{"id":2134,"date":"2020-12-12T19:58:49","date_gmt":"2020-12-13T02:58:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2134"},"modified":"2020-12-12T19:58:49","modified_gmt":"2020-12-13T02:58:49","slug":"legacy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2020\/12\/12\/legacy\/","title":{"rendered":"Legacy"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: Write a ghost story where there\u2019s more going on than it first appears….<\/em><\/em>
available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rita and Paul walked in silence, avoiding the crowds, turning at random. At least Rita tried to keep it random, but she always ended up at the same place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re here, again.\u201d Paul stepped aside to let her pass, and she entered the storefront, nothing more than a small sigh to signify her defeat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They passed through the cafe in the front and entered the bookstore proper. Rita knew there was no longer any reason to deny what drew her and went straight to the new releases. The book sat before her, pompous and arrogant, the author\u2019s face surrounded by a cloud of mathematical formulae.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRita, dear…\u201d Paul placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. \u201cWe\u2019re here to help, but we can\u2019t do it for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, no\u2026 I know.\u201d She stared at the cover and time stopped. The symbols crawled over one another, shifting, turning. She knew they were wrong, somehow. \u201cBut, it\u2019s not real\u2026 I mean\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paul tugged at her shoulder. \u201cI understand, and we’re here for you.\u201d He glanced at the darkening sky through the plate glass of the store. \u201cIt\u2019s getting late, we should go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rita nodded almost imperceptibly and deflated, her shoulders dropping and her gaze fixed on the floor. She let Paul lead her away like a child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The morning snuck in gray and damp. Rita paced the house, waiting for Paul to wake. When she heard him stir, she stopped herself and took several deep, measured breaths. I can do this.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you ready to try again?\u201d Paul smiled, as if it were any normal day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think so\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou went almost four hours yesterday. Maybe your avoidance idea is working.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow many times, now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes softened. \u201cLet\u2019s not worry about counting. We\u2019re here for you, however long it takes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As they walked, Rita decided a conversation might help her stop obsessing over the book. \u201cSure is a chilly morning for summer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, it would be, except it\u2019s early fall now.\u201d Paul bumped her shoulder. \u201cStill, I get what you mean. More like a late fall morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen you first met me, what was I doing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou were staring at the book. Motionless and unresponsive.\u201d He looked at her. \u201cDo you remember that day?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot really\u2026. I can\u2019t remember anything before<\/em> that day. Unless\u2026\u201d something tickled the back of her mind. \u201cIt\u2019s like I can almost<\/em> remember something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMemories rattling in the back of the brain?\u201d He chuckled. \u201cWe’ve all been there. That’s a good sign.\u201d He stepped aside and motioned her in. \u201cWe’re here again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rita walked through the cafe and past the new releases to the non-fiction section. The book was here now, but she didn’t have to search, it drew her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRita, we’ve tried your way, but you’re still stuck.\u201d Paul stood behind her, his hand on her shoulders. \u201cLet’s try something different. Pick just one element on the book and focus on that until you remember that piece.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She nodded and picked one formula. It was wrong, but she didn’t understand why yet. The numbers and symbols drew her in, swirling around until she was wading in them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt’s a mathematical model of\u2026 of\u2026 I can’t\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShh. Take as long as you need.\u201d Paul stepped back, and the formula drew her in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She waded deeper, the numbers and symbols threatening to drown her, and still she pressed on. Was the formula growing or was she shrinking? Did it matter? It covered her, but instead of drowning she felt herself infusing into it. There was something intimate about it, embracing her like a mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI made this. This formula describes pareidolia.\u201d Rita turned around to see Paul smiling, standing still. \u201cIt\u2019s a mathematical model for how our brains make patterns out of things. Mathematically it\u2019s sound. Neurologically it\u2019s correct. But it\u2019s still wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood, Rita.\u201d He took her hand. \u201cI think that\u2019s enough for today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy is it wrong, though?\u201d She had to know how something right, something she made<\/em>, was so wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll become clear the more you remember.\u201d He put an arm around her shoulder to lead her out. \u201cFor now, remembering you made it is enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the days that followed she connected with more of the formulae. One was a model that described confirmation bias, another the electrical storm in the brain when oxygen starved. Processes of the mind, modeled in mathematical precision. She remembered the phrase \u201can astounding break-through in neuroscience.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They stood in front of the bookstore, fresh snow drifting around their feet. Rita thought it had just been early fall a few days earlier. \u201cSnow, already?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paul said nothing, but held the door while she entered. He followed her to the book. \u201cYou remembered a phrase the other day.\u201d He pointed at the book. \u201cCan you find it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked at the book again. Up to now, Rita had been so drawn by the author\u2019s face and the cloud of formulae around her she hadn\u2019t even noticed the words. \u201cThere, at the bottom. I don\u2019t know how I didn\u2019t notice it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t beat yourself up over it. Instead, try to look somewhere new. What is the title of the book?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rita stared at the book and time stopped again. There was a title here somewhere. \u201cGot it. \u2018The Deceitful Brain: Neuroscience Explains the Supernatural.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s good, Rita. Shall we call it a day?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\u201d Rita focused on the words on the cover. \u201cI\u2019l figure this out, today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOk, I\u2019m here when you need us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rita reached out, her hand inches from the book. \u201cI can see all the words inside\u2026 it\u2019s like\u2026 I know this.\u201d She took in a sharp breath. \u201cI remember writing this. The picture on the cover is me. I was right when I wrote it, I knew. So why is it wrong now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHm. What happened after you wrote it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She closed her eyes and saw herself holding a copy of the book, opening it and scrawling her signature. The book signing flooded back into her memory. Scores of people waiting for an autographed copy, but only one face was in focus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere was a man at the signing. He didn\u2019t want a copy or an autograph. He got right in my face and told me I was going to hell, that it was the devil, not science guiding me. And then he\u2026.\u201d She shook as fright overtook her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paul embraced her. \u201cWe’re all here for you. He can\u2019t hurt you now, but you\u2019re close. Remember. What did he do then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe pulled out a\u2026 a gun. I felt a burning flash across my face as the bullet tore through my brain.\u201d She stepped back from Paul. \u201cAnd then I was here, with you.\u201d She looked back at the book. \u201cThat\u2019s why it\u2019s wrong. I\u2019m proof<\/em> that it\u2019s wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you regret writing it? Regret is powerful and difficult to shake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot\u2026 no, not regret. Just sad, I guess.\u201d She turned away from the book. \u201cCan we leave now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure.\u201d Paul smiled and led her to the door where an inviting summer day beamed in. \u201cBut we can\u2019t go with you, you don\u2019t need us any more.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks, Paul.\u201d Rita gave him a quick hug, sensing the multitude of souls gathered around him, before stepping out of the bookstore for the last time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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