Psychic Messengers

By Mariko Uehara Roland

Don and Stephanie Baker's new home in the woods by Lake Silver was everything they had ever dreamed of, but they soon discovered that their dreams contained nightmares and their beautiful home was more than just a home for the living. A terrifyingly close call to Stephanie impels Don to contact his old friend, Father Phillip Marstin. With the help of Phillip and a trio of Buddhist monks from half a world away, they battle back. The priest's faith and the monks' psychic powers are put to the ultimate test. The ensuing battle to reclaim the Bakers' land leads Phillip to startling revelations about the past and frightening predictions of the future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mariko Uehara Roland
• Release date: Aug 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466103887

Mariko Uehara Roland

上原真理子ローランド 沖縄県生まれ。米国に移住して29年目。自称、画家兼作家。 皆様、私のウェブサイトへようこそ! のろのろ歩き人生の後半に、やっと二冊目の本出版までこぎつけることができましたが、「ああ、もっと時間がほしい・・・この次はロマンス、ファンタジー、コメディー、ミステリーなど、どんなジャンルにもチャレンジするぞ!」と、夢ばかりが独り歩きしているところです。今はエイジレス ライフのために、毎日自然食、ハーブダイエットに挑戦中です。

Book preview

Psychic

Messengers

心

霊

使

者

MARIKO UEHARA ROLAND

Mariko Uehara Roland

Psychic Messengers

© Copyright 2010-2016 by Mariko Uehara Roland and Hara-Land Publications.

All Rights Reserved, including the right to copy or reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form, without express permission from the author and publisher.

This is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Original Cover Artwork Designed by Mariko Uehara Roland

Original Japanese version written by Mariko Uehara Roland. Translation into English version by Mariko Uehara Roland. Editing and layout by John Roland.

ISBN-10: 1-4515159-3-6

EAN-13: 978-1-4515159-3-0

Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2010902962

1

Printed in the United States of America

Hara-Land Publications

Ballwin, MO

Acknowledgments

I dedicate this book to John, my hubby (and editor), and Michael and Megan. Thank you for being such long-time supporters for this project. I want to thank my parents, Gensei and Nobuko, for the inspiration they gave me by building the Kongo-ji on Okinawa, Japan. I also want to thank all of my family and friends, and the readers who chose my book. You are all my guardian angels!

Mari U.R.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments 3

Prologue – The Diary 8

1 – Construction 18

2 – New Home 24

3 – Lakeside 30

4 – The Dinner Party 34

5 – The Kitten 38

6 – Fish Eyes 44

7 – The Nightmare 48

8 – Changing 52

9 – The Meeting 58

10 – The Exorcism 69

11 – Red Fox 97

12 – The Monastery 113

13 – The Sacred Himalayas 127

14 – The Temple Nyorai 151

15 – Descending the Mountain 173

16 – The Battle 179

17 – A Farewell 215

18 – Resignation 225

19 – Blue Shadow 229

Epilogue – Journey 235

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 239

Prologue – The Diary

Charles Baker was spending the weekend at the lake house that had once belonged to his brother. It belonged to Charles now. When his brother, Arthur, had died, Charles had inherited the cabin and the two hundred acres of real estate surrounding it. The land was located in the northern part of Scarlet County, about twenty miles from Mason City. Arthur had been seventy when he passed away, only three years Charles's senior.

The cabin stood on a gentle hilltop surrounded by a thick forest overlooking Lake Silver. He had not remodeled the cabin's interior, choosing, instead, to leave it as Arthur had left it so that he would be reminded of his brother with each visit. He usually visited the cabin with his wife Ruth, but she had left for Detroit two days ago to take care of her ailing sister. So, he was alone this time.

Charles had decided to spend the evening reading. Since his younger years, Charles had always held a keen interest in Arthur's book collection and he had decided to read all of the books that he could lay his hands on. As he entered the study, he took off his bifocals and wiped them clean with his handkerchief. He gazed at the bookshelves that covered the entire walls of two sides of the room. The shelves were packed so tightly with books that there was no room for more. Replacing his glasses he began scanning the titles when, suddenly, his eyes locked on to one particular book.

It was the Holy Bible. Of course, you can find the Bible in just about every home, so its presence wasn't particularly noteworthy, but this Bible seemed oddly worn. The lower part of the Bible's spine was more faded than the rest of the book. He picked it up. It was much lighter than he had expected and when he examined it, he found that the pages were extremely narrow. He looked up and noticed that tucked behind it on the shelf was another small, black, leather-bound book lying on its side. It appeared to be a diary, and it was locked.

He searched around the room and in the desk's side drawer he found a small wooden box. Inside, among the used knives and pins, he found several keys. He tried each of them on the diary, but none of them would work. They were all much too large for the diary's keyhole. He continued searching the rest of the drawers, but he had no luck. He didn't remember a key being buried with Arthur, so he thought that Arthur might have thrown the key away so that no one could read his diary.

But it would have been quite strange for Arthur to throw the key away before his own death because no one can guess the time of their death that closely. Anyway, the lock could be easily broken, so why go to all that trouble. Charles had no desire to break the lock to read the diary. Maybe it’s in the bedroom, he thought.

He searched in the bedroom but he couldn't find any keys. He returned to the study feeling completely lost. He was beginning to feel ashamed of himself for expending so much energy trying to read another person's diary. He decided to put it back. As he raised the book to place it back in its hiding place, his eyes caught the whisky cabinet by the wet bar.

The whisky cabinet door was decorated with stained glass and sculptured wooden carvings. Under the door was a small fold-down shelf with a metal hook in the middle. The hook was about two inches long and he thought it might be just a decoration, but the closer he came to it the more it looked like a key. He began tinkering with it when it suddenly came off in his hand.

Now I've got you! he said aloud. The key was a perfect fit and he opened the diary. The familiar handwriting caught his eye. To think that Arthur's private life might be revealed by this one book made Charles miss him very much. His feeling of guilt, however, had totally disappeared and, as he returned to the living room to begin reading the diary, the old grandfather clock chimed nine times.

He looked out the window and the porch light showed that powdery snow had begun to gently fall. It seemed to him that the temperature had dropped quite a bit and it had gotten quite chilly in the cabin. He closed the curtains and added more wood onto the fire, and then he sat in the easy chair next to the fireplace. He began to twiddle with his white mustache, a habit that emerged when he became nervous or excited. He began to skim through the diary. Dates had been skipped here and there. Arthur apparently hadn't been fanatical about recording something every day.

November 12th 1980, Wednesday

Cloudy. I took a walk in the woods this morning. The brilliantly colored leaves were falling from the trees. The suddenly naked branches seemed to huddle closer together in their innocence. About fifteen yards ahead, I noticed a big rock and there appeared to be a person's legs poking out from behind the rock. It was too late in the day for sun bathing. I went around the rock and then I saw the man. His head had been smashed and he was covered with blood. And, he was dead.

I ran home and called the police. They soon arrived and began asking questions. One policeman asked me if I had ever seen the man before and I answered that I had seen him walking around several times. The first time he had shown up, he had said to me This land is cursed by the devil. I wouldn't put up with such silly talk so I told him that I'd call the cops the next time he stepped onto my property. I had no idea that he'd end up this way. I know that he was just a crazy vagabond, but I'll pray for him.

Charles remembered this incident. But Arthur hadn't explained how the man had died. The newspaper had only given the man a two or three line obituary. Probably because everyone had thought he'd been just a worthless bum. Charles was curious to find out when the man had shown up for the first time and began leafing back toward the front of the book. He was back into August when he found it.

August 10th 1980, Sunday

Sunny. When I was working in the garden, a man called to me from behind. I looked up and next to the maple tree by the driveway stood a shabbily dressed man. By the sound of his voice, he was in his forties, but his dusky skin and sunken eyes made him appear to be in his fifties.

When I asked how I could help him, he gave me a sinister look. That look sent a chill right down my spine.

He said, The devil is in this land. If you don't run away from here your soul will be in grave danger.

I blew my stack and yelled, Why you rude bastard. Who the hell are you anyway? What gives you the right to say such a terrible thing? Get off of my land or I'll call the police and have them throw you off.

I yelled at the guy, but my words didn't bother him at all. He just stood there and started to talk again. Your wife was killed by the Devil. If you stay here you'll end up just like her. Then he quickly turned his back and walked away.

That warning made me uneasy in some way, but I'm sure that he's in cahoots with that realtor who has been nosing around. They must be trying to harass me. The realtor hasn't shown up for awhile and now he sends the messenger of doom.

I guess this land is pretty valuable and I suppose they'll do anything they can to get their hands on it. I suppose it cannot be helped.

Charles remembered Arthur's trouble with the realtor. Soon after he had purchased the land, the realtor had knocked on the door just about every day and begged Arthur to sell even just a portion of his land. The realtor had been planning to build summer vacation homes around Lake Silver. It was natural, of course, that Arthur had refused him. Arthur couldn't stand the thought that even one tree of the beautiful forest would be destroyed just to put up cheap vacation homes.

Charles turned the page.

August 21st 1980, Thursday

Partly cloudy. It was cool during the morning. I was on the patio reading the newspaper when Lupi, who had lain down on the bench beside me, started to hiss. That strange man was back under the maple tree. I tried to ignore him and kept on reading the paper. Lupi continued to hiss at him, his eyes shining grotesquely.

That cat is a messenger of Satan. Soon, it will suck the life blood out of you, he said. Then he walked away. That's all he said.

All day long I couldn't think about anything except that bum and Lupi. This black cat was a homeless cat that had wandered in one day. We started to feed him and he eventually came to live with us. I don't know why, but Grace didn't like this cat and hated to bring him into the house. But he was so friendly that I couldn't refuse him. Since Grace died, Lupi has been a good companion for a lonesome old man like me.

That nasty bum! Next time he shows up here I'll call the police for sure.

Charles didn't care much for cats himself, so he couldn't remember whether he'd petted Lupi or not. Maybe Lupi sensed my dislike and avoided me. If I remember rightly, Arthur had said to me one or two weeks before his death that Lupi had gone for a walk and had never returned again, Charles thought.

Arthur had dreamed of building a ranch on this land. He'd tried to raise horses, but they were always uneasy and eventually struggled and ran away. Grace had been crushed under one crazed horse's hooves and had died on the way to the hospital. After that accident, Arthur never talked about horses again and, since then, the black cat had become his best friend.

Don't tell me that cat had something to do with Grace's death. If that mysterious man's words were true... Charles felt a black shadow cross his soul and it began to swirl and get larger. He shuddered and quickly turned the page. Since that time the man had shown up two or three times a month until Arthur had found his body in August. Charles felt a new wave of panic from the words on the next page.

December 8th 1980, Monday

Snow. Something is wrong with Lupi these days. Each night when I open the Bible before going to bed, Lupi leaps off of the bed and sulks off into the corner. One night I forced him to stay with me, but he was so upset that he scratched my arm.

Not only that, one minute he'll be out of the room and the very next minute he'll be at my feet. Sometimes he frightens me. Whenever I thought he had lost his appetite, he would bring home some raw fish that he must have caught at the lake, or he would steal the raw meat that I had taken from the freezer to thaw. Whenever I would try to take the meat away from him, he would bare his teeth, hiss, and make ready to attack me. It always made me feel creepy, so, when it happened last night, I kicked him outside.

But, when I woke up in the middle of the night, there were two yellow eyes glowing at me. I turned on the light and Lupi was sitting against the closed door with his eyes focused intently on me.

That strange man must have told the truth after all. This cat isn't any ordinary cat. I've got to do something, or I'm afraid my life is in danger.

Suddenly the silence of the room was broken by the strident ringing of the telephone. Charles was so startled that he leaped from his chair and almost dropped the diary. He took a deep breath to control himself and to slow his racing heart. Finally, he picked up the phone. Ruth's voice greeted him.

Hello? Chuck? Are you ok? Are you still all alone?

That's right. I miss you. How are you? And, how's Kate? Charles began to relax after hearing Ruth.

She's much better. At this rate, I can come home in two or three days. But I'm worried about you. Are you getting enough rest? Are you eating right? She always worried when they were separated.

You worry about such silly stuff. Don't worry. The kids will be here tomorrow and they'll take good care of me. Stay there as long as you need to. Say hello to Kate for me and tell her to come visit when she's feeling better. Charles told Ruth that he'd pick her up at the airport and then he hung up the phone. After a while he turned back to the diary.

December 18th 1980, Thursday

Cloudy. Luckily, that cat stepped out a week ago and has never returned. I want to tell Charles about the man and the cat, but who would ever believe such nonsense. He would just laugh at me. Since the cat has gone, no other strange things have happened. I must have been overreacting. There haven't even been any strange people popping up to talk about spooky things about my property. The peaceful days have returned.

Around noon, Tom came to see me. We had lunch and played chess for a while. He always talks about how boring it is to be retired. I can't agree with him. At my age, I've got no time to be bored. Whether you like it or not, life is short and the accomplishments of your lifetime are limited. I want to make the most of my remaining days. Just take them one day at a time.

Just then, Charles felt a chill. He added two more logs onto the fire. Suddenly he felt like someone was standing behind him. He turned quickly, but, of course, no one was there. He sighed and reached again for the diary. As he took hold of it, it ignited into flame as though it had been doused in kerosene. What the hell, he said and dropped the diary on the fireplace mantel as he backed up. He grabbed a cushion and beat the fire out. He picked up the charred book and tucked it inside his shirt.

The cushion burst into flame, then the carpet. He found a fire extinguisher, but it did no good. Then a laughing voice echoed through the room, frightening him to the core. In the dancing red fire countless pale, bluish-white faces appeared. Charles screamed and tried to escape through the door. Hard as he tried, he couldn't open it. A flaming ember landed on him and his clothes started to burn. He picked up a chair and smashed the window, then jumped out into the snow. He rolled in the snow to put the fire out and then Charles felt an oppressive pain in his chest. The pain was intolerable. He gasped for breath. In his fading vision he saw many fiery shapes swirling around his body. They kept dancing around until Charles quit breathing completely.

Before long, the far off sound of the rescue squad could be heard. A red fox walked from the woods and approached Charles's cold body. He carefully looked around and, using his teeth, pulled the half-exposed diary from Charles's shirt. Then he ran away into the woods clenching the diary tightly in his mouth.

1 – Construction

A year after his father's death, Doctor Don W. Baker was making plans to build a house on the lake property that he had inherited. His older brother Mike had also been named as a co-inheritor, but when Mike had become the president of Baker Insurance Company, a company that Charles had established, he had decided to give his share of the land to his younger brother.

Mike, himself, owned big and small properties in various places. It was nothing for him to give up two hundred acres of land. Besides, he felt more or less guilty for becoming, overnight, the president of a company that his father had built through hard work and the sweat of his brow.

Don couldn't stand living in the middle of the tumultuous city. He made plans to start construction work in the spring. Don's wife, Stephanie, was delighted with the thought of living in a dream lake house. They had chosen a building site of about two acres that was away from the scene of the fire. A copse of trees would block their view of the burned-out cabin.

Don and Stephanie gave the contract to the most respected builder in the city. But, they had bad luck from the beginning of construction. When he