Automatic Writing And A Letter From The Dead

‘I know quite well that [their son's name] would be sitting at the kitchen table eating his evening meal but that as the sound of my car’s tyres crunching on the gravelled drive, he would leave the table, scrape the uneaten food into the bin and rush upstairs to his room.’

The writing pleaded me to ‘give this letter to my poor wife’. I didn’t, of course – not then.

That year, however, was one of electrical disturbances. Nothing major, just persistent.

The sidelights were checked by the electrician and we were told everything was fine. Just over a year after everything happened, my colleague and I were sitting in the staff room – we all knew by now that her husband had been a very difficult man – and speaking of her son, she said, “Do you know, he would be sitting at the table eating his dinner, but the minute he heard his father’s car in the drive he would rush from the table, scrape his uneaten food into the bin and then run upstairs …”

Listening to those words convinced me the letter that I had received / written was from her husband. Later, I took her to one side and, as gently as possible, told her about what had happened. She believed me.

Naturally I gave her the letter. It was never mine to keep. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, there were no electrical problems after that.

~ Dorothy Service.