after writing the following, which you will soon read, and I want to mention that everything I have written so far is purely from my subconscious mind. I have not planned the plot, especially what will happen in today's chapter; you will wonder if I have planned this particular incident. The answer is 'No, I have not'. To be honest, it just came into my mind rather abruptly as I was writing, and that's how the subconscious usually works. I hope you understand what I am saying. If you don't, I recommend you read the book The Power of Your Subconscious Mind by Joseph Murphy.

I hope you enjoy reading chapter two and comment on your feelings about it below.

Chapter Two

Clara sits in a cafe, and I am next to her. She has a pen in her right hand, ready to begin writing in the notebook she has laid out on the table. A blank page rests in front of her. I know she is ready to write - and I am too.

I remember finishing a book and sending the manuscript to my editor. Those were the days when you posted your work in a secure envelope. Now, all you do is click a button, and it’s sent. Times have changed—and they will change much more, as I have learned recently. But of course, there is no time frame here for me. There is only today. Life goes on in Heaven much as it does on Earth, but everything is dealt with in a far more sacred way.

Clara stops writing and looks up. Someone is standing by the seat opposite. It's a man, and he's smiling at her.

"Excuse me. Is this seat occupied? I wondered if I could sit here and drink my coffee," the man says.

"I'm sorry, but could you find somewhere else. I need that seat to stay available because my husband is coming to meet me, so I'm holding it for him. That's why my coat is on it."

"I see. Sorry to disturb you."

He walks away—but I know Clara is lying. Her husband isn’t coming. It’s something she tells everyone so she can sit alone and write.

It's rather annoying, because the cafe is full of empty tables, and yet the man chose hers. Why?

I glance over at him. He is now seated nearby, facing Clara. I notice him staring at her. His beady, dark eyes are wide and harsh. Why has he taken an interest in her?

The moment the question forms, a wave of feeling washes over me—dread. It settles heavily in my chest. That is unusual for me now that I am in Heaven. I consider visiting the Library of Emotions to understand it, but that would mean disappearing for half an hour.

I remembered what my own guide had told me when I had arrived in Heaven.

'Liza, you only have to think of me, and I'll be by your side.'

So I do. I picture Leona’s fair, curly hair and her bright blue eyes—and suddenly she is there, sitting beside me.

"Liza, you summoned me? What appears to be the problem?"

“Well… I am feeling dread since I saw this man staring at Clara. Is there something I need to learn from this?”

“Ah, I see. It seems you’re picking up on his emotions.”

“But how do you know they’re his and not Clara’s?”

“Because, Liza… Clara is a happy person. She has no reason to feel dread. Although,” she adds. “She could be picking up on his thoughts. Let me read them both for a moment.”

Leona closes her eyes for a couple of minutes. When she opens them again, she smiles.

"Have you seen something?" I asked.

“Yes. Unfortunately, I have—and it cannot be ignored. But I will deal with it. For now, Liza, focus on Clara. Do not let her out of your sight. Close your eyes, take my instructions, and act on them immediately.”

I do as she tells me. I am confused at first, but I trust her. She is always right.

I keep my attention on the man, watching him carefully. It is for Clara’s safety—Leona said so.

Clara glances in his direction. She notices him staring.

I need to push her to write. Otherwise, she will waste the day and abandon it again. She is easily distracted. She needs focus—something to anchor her away from whatever this is.

She needs focus—something to anchor her away from whatever this is.

I first chose to become Clara’s Writing Guide when I learned that guides could help people become who they were meant to be. That is how I found her.

In Heaven, there is the Library of Talent, where guides search for those with untapped ability. Some don’t yet realise their gift—and that is where we come in.

In my case, I wanted someone to write my story so it could exist on Earth.

When I found Clara, I was so excited that I overwhelmed her with my thoughts. It happens sometimes—especially when a guide is new. Not often… but in my case, I gave her such severe headaches that she ended up in hospital for a week.

The doctor told her she needed rest from work. At the time, she was a Financial Analyst in a busy bank. Numbers, not words. It’s hard to imagine now.

So it became my task to guide her from one life into another.

Abruptly, Clara closes her notebook and slips it into her bag.

I don’t understand. She has only just arrived. Normally, she stays for over an hour. She had been in a flow—and now it’s gone.

She stands, pulls on her long blue woollen coat, lifts her bag, and takes out her purse. She places a twenty-pound note on the table, returns the purse to her bag, and slips the strap over her shoulder before walking out of the café.

The man stands too.

And follows her.

Quietly. Subtly.

No one would notice.

Clara walks down the street. She doesn’t have far to go—her home is only five minutes away.

She walks quickly.

The man follows.

He is tall—around six feet—and broad. His hood is pulled low, hiding most of his face. He is not far behind her.

Then, suddenly, a van pulls up alongside him, moving slowly.

The man quickens his pace.

I feel it before it happens.

I shout into Clara’s mind.

"Run. Run, Clara—run!”

Clara runs, but so does the man.

The van crawls alongside them.

Clara turns a corner—then another—and darts into a front garden, hiding between two trees. She is concealed completely.

No one can see her.

It’s a good hiding place.

I guided her there.

I tell her to stay. To wait. To be still.

She remains there for over an hour. It isn’t safe to move. The man—and another, the driver—linger nearby, searching.

But I know she will be alright.

Leona said so.

Even so, it unsettles me.

When Clara finally emerges, she is shaking. She scans her surroundings before stepping out.

Then she moves.

Fast.

She almost runs all the way home.

Once inside, she locks the door—every lock—and retreats into the living room, waiting anxiously for her husband to return.

I stay with her.

I try to calm her thoughts, to soothe the fear tightening inside her.

I will make sure she calls the police.

She must report this.

She must give a statement.

And I will make sure she does.

To be continued...