Read Online Remember The Moon by Abigail; Carter - Free Book Online Page A

every triumph of my life on Earth was an understatement. Death was not at all what I’d imagined.
    “Hello Jay. I’m Alice.” Her voice was not audible. I heard her thoughts, and the gentleness in her eyes put me at ease. I could make out her features, perhaps by merely imagining them. Her soft-spoken thoughts made me think of her as a grandmotherly type with startling pale, watery blue eyes and an orb-like body, but with recognizable features like I had, though less formed than mine. She wore a nondescript, pale blue dress but seemed to have no arms or legs. Alice smiled more on the right side of her face, giving the impression she enjoyed some tiny irony, one I had missed. Tendrils of fine white hair ruffled around her head like a coronet. She was the sort of person who in her past life might have worked in a library – unassuming, knowing, immensely helpful.
    “Why don’t you come with me?” Alice said. I turned to my father, who somehow gestured his approval by moving back out of the way.
    “I’ll see you again soon.” I tried to wave, but no gesture came, just the thought.
    I followed Alice into an amorphous room, with shimmering opalescent walls and a not-so-soothing fountain made of brook stones in the corner. A window overlooked a harbor with sailboats bobbing in the water, seagulls squawking and swooping, a perfect blue sky. Alice gestured toward a white velvet couch, something my mother would have shuddered at and forbidden me to sit on for fear of marring its whiteness. But the couch, and for that matter the entire room, was a formality, since I couldn’t actually feel its plush surface – another remnant of human life meant to put me at ease. Nothing about a white couch put me at ease. Alice looked at me and waited.
    “Are you for real?” I asked.
    She blinked. “Do you think I’m real?”
    “You look real. But nothing seems to make sense here.”
    “You’ve had a shock. It’s going to take you some time to remember.”
    “Remember what? Why the hell am I here?” It came out harsher than I had intended. Alice remained calm. Gentle.
    “There is much for you to remember. Because of the nature of your death, its suddenness, we haven’t had time to prepare you. It’s going to take a little longer than usual to get you re-acclimated.”
    “Re-acclimated?”
    “Yes. You need to spend some time getting used to being here again.”
    “Again?”
    “Yes, Jay. You’ve been here many times before.”
    “I have?”
    “In your sessions here, we will be reviewing your life, seeing where you may have taken a different path, what aspects of your life might still be holding you back. From remembering who you are.”
    “I know who I am! I’m Jay Cavor!”
    Alice just smiled.
    “Can I leave?”
    “You can. It’s up to you. No one here will force you to do anything against your will. You always have a choice, Jay.
    But know that leaving will simply prolong the process.” I slumped back into the illusional couch, exasperated. “Why don’t we try a simple exercise?” Alice suggested. “Fine. Whatever.”
    “Think of a memory from your childhood. A simple one. A time that made you happy.”
    The room vanished and I stood on a bed playing Jimmy Page on a snowshoe with a bunch of girls singing into hairbrush microphones. One of the girls, a very young Maya, surprised me and made me laugh, landing me immediately back in the room with Alice.
    “Shit! I forgot all about that day! We had a blast as kids at Maya's cottage that summer... At least until–”
    The glass-like floor was a window into my life that played like a movie, with me an integral part of the action. It was a replay of my life in all dimensions. Thoughts, I realized again, were transparent in this realm. A thought equaled an action or a visual, and you could communicate thoughts without meaning to. Thoughts had the ability to show up right there on your own personal movie-screen floor.
    “Very good,” Alice said. “Now try a