After living on a commune for years, Bliss expects high school to be like The Andy Griffith Show and is looking forward to starting frienships with people her age.  Her grandmother enrolls her at Crestview Academy, an elite school that used to be a convent, which makes her both nervous and excited.

Much to Bliss' relief, she doesn't have any trouble finding girls to hang out with and everyone seems to be extremely patient with her asking questions like: 1) what is a parade float? and 2) what are Flavor Straws?  Everything seems to be going great until she begins to hear the voice of a long dead novitiate - Liliana.  Liliana is trying to get someone to perform a ceremony that will release her spirit and allow her to have power again and since Bliss has always been able to sense things from the "other" side, she seems like the perfect candidate.

Lauren Myracle, the author of TTYL, has written a disturbing horror novel that takes the reader deep into the hippie culture.  She mixes facts from the 1969 Charles Manson Family Murders, a creepy ghost story, and typical high school drama into a wonderfully creative story.  The use of quotes from 60's culture TV Shows, Commercials, and Transcripts from the Charles Manson trial add to the charm of this book.  While the middle of the story is a little slow, it doesn't detract from the quality as a whole.

I often think of the terror my two boys went through living in that haunted house. They were about 7 and 9. I wished I could've helped them better, other than to move out and into a new house.

I had an imaginary friend as a child when we lived in a very old house. I don't think he was imaginary. I think I was seeing a ghost.

Check out Psychic Kids.

The following evening one of the residents called for the nurse and asked her to come because there was a man sitting in  his chair.  As the nurse entered the room the man in the chair vanished.  The resident whose chair it was let out a swear word. 

I am unable to offer any explanation as to how any of this might have happened but my mothers aunt was quite convinced that she had seen a ghost.

On another occasion my mother was standing at the bus stop waiting for a bus and a dog was roaming about at the other side of the road.  Suddenly the dog froze and stared at something.  The dog then ran down the road yelping although as far as my mother could see there was nothing that could have caused this.  Another man in the bus queue said that the man who had owned the dog had died some months before and suggested that the dog had seen his ghost.

I believe that there are things which we don't understand and perhaps we shouldn't try to understand them.  The Bible says that there are things which we should not dabble in and without doubt there are people who have suffered mental and physical harm by getting involved in the occult.  There are other things like telepathy and water divining, which I don't understand but there is clearly something happening which we can't explain.

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Like indivisible tips?

In the process of moving, I have decided to sell off a large portion of my paranormal collections. Since EBay seems to be a hotbed of paranormal (selling) activity lately, I thought my items might find a good audience there. It seems there are a lot of phony listings and such, but I think they are so glaringly obvious that people won't be fooled for long. So, I have been putting many of my items up for sale. No doubt any funds I accrue from this new venture will lead to more metaphysical objects to clutter up the new place!

This evening, after much debating, I posted on EBay one of the first haunted dolls I ever took into my collection. It was time to "cut the cord" with Molly, so to speak. She is an amazing little haunted doll, and I was SO excited to actually record an amazing EVP of her yesterday. You can see the auction by clicking here.

The video is below. I cannot make out what is being said, but the voice is very eerie. This is the first EVP I have ever caught on Molly.

I am moving in a month or so, so please check back here for updates on the haunted painting. I plan to dive right back into that amazing piece as soon as I am settled.

Seconds after I feel that gun on my head I was deeply disappointed. Not because I know I'm as good as dead. Don't get me wrong, that's no good news either. Growing up you hear that you get to see your life flash before your eyes right before you die. You get to relive the good times, the bad times, and those times forgotten. Quite honestly, I was looking forward to it. There were things from childhood that I'd like to see again. Too bad that's just a bunch of bull shit. All I got to see is my cat, Kodiak, look up at me, let out a little mew. Then the room lights up from the flash of the gun for a split second. I see the dirty dishes piled up in the sink out of the corner of my eye and I'm gone. I guess that's a sink full of plates that I don't need to wash. I suppose death isn't so bad after all.

The sound of the gun powder exploding made me flinch. Or maybe it was the bullet ripping through my brain. I opened my eyes and I'm sitting on a cloud. Not the kind of cloud my past drug use made me think I was sitting on. An actual cloud. I look up and notice I'm in both Heaven and Hell. See, there's something else you're lied to about. Heaven and Hell are in the same place. It's just two different lines. One line for sinners, one line for saints. I'm sitting, just like I was at my apartment, right smack dab in the middle, light on the left side of my body, shadow on the right. I guess I'm in limbo. At least it's scenic where I'm sitting.

On my left you got your Heaven. White fluffy clouds, the kind you try to find shapes in as a kid. Happiness and sunshine on that side, the whole nine. There's also four people. Big people. Giants. Titans possibly. Like the ones in old mythology. The titans that ruled over the heavens. Or sat on mountains. Or whatever the hell they did. Whoever they are, they all have curly blonde hair and blue eyes. Swedish? Nah. Nice togas though. You got an older man with a crown, I guess he's the king, God maybe. Could just be the security gaurd. The fuck if I know, this is my first day here. He's sitting on a cloudy throne. Beside him is a woman with a crown. Must be the wife, not bad. I probably shouldn't be thinking those thoughts considering where I am. I suppose a guy's brain works the same way in the afterlife. Standing behind them are a younger looking guy and some chick. I guess that's the prince and princess. I give them a nod.

Things aren't as beautiful over on the right however. Dark clouds, and I mean dark. They look like piles of fluffy charcoal. Not the good kind of fluffy either. Fluffy like how your bed and blankets look when you're dead tired and have to be at work in ten minutes. Evil fluffy. This side has a sun too, except its red. Not red as in a pretty sunset, red as in stained with blood. Lightning, thunder, the works. Four more people in some gothic armor over here. Straight black hair, grayish skin, red eyes. The right is definitely a smile-free zone. There's the Prince and Princess of Hell behind the king and his throne. And he's got his ball and chain next to him. Man, glad I don't have to come home 10 minutes late for supper with that waiting for me. They got to be having some serious hate-sex to produce those precious little snowflakes standing behind them. I fake-tip my nonexistant hat at them and get on my feet.

So here I am, looking God and Satan, or reasonable substitutes, in the face, not sure how to break the ice. Two Jews walk into a bar? Nah, God probably isn't for those kinda jokes. Maybe I should introduce myself. No. I want to move this party along.

"What the fuck am I doing here?!" I'm a simple and blunt kind of guy.

No answer. Please, please, please don't tell me the service here is gonna be like at the DMV. I don't want to be here for the rest of my... Oh, that's right. I suppose I have time afterall.

After a few minutes of waiting they finally send a tour guide. Some white-haired old guy materializes about 100 yards away from me. I guess it was a materialization. I've never seen someone materialize, but he came out of no where, and starts walking towards me. He walks right down the border of Heaven and Hell with his hands folded behind him, wearing a robe. He stops about a foot in front of me. A little closer than I like them, but whatever. He puts a hand on each side of my face. Now it's getting creepy.

"In this place, my son, you are like glass. Fragile. Transparent," the guy calmly explains. "They do not answer you for fear that you may shatter."

Glass, huh? I pull my head back. No offense, pops, but if some guy is gonna put his hands on my face I want a drink first, and a convertible.

"So what am I doing here?"

"You're here because your mortal life has ended."

"Yeah, no shit. I got shot in the head. I got that part figured out. But what am I doing here?"

"This is Duality, where the gods reside," he says with a soothing voice. "When mortal lives expire, the soul drifts to either the afterlife of light, or the afterlife of darkness. Just where they go depends on the goodness of the soul. You however, as you said, are in limbo."

"Wait," I interrupt. "I never said I was in limbo."

"Yes, but you thought it. Here thoughts are the same as words. Your thoughts are heard by everyone."

"Um, did you all hear that thing..."

"Your thoughts about the King of Light's wife?" He clears his throat. "Yes, we all heard that."

I give Mrs. Light a nervous smile. Whoops. Well at least she knows that I think she looks good naked. I sure wish I would have been wearing a condom in that thought.

"So..." I say trying to pick out which of the thousand questions running through my head I want to ask next. "Why am I not on one side or another?"

"You see, Dante," he knows my name at least. "You're here because the gods are having a difficult time deciding where you belong."

"Hmm... I stumped the almighty, all-knowing gods. Should I feel special?"

"If you wish. This is the first time in eternity that this has happened. So, yes, it is a special happening. Very much so."

Uh-oh. Johnny Tour Guide here is getting awfully excited.

"Actually my name is Tamius."

Yeah, thanks. Once in an eternity, that's probably a big deal. With landing a one in infinity jackpot like this I should have played some roulette before I got popped. I could be a millionaire, you know, for a few hours before I died.

"How long is this gonna take?" I ask Tamius, or whatever he said his name is.

"Well, it's hard to tell," he starts. "They've been pondering this for hours now. No telling when they may reach a descision."

"Hours? I've only been here for a few minutes."

"Yes, but you've been dead for hours. Time on the mortal realm and time in Duality are two completely different things. There is no way to compare the two. Time here is both faster and slower than time where you're from."

It's a good thing someone blew my brain out of my forehead because if I still had it, it'd be exploding right now.

"So these guys are trying to decide where I'm going. Why? Shouldn't it be clear?"

"Oddly enough, no." Tamius tells me.

I turn my gaze to him, expecting some bad news.

"You see there is a similar place like this in you," Tamius explains. "Your own Duality. Each soul is filled with good and evil, right and wrong. Everything you've ever done in your life influenced the balance of your duality, even if it seemed neither right nor wrong. Even the tiniest things such as breathing. The gods have two lists that go on forever. On these lists are written a heirarchy of what is good, and what is evil. The Gods find the preservation of life the absolute best thing one can partake in. Afterall, the Gods' greatest gift is mortal life. And as you may have guessed, the ending of mortal life is considered the most evil. Ending your own life is considered far worse than ending someone elses, however, both are rather bad."

"Well I didn't kill myself. So I should be good right?"

"Not neccessarily. You have done plenty of bad in the last mortal year of your life. Drugs, crime, sex, greed, worst of all, murder, the taking of mortal lives."

Oh, yeah, there's that. I could fell the mood begining to sour.

"I'm going to hell then?"

"I do not know for sure," Tamius sighs. "While the past year of your life has been full of evil, the last week of your life was full of exceptional good. I'm sure you remember Candelaria Trevino."

The little girl. What the fuck was I thinking? I remember her. Her face. The look she gave me, holding her teddy bear, as I pointed a magnum at her. I've never been that scared before. Not even when I had that gun digging into my skull. I can't imagine what was going on in her head at the time.

"You didn't pull the trigger. That's what's important. You decided the preservation of life was more important than your greed. You gained tremendous ground in the good half of your duality that night, Dante. The few days later you made more progress in bettering yourself by preserving your own life."

"It wasn't anything good. I was running from hitmen. I was being a coward."

"No, you were making sure you stayed alive. It was a very brave thing. That almost evened your good and evil out."

"I thought you said I was evened out inside," I said, staring the King of Darkness in the face but talking to Tamius. "I ran from Valentino's goons. That's all I did for the last week of my life. What did I do to even it out?"

"Do you remember what you were doing in the few seconds before your death?"

"I was petting Kodiak, my cat."

"Your cat missed you. To the Gods, all life is precious, no matter what life it is. From humans to mosquitos. While it may seem that it was just a scratch behind the ear to you, it was the littlest bit you needed to even out your duality. You are, were, all the cat had in its life. You left it alone for two days. That scratch behind the ear meant a lot more to Kodiak than you could possible fathom."

I miss Kodiak already. For five years that damn calico was the only constant I had. Ugh. I can't be getting teary eyed over a cat can I? Back to business.

"What now?" I asked. "The Gods just flip a coin. Heads; I'm in heaven. Tails; I'm fucked?"

"The Gods of good and evil are debating your punishment and reward now. It could take another hour, a week, a year. It might even take an eternity to figure out what they'll do with you. Nothing like this has happened before, Dante. Whatever the Gods may decide, I'm sure it'll be just."

I have a feeling I'm going to be here for a long, long time. Maybe I should look for my parents' spirits while I'm up here. Scratch that. My mom would kill me again if she found out I got involved with the mob.

We've all experienced it: an ill wind, a weird sound in the dark, that feeling of being watched. Most of the time it's nothing. It's just, as the saying goes, your mind playing tricks on you. Or so you tell yourself, just so that you can forget it and get back to real life.
Quite simply, when there are bills to pay, a mortgage to sweat out and a boss that won't stop riding you, there's just no time for the paranormal. But that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. And it doesn't explain why every culture throughout history, from ancient Egyptians to 21st century Middle England, has a documented and thriving belief in spirits and their incarnations. Of course, you've every right to dismiss this whole business as child's play, and stop reading right here. And odds are you'll never be proven wrong. But if even a single doubt lingers, you might try visiting some of these places, and see for yourself how easy it is to stay a non-believer.

The Campground Haunted Massacre Attraction, Fort Mill, South Carolina

There’s no obscene history to the campground attraction, but the owners have done everything they can think of — and that includes witchcraft and the occult — just to scare the hell out of you. Proud members of The International Association Of Haunted Attractions and devoted attendees of the Annual National Halloween, Costume & Party Show in Chicago know a thing or two about the joy of fear.

Besides the fact that camping in the woods is a naturally ghoulish pastime, when you’re told about werewolf sightings and, in all seriousness, about the mental hospital just down the road, things can become a little spine tingling.

Moscow’s Underground, Russia

In a city that is nearly 900 years old, what you see is rarely what you get, especially in Moscow, where centuries of bloodthirsty dictators, unrelenting communists and whimsical czars have made the ability to dip below the radar a matter of survival — hence the city’s vast underground network of tunnels, plunging down some 700 meters on 15 different levels.

It is here that you will find a network of abandoned bunkers, supply depots, massive vaults, and subway tunnels that, over the centuries, have been home to hobos, dissidents, artists, and exiles. Moscow’s mole men, who call themselves the Diggers of the Underground Planet, have rediscovered ghastly relics like the torture chamber built by Ivan the Terrible in the 1580s and a pond that was the site of a mass suicide. And though they won’t take you to see these two sites, the Diggers do take visitors on tours.

Brissac Castle, Loire Valley, France

This particular castle is as ornate and indulgent as French castles get. With seven floors and over two hundred rooms, no expense was spared for this Loire Valley marvel when it was rebuilt in 1633. Ceilings are painted with gold and the tapestry collection is breathtaking, as is the wood-carved furniture and columns made of glass crystal.

It wouldn’t be a bad place to live, except for the fact that it’s haunted by the ghost of Jacques de Breze’s wife, Charlotte, and her lover. Both were assassinated, and Jacque de Breze sold the castle right after their deaths. Legend has it he couldn’t stand the nighttime moaning of the ghost lovers, while he slept alone.

Dragsholm Slot, Hørve in Sealand, Denmark

Not all phantoms are ill-tempered, and as proof you need look no further than the gray lady of Dragsholm Slot. Once a fair maiden, the gray lady haunts the halls eternally looking to do good and make sure that everything is in order, as a token of her gratitude for having a painful toothache cured right before her death.

Slightly less helpful is the white lady. Another noble maiden, she kept up a secret love affair with a commoner until the day they were both caught, and was then imprisoned inside the castle by her father. In the early 1930s, one lucky tourist managed to poke a finger hole through a piece of crumbling mortar and ended up discovering a skeleton wrapped in a dress. Needless to say, tourism is still going strong.

Hacker House, Winston-Salem, North Carolina

The legend of the Hacker House goes back centuries, and it is continually evolving, as terrible events continue to plague this ill-omened house. It rests upon a Native American mass grave, where several dozen bodies lay, aged 20-25 and deposed execution-style, but in such a way that has baffled archaeologists because there was no evidence of weapons or struggle. And indeed Cherokee lore says that the place is cursed, a place, “where the brave may not walk, as his prayers would not be answered.”

Further evidence of evil play came in 1821, from signed affidavits given by Continental Army soldiers claiming to have had a gun battle with dozens of undead. A century later, the Hacker House was a hospital and laboratory. Though reports are unclear, several bodies were excavated after a great fire in 1930, and they were found to be curiously hollow.

Experimental documentation by a Dr. Johnas Hacker seemed to indicate that the hollowing was a result of the experimental medicines ingested by his patients. Rebuilt, the house was turned into a funeral parlor where things went predictably unwell. Now people seem to have smartened up. It is possible to take tours of Hacker House, but don’t nobody live there .

Pollepel Island, Hudson River, New York

The island has a morbid history, having been strategically important during the American War of Independence. Later, in the early 1900s, the island was bought by a Scotsman, Francis Bannerman, who decided to turn it into an homage to Scotland. A firearms maker, he built a warehouse in the style of a Scottish castle, complete with crenellated towers.

But after his death in 1918, the smooth-running Scottish enclave experienced a series of disasters. Two hundred pounds of powder and shells exploded, blowing half a building onto New York City. Lightning bolts seemed to torment the flagpoles to the point of disintegration. And in a coup de grâce, a massive storm on the Hudson caused a freighter and passenger barge, the Pollepel, to explode and crash into the island. Now all that’s left are the remains, and what the Dutch refer to as the Heer of Dunderberg, a fiend (and his goblins) who inhabits the Highlands and doesn’t like visitors.

Winchester Mystery House, San Jose, California

When Sarah Winchester’s husband died in 1881, she got a case of the spooks. The gun maker’s widow became convinced that she needed protection from the evil spirits of all the people killed by Winchester rifles. (Winchester Model 1873 was affectionately known as “the gun that won the West.”) Her spiritual counselor advised her to find a house that would attract good spirits, but confuse evil ones.

Instead of moving, however, the widow hired a team of carpenters and craftsmen to add rooms to the Victorian mansion indefinitely. The expansion continued for 31 years until her death in 1922. After Sarah’s death, the workers began hearing their names being whispered from the deserted hallways, as well as footsteps; one of them claimed to see the widow’s ghost. They all decided to look for new work shortly thereafter.

Edinburgh Castle, Edinburgh, Scotland

This magnificent castle is typically medieval, perched atop a rocky crag, giving it an amazing vista of Scottish hills. But inside the empty halls and narrow streets of Edinburgh, there are the echoes of the dead. At least, that’s what has been reported. Hot spots for specters include the castle’s prison cells, the South Bridge vaults and Mary’s King Close, a disused street used to quarantine and eventually entomb victims of the plague.

There are also reports of ghost dogs, a headless drummer, and the bodies of prisoners taken during the French seven-year war and the American War of Independence. In fact, there was such a glut of reports that in 2001, a scientific research team headed by Dr. Richard Wiseman, a psychologist from the University of Hertfordshire, set out to find quantitative proof.

Alcatraz, San Francisco, California

Lionized in the recent action film The Rock and the classic, Escape from Alcatraz , America’s most infamous prison has a concrete reputation. It stems from the likes of gunners like Al Capone and Clyde Hicks, and the fact that no one has ever escaped successfully in the 29 years that it held prisoners.

Officially opening its doors in Civil War times, the Rock was transformed into a brutal prison in 1933. Its warden, James A. Johnson told each new prisoner: “Take each day of your sentence one day at a time. Don’t think how far you have to go, but how far you’ve come.” A firm believer in tough love, several prisoners died in the Hole — cellblock D — often from self-inflicted wounds. And that’s the source of most of the reports of inexplicable crashing sounds, cell doors mysteriously closing, unearthly screams, and intense feelings of being watched.

Bran Castle, Transylvania, Romania

In a remote corner of Carpathian Mountains in Romania, the tale of Count Dracula played out. The legend of the count dates back to the 15th century, and is based on Prince Vlad Tepes (Vlad, the Impaler) or Vlad Dracula (Vlad, son of the Dragon), a ruthless defender of Christianity.

The Count is best known for routing an army of 20,000 attacking Ottomans, and impaling them, rectum to sternum, in surrounding forests. In this bastion of gothic architecture it is possible to retrace the journey of Bram Stoker’s vampire hunter, Jonathan Harker, along the Bargau Pass and up to Dracula’s infamous Bran Castle.

via http://www.uphaa.com/blog/index.php/haunted-locations-around-the-world/

I will have to read Nesbitt's other books about Gettysburg ghosts because he doesn't just tell the story, he fills you in on the historical background. Never having been interested in battle stories, I knew only when Gettysburg was fought and by whom and the general outcome. In the previous book I read about Gettysburg ghosts, I had to get out the National Park Service's informational booklet to help me understand the areas and settings of the ghost stories. Not so with Nesbitt's book and for that, I highly recommend it.

Nesbitt also explores the bigger questions concerning ghosts and where they might come from.  "Parallel universes -- both invisible to one another and yet existing side by side and simultaneously -- may help us understand how, while changing form, energy can continue to exist irrespective of time constraints." This is a thinking person's book of paranormal experiences.

I also found out through this book, that Eisenhower bought a farm in Gettysburg and retired there with Maymie. They bought the farm in 1950, but because Eisenhower went on to serve our country in different capacities, including as our President, he really only spent about 7 years on the farm. He died in 1969 and Maymie died ten years later. We will have to add the Eisenhower Farm on our vacation itinerary and see if we can smell Maymie's perfume wafting about or hear Eisenhower descending the stairs to the kitchen.

It is Nesbitt's tour of ghosts in Gettysburg that we have booked for our vacation.

Why am I so fascinated with ghosts? Because I lived in a haunted house. Both of my young sons felt the presence and one of them saw faces in the bathroom mirror. They could not sleep well at night and never alone. For me, the shadowy malevolent presence stood by my bed every night at about 3 in the morning, causing my heart to race out of control after I bolted straight up in bed. After months of this terrifying experience, I eventually pretended to not respond to his presence at all. I would pretend to stay asleep -- not even opening my eyes. I also walked around the house and read specific prayers to quiet the spirit. This worked very little. I am convinced that the spirit is the father of the people we rented from. He had built the house and died there and he was mad that strangers were living in his family's home.

What is your ghost story?

However, I don't want this to be a lesson on the scripture.

Most children who are considered gifted psychically don't use Ouija boards, tarot cards or worship the devil. They simply see things that are going on around us, they are more aware. If we currently only use 33 percent of our brain, what makes us so sure that if we used even 50 percent of our brain that many of us wouldn't be able to see the same things? Why is it so hard to believe that our spirits could move onto a different plane of existence, as opposed to lying as ashes in a box in the ground, unable to escape until God calls us home? Isn't it possible that our spirits could be freed from their earth bound bodies upon death?

I don't believe that spirits of those that have gone before us do only one of the following: either they go to heaven/hell, never to see us again until we die, or they hover around us or a favorite place, unable to go anywhere else. I believe they do a combination of both- why would our free will end when we die? I don't believe God rescinds this upon death.

I guess I'm concerned when certain people want to decide for the rest of us that their way is the best way, and they are free to interpret the Bible how they choose and foist those beliefs upon us. I don't want to believe that they would be willing to cause harm to someone, especially children, because they can't believe in alternate existence theories. I think we are all still children in this universe, and we will constantly evolve and understand more about the universe we live in. For centuries people have said that certain things can't be possible, yet the impossible continues to happen.

As a Catholic, we believe in the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost - a little heavy on the ghost part in my case.

Read more about ghosts and psychics at Ghosts4You.com

If you have an interest, please sign in by offering a comment, and I will reach you by email as well as post the date of the call to this blog.

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Things that go "bump" and don't care what time it is...

But first, here is a funny. Heh.

So, I will begin at the beginning. 

I believe in ghosts, and not as a scary woo-woo thing.  When people die, I strongly believe that their  energy - some would call it a soul - leaves their body either through the top of their head or through the soles of their feet.  I've seen this happen a few times.  Sometimes it doesn't know where to go, so it hangs out for awhile.  Personally, I've also had energy go through me when someone has passed.  A good friend also has had this happen.  It's kind of like a wind.  The strange thing is that I can actually smell and taste that person's essence as they move through me.

I can also "see" and feel energy manifest itself in a number of ways.  I don't really communicate with these energies in a verbal sense, so I am by no means any kind of medium.  I'm just extremely sensitive. Good energy I can see, and sometimes if it is connected with a person, especially one that has passed, it will manifest in a human form.  If it is bad energy, or connected with someone who died in a nasty way...  I cannot see that manifest in any human form.  The air just changes - it shimmers like a mirage - and I can see physical manifestations of the actions that are perpetuated by this energy... for example, footprints, movement of items, shadows of things that aren't physically there, etc.  Kind of hard to explain, but that's it in a nutshell. 

I've had this in my life ever since I can remember.  I've never really admitted it to anyone since, well, how do you explain that?  I've also struggled with admitting it to myself since I am a pretty scientific person.  It's hard to wrap my brain around the whole thing. Between the Asperger's and my general kookiness, well, it's a potent mix and I've already got a pretty strong personality without adding the woo-woo stuff to the mix.

The only time I haven't experienced this was when I was regularly medicated for Rheumatoid Arthritis.  I was on a LOT of immune-suppressant drugs as well as steroids and pain medication.  It totally shut me off from my woo-woo thing.  This was about the time I moved into my current residence.  Then I got off all of my meds and when the channels opened up again, it was incredible... but now I have a serious problem.  My house is inhabited by some freaky-deaky sh*t.

So now I am looking for a new home.  These things poke and pinch me all darn night and I usually cannot sleep unless I have a drink or two.  Even then, it's still going on at a dull roar. I'd love to think this is all in my head, but the cats also pick up on when "they're here" because they stare at the corner and yowl at where the energy will manifest.  They did this before, when my channels were closed, but I just thought that they were being weird. After all, these are cats we're talking about!

Now you know how weird I really am. I've met others that are like me, so I'm not alone by any means. It's yet another reason to do the yoga... it helps to turn it down a little bit... but it's not managable like the monkey-mind - I have very little control over when they want to show up. I also have spent a lot of money smudging my house, etc since I started picking up on this stuff again months ago.

So, what happened here?

As far as I've been able to determine, there was a double homicide in my house during the early 30s.  It took a bit of research through old county law enforcement records as well as newspapers.  In addition, I am fairly close to the Pioneer and Military Memorial Park, where the bodies were moved several times to accomodate a growing city.  This may also explain the military sentry that "guards" the neighbor's house.  I also strongly suspect that my home was part of the original 11 acres of the Memorial Park since I'm a mere two blocks away.  The energy that manifests in the house is definitely lost. 

It seems that I am right in Spook Central, as they'd say in Ghostbusters.

We arrived at Rolling Hills Paranormal Research Center on May 16th of this year. For those of you who don't know much about Rolling Hills, check out the links below.

Many ghost hunters do have times where they have personal experiences but are unable to catch these on EVP, pictures, or videos. Neither of us had a personal experience (except being a bit freaked out), but we did get some solid physical evidence. So without further ado; here are the best pictures we have:

This one was taken in the basement boiler room; there are orbs in the doorway and towards the top of the picture:

Staying with the basement, this picture comes from one of the many hallways. We were told when we come up the hallway to make sure we turn around and snap a picture to see if any apparition or orbs had followed us (apparently they have a tendency to do so):

The following picture was taken on the first floor. You can easily see orbs floating in the doorway:

These next two were taken on the second floor (aka the infirmary). The story around this area is that there was a man who had purchased the building and was planning on turning it into a retirement home. He had built himself and area to live in where the hallways met so as to work all week and not have to leave the building. Normally this man would come home and visit with his family on weekends but one weekend he didn't come home. His family went to seach for him and found that he had died in that spot. These pictures were taken where those hallways meet. Several orbs come from the ground up:

Finally the coupe de grace. Brady took this picture while on the third floor using his Cannon Rebel 2000 EOS. If you look in the middle windows of the door you can see a child's face:

Next we'll be posting our even more creepy (and exciting) EVPS! keep tuned!

-Jess and Brady

by Junot Díaz

New York : Riverhead Books, 2007

p.72

“But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. It’s about that crazy feeling that started this whole mess, the bruja feeling that comes singing out of my bones, that takes hold of me the way blood seizes cotton. The feeling that tells me that everything in my life is about to change. It’s come back. Just the other day I woke up from all these dreams and it was there, pulsing inside of me. I imagine this is what it feels like to have a child in you. At first I was scared because I thought it was telling me to run away again, but every time I looked around our house, every time I saw my abuela, the feeling got stronger so I knew this was something different.”

A little info about the Rocky Mountain Paranormal Society - this group is located in Westminster, Colorado. They take the scientific approach, which is helpful, and take nothing at face value. They prefer to debunk hauntings as opposed to supporting a haunting theory. If you need help with ghosts, and live in the Westminster area, these are the folks to contact.

Pierre, Mary and I visited the Amityville Horror House on our way out to the demolition derby in Riverhead. I felt kind of like an asshole skulking around the house taking pictures. We ran into a guy from NJ and a dude from England who were also skulking around. They actually went up to the house and knocked on the door!
Pierre told me that the couple who claimed there was a supernatural disturbance in the house are both dead now, and that they retracted their story a few years ago. Were they really lying? You be the judge:

The demolition derby was preceeded by some pretty awesome stock car races. We stood right by the fence, which was kind of terrifying at first, and resulted in us being showered with tiny particles of burning rubber, but it was the best seat in the house!

Brady and Jess

I’ve had relationships where I felt compelled to reveal my hearts apparitions.  When these ghosts no longer could remain silent.  They are an important thread in the weave of my fiber.  I trusted these women with my heartfelt secrets.  I told them as best I could of my overwhelmimg guilt.

All have walked away.  Not comfortable with the weight I suppose.  All have left me to wonder if I would forever remain inescapably trapped between my past and my future.  The lonely, silent still of night, just as I drift to sleep is the moment I fear most.  I hear their chains rattle as they come for me.  I feel their cold breath.  I see their icy stare.  Just as inevitable… the moment I am thrust awake! My muscular, powerful arms and chest dripping with glistening sweat…powerless now, quivering as a baby in the cold.  Oh if only I would just dream. Dreams would seem but a minor inconvenience compared to my vivid horrors.  Maybe it is safer if I keep running.  Maybe it’s easier if I remain secretive, silent, watching every emotion in this foolish heart.  Maybe I’m afraid to let go, their memories are all I’ve known.  Maybe, just this once I wanted to trust…wanted someone to be a witness to my existence. I should have known better...

So I was taking care of a) and c) today when I found myself in the following predicaments:

*Upon pulling out of the drive of Huge Grocery Store I merge into traffic and proceed to be nearly sideswiped/knocked into next week by a meandering minivan that decided it wanted my lane and now. Listen Bubba, I am going 45mph (erm, 60 in a 50.) At least use your blinker if you are going to attempt vehicular manslaughter.

*Driving about oh, a half mile up the same road Bubba's friend pulls out of the gas station into oncoming traffic (that would be me) which, okay, if you are going to pull into traffic and speed up into the flow of traffic, fine. But if you pull into traffic and go, say, 10 so that the person (me) coming up behind you (me) has to slam on her brakes sending her $4 gallon of milk slamming into the dashboard then...dude. It is always said that rear-end collisions are the fault of the person who rear-ended the other person but...dude.

*Okay, almost home. I am driving (which we've established) when I see this huge white van coming towards me, in the wrong direction. Apparently he didn't want to wait for traffic and decided that, to get around the center turn lane and into the opposite lane he's just...drive up the opposite way.

There really isn't a week that goes by when I don't think at least once or twice that the drivers in my state must be among some of the worst in the country.

*Leaving the apartment for c) again (okay, it was marshmallows for Rice Crispies treats.) I shut the door to my apartment and, I kid you not, the lights in the hallway both clicked off. I don't mean that they "flickered" like old buildings do (I live in a house-turned-apartments that is over 100 years old) I mean they clicked off. I heard the click and, when I looked, the switch right next to me was in the "off" position. I stood quietly and assessed the situation, thinking of how to reason it away because really? I do not like ghost stories and I don't really fancy having a resident poltergeist. I have lived in this apartment for a few years without incident so I reasoned that, when I lifted my purse over my shoulder, it hit the switch. There.

Not sure that explanation works for why my television was acting strangely later in the evening...

*So, finally, I was at f) when my patient used some choice words on me followed by a pillow expertly aimed at my head. I suppose that it's a good thing it was only a pillow. And, though I can't really give you the situation or what was said I can assure you that I've heard worse. But still...

*Sigh* I want my binkie.

Ghost, you’ve got to go

you can’t keep hanging ‘round my heart

the shadows in my eyes

are tearing me apart

He flaunts what he is

but he’s just out of reach

that transparent figure

without any feet

he’s just a lonely dream

I know I have to beat

he’s just an empty promise

that no one can keep

I’m giving up the ghost

I’ve got to walk away

before I sabotage the only good thing

I’ve got left on rainy days.

Leonard         (spring 2008 )

Your fragile body

obeys time

but not your voice

which fiercely, boldly,

beautifully

defies.

A song for our Hero       (January 2008 )

Your footsteps sound like battle cries

Your shoulder angles lie

I’d like to buy that smile of yours

But it could never be mine

I’ll commend you on your spirit

As they condemned you from their seats

When you turned your back on them

And walked out on the streets

I know that you don’t live for love

Although you’d like to try

If they start to break your heart

Just take it all in stride

Loosing’s not something

That’s in your blood

You were never graceful that way

But just because they wont say your name

Doesn’t mean you have to play their game

Untitled        (January 2008 )

Love has eaten away

at the electricity of my soul;

it has washed out

the intricacies of my shadows,

cast into forgoteness

the confused things falling

from my lips,

the strange things

that once swam

in my eyes.

Love overtakes all

the subtle philosophies

that once crawled

in my cracks.

Love is that brutal light

that executes my wrongs

with its terrible rights.

City Streets   (December 2007)

It is the city streets

that made me blind

that branding me with

the Mark of Loneliness

brought me to this beauty

and in these city streets

the echo of trees

reach out for me

and fall

I remember in the woods

I was not blind.