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The Child - Six author, and that made the story on the pages all the more puzzling. It was about Margaret Mitchell, the author of GONE WITH THE WIND, but Ted had no great interest in Margaret Mitchell. The story told of Miss Mitchell’s creation of her masterpiece, a task which had been accomplished with the aid of some spirit form or guide. Working through Miss Mitchell, this spirit entity had shaped a grand book that brought the romantic southern tradition to life. As the story in his hands explained, “The spirit was a highly evolved soul that had once lived a life similar to Scarlett O’Hara’s, and her tale was as strong as the Ancient Mariner’s and she had to tell it. She needed a release for this energy and Margaret was her channel. Through Margaret’s pen she would be able to confess her unjust deeds that had hurt so many when she was on the earth plane. It would help Margaret in her own spiritual development as well, and entertainment would be brought to countless millions. Quietly and secretively she moved in around Margaret and they formed a team that produced one of the greatest novels of all times.” This was not the sort of message, or the medium, he was familiar with from his spirit guides. The meaning in the story wasn’t clear to him, but he was even more concerned that he had no memory at all of writing it. At least the first story, he realized, might have a partial explanation, for it was clear that Karly’s own description, actions, and background were copied from his own. He won- dered if the story came from some unforgotten childhood memory, so Ted searched through his past but came up emp- ty. He simply didn’t remember such a thing happening to him at eight years old, which was Karly’s age in the story. Thinking back to those years in Alabama did bring to mind the memory of that morning he left his body in bed and floated into the kitchen, though. He loved his childhood and the people who cared for him, especially his Grandy. Wist- fully he thought about her, and an old, haunting emotion started up in him. Her death, when he was ten years old, had Masquerade of Angels 46 The Child - Six cut deeply into his heart. Although there was no reason for it, Ted had always suffered a sense of guilt and uncertainty about it. If only things hadn’t been so strange just before she died, perhaps he would have felt differently. His family had moved away from the farm by then and into a small town, so he didn’t get to visit Grandy very often. Sometimes she would come for a visit and stay two or three weeks, filling the house with the delicious smells of cobblers, cookies, and cakes. Their house was small, and when Grandy visited, she shared his little bedroom, snuggling up warmly at night and lulling him to sleep with stories of the old times. Every detail of her last visit was still clear in Ted’s mind. Daddy had brought her to town on Thursday night, because it was such a long drive to the farm and back. They hardly had a chance to talk before bed, but Teddy looked forward to the weekend and some of Grandy’s wonderful hot biscuits for Sunday breakfast. He put on his pajamas and climbed in between the blankets, and then his grandmother, in a long white gown, slid in beside him. The bed soon filled with her warmth, and Teddy dozed off almost immediately. It was dark when he opened his eyes. He sensed some- thing in the room, long before he heard it, but when he tried to sit up and look around, his body wouldn’t move. He felt wild-eyed terror, like a trapped animal, wishing with all his heart that he could burrow to safety under Grandy beside him. Something shifted then, and Teddy was suddenly aware of being at the foot of the bed. He saw both their bodies still under the covers, and now he could hear a voice. It was unfa- miliar, deep and angry and male, and for a crazy moment he wondered if the voice could possibly be coming from him, since he didn’t see anyone else in the room. The words made no sense, however, but Teddy could feel the dangerous anger within them. A shift again, and he was back in his body, in bed and still unable to move. Grandy wasn’t moving, either. The man’s deep, frightening voice droned on, and Teddy fought to cry out at him to stop. His mouth wouldn’t work. He couldn’t raise his hand to turn on the bedside lamp, he Masquerade of Angels 47