Beyond a Veil: a novella about life during death by Ron Frazer - Read Online
Beyond a Veil
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Beyond a Veil is the story of Max and Lori Sashinian who struggle to make ends meet in a rustbelt town. She is an attorney in a law firm with few clients while he is a novelist who has never made anyone’s best seller list. Sophia, their eight-year-old daughter with Down Syndrome, is abducted and murdered as the story opens, leading to a cascade of difficulties and spiritual growth.

It sounds like a depressing tale, but the emphasis is on Lori’s spiritual journey. While Lori rapidly loses everything that was once important to her, with the help of her deceased daughter and grandmother who work together as her spiritual tutors, she learns to put her physical tests into perspective and discovers what is ultimately important in this life and the next. Throughout the story, her tutors teach her about the oneness of all creation while Lori develops her psychic abilities and struggles with her increasing physical disability.

This book will change the way you look at life, death, dying and life after death experiences. As Lori adjusts to each new situation that life throws at her, you will find that you are able to take a more light-hearted approach to your own problems.

Published: Crimson Woman Publishing on
ISBN: 9781524254278
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    Crimson Woman Publishing

    Austin, Texas

    © 2016, Ron Frazer

    Beyond a Veil
    by Ron Frazer
    First Edition
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.
    All rights reserved.
    Copyright © 2016 by Ron Frazer
    Published by Crimson Woman Publishing, Austin TX
    No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.
    Buy additional copies of the book at:


    The original idea for this book came from reading the blog of my friend, Kym McBride, Her work explores the intersection of our reality with that of the folks who no longer have a body to confuse them.

    My friends Kym McBride, Dianne Bayless, Gail Whalen, Barbara Baumgartner, Judie Amsel, and my wife, Sandy Frazer, have been so kind and helpful with comments and suggestions while reading the earlier drafts. Kym McBride, Deano Minton and Donna Amend were a big help in getting the cover photo just right.

    I am indebted to dozens of people who have formed my vision of humanity's reality, particularly Bahá'u'lláh, the founder of the Bahá'í Faith, and Seng-Ts'an, the sixth century Zen master who authored The Mind of Absolute Trust. In no sense should this fictional story be considered an accurate reflection of their profound writings. The reader would be well advised to read the original texts to form their own opinion of reality.

    This book is dedicated to
    the people in my life
    who have gone beyond the veil
    Let go of longing and aversion, and
    everything will be perfectly clear.
    When you cling
    to a hairbreadth of distinction,
    heaven and earth are set apart.



    Mankind has always been fascinated with the question of life after death. I share that fascination. This novella  allowed me to explore and expand my understanding of the life beyond this one as well as the physical and spiritual process of death itself. The book is nothing more than that. I hope the reader will approach the story with an open mind—perhaps develop a new understanding of death that is all their own.

    Thanks for reading,

    Ron Frazer

    Naw Rúz, 2016

    Chapter 1

    What do you mean, 'She's not there.'? Lori Sashinian screams into her cell phone, Where the hell is she?

    Jorge Albinsonia looks at Annette, his seven-year-old daughter, who is making herself a sandwich for lunch. The little girl looks up then shrugs. I'm sorry, Lori. When Annette woke up this morning, Sophia was gone. Her bed was made. We just assumed that she had gone home for some reason.

    While still talking to Jorge, Lori rushes upstairs to check Sophia's room. The room is exactly as it was when Lori cleaned it yesterday.

    What's going on? asks Max, Lori's husband.

    Sophia's missing! … Jorge, I'm coming over. Lori dashes out the front door with her cell phone in her hand.

    Max searches their house, looking in all of Sophia's favorite hiding places. He rushes from bedroom to bedroom, throwing open all the closets. He even checks under the bathroom vanity where Sophia once fell asleep on the towels, providing Max and Lori with a heart-stopping hour of searching.

    As Lori races along the sidewalk toward Jorge's house, she sees Sophia's purple Dora the Explorer backpack lying on the driveway of the house next door. She picks it up, opens it, finding only what she would expect: Sophia's cell phone, a few books, a favorite doll, and Sophia's toothbrush and toothpaste. Panic-stricken, she continues to Jorge's house, three houses from her own.

    Jorge is standing at the open door when she arrives. Annette and I have been talking. We can't imagine what happened, says Jorge as they walk into the living room. The girls went to bed around ten. My brother was here babysitting. This morning, Annette saw Sophia's bed was made. She heard the TV, so she came out here expecting to find Sophia watching TV with Alberto. He was by himself, stretched out on the sofa, asleep. He said he'd fallen asleep watching TV. They decided that she must have gotten up early and gone home.

    Is Alberto here?

    Jorge shakes his head. No. He left an hour ago.

    I found this in a neighbor's driveway. Lori holds out the backpack.

    She had that with her last night, says Annette.

    Can I see your room? Lori asks.

    Annette gives a follow me sign with her hand, then heads down the hall. Lori follows her as if in a dream, imagining her daughter walking these same steps a few hours before. She passes through the door that Annette is holding open. Her eyes sweep the typical little girl bedroom, dolls, books, clothes scattered on the floor, two twin beds, one neat, the other unmade. She kneels beside the bed in which Sophia had slept, then lays her hand on the blanket, hoping her daughter's warmth will still be there. It isn't. Feeling like she could explode any second, she closes her eyes for a moment to calm herself.

    Is there anything else you can tell me, Annette? Did you girls talk to anyone else? Could Sophia have gone to another friend's house? Was she feeling well?

    We didn't talk to anyone. We had a great time—watched a Disney movie and went to bed a little after ten. Then we talked and laughed for a while until I fell asleep. When I woke up, her bed was just like that.

    Jorge is standing at the bedroom door, a look of distress on his face. Lori pushes past him saying, Sorry. I've got to go. Give me Alberto's phone number.

    Sure. It's 789-3011,


    She runs back home, finding Max in the front yard, looking up and down the street. She holds out the backpack. This was on the Robertson's driveway. Annette says she was gone when she woke up this morning.

    Max dials 911. The dispatcher takes the information, then says a car is on its way. They go to the kitchen to wait for the police. Lori tries to pour herself a cup of coffee, but she is shaking too much; the coffee sloshes on the counter. Max takes the cup from her, helps her to a seat at the kitchen table, refills her cup, then places it before her. She doesn't try to pick it up, choosing to rest her head in her hands, her elbows on the table. She starts to cry.

    Max rubs her shoulders for a minute, then walks back and forth between Lori and the kitchen sink where he glances out the window at the street. He goes to the front door, opens it, looks outside, then leaves the door open as he walks back to the kitchen. Back at the sink, he anxiously looks through the window once more, then notices that there's one cup left in the coffee-maker. He is about to pour a cup when a police cruiser pulls up to the curb.

    They're here, he says, then bounds to the front door with Lori following. They stand there fidgeting for an anxious minute before the police exit the cruiser, then walk briskly to the front door.

    You called about a missing child? says the older of the two policemen. His nameplate reads, Hammersmith.

    Yes, please come in,