Well, hello again. Nice to see you back. Today, I’m going to talk about reincarnation.
When my sister was younger, she used to say things like, “When I was an old lady…” One day, we went to Ottawa. Never having been there before, my dad took a wrong turn and got lost. My sister calmly explained what he had to do to get back where we were supposed to be. Trying to humor her, my dad followed her direction. Lo and behold, we ended up exactly where we were supposed to be. This uncanny ability to know things she had no way of knowing lasted until she was six or seven years old, and then, poof! It was gone and she never spoke of it again.
While a lot of people don’t believe in it, the idea of reincarnation or transmigration is an intrinsic part of some eastern religions including Buddhism. Here are ten examples of stories of people who have been reincarnated.
In my novel, Echoes of the past, my two main characters are reincarnated. While one is aware of her past life, the other isn’t. How would you react if you discovered you’d lived and died before?
Tony dropped down on the couch and stared at the closed door.
What is wrong with me? Why did I attack her like that? It’s as if there was some angry, jealous monster inside my head. In the space of forty-eight hours, I’ve become someone I neither like nor recognize. My God, I’m losing it. What the hell is this place doing to me?
He stood, went to the cupboard, and took out the bottle of fifteen-year old scotch he’d placed there—the bottle he’d brought with him to celebrate his discovery when he made it. He didn’t even stop to think, cracked it open, and poured an inch into the bottom of a water tumbler. He downed it in one gulp. He poured the same amount again.
Hell of a way to treat fine scotch.
The disastrous argument they had replayed itself like a bad movie—each frame clear, but the story only got worse. The minute the words had come out of his mouth, he had known he’d crossed the line. In his mind, he’d seen her lying naked on the bed, her face in the throes of passion, but the man hovering above her had been Ron, and the image had driven him insane. He had wanted to grab her and shake her—at least he’d been able to control that impulse.
He went out on the porch and stared out at the lake. The moon bathed it in silver. He could see the ripples shining, but nothing else. There were no ghostly canoes rising out of the mist, no strange lights on the surface, just a plain old lake. He felt torn in two. He sipped the scotch.
Michelle was right. He’d known he’d need more proof before he could go to the police. Hell, he’d sung that tune to his students himself.
Had guilt triggered his uncharacteristic behavior? He told them he’d needed proof. Jackson verified they had gone after that proof and had gotten themselves killed. Their deaths were on him.
His reactions to the thought of Michelle and Ron together bothered him the most. It was one thing to dislike a person, but where had this festering hatred come from? He knew he had absolutely no proof against the man, and the things he’d said tonight bordered on slander. The last thing he wanted was for Ron to have something else to hold against him.
Tony knew his attack on Michelle—and that’s what it had been—had been completely over the top. He’d been blinded by the jealousy of a lover who’d found the woman he loved with another man. He had no claims on Michelle. She might be married for all he knew.
That thought stabbed him in the heart, and he gasped. She couldn’t be married. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he was positive they were meant to be together, and he kept screwing it up. He knew sexual tension could mess with a man’s mind, but this was ridiculous.
Maybe they were only supposed to solve this mystery together, but he couldn’t separate the flesh and blood woman in his kitchen from the passionate vixen in his dreams. Michelle looked like his ghost, and the longer they had been together, the more she reminded him of his temptress, the one he craved like a drug. He loved her as surely as he could ever love anyone, and seeing her in Michelle was killing him. The thought that he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hold her the way he wanted too, had increased his level of frustration, and when she’d defended Ron, he’d lost it.
Was Joseph right? Was he this how-many-times-removed uncle of his? His feelings for her were real. Reincarnation was the only thing that made sense, and yet, how could he accept that? There was no scientific proof for it. Gut feeling? He was a reincarnated man in love with a woman who resembled a ghost?
That makes me officially certifiable.
He saw her again sitting across from him, chatting animatedly as they ate their soup. It was the little things, like the way she held her head, the way she smiled, the sound of her voice, but the way she’d bitten her lip had pushed him over the edge. He’d seen her do it often when she would shyly disrobed for him.
He’d been hard as a rock, embarrassed as all hell, and frustrated. He’d wanted her and knowing she’d spent time with the one man he seemed to hate above all others had made him crazy. The accusations he’d thrown at her—how the hell was he ever going to apologize for those?
He let another mouthful of scotch burn its way down his throat. The glass was empty.
He turned back into the house, locked the door, and shut the lights. He went into his bedroom and got ready for bed. Somehow, he would have to apologize again, but damned if he knew how.
Want to read more? Echoes of the Past is on sale for 99 cents USD, this month.
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