Read Online Jilly-Bean (Jilly-Bean Series # 1) by Celia Vogel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Celia Vogel
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spot fell over his large forehead, blocking one eye. Meanwhile Mr. Mueller had become such a nuisance, making derisive comments and generally behaving like a rowdy schoolboy, that Aunt Jean warned him, too, that he was free to leave but, if he wanted to stay, would have to remain quiet and respect the spirits.
“Oh, will everyone be quiet?” begged Jillian's mother. “How do you expect the spirits ever to appear?”
“Well, we have to be patient,” added Peter Paradis, winking at Jillian.
Above the commotion, Madame Zelda cried out, her face flushing with anger, “I am losing my patience! Vill everyone shut up?”
“There's no need to be rude, Madame Butterfly, or whatever your name is,” retorted Mrs. Sparks.
This was too much for Aunt Jean, whose voice was breaking with emotion: “There is no need to get hostile and attack poor Madame Zelda!”
The chatter and arguing continued. Only after long drawn-out minutes of more laughing, insults and hurt feelings did the talk subside, but at length everyone around the table appeared to be in a deep meditative state. An eerie silence reigned, except for the intermittent sounds of a wailing whistling wind outside the barn and the odd branch scraping against the wooden plank walls. The candle flickered ever more brightly. Jillian glanced at Madame Zelda, who appeared to be in a deep trance; her eyeballs had rolled upwards, and her eyelids fluttered like butterflies' wings, while her hands and elbows shook as if she were having an epileptic fit. Mr. Mueller again broke the silence by announcing in a loud majestic voice, “Is the little old lady all right?” but was quickly silenced by Aunt Jean: “I'm warning you for the last time, John! My patience is on the brink.”
After that the séance proceeded smoothly and followed the usual course. Madame Zelda howled and wailed in a quavering voice that she used to great effect, captivating the participants by channelling deceased relatives and other miscellaneous spirits. Mr. Mueller's mother, who had died of cancer when he was still a young boy, cautioned him to avoid high altitudes, which could prove fatal, and told him he would also be taking a cruise to France in the near future. The ghost of Jesse Livermore appeared and advised Geordie Crossland to avoid energy stocks. When Jillian's turn came, Madame Zelda began to moan, saying she saw great emotions. What kind of emotions? Well, love to be precise. “I see a handsome young man in your future. A healer!” Jillian smiled to herself and thought, Uh-huh... but who could love me? And and aren't these things so predictable? But no sooner had this thought popped into her head than Madame Zelda began to look confused and murmured under her breath, “Something is not right.”
“Why has it suddenly got cold?” queried Mr. Paradis. The barn had indeed become colder. A faint stir went around the table. In a sudden flicker of the candlelight, all the faces looked worried and anxious; the play of light and shadow made their heads appear to float on air. Jillian shot a glance at Madame Zelda, who held her head high and poised at an odd angle, fixing a glassy stare at an indefinite spot above Jillian's head. At last the old woman really did look possessed!
Out of the darkness came a sound of rushing footsteps that grew ever louder, followed by a faint knocking on the barn door and then a scratching like the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Someone or something was trying to get in! Jillian's heart was pounding; she grew numb with fear. Her mouth dropped open as if she were about to scream, but no sound came out. She couldn't have uttered a solitary word to save her soul, her throat had become so constricted. Mr. Sparks and her father cocked their heads with inquisitive looks on their faces and listened hard to the eerie sounds. Mrs. Sparks jolted up in her seat, her voice cracking: “My graciousness, is that screaming? Is that a child screaming, or an animal?”
“Quiet!'
“Oh, will everyone be quiet?” begged Jillian's mother. “How do you expect the spirits ever to appear?”
“Well, we have to be patient,” added Peter Paradis, winking at Jillian.
Above the commotion, Madame Zelda cried out, her face flushing with anger, “I am losing my patience! Vill everyone shut up?”
“There's no need to be rude, Madame Butterfly, or whatever your name is,” retorted Mrs. Sparks.
This was too much for Aunt Jean, whose voice was breaking with emotion: “There is no need to get hostile and attack poor Madame Zelda!”
The chatter and arguing continued. Only after long drawn-out minutes of more laughing, insults and hurt feelings did the talk subside, but at length everyone around the table appeared to be in a deep meditative state. An eerie silence reigned, except for the intermittent sounds of a wailing whistling wind outside the barn and the odd branch scraping against the wooden plank walls. The candle flickered ever more brightly. Jillian glanced at Madame Zelda, who appeared to be in a deep trance; her eyeballs had rolled upwards, and her eyelids fluttered like butterflies' wings, while her hands and elbows shook as if she were having an epileptic fit. Mr. Mueller again broke the silence by announcing in a loud majestic voice, “Is the little old lady all right?” but was quickly silenced by Aunt Jean: “I'm warning you for the last time, John! My patience is on the brink.”
After that the séance proceeded smoothly and followed the usual course. Madame Zelda howled and wailed in a quavering voice that she used to great effect, captivating the participants by channelling deceased relatives and other miscellaneous spirits. Mr. Mueller's mother, who had died of cancer when he was still a young boy, cautioned him to avoid high altitudes, which could prove fatal, and told him he would also be taking a cruise to France in the near future. The ghost of Jesse Livermore appeared and advised Geordie Crossland to avoid energy stocks. When Jillian's turn came, Madame Zelda began to moan, saying she saw great emotions. What kind of emotions? Well, love to be precise. “I see a handsome young man in your future. A healer!” Jillian smiled to herself and thought, Uh-huh... but who could love me? And and aren't these things so predictable? But no sooner had this thought popped into her head than Madame Zelda began to look confused and murmured under her breath, “Something is not right.”
“Why has it suddenly got cold?” queried Mr. Paradis. The barn had indeed become colder. A faint stir went around the table. In a sudden flicker of the candlelight, all the faces looked worried and anxious; the play of light and shadow made their heads appear to float on air. Jillian shot a glance at Madame Zelda, who held her head high and poised at an odd angle, fixing a glassy stare at an indefinite spot above Jillian's head. At last the old woman really did look possessed!
Out of the darkness came a sound of rushing footsteps that grew ever louder, followed by a faint knocking on the barn door and then a scratching like the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Someone or something was trying to get in! Jillian's heart was pounding; she grew numb with fear. Her mouth dropped open as if she were about to scream, but no sound came out. She couldn't have uttered a solitary word to save her soul, her throat had become so constricted. Mr. Sparks and her father cocked their heads with inquisitive looks on their faces and listened hard to the eerie sounds. Mrs. Sparks jolted up in her seat, her voice cracking: “My graciousness, is that screaming? Is that a child screaming, or an animal?”
“Quiet!'
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