Spirits Message: A Supernatural Thriller Spanning Three Generations Across Two Continents

By Hardish Virk

A supernatural thriller about two Indian women. One currently lives in England whilst the other lived in north India many years ago. The woman in India was murdered and since then her spirit has been reaching out to the other woman as they hold a connection which unravels the mystery behind her death and the lost heritage of the other woman. This is a human story about a journey of a woman who thinks her life is mapped out but a gateway to another world exposes her to truths and dangers that she never thought existed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504935654

Hardish Virk

Hardish Virks’ passion for writing started in his early teens. Over the last twenty years he has written for stage and as a journalist for magazines. His interest in human stories, world cultures and the supernatural is the basis for his debut novel, Spirits Message.

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© 2015 Hardish Virk. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/03/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3564-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-3565-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Dedicated to all the strong and loving women in my life including Dilwara, Manjinder, Paven, my mother Jasvir and my beautiful daughter Ayah.

CHAPTER ONE

She wandered out into the smell of burning bodies, she once knew as her family. Gazed ahead, not placing her eyes on the ground she noticed something out of the ordinary. A Kingfisher. Perched on a branch, under the spotlight of the moons glare. The desert air washed over and under her salwaar kameez, allowing the cold to inject some life back into her motionless body. For a moment, she thought she could hear crying and screams being carried on the back of the whistling wind. Then it went silent. With one flap, the Kingfisher took off into the night sky, towards the jungle in the distance. She turned towards the open gate. A figure was standing at the entrance. She moved towards the exit, in her well-worn leather sandals, not looking back.

Surinder scrubbed hard at the graffiti marked across the wall outside her home. After a while, the word Paki was nearly removed with only some traces of black ink visible. She resided to scrubbing Out later on in the day when she had more energy. Once inside, she began to mentally schedule her itinerary for the rest of the day. Ravi was coming home from work at 7.00pm, therefore she had four hours to prepare, marinate, cook and serve the evening meal.

Ravi walked out of Jessops, clutching onto a business card sized photograph. He ran across the road, cutting between the slow moving traffic. Jumping onto the National Express to Coventry, he nodded at the driver who moved out of the driver’s seat so that Ravi could jump in his place. Before opening the door to let the waiting passengers on, he placed the photograph on the dashboard. Surinder stared back at him. The photograph was taken at their wedding a year ago. She was wearing a red sari with detailed gold embroidery sewn into and alongside diamante sequences. Twenty-two carat gold jewellery decorated her face. An oval shaped purple velvet textured bindi rested on her forehead. He smiled and released the doors.

Surinder was in the back garden putting out clothes on the washing line. Once finished, she headed back into the kitchen to check how the garlic and onions were marinating. As she sprinkled turmeric into the mix, she felt a sudden gush of wind brush up against her from behind as if it were carrying someone’s voice. She immediately turned around, expecting someone to be standing there. There was no one. Just her alone in the kitchen. Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door. Surinder turned the stove heat down to a simmering two and moved to answer the door. She peered through the key hole, but could not see anyone. She hesitated and then opened the door. There was still no one to be seen so she stepped out into the front garden. Surinder looked to the right and could see some children in the distance playing on bikes and to the left hand side the road was empty. She then heard some giggling so she focused on the direction of the sound. Her attention was directed towards some empty garages down the road where she could see two teenagers. She walked towards the gate, looking straight into their eyes, trying to appear resilient. The teenagers began to walk towards her. Her attitude to show resilience began to fade. As they came closer, they began to look much older than she had initially thought. She headed back into the house, closing the door behind her, double locking it. She went over to the front room window and from behind the veil, tried to see if they had walked passed. Instead, the young men were writing something on her front garden wall.

As