Being a busy mother, I had no time for the unknown.
A friend needed help in her shop so my husband offered my services as he wanted to know where I was during the day while the kids were at school. According to him, I spent it quicker than he could make it! To be honest, the thought of chatting with customers all day was appealing but my excitement decreased as the time went by as only one person walked through the door. Boredom was something I hadn’t experienced in a long time and it made me wonder why I kept myself so busy. Was there something which I didn’t want to think about?
With time on my hands, I found myself forced to listen. When I first heard the girl speak, I thought someone was in the shop. I walked the small space but no one was there. I thought the chatterbox, which has a meltdown every so often, had sprung into action to get my attention. It usually reminds me to get milk after I’ve driven past the supermarket!
But this voice was different and it wasn’t coming from within.
The sound was definitely external. I blamed it on being bored so I looked for a distraction. A book had been left behind by my friend so I flicked through the pages but I was unable to read.
Dust became my obsession so I began to wipe the shelves and when I stopped, the voice started. Giving up, I listened as the girl in her late teens told of her suicide. She wanted me to tell others not to end their path as we all have a purpose here. I laughed at the thought of telling others. Most of my friends were materialistic and the mention of a spirit with a message would have them in hysterics. I needed to leave the shop.
Promising to stay until my friend had found a replacement, I decided to scrapbook my daughter’s school year. A photo of her with her friends and horses didn’t fill the page so I picked up my pen and wrote but as soon as the ink touched the paper, I couldn’t stop. Thinking I was writing about my daughter, I continued on but then the story changed and I knew I was writing about Vanessa Smythe.
By the time I had left the shop for good, I had written thirty thousand words. My curiosity had transferred my paper and pen to a laptop which had only made things worse as my fingers would not stop typing. Giving up to finish the story, I realised what she had to say was to live in our own moment and live with a purpose to provide peace.
Understanding what the message was, I wondered why she had asked me to write as it was not something I wanted to do. The moment of boredom had made me think about my path which I had ignored. Empathy was my purpose and to make sure I spread the word about caring, other spirits came forward with their stories. I tried to ignore them but, in the end, I gave up when one spirit sent me to Scotland to confirm what she was showing me on my laptop screen.
Writing is not a profession I would choose, as sitting down alone is not what I enjoy, but to keep me on my path the spirits provide me with confirmation by sending me to other countries. I enjoy visiting the sites and meeting other civilisations and sometimes I feel as if I’m a travel writer. I know the main objective of life is to make sure we live with empathy, enjoy what we have and not let the ego step in so we become depressed about what we don’t have.
Sometimes you have to say ‘who cares’.
Kristina Evans spent her childhood in Wales and while the adults shared stories at the local pub she stayed at home with spirits of a different kind. Her grandmother provided protection but the experience remained until the family moved to Australia where Kristina learned how to block out the supernatural by being busy.
Today Kristina is a writer and author of ten books.