Suzanne Summers was a clairvoyant. And a genuine one at that. Not one of those rip-offs who stared into crystal balls and charged clients a hand and a foot. Well, alright. Maybe her charges were quite exorbitant but it wasn’t every day the average Joe got to find out that his dead great grandfather wanted to share with him, his secret stash of gold bars hidden underneath the floorboards of the family house. In short, Suzanne was good at her job. She could see ghosts, speak to them and relay their messages to their loved ones. And for that, she was paid handsomely.  Today, Suzanne sat in her office. Sunlight streamed through the sole window of the room through its recently wiped glass with dust mites dancing in the sunbeam. Suzanne was hunched over her white Ikea Micke desk, papers strewn all over the place as she chewed on her ballpoint pen. Her curly dark hair was tied up loosely in a bun while her glasses kept sliding down her b

Suzanne stepped out of Knewton University’s hallway entrance with her trusty red toolbox swinging in her hands.  As she bounced towards her car, she took a look at her surroundings and marvelled at all the students around her. She never did attend university, having already started her business at a tender age of 18. The youngsters seemed to live in a whole different world. For a brief moment, she wondered what life would have been like if she had been born a normal girl.  Then she shook her head. Get a grip Suzanne Summers. She opened her car door, hopped in, and started the engine. As she revved away, she missed seeing a black mist forming in the shadows at the entrance of the hallway. In fact, no once seemed to the ominous dark matter. No one could see it. It stayed there for quite some time as if confused. What was it here for again? Then, as a young woman walked out of t

Yvonne stayed where she was, not inching forward at all, worried that her son would faint for another time. But of course, Tom didn’t. He gathered himself within seconds, enough for him to look at Suzanne and whisper, “Is that my mother?” He had memorized her face from the identification card that he retrieved earlier from the hospital. Surely this was some kind of trickery? “It’s me, I’m Yvonne Long. I’m your mother Tom,” Yvonne said softly, speaking directly to her son for the first time in 3 decades. Relief washed over Yvonne’s face. She could finally meet her son face to face. She started weeping, wiping her translucent tears with her shimmery hospital gown.  Tom looked at Suzanne, unsure of what to do. Here was a woman, no, a ghost who looked like his mother, crying in front of him. He never could stand seeing a woman cry, let alone the ghost of his

Tom dug in. There was a ragged doll that had lost an eye, a chocolate wrapper, a pink bow tie, a photo of the little girl and her mother, and a little plastic piggy bank. The girl crouched next to Tom and pointed at the piggy bank.  Tom pulled it out. The purple piggy bank was semi-transparent and Suzanne could see that there were some dollar notes and coins in them.  You want to give this to your mommy?” she asked. The little ghost girl nodded in excitement. Suzanne's heart broke. She recalled begging for her own mother to stay, in exchange for all the money in her piggy bank.   Oh, God. She came back here just to give her mother her savings. The little girl had travelled all the way to Suzanne's apartment just so she could give her mother her savings.  The ghost pointed to the photo too. In it, the little girl was sti

It was nightfall, the moon shone brightly in a cloudless night and Tom stood in front of the Banks’ residence. Unbeknownst to Yvonne and Suzanne, he had been here before. But only as a guest. He had been invited to the Mayor’s ball the last Christmas as a guest and speaker. He had even chatted with William Banks that night and had found the man to be as charming as the media had made him out to be. “You look like someone I used to know,” William had laughed as they stood by the firewall, sipping Chardonnay while a violinist strode past them playing Last Christmas.  Did I remind you of Yvonne? He thought to himself. Life would certainly have been vastly different had he grown up a member of the Banks family, and not just someone who bore the same surname.  But what’s past is past. I’m here to say goodbye to him.  Tom stepped up to th