Read Online Beyond Reach by Melody Carlson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melody Carlson
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just sit there watching the fire as it flickers and jumps. The dancing motion of the flames is almost hypnotic. And suddenly I feel something changing, sort of like the couchbeneath me is shifting, tipping slightly sideways, although it's not. And then like a flash of lightning, I see something—something that's not really there. And I realize it's a vision! I try to calm myself as I focus.
I continue staring toward the fire, but what I see is entirely different than the bright orange flames. I see a foggy scene, somber and gray, with a dark railroad bridge, the kind with ironwork that looks a little like lace, and it stretches across a raging brown river below. I think I recognize the spot, not far from Kentwick Park, a place where people like to go rafting and boating in the summer, when the air is warm and the river is calm. But it's not summer in this scene, and then I notice something else—there, standing in the center of the bridge, perched on the outer edge, is a person. His arms are behind him, holding on to the bridge, but he's leaning forward. Precariously so. And then this person is jumping—and free-falling down almost as if in slow motion.
I can tell it's a guy with dark brown hair, but I can't see his face well enough to know who it is, although I sense real desperation in his expression. His eyes are tightly closed, and his mouth is grim. But something about him is familiar. And yet…I don't get it. And then, just like that, it's over. Gone. No more vision.
I ponder this, trying to discern what it means. I know with certainty that it's from God because I can just tell—I feel it deep inside of me. And while it was a scary scene, I don't feel frightened. But I do feel an urgency, like I need to do something. But I don't know what. I do know that theremust be a specific purpose for the vision because that's how God works. But other than that, I am blank.
The more I run it through my head, the less it seems to make sense. Naturally, I think of Peter Clark since he and his family have been on my mind lately. And I remember his photos and that he did have dark brown hair. Could that have been him in the vision? And if so, why? It doesn't really compute. I mean, Peter's death was caused by a gunshot wound to the head, not by jumping from a bridge. And even though I got the strong impression that this guy was killing himself, it wasn't how Peter died. What is that supposed to mean?
I finally decide to call Ebony. I'll give her the details while they're still fresh in my mind. Or, if necessary, I'll just leave a message. Maybe she can make sense of it or perhaps even use it for another case. I call her on my cell phone and am relieved to hear her answer in person. I quickly relay the vision with all the details, even down to where I think the location could be.
“And you think it was Peter in the vision?” she asks for clarification.
“I don't know. That part was unclear. It could've been him. Or not. But if it was him, it doesn't really make much. sense, does it?”
There's a long pause, and I can imagine her pondering this with her eyes slightly narrowed, lips pressed together, deep in thought. “Maybe Peter considered taking his life by jumping from a bridge. And maybe that's God's way of showing us that he actually did intend to take his own life.”
Somehow her voice doesn't convince me. It's like she's saying what she thinks I want to hear. “Do you really think so?”
“I don't know, Samantha. To be honest, that whole suicide thing doesn't ring true to me anymore. I've been checking out that suicide website and trying to piece this whole thing together, and I just don't know what to think. Something isn't right.”
Then my suicide vision probably doesn't help much, at least in regard to Peter.”
“Hey, at least God is communicating with you again,” she says in a brighter tone. “You must be happy about that.”
“Actually, I am.” Then I tell her that it's my birthday and that I
I continue staring toward the fire, but what I see is entirely different than the bright orange flames. I see a foggy scene, somber and gray, with a dark railroad bridge, the kind with ironwork that looks a little like lace, and it stretches across a raging brown river below. I think I recognize the spot, not far from Kentwick Park, a place where people like to go rafting and boating in the summer, when the air is warm and the river is calm. But it's not summer in this scene, and then I notice something else—there, standing in the center of the bridge, perched on the outer edge, is a person. His arms are behind him, holding on to the bridge, but he's leaning forward. Precariously so. And then this person is jumping—and free-falling down almost as if in slow motion.
I can tell it's a guy with dark brown hair, but I can't see his face well enough to know who it is, although I sense real desperation in his expression. His eyes are tightly closed, and his mouth is grim. But something about him is familiar. And yet…I don't get it. And then, just like that, it's over. Gone. No more vision.
I ponder this, trying to discern what it means. I know with certainty that it's from God because I can just tell—I feel it deep inside of me. And while it was a scary scene, I don't feel frightened. But I do feel an urgency, like I need to do something. But I don't know what. I do know that theremust be a specific purpose for the vision because that's how God works. But other than that, I am blank.
The more I run it through my head, the less it seems to make sense. Naturally, I think of Peter Clark since he and his family have been on my mind lately. And I remember his photos and that he did have dark brown hair. Could that have been him in the vision? And if so, why? It doesn't really compute. I mean, Peter's death was caused by a gunshot wound to the head, not by jumping from a bridge. And even though I got the strong impression that this guy was killing himself, it wasn't how Peter died. What is that supposed to mean?
I finally decide to call Ebony. I'll give her the details while they're still fresh in my mind. Or, if necessary, I'll just leave a message. Maybe she can make sense of it or perhaps even use it for another case. I call her on my cell phone and am relieved to hear her answer in person. I quickly relay the vision with all the details, even down to where I think the location could be.
“And you think it was Peter in the vision?” she asks for clarification.
“I don't know. That part was unclear. It could've been him. Or not. But if it was him, it doesn't really make much. sense, does it?”
There's a long pause, and I can imagine her pondering this with her eyes slightly narrowed, lips pressed together, deep in thought. “Maybe Peter considered taking his life by jumping from a bridge. And maybe that's God's way of showing us that he actually did intend to take his own life.”
Somehow her voice doesn't convince me. It's like she's saying what she thinks I want to hear. “Do you really think so?”
“I don't know, Samantha. To be honest, that whole suicide thing doesn't ring true to me anymore. I've been checking out that suicide website and trying to piece this whole thing together, and I just don't know what to think. Something isn't right.”
Then my suicide vision probably doesn't help much, at least in regard to Peter.”
“Hey, at least God is communicating with you again,” she says in a brighter tone. “You must be happy about that.”
“Actually, I am.” Then I tell her that it's my birthday and that I
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