Florence And The Spirits: Chapter Two

"I understand that you feel tired," Mrs. Cook said, trying to assure her daughter that her role as an active medium would take it out of her. She had gone through the same exhausting process herself, when she began developing her skills in her own tender years. The constant display of skepticism leveled at her from both peers and suspicious sitters would undoubtedly wear her down, but she must resolve to rise above such matters and remain totally convinced that her new found abilities were genuine and gifted to her for the good of all.

"But mother, the spirits ask so much. I’m not sure I can fulfill their bidding."

"My dear. The spirits have chosen you for a reason. If they thought you were not capable of the task they would have chosen some other mortal."

"I wish they had mother," A tear of desperate frustration welled in young Florence’s eyes. "I am not ready for such responsibilities. I long for the companionship of my friends, yet they distance themselves from me, they believe I am in league with Satan himself and treat me like some kind of evil freak. Only dear Mary stays loyal to me, and is punished cruelly for this."

As so many times before in recent months, Mrs. Cook’s reassuring words began to gradually decline firstly into harshness, then continue with apparent disregard for her daughters natural reluctance into cruel commands of what was expected of her and would hear no more defiance, nor selfish argument on the subject.

"The séance scheduled for tonight must, and will go ahead!" Mother ordered firmly. "Many important people will attend the gathering in the Great Hall. Not only has Mr. Blyton from the Spiritualist Society extended considerable time and effort to assure its success, your father has expended great financial expenses, of which we can ill afford."

"But Mother ….!"

"I will hear no more on the matter, Florence. Tonight’s séance will be a success and you will play your part convincingly to assure it as such. You owe your father that much, at least."

Distraught and tearful, Florence retreated to her room. Her mother’s heartless determination for the forth-coming event to take place, and the cruel way she had raised father’s ill-advised expenses to influence the young girls loyalties only added extra frustration to the situation that already distressed her so much.

When Mary entered the room that mid-afternoon, Florence had contemplated many thoughts, many inspired by the rage which had begun to consume her young, confused mind. The ones she had trusted guided her down paths of uncertain outcome, they steered her towards the bidding of unseen entities that entered her tender existence with words and messages of things she had little or no understanding of. Throughout all the fear and suspicion, Mary’s unquestioning, unconditional friendship gave her hope, hope that she could cling to and rely on to save her from the fate that robbed her of so much trust.

"Are you ready for the séance?" Mary asked, with innocent cheerfulness, seating herself beside Florence on the bed.

"Ready? Am I ready to entertain the rich men and women who seek the answers to their empty questions of what lies beyond the conclusion of their sad lives on the mortal plane? Yes. I am ready to pamper to their needs."

Mary was taken aback by the sadness and bitterness that resounded so clearly in her friends’ words. She had called many times and seen the joy on Florence’s once tired ashen face that had gradually transformed to healthier rosy hues, as she progressed from illness into sudden good health. "Why do you now talk so dismally"?

The more Florence explained to her dear friend, the more she realized the ultimate consequences of her allegiance with the voices.

"I shall hold the séance in the great hall tonight, as arranged and everyone will be happy, the spirits have told me so. But what of me, Mary? Will I be happy?"

"Of course you will Florence. Already your name is uttered in the great houses of London. There are people of great stature and importance queuing for an audience with you, you are famous, Florence. I envy you so much."

"I shall never be famous my dear Mary, nor do I seek such an accolade. My wish is only to convey messages from the spirits, to assure simple men and women of all classes that there is a reality in the spirit world. I do not seek to provide entertainment for the rich and privileged just to inflate my parents purse."

Soon enough the time arrived and Florence entered the great hall. Men and woman sat in neat rows of plush seats, provided by the host, spiritualist society. Earls and countesses all turned and welcomed the young medium with rapturous applause when she emerged through the doors, flanked by mother and father.

Whispers and gasps of anticipation whirled around the room. Many of the prestigious audience were skeptical and wary of the astonishing claims made by the society on the invitations they received. Equally as many were followers of the popular pastime of communicating with discarnate voices and witnessing strange phenomena that defied all explanation.

The rules of the procedure about to occur was read out before Florence commenced her lonely stroll between the seats towards the area set out for her performance in front of the eager crowd.

Making a final glance around the room, noting the excited eagerness on so many distinguished faces, Florence began, allowing her-self to be detracted from the environment around her and falling with some ease into a deep trance.

Not a single sound marred the silence when the mediums chin fell, limply to her chest. Only when she eventually spoke, in a voice so much different to that of her normal utterances did the crowd respond with gasps of wonder.

"Welcome, good people. I have come among you this night to prove a reality that mortals dare not imagine. An existence that survives the darkness of earthly death." Said the voice, before continuing;

"Tonight is my first visit to your world, however, be assured good people I shall return many times and display many wonders before you. Within the period of three years and one day, you will be left in no doubt of the truth that lies beyond the pales of mortal death. I Katie King, have been bestowed the final honor to atone for sins committed in my earth life."

"I have witnessed this trickery before. I shall not be duped by such theatrical tom-foolery." Came a mocking male voice from a stately gentleman at the back of the hall. "She has a hidden accomplice who speaks in a different voice," he continued.

"There is no trickery here tonight sir. Nor any other night." Replied the voice.

"Then prove it. Show yourself at once, so we may see who addresses us with such miraculous claims." He called again.

"On this occasion sir, I cannot. I must first attain the energy to form myself before you."

"See what I mean. Do not be taken in by this preposterous sham. She is a fake and I for one will not fall victim to such obvious fraud." On that, the disgruntled man rose from his seat to leave, his face masked with the satisfaction that he had denounced the proceedings so swiftly.

"Wait sir!" Called the voice, apparently unconcerned by the gentleman’s skepticism. "You ask for proof, I shall give you proof."

No sooner had the voice concluded than Florence slowly rose, and stood in front of the chair where she had remained quite still throughout the previous exchange.

"Florence has the faith in the spirit world, and avails her mortal shell as an instrument to provide the proof you request".

To a resounding echo of gasps and screams, young Florence began to float from the ground, slowly ascending towards the high ceiling. Oblivious to the maneuver, the mediums chin remained at rest on her chest.

When only inches away from the finely decorated ceiling, her ascent stopped and she began to advance, still deeply entranced over the heads of the audience.

Several of the older women, of meeker constitution fainted from shock and disbelief. Others screamed in horror.

Some of the men bantered nervously with their neighbors; "It’s the work of the devil," some said, disguising their initial fear with anger. "Its witchcraft, how else could she fly," announced others.

Just like many others around her, Mary, stood, mouth wide open in horror and eyes, bulging in disbelief. Even Mrs. Cook looked horrified. Florence’s father though impressed, seemed to be more interested in the faces of the onlookers, after seeing such an awe-inspiring display of genuine mediumship, the crowds would surely be queuing at his door, and all freely parting with their hard earned money.

After Florence descended gracefully back to her seat, still deeply entranced she concluded the night’s proceedings with several less spectacular feats of mediumship.

When the gaslights were turned up and Florence began to return to consciousness, the assembled audience were allowed to chatter excitedly among themselves.

Thomas Blyton took to the floor and thanked everyone for attending and hoped that everyone had enjoyed the evening and would return home, convinced that the young medium had provided undisputable proof of the supreme power obtainable from Spiritualism. His parting comments were received with rapturous applause and a long-standing ovation from almost everyone present.

Before bidding everyone a customary polite farewell he reminded the entire audience that the display had been provided freely, though went to great lengths to discreetly point out where several donation dishes had been located about the great hall.

As the séance concluded Florence sat motionless and exhausted in her seat, Mary lent her usual tender support, though she was clearly shaken by the events she had just witnessed and persisted in voicing her envy of her friends’ abilities. Mr and Mrs Cook stood by the door accepting the astonished comments from the guests as they filed out.

When at last the hall was empty, Father toured the allocated collection bowls and was most pleased with the generous contributions that had been left there. To him the night had been a great success, not least of all financially.

Florence remained in a state of complete exhaustion for the following few days. Thankfully she had no recollections of the events that had taken place in the great hall, other than the constant narrations she received regularly, and quite tiresomely from Mary.

"You should have seen the audiences faces when you flew above their heads. Oh, Florence it was indeed a sight to see. Old Mrs. Barker from Clayball Street was so taken aback she fell to the floor in a heap, it took three of her companions to restore her to her seat where she remained quite still and pale for the rest of the séance. It really was an amazing sight, Florence.

"Yes, yes, Mary, so you keep saying." Florence replied, forcing a faint smile to her tired face.

The time she had with Mary was spent with youthful disregard for the burdens she was now forced to carry, they were mostly occasions of great joy and giggling games. However as each day passed these special visits occurred less and less frequently. In their wisdom Florence’s parents decided such immature distractions would only divert their daughter’s attention from the more pressing matters she must now attend.

Inevitably, it soon became obvious that Florence was beginning to recent this cruel regime of discipline that robbed her so prematurely of her youthfulness. Resentment that soon became focused on her parents. She spent more and more time resisting the urge to form plans of revenge. Her gift was quickly transforming into a cruel punishment, almost a curse that plagued her every waking hour.

Even the spirit voices she had welcomed in the early days persisted in their pleading for her compliance, promising her unimaginable rewards for her devoted loyalty should she choose to follow their bidding.

Month after month she availed herself to the increasing numbers of private séances, relentlessly organized by her fortune hungry father. She continued to abide by her mothers wishes and words of ill advise.

It was only after three months of this punishing regime of séances within the confines of her family home that young Florence’s heart was lifted when the spirits contacted her on the eve of her most demanding séance to date. Father had arranged the attendance of an audience of some of the world’s most renowned scientists, doctors, lawyers, psychic researchers and dignitaries. They were travelling from the four corners of the globe to witness the phenomena produced by the young and now famous London medium, Florence Cook. She would ensure that they left duly impressed. The next night would mark the birth of her career, a career that would assure her and her alone a secure fate. No more would her gift be an instrument to secure financial reward. The séance had been arranged to coincide with her twenty-first birthday, and as such, it would provide the milestone to announce to the world of her maturity.