14. Nothing to Sneeze At

Glen Otterburn maneuvered his black van into the Elks Lodge parking lot. In purple blackadder script the sides of his van read, “Ghost Trusters.”  He lifted several duffel bags of equipment from its recesses, checked his appearance in the mirror and prior to making his entrance, completed the last requisite preparation vital to his engagement for the evening by the Sisters of the Spirits Council.

Glen removed his SLR (single lens reflex) Nikon camera from its case, and a small wooden box he kept in a satchel. The box contained a distinctive mixture that Glen had created, a combination of black pepper and the type of Rose talcum powder his Aunt May used to wear with intentional liberality. He leaned into the box, his nose inhaled the scent, and he closed the box with a snap. Gripping his Nikon firmly, he held it at a 45 degree angle about one foot away, waited a moment, and aimed a ferocious sneeze directly at the lens. He produced a small hand-held battery-operated fan and dried the surface, making sure that no particulate was visible. He again appraised his appearance in the mirror and emerged.

Once inside the upstairs meeting room and standing at the presenter’s podium, Glen began the program.

“Good evening worthy Sisters of the Spirits.” (Murmurs and a scattering of applause)

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight (for a small stipend of $777.77 mailed in advance). “You will further your exploration and connection to the spirit world by the study of orbs, and then we will proceed to discover the orbs attached to each of you. First, I will show you a brief presentation.”

Glen typed a command and an image from his laptop appeared on the wall to his right.

“In this photograph you see a small boy on a swing in a lush garden. You can also see that he is not alone. To the right of his head is an orb, proof of ghostly visitation. His parents called on me to capture this image because they were sure of his spiritual abilities in contacting otherworldly beings. They would hear him talking to the spirits in their home.” (murmurs of appreciation)

Glen pointed with his cursor to a pale transparent globule seemingly hovering above the boy’s shoulder.

“The next picture may be a bit disturbing, but is an example of the heritage that I was born to. My grandfather took this image in 1926 at the request of a family friend. The young wife who passed had been a very spiritual lady.”

The photo showed an ornate casket with the deceased reposing in the appearance of sleep, holding a bunch of pale roses. Positioned around her body were orbs of varying sizes and translucencies, some overlapping as if vying for closeness to the corpse. The room erupted in gasps and sighs as the Sisters of the Spirits provided their supportive reaction.

“This third and final capture took place at a wedding. The family wished to see evidence of attendance by their ancestors at the joyful event.”

The bride and groom stood before the altar, their backs to the congregation. A swirl of orbs seemed to dance about them. (laughter and applause)

The first photograph was taken in the large meeting room. Glen arranged his subjects in an attractive array with some Sisters standing on chairs behind others who were seated. Each held an object sure to assist with astral connection in her hands.

“I will take several photographs to assure that any orbs who are shy get into a picture.”

This made the Sisters smile on cue. Glen busied himself with his most professional manner.

The next part of the program consisted of individual portraits of the Sisters of the Spirits in a small enclosure prepared in accordance with Glen’s prior instructions. Each Sister was asked to sit or stand as was her whim against a black velvet backdrop designed to show both believer and ghostly visitant to best advantage. Before each portrait, Glen removed to a small room in the hall adjacent to the meeting room where he sprayed the lens of his Nikon with cleaning solution. Then he employed his sneezing compound, and prepared the lens with a fresh spray of orb manifestation so as to produce authentic variety.

“Oh Mr. Otterburn, we’re so pleased to have had you with us this evening,” gushed the Sisters’ President.  

With fervent avowals that the photographs would be delivered in time for the next monthly meeting, Glen took his leave. Just as he reached the van, a Sister rushed after him.

“Mr. Otterburn!  I took this Instaflash picture of you while you showed us your work. Look Mr. Otterburn. Look!”

Glen glanced down at the picture she thrust into his hand. There about his head and shoulders were three orbs all his own. He smiled a small satisfied smile as he looked at her triumphant face out of the corners of his eyes.

“Yes, you’ve found me out, he said. “They follow wherever I go.”

(841 words)