Home Lost in Romance Petrina Green, a short story for Lost in Romance

Petrina Green, a short story for Lost in Romance

by Louisa Klein

And here’s another juicy treat for you, Romance readers! A short paranormal romance short story by Petrina Green
 
 
Why I Write Paranormal Fiction
 
It happened one summer…
 
A good friend of mine—I’ll call her Piper since I followed her blindly into the obscure world of the believe-it-or-not—invited me to attend a conference.
 
We worked together in the corporate world, so when she explained that it was a spiritual retreat and would be a week of new and unusual experiences, I took her at her scientific word. And thus began my first “encounter” with weird, sort of exciting, and somewhat scary phenomena. 
 
We arrived at the somewhat deserted college campus a day early because Piper was teaching a workshop, her first, and she was concerned that everything be in place before she began to teach.
While Piper and I unloaded the car, a woman in a wheelchair approached us, waving, smiling, and obviously happy to see Piper. Nitya was introduced to me as a gifted visionary and teacher. I only saw a curly head of blond hair and a great deal of energy packed into a tiny body.  She seemed…normal, and since visionary stuff was bogus, I innocently went through the nice-to-meet-you routine. 
Nitya had just begun to practice angelic alignment work and wanted to share this experience with Piper. Immediately.
I, totally new to metaphysical work, naively accepted their invitation to watch the process of Piper’s allignment.  We were able to use an unoccupied sitting area furnished with a sofa and some chairs. Piper took a seat on the sofa, Nitya facing her in the wheelchair.
Not wanting to intrude, I took a chair off to the side, curled up and settled in, eyes wide open, to watch my first metaphysical demonstration. As Nitya began to work, breathing and weaving her arms around Piper in a complex and quite beautiful choreography, my thoughts went awry: This is really strange. What the heck am I doing here? Should I leave? And then the biggie—Would I miss something important if I left?
My assigned dorm room was across campus, in a huge unoccupied building and escape seemed a better option than hanging around these strange people. I tried to slid to the edge of the chair in preparation for a unobtrusive exit, but my body was suddenly too heavy to move.
 I told myself that my muscles had turned to lead because my body knew it would be rude for me to just walk out. Truth: the room seemed to be moving and I was too scared to twitch, much less get up and leave, and if I was being held there, paralyzed by the scene in front of me, I seriously didn’t want to know it.
This whole demo business had become way more paranormal than I bargained for. 
The room seemed to become lighter and brighter, and I noticed a peculiar pressure building in my head. The cold chill of fear slithered through my body. I couldn’t leave. Couldn’t even move. Time had been suspended. Well, maybe not suspended, but definitely something funky was going on.
I tried to talk myself through it: You can handle this. It’s a little strange, but nothing that unusual. And remember, this is a spiritual conference and things are supposed to be slightly different from the ordinary.
Nitya began to chant. From my scared speechless perspective, this was nothing short of a miracle—to be able to produce musical sounds, seemingly out of the blue, while she waved her hands around and the room turned icy cold. Not. Normal. Nope, we’d done gone and moved into someplace “other.”
And I wanted out.
Not that I could move, but still. 
And why did Piper and Nitya seem to be all cozy and comfortable? How come they weren’t freezing their butts off ? My mind played with the scientific fact that it was August—in North Carolina—and hot enough to whip up some barbeque on the sidewalk. Too. Weird.
I shut my eyes and pretended I was home with a normal kitchen where I could pour a Diet Coke and read a good romantic mystery. 
The chanting stopped. 
My eyes fluttered open to discover a very large angel hovering around Piper.
Had I fallen asleep? Was this “situation” some kind of surreal dream?
My eyes snapped shut and I took inventory. Breathing? Check. Shivering? Check. Sanity? Nope. I’d lost it. 
I sucked in a breath and opened my eyes. Sure enough there was an angel—ghostly pale energy, human body shape (more or less), glistening, vibrating, flowing, peaceful, bright—everything human art depicts except for the wings. No wings. More like energetic arms that seemed to surround Piper.  And no halo. How could it be an angel without a halo?
Whew. Had me fooled there for a minute. I did not see angels. Angels belonged in heaven, safely tucked away where God could keep an eye on them.
As a kid I thought it would be cool to see my Guardian Angel. Say hi, whatever. But I wasn’t a kid anymore and this was what? My imagination in overdrive? 
I explained it to myself: You’re stressed from work and haven’t been getting enough sleep. This is just a minor breakdown that’ll be over as soon as they’re done playing with…uh…whatever it is they’re doing. Then you can laugh about how you imagined seeing angels and chalk it up to your newly developed metaphysical imagination. 
Ha.
They did finish. And I could move, but not with a whole lot of oomph in my step.
Oddly enough, our after-party conversation wasn’t focused on teasing me about my imagined “sight.”  It was a profound and genuine sharing of their experiences in this work of the angels.
Three things passed through my mind, none of them comfortable. I had to sleep, by myself, in that empty building across campus. I was scheduled for a private session with Nitya in two days. My life would never be normal again. Sanity is overrated, right?
END
 
Info about the author (in her own words):
I have worked with energy, both as a yoga instructor and as a body worker for many years. When I left that profession, I was driven to write about energy and the paranormal. Many of the situations my heroines experience are created from my own encounters with energy, its power and possibilities.
 As to the “writing,” well, that started when I was eight and penned my first book on pink construction paper with a purple crayon. It was a romance that involved a princess, and although I remember very few details about the plot, I do remember that it was illustrated and there was music and dancing involved.
 At about the same time I created my first story, I discovered Nancy Drew and my love for reading was born. It has only grown over the years, and I am rarely without a huge to-be-read stack, and a book within easy reach.
Nowadays I write women’s fiction and young adult novels. All of my stories combine romance, mystery, and paranormal elements. The paranormal, because it’s a huge part of my life, the adventure and romance because I haven’t ever outgrown my early reading adventures with Nancy, Ned, Bess and George.
 I live in the frozen north with my husband, whose TBR stack is taller than mine, and two felines who have been known to add entire pages to a manuscript without telling me.
 
 
 

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