The Body Departed Review
The Body Departed Overview
Two years ago, a man broke into James Blakely's apartment and shot him in his sleep. Twelve times, killing him instantly. Dead and confused, James discovers he has a choice: he can move on into the afterlife, or he can stay behind. Unfortunately, since James has done some very bad things, moving on into the afterlife can only mean one thing: the fires of Hell. Or so he thinks. Forgoing eternal damnation, James instead chooses to haunt his old apartment building.
Now James's days are mostly spent visiting his daughter and ex-wife, welcoming new neighbors, and talking to those who can see the dead. It's a simple, peaceful life, but with each passing day, James discovers something more and more alarming: memories of his former life--and even his own identity--begin slipping away. Faced with the prospect that he is rapidly deteriorating into a state of nothingness, James sets out to save his eternal soul. With the help of his daughter and a world-class medium, his journey to peace and forgiveness will not be an easy one, especially for a ghost who still wishes to be a father--and who fears he is destined for a fiery Hell as punishment for sins he cannot remember. Now, as James begins to uncover the devastating secret that connects his soul to earth, he will discover that even in death life has a few surprises.
READING SAMPLE
“Excuse me, sir,” I said. “Can you help me? I think I’m lost.”
But the man wearing the shabby seersucker coat ignored me. His head and shoulders were wet, and the umbrella he was carrying was dripping rainwater all over the polished marble floor. He was leaving a slippery—and dangerous—trail down the center of the hallway. Not only did he care little for others’ welfare, the bastard was also ignoring me.
I picked up my pace and tapped him on the shoulder. At least, I think I tapped him on the shoulder.
Sweet Jesus, did my finger just pass through his shoulder? Of course not. I’m seeing things.
“Excuse me, sir?” I said again.
But he kept moving briskly through the hallway. I moved briskly, too, directly behind him. His leather hiking boots squeaked along the floor. I didn’t squeak at all.
“Hey,” I said, “why won’t you—”
And then he stopped suddenly and I nearly ran into him.
Actually, I did run into him. Or rather, I should have run into him. Instead, I went through him.
Stunned, I stepped back. The man was shivering now, nearly uncontrollably. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end.
“Excuse me,” I said again, completely shaken. “I think I’m lost.”
His back was still to me. He cocked his head to one side and appeared to be listening. Then slowly—very slowly—he turned around and looked straight at me.
Well, sort of.
Actually, his eyes had that sort of glazed, unfocused look that people get when they’re staring off into space.
Or looking through you.
“Sir?” I said again.
He continued staring through me for another beat or two, then frowned and turned and started squeaking down the hallway again.
I watched him go. He paused outside a door, fished for a bundle of keys in his pocket, sought one out, and inserted it into the lock. He opened the door and was gone in an instant, and I was left standing in the hallway alone.
What the hell?
I turned slowly. I realized, with some alarm, that nothing looked familiar. The hallway was covered in mirrors. I stopped turning and faced one such mirror.
There was nothing in the mirror.
I wasn’t in the mirror!
Maybe they weren’t mirrors. I walked over to it, reached out a finger to touch it and...my finger passed straight through the mirror as if it weren’t there.
No, a voice in my head said. It’s you who isn’t here.
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