Sunday, July 29, 2012

Did it Bite? Still a Puzzle.

  First, I'll mention that the Smashwords sale ends on July 31st, right at midnight, according to them. I'm leaving Bittersweet Promises (romance, http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/160356 ) and Dead Man Talking (mystery with ghosts, http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/66400 ) up until the end. The coupon code to get them free is SSWIN. I've had many, many downloads, and you readers must like the books and my writing. The sales numbers on my other books are climbing, too. Thanks a bunch! J
 We're still having some neat communications out at Dry Creek Cemetery using the KII's and flashlights to talk to some ghosts. In fact, we're becoming old friends with a couple of them, Walter and Jim. I'll expand on our visits there in a diary to come, probably number IV. I do have that listed on my tentative table of contents. I'll also put up a short video clip soon, hopefully next week. So many stories, so little time to write them all up! 
  Today I'll mention what happened after one of our recent Dry Creek visits, an incident after we returned home. My friend, Sarah, started ghost hunting with us a few months ago. I've known her and her husband, Floyd, through my writing for quite a few years. In fact, Floyd started the group that evolved into our critique group. They're also students in my Psychic Development Class, so we've been planning more frequent chats with ghosts lately, in order for them to practice expanding their abilities. Sarah had mentioned a ghost in her house a time or two, and we'd been trying to work our schedules so Angela and I could go over and see what we could determine. I'd asked Sarah not to tell us anything about her ghost, to just let us see what we picked up.
  One thing Sarah had already shown us, though, was an interesting video she took. Two of her grandchildren were playing on the floor in front of the TV. A white ball of light flew out of the TV, around the kids and up into the air, where it disappeared. This wasn't a fleck of dust; it wasn't a bug. You could run the video in slow-mo and tell it was a dense ball of mist. It only lasted a few seconds, and enlarged as it moved toward the camera. However, that might be because it's zooming at the lens.
  Busy with our lives, we procrastinated. That changed abruptly on August 16th, a night after we came home from Dry Creek. Timmy spent that night at my house, and we were still examining pictures and talking about the investigation after we'd dropped the others off. Someone knocked on the front door.
  Now, it was close to midnight, so I debated whether to go get the pistol first. I'm grinning as I write that, since I know Floyd and Sarah will be reading this. However, it's not exactly untrue. I'm leery of late-night visitors, and yes, I keep a loaded pistol in my home. The door was already locked, though, so I peeked out one of the three high windows on it and saw the two of them standing there.
  As I opened the door, I said, "What on earth are you doing back here this time of night?"
  "Let us show you," Floyd said.
  We walked into the dining room, where the lights were still on. Sarah showed Timmy and me her left arm. On her forearm, approximately half-way between her wrist and elbow, was a circular indent of teeth marks.
  "I was washing off the mosquito spray when I spotted them," Sarah said.
  "And she called to me to come look," Floyd said. "When I saw them, they were a lot redder than now."
  "I didn't feel a thing," Sarah added. "I just saw them already there on my arm."
  "It had to have happened at your house," I said. "Had it been at Dry Creek, it would have faded a lot more by now. Might not even be visible."
  We took several pictures, and I began to feel extremely apprehensive about what we would find in their house when we could schedule a visit. Which we ended up doing fairly quickly, due to my concern over Sarah's safety.
  Timmy was unable to join us, and the other four of us gathered there the next Monday night. I had my infrared thermometer and digital camera, but ended up not taking any pictures. Angela hadn't even brought her KII, only her cell phone with the ghost radar on it. Without Timmy, we just weren't that organized, I guess. We only used our senses. To both Angela's and my puzzlement, we didn't feel  anything dangerous.
  We did find at least a half-dozen ghosts. Most were benign, but one was an angry, irascible old man. He told me his name was Herman, and Angela got that same information from him. He also told Angela that he wasn't a bit happy about the new people living in his house.
  During our initial walk-through prior to dinner, we discovered a lady named Virginia in the master bedroom. She was very anxious to cross into The Light and glad to see me. I obliged her right away, and we left the door in the east open for any others who wanted to cross. Several more did leave while we ate dinner, but not Herman.
  Sarah and Floyd didn't have a lot of information about the former owner of their home, which they'd bought thirteen years earlier. However, they had heard he was a crotchety old man whom the neighbors didn't care for and lived alone. At this point, they are still asking around to try to get his name, which none of the current neighbors can remember. We probably will head down to the Deed Records office soon, or perhaps my husband can look it up on line for us.
  Anyway, Sarah and Floyd were under the impression Herman had slept in the middle bedroom on the north side of the house. The doors to these rooms opened off a hallway. As soon as I got to the beginning of that hall, I could feel a heaviness. In that middle room, the temperature was definitely much, much colder than in the rest of the house. Too cold to be explained by the air conditioning, since Angela even put her hand up there and the blowing air felt warmer than the room.
  "You know," I told Herman. "You'd be a lot happier on the other side."
  "You'd find friends and family there," Angela added.
  "Aren't you tired of hanging around here to defend your property rights?" I asked him. "It must be boring."
  Now that you mention it, he replied through telepathy, it is.
  "Well, think about it while we eat," I told him.
  He did, and at last he told me he was ready to go.
  "Before you leave," I said, "did you bite Sarah?"
  Nope, he said. I wouldn't do something like that to a woman.
  "Do you know who did?"
  Nope. Can I go now?
  I didn't bother to tell him he could have gone at any time. Instead, I led him outside, and the others followed. He immediately strode up the pathway to the door, but he did wave goodbye on his way.
  We talked some more about who or what might have bitten Sarah, and we may have an idea. At least, when they mentioned this person — who, yes, is deceased — I received a strong feeling we had discovered our culprit. But since it is someone from the neighborhood, I'm not going to name names here. We did a very strong cleansing and spread consecrated protection elements in the house, so I don't believe this man will be able to get back inside.
  I've heard different opinions as to whether a ghost can actually inflict bite marks on a person, and I still don't know. It's another paranormal puzzle, the answer to which we may or may not be privy to in our lifetimes.
  Angela and I could feel the difference in the house immediately: a lighter, less dense atmosphere. But it wasn't until a couple days later that Sarah reported back.
  "I guess I had lived with whatever was going on here for so long, I didn't even notice it," she said. "However, when I came home from work last night, I walked into a welcoming house. It was calm and peaceful, a place where I could relax and recover from the day's work. I could tell the difference right away. Thank you so much for clearing all those ghosts out for us."
  She was welcome, of course.
Boo!
T. M.

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