Avina’s Gift
Avina Tanca knew she was different. It wasn’t just the way she preferred quiet evenings with a book to the boisterous Friday night outings her work friends adored. It was a deeper, unnameable feeling, a sense of being attuned to something beyond the mundane. She knew she possessed a gift, a heightened intuition, maybe, but it remained dormant, a seed waiting for the right conditions to sprout.
Then Sindila, her bright, vibrant, laughter-filled friend, was diagnosed with cancer. The diagnosis was swift, brutal, and unforgiving. Avina watched, helpless, as Sindila’s light slowly dimmed. The experience shook Avina to her core, amplifying that sense of ‘different’ she always carried within her. Then, Sindila was gone.
One night, weeks after the funeral, Avina was sound asleep. Suddenly, she bolted upright in bed, her heart hammering against her ribs. She felt a fleeting touch on her cheek, a whisper of coolness that sent shivers down her spine. She dismissed it as a dream, the lingering grief playing tricks on her mind. But then, the air shimmered.
A translucent figure began to coalesce in the dim light of her bedroom, its form shifting and solidifying until it became undeniably Sindila. Avina gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Time seemed to stop.
“Sindila?” she breathed, the name a fragile question hanging in the air.
The figure smiled, a warm, familiar expression that eased the knot of grief in Avina’s chest. “I’m here,” Sindila said, her voice a soft, melodic echo.
Tears welled in Avina’s eyes, blurring her vision. “Ohhh, how I have missed you, Sindila,” she choked out, the words a raw expression of her loss and longing.
Sindila floated closer, her radiant energy filling the room. “I miss you too, Avina. More than you know.” Her spectral hand reached out, hovering just above Avina’s. “But I’m always with you. I protect you.”
Avina stared at her, disbelief warring with a blossoming sense of wonder. “Protect me? How?”
“You have a gift, Avina,” Sindila explained, her voice gentle. “A sensitivity to the unseen world. You’ve always had it, but you’ve kept it hidden, afraid of what others might think.”
Avina frowned, remembering the times she’d sensed things, felt things, that others couldn’t. The sudden, overwhelming feeling of sadness when her grandfather passed away miles
away, the unnerving certainty that her childhood home was haunted. She’d always dismissed them as coincidence, as overactive imagination.
“But…” she stammered, “I never understood…”
“The world isn’t just what you see, Avina. There are layers, dimensions, energies we can’t readily perceive. You can. And now, you need to learn to embrace it.”
“But why me? Why now?”
“Because you’re ready,” Sindila replied. “And because… there are forces at play that you need to be aware of. Not all spirits are benevolent, Avina. Some are lost, confused, even malevolent. Your gift can help them, can guide them, can protect you from them.”
Avina’s mind reeled. It was too much to process. She worked in accounting, for heaven’s sake! She crunched numbers, not communed with the dead.
“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, her voice trembling.
Sindila smiled reassuringly. “You’re not alone. I’ll guide you. I can’t always be as visible as I am now, but I’ll be there. Listen to your intuition, Avina. Trust your instincts. They’ll lead you.”
She paused, her gaze becoming more serious. “There’s a darkness gathering, Avina. A feeling of unease in the air. You need to be careful. Trust no one blindly and protect yourself.”
Before Avina could ask what, she meant, Sindila’s form began to flicker. “I have to go now,” she said, her voice fading. “Remember, Avina, you are stronger than you think. Embrace your gift and use it wisely.”
With a final, loving smile, Sindila dissolved, leaving Avina alone in the quiet darkness. The air still tingled with her presence, a lingering warmth against the encroaching chill.
Avina sat there for a long time, her mind racing, her heart pounding. She was no longer just Avina Tanca, the quiet accountant. She was something more, something… different. She was a protector, a guide, a beacon in the unseen world.
Fear warred with a strange sense of purpose. She didn’t know what the future held; what dangers lurked in the shadows Sindila had warned her about. But she knew one thing: she wouldn’t hide anymore. She would embrace her gift, learn to control it, and use it to protect herself and those she cared about. And with Sindila by her side, even if only in spirit, she knew she wasn’t alone. The seed had finally sprouted, and Avina Tanca was ready to bloom.
Thank You for Reading
Deborah C. Langley
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