#Paranormal Wednesday-The Ghost Upstairs

Grab a cup of coffee and snuggle down, because in lieu of a book excerpt or a bit of paranormal news, I'm going to tell you a ghost story.

There’s a little girl that lives in our house. Well, "lives" is probably the wrong word, because she’s a ghost. She was here when we moved in and, I suspect, before the house was built. I sometimes see her in the hallway or in one of the bedrooms. One morning, I opened the door and she stood on the other side, welcoming me with a big smile. She wears an old-fashioned dress that goes down to her ankles. It has a high collar with small buttons at the back of the neck. My daughters say the girl has red hair, but I see it as blonde. A large, blue bow sits on top of her head.

I have a feeling her remains are buried underneath our house or on the property. Someplace they shouldn't be; there are no markers of any kind. I’m reasonably sure the child isn't connected to the man who stands beside our oak tree. I keep trying to speak to him but he disappears as soon as I walk outside. Suffice to say, the man and the little girl don't seem to share the same time-period.

When our daughter was 4-years-old, she use to complain the ghost girl woke her up by turning her lights on. We ended up moving our daughter to the spare bedroom so she could sleep better. The ghost girl reacted by turning the lights on in our bedroom. When I asked her to stop, the lights in both bedrooms turned on and off repeatedly, as if the child thought my request amusing. Eventually, I gave up asking and she stopped. Now, she chooses to moves things. Coins, pencils, seashells. I pretend not to notice.

I've tried to help her cross over but have a feeling it’s been too long. It's almost like she wants to be part of the family. I’m fine with that. We've settled into a living arrangement and accepted the fact she's here to stay. I've had worse house-mates.

Next week, I'll tell you about the man who stands beside our oak tree. A puzzle indeed.

#Paranormal Wednesday - Pickwick Poltergeist

Photo courtesy of Google Maps

The “Pickwick Poltergeist” house in the Toxteth neighborhood in Liverpool, England is up for sale. The three-bedroom terraced house is currently for rent at £91 a week, and is said to be haunted by a violent ghost, known as the Pickwick poltergeist.

Significant paranormal activity situated around the house goes back as far as the 1800's. The poltergeist not only haunts this particular property, but various houses on the street. Decades of reports, accompanied by the often violent nature of the poltergeist, have been documented.

In one instance, a landlady was reportedly lifted out of her bed by an unseen force, while the house of her neighbor was shaken by violent vibrations. Other incidents include doors slamming and objects flying across the room. Tenants report "feeling uneasy" and that the house is constantly cold.

____________________

I tried to find historical information on the area to see if something out of the ordinary had happened, which might explain the haunting. I couldn't find a specific event, but I was able to find Toxteth Park Cemetery's death records of people who lived on Pickwick Street from 1870 to 2000. There were a lot of deaths. It made me wonder if the "poltergeist" activity was a collective energy, or one death in particular. Here's what I found: 

Keep in mind, these are the deaths of people who lived at what is basically a 2 block area of terraced homes.

1870-1879 26 deaths

1880-1889 51 deaths  

1890-1899 54 deaths 

1900-1909 33 deaths 

1910-1919 44 deaths 

1920-1929 16 deaths

1930-1939 17 deaths

1940-1949 6 deaths 

1950-1959 7 deaths

1960-1969 2 deaths

1970-1979 3 deaths

1980-1989 1 death

1990-1999 1 death

_____________________

*Total: 261 deaths within a 130 year period

           109 of those were an infant or child

Of note: On Dombey Street, which is one street over (a similar 2 block stretch, and also worker housing at the time) there were 162 deaths during the same 130 year period. Significantly lower, and no reports of poltergeist activity on that street. Makes you wonder.

*The first death reported on Pickwick Street was on April 13, 1871. Catherine Newton was listed as a 56 year old "wife." Her husband, Thos Newton, died on February 10, 1880.

*The first death recorded at 62 Pickwick Street (the place up for sale) was on December 16, 1897. Eliza Ann Watts was 18 years old and listed as a "spinster." Her parents, Ellen and George, died at the same location in 1916 and 1926.

#Paranormal Wednesday - #Haunted Properties for Sale

Ever want to buy a haunted town? How about a haunted house? I came across these properties for sale this past week. Let me know if you come up with the money because I think owning either would be awesome. I wouldn't even mind sharing--it might make for good story inspiration.

Photo courtesy of  Rick Harris via Flickr

The 62-acre historic ghost town of Johnsonville, Connecticut

Selling for a mere 2.4 million, this desolate 19th century Victorian mill town is on the market. In the 1960s, Ray Schmitt purchased the town with plans to restore it to its former glory. Notoriously eccentric, the enthusiastic hoarder of Victorian curiosities began to add his collection of curiosities to give Johnsonville an authentic appearance and open a tourist attraction. To compliment the existing homestead and mill, he moved a 19th century Quaker meetinghouse, a Waterford, Connecticut stable and chapel, and a general store onto the property. Mishap after mishap kept the carefully designed would-be tourist destination from reaching Schmitt's idea of its true potential. In the 1970s, lightning struck the mill and burned it down, and in 1994, Schmitt got into a dispute with the local officials. He died in 1998 and his ghost is said to haunt the area.

In 2001, the town was sold to the Meyer Jabara Hotel Group. They originally hoped to turn it into a residential community for adults over 55 but in September 2001, the economy took downfall and the project was delayed. Johnsonville became a ghost town the second time. After selling at auction for $1.9 million in October 2014, the buyer's financing fell through and the town is once again, up for sale.

Photo courtesy of H.L.I.T via Flickr

If an entire town is too big for your tastes, check out the Gustav Mayer house located on Staten Island, New York. 

Up for sale at 2.31 million, this 7,700 sq.ft. 10-bedroom house is undergoing some renovation. The mansion was owned by Gustav A. Mayer, a 19th-century inventor and creator of the Nabisco Nilla sugar-cookie recipe. He died in 1918, but his two daughters, Paula and Emilie, stayed in the mansion until beyond their 100th birthdays. The two women never went outside and sequestered themselves in just two bedrooms for the better part of a century. Developing an elaborate pulley system, they were able to bring in groceries, mail and anything else they needed from outside. Their ghosts are said to roam the hallways. 

Any takers?

#Paranormal Wednesday - #CharlieCharlieChallenge

There's a new "thing" going around the schools (and Twitter and Facebook) called the Charlie-Charlie Challenge. You lay two pencils down on a piece of paper in the form of a cross. In each square, you write "Yes" and "No." To begin, you ask, "Charlie-Charlie are you here?" If the pencils roll towards a "Yes," you've made contact and can begin asking questions, much like a spirit board.

Who...or What is Charlie?

According to the rumors, "Charlie" is not one, but a group of Mexican demons. They may seem helpful at first but if you don't say a proper good-bye, they retaliate by causing chaos and poltergeist-like activity. What is a proper good-bye? Ending the session by saying, "Charlie-Charlie, can we stop?"  Once the pencils move in any direction, drop both pencils to the ground as a means of closing the portal Charlie has supposedly entered.

Omg! For Real?

Actually...no. There are no demons named Charlie in Mexican folklore. Sorry, but no. It may have started as a social media experiment to see how far it would go. With over two million people utilizing the hashtag #CharlieCharlieChallenge in the past 48 hours, I would say the experiment has gone far.

As fun as it sounds, I probably won't be trying this any time soon. If I want to tempt fate, I'll dig up my old Ouija board in the attic. I'm waiting for the Charlie Charlie movie. 

#Paranormal Wednesday - Time for a Ghost Story

My writing view in the daytime

It's been a busy few weeks but time to start blogging again. I've been promoting my new book release, working with my publisher regarding my next book, and...oh yes, doing that writing thing. Consequently, I've pulled a couple of late-nighters to grab every chance I get for elusive "quiet time." Quiet time which is crucial to writing. Unfortunately, my house is anything but quiet. It has nothing to do with whether my kiddos and husband are home and awake. It has everything to do with this house. I'll share this because today is paranormal Wednesday and my house ghost has been busy too.

It was late night and the house was silent. I was working away--letting my fingers tap, tap the words out in Scrivener as my scene unfolded. There's a certain "feeling" that I experience at night. A feeling of being watched. It's as if someone is standing behind me, pressing against my personal space. I tune it out for the most part but sometimes, that's easier said than done. There are times things get knocked off the kitchen counters while I'm working. I tune that out too. I know it's not the cats because they settle down as soon as everyone goes to bed. Sushi-Ball goes upstairs, Sinbad holds down the couch, and Clover settles in my papasan chair. They have their routines, after all.

But so does my house ghost.

This particular night, it seemed to be more restless than usual. I turned to check behind me twice, which made me feel silly because there's never anyone there. Several times, there were disturbances in the kitchen. Nothing crazy like plates or glasses flying off the shelves, but small things. A pencil rolled off the counter and fell to the floor. A flicker of movement in the corner of my peripheral stopped my train of thought. A stack of papers on the counter shifted, followed by several pages drifting to the floor. My betta fish tank light went out with a loud pop. Moments later, the utensils my kiddos were supposed to set in the dishwasher, clinked in the sink. I went to check and the spoons lay flat, all lined in a row. I put them in the dishwasher and lo and behold, the dishwasher turned itself on as soon as I sat to write again.

Oh yes, writing. That thing I do. It's a wonder I get anything done around here.

#Paranormal Wednesday - Nightmare in the Closet

Photo courtesy of lunamom58 via Flickr

I woke in the middle of the night last week. Not an uncommon occurrence as I’m a light sleeper. (My husband jokes I can hear butterfly wings from five miles away) What was weird was that I woke with the intention of closing my closet door. I lay, fully awake, and tried to figure out why I felt the need to get up. The closet door was open but I always leave it open.

Do you ever get images slammed into your head “out of the blue?” They make no sense and aren’t related to what you’re thinking—but they show up with a clarity as if someone showed you a photograph. Usually, the image is of a person’s face or something mundane. This time, the image kind of freaked me out. In my mind’s eye, I saw a white-washed and hunched figure creeping up to the side of my bed. It had no hair or eyes, nor was it entirely human. Its hands were elongated and its fingertips were blood red. Not like they had blood on them, but an ombre skin coloration from white to deep red.

I have to say, the image rattled me. And I don’t rattle easily. Normally, I would have dismissed it as my overactive brain and gone back to sleep. But this time, I had a terrible feeling that this thing was actually sneaking up on me. I found myself checking over my shoulder like a little kid. I never do that. As an author of the paranormal, I know fear gives things power. But I couldn’t help myself. There was nothing there, of course. After several minutes, I closed my eyes and firmly told myself to grow up and get a life. 

The feeling continued until, in my mind’s eye, I saw the thing skulk into my closet. And here’s where it gets weird—I heard my clothes falling from the hangers. Yep, you read that right. My clothes...were falling...from the hangers. My eyes flew open. I sat straight up in bed. Split second decision: 

1) I could wake my husband like the femme fatale I wasn't (or) 

2) I could go see what the heck was going on. 

I chose to go see what the heck was going on. 

The closet was dark and I switched on the light. Three of my dresses had fallen to the floor. Three. It was as if someone...or something, had plucked them from their hangers and tossed them on the floor.

Don’t know. Don’t want to know. Making myself a mental note to shut the closet door at night…

#Paranormal Wednesday - Little Ghost Stories: Part Two

Photo courtesy of Jose M Vazquez via Flickr

Welcome to part two of my Little Ghost Stories. Because of Musa Publishing closing its doors (and consequently, its blog) you may see a couple of recycled Musa blog posts this week. This is one of them. I've gone into greater detail on this particular one because I don't have space/word count constraints in my blog.

Little Ghost Stories: Part Two

I grew up moving yearly. My step-dad was always in search of the "perfect" teaching job, which didn't afford us the stability of a white-picket fence kind of life. In one particular instance, I remember being relegated to a walk-in closet as my bedroom because that's all we could afford. I suppose it has given me issues, but my parents did the best they could. Most of our rentals were older places, and with these older places, came a ghost or two. It's something I learned to accept. A new rental meant a new "something" to coexist with--and sometimes they weren't so nice. This experience is one of many. You can believe me or not, it's totally up to you.

When I was 13-years-old, my parents rented an older house near the woods. It had a garden, a tree-house, a large yard to do cartwheels in—everything a kid could want. It also had ghosts. I would lay awake for hours and watch a white cat walk through my bedroom wall. Over and over again. No explanation for that, it just was. During the day, and out of the corner of my eye, I would see an old lady. She would follow me down the stairs to the playroom and back up again. She would follow me into my bedroom. Sometimes, I would see her in the living room, sitting in my mom’s rocking chair. I wasn't afraid, she was something I came to accept. Out in my tree-house, there was another presence. It wasn't the old lady and it wasn't the cat, but something else entirely. Whatever "it" was, made me vaguely uncomfortable. I'm not afraid of heights in the slightest, but I always felt I needed to watch my back in that tree. I had the strong feeling there was an opportunist who would be inclined to give me a shove, should my attention wander. Yet another presence lingered in the basement, but only when it rained. Another stood beside our mailbox, waiting. Let's just say the house was full! It wasn't until we moved, that I overheard my parents discussing the fact that a lady had died in the house just before we bought it. That was news to me (and unfortunately, taught me the joys of eavesdropping). As far as the other presences went, I'm unsure about them. As a kid, I learned to shrug my shoulders and move on.

If you missed it, part one of Little Ghost Stories is here.

#Paranormal Wednesday - Strays from the Spirit World

I’ve always been a half-way house for every stray animal that roams the neighborhood. There was a time, before kids and my husband, that I housed no less than twenty cats. Sad, but true. The downtown area I lived had a huge stray problem and for some reason, they always ended up on my back porch. I worked hard to assure they had proper veterinary care, and yes, it helped that I was in the veterinary field.

Nowadays, with my kiddos and husband, I seem to get less strays coming my way. Different neighborhood, I suppose, but we do get them. There’s the four pound cat that followed my husband to his car after work, a goldfish with a defective swim-bladder that needed to be hand fed, freshwater crabs that came to us as ex-classroom pets, a dog that had been chained in someone’s back yard for years and hadn't the slightest idea of what “inside” meant, an iguana that had broken every bone in her body because she was fed iceberg lettuce for years, the list goes on.

But what about attracting strays when it comes to writing? Is that possible? I've talked before how my paranormal novel BETWEEN came to me. I was working on my fantasy series when I was hit by two characters that didn't belong. Though I kept setting them aside, they wouldn't leave me alone and seemed determined that I write their story. Which I did. In retrospect, the novel came “out of the blue.”

This gives me pause for thought. Can writers attract “strays” when it comes to the spirit world? Is that possible? We’re open to ideas and thoughts and commit them on paper. Given that there are probably many people in history with stories to tell, would it not make sense that the spirit world would take advantage of that? I guess we’ll never know but it’s certainly up for debate.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Phone Box of the Dead

The photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them. This particular story came to me complete with music. Hit play (down at the bottom) and read on...

Phone Box of the Dead

The door wouldn't budge. Desperate, she pounded on it. Peering down the empty alleyway, she was doubtful anyone would be coming by soon. It was late and the shops had been closed for hours. Outside the phone box, the night was still.

She rooted in her purse for a coin and came up empty-handed. "Figures," she murmured.  She could call 999. But this hardly ranked as an emergency, the door to the phone box was merely stuck. She pushed on it again to no avail. An icy breeze slipped through the cracks, chilling her to the core. Her breath plumed in the night air.

A distant sound of music broke the silence. Mournful, the music threaded its way down the alleyway.

Pressing against the glass, she tried to see where the music was coming from. Maybe a car or someone's iPhone?  "Hello?" she called. Thank God. I thought I'd be trapped here all night.

The movement began far at the end of the dark alleyway. Mere glimpses at first; the curl of a fingertip and the flash of pale skin. But slowly, the movement coagulated into something tangible. A form emerged from the darkness like a moth from its cocoon, followed by another, and another. Moving in slow motion, they drifted with the music in an unspoken unity.

Bare feet skimmed over puddles of rain, leaving not a trace. Vestiges of cloaks, tattered like spiderwebs, clung to what was left of their ghostly bodies. The music increased in tempo. The procession danced in joyless abandon as they continued past her, their faces contorted in sadness and despair.

"What the hell?" she murmured.

A tall, shadowed figure trailed in their wake. Gently guiding those that strayed off the path, he seemed to be herding them towards their destination.

She backed up as far as she could inside the phone box. Hoping the door remained stuck, she jammed it shut with her foot. He didn't seem to notice her, at least she didn't think he did. The others continued in their unearthly procession. The icy breeze continued to blow through the cracks of the phone box, bringing with it the smell of stone, decay and ashes.

The tall figure's stride was seemingly pensive. Shadows curled around his feet like smoke. His cloak dragged behind him with a tangible heaviness. Walking past the phone box, he kept his distance.

She was about to breathe a sigh of relief...when he suddenly turned to face her.


The Music

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Whispering Woods

I found this photo last month while looking for one of Irish Colcannon. The photo stuck in my head and is included in my week of photo-inspired flash fiction. Again, think of these as a peek into something bigger. Most likely, they will come together as a full-length book. Enjoy!

The Whispering Woods

Photo courtesy of Davi Ozolin via Flickr

The darkness was like a veil.

Slipping her feet from the bed covers, she winced as the lace from the hem of her nightgown scratched her ankles. She sat and listened. A barely audible whisper drifted from the open window. It was almost as if it was calling to her. The cottage was otherwise silent and still, the embers from the evening fire still burning in the fireplace.

She searched for her woolen cloak and found it dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Draping it over her shoulders, she fastened it. The sound started again and she froze, waiting for it to dissipate. Quickly slipping her bare feet into well-worn leather boots, she struggled to light the candle beside her bed.

The night held the impending breath of winter. A breeze slid through near-bare branches, stripping them of their leaves and stirring complaints. A full moon shone overhead, surrounded by a luminous fairy ring. Stars dotted an otherwise inky sky.

Following the now-distant sound, she made her way through the thicket of trees. Forest animals darted from her path, startled from their nocturnal activities. Her feet made shushing sounds through leaves that scattered the forest floor. She held the candle in front of her. Wax spilled onto her fingertips. The candle's flame hesitated before it went out with a puff.

An unattended fire burned in a clearing. Its flames licked up into the star-dotted sky. The burning wood crackled with delight. The fire's fevered intensity beckoned to her. She made her way towards it, if only to warm her icy hands before deciding if she should return to her cottage.

A whisper sounded from behind her. She whipped around, searching the forest with her gaze. The glow from the firelight rendered her blind.

Silence. The forest was still, almost as if it too, was holding it's breath.

She stepped from the comfort of the fire. Little by little, her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The whisper started again. Two green spots flashed, like eyes. Startled, she suddenly felt the presence behind her.

It was the last thing she remembered.

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Attic

Photo courtesy of billnwmsu via Flickr

We have an attic. To most, this would be unremarkable. But to me...it's a distraction. Sometimes, I hear thumping up there when I'm alone and writing. I used to make the climb to investigate and see what it was. After doing this countless numbers of times, I stopped. There's nobody up there. Not a bird, not an animal...nothing. That I can see.

The attic was empty when we moved in, save for one writer's reference book. Ironic. Out of the three people who owned the house before us, none of them were writers. Maybe that's why it got left behind. Or maybe it was a house gift...from the Attic. I'm tempted to take my computer up there and write in the hopes the space will inspire something spooky. Or at least to show the Attic how much I appreciate it's thoughtfulness at leaving me a writer's reference book.

Why do people find attics so creepy? It's a convenient place where forgotten things are stored away. True, the space is usually dusted with cobwebs. And true, sometimes shadows lurk in the corners. That must be it. Attics are similar to basements. When I was a kid, one of the houses we lived in had a basement filled with shadows. I wasn't a fan. The fact that the house was haunted (the previous owner had passed away) made it all the more challenging. But, back to my attic...

If I thought the thumping up there was an animal or bird, I would go out of my way to make sure they could find a way out. But it's not. It's Nothing. Not in the sense that it doesn't matter, but in that I can do nothing about it. Does that make sense? Regardless, Nothing needs to keep it down up there because I'm trying to write.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Dog Drool

Photo of Vader courtesy of Fellowship of the Rich

...Or Why Dog Drool is Paranormal in Nature.

1) Drool vs. Spiritual Attachment - It will attach itself to you and nothing short of an exorcism can get it off. Be forewarned.

2) Drool vs. Ectoplasm. Ectoplasm begins clear and then darkens and becomes visible. In extreme cases, it will develop a strong odor. Enough said.

3) Drool vs. UFOs - Occurring especially after bath time. Watch when Fido gives himself a good shake. The Truth is Out There.

4) Drool vs. Spirit Manifestation - There have been cases where drool has been reported to manifest on its own with no probable cause.

5) Drool vs. ESP - My dog is especially sensitive to the times I'm wearing my Calvin Klein dress that can only be dry-cleaned. I can only attribute this to the fact that the drool itself, must be psychic.

6) Drool vs. Reincarnation - Reborn even after I've killed it with a washcloth. Drool is eternal.

7) Drool vs. Out of Body Experiences - The sensation you get when you've failed to dodge the sticky thread of saliva as it smacks you in the face.

8) Drool vs. Demonic Possession - You know that gleam in your dog's eye when drool trails down the sides of his mouth? And he takes a step towards you...and another...and another?

9) Drool vs. Orbs - If you watch very carefully, these can be seen surrounding the threads of saliva as it's flung in senseless abandon.

10) Drool vs. Paranormal in General - Drool is way scarier. Run in fear.

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Haunting World of Dreams

Photo courtesy of Jonathan Emmanuel Flores Tarello
via Flickr

Dreams are important when it comes to my writing. I've dreamed characters, plots and scenes. I'll wake with sentences and full blown paragraphs. I've dreamed in other languages and had prophetic dreams. Likewise, dreams pop up a lot in my novels. My characters often receive messages, warnings and are haunted by their dreams and nightmares.

I find it interesting there are many different types of dreams. When it comes to the paranormal community, these dreams become very complex indeed! Here are a few categories to ponder.

Types of Dreams

Nightmares - upsetting and vivid dreams involving negative emotions. Some nightmares can lead to sleep deprivation and physical illness. In the paranormal world, there are some that believe nightmares are caused by negative entities. 

Night terrors - a dream that causes fear and dread. The dreamer will awaken in terror with no recall of dream content. Night terrors and sleepwalking usually run in families. Since the dreamer may report seeing people, animals or other entities in the room upon awakening, the paranormal community suggests these dreams may be supernaturally induced.

Belief Dreams – Dreams, prophetic or otherwise, that have shaped religion and belief systems across the world. Many prophets in history have reported receiving messages from the divine in their dreams.

Problem-Solving Dreams – Dreams that deliver a message or aide the sleeper in overcoming a problem in their waking life. Some believe that such messages are delivered by a messenger such as a guardian spirit, angel or someone who has passed on.

Recurring Dreams – A sign that we aren't paying attention to the message given. Ignoring the dream may lead to unresolved issues. In the paranormal world, recurring dreams are thought to be important messages from those who have passed on. May go hand-in-hand with problem-solving dreams.

Lucid Dreams – An awareness that the dreamer is in a dream state. The dream can be manipulated by the dreamer. May lead to out-of-body experiences.

Mutual Dreams –When the dreamer shares the same dream or experience with another person.

Psychic Dreams – Dreams in which premonitions take place. The paranormal community suggests these dreams are due to the dreamer having psychic powers or receiving messages from a messenger (ie. guardian spirit, angel or someone who has passed on).

Sleepwalking - performing activities that are usually performed during a state wakefulness. They can be as simple as sitting up in bed or walking to the bathroom; or as complex as cooking, eating driving, or even homicide. My grandmother used to sleepwalk in the forest around her farm house. This was frequent and lasted well into her teenage years. Her brother would follow to make sure she didn't get into trouble!

Dreams with Recurring Dream People – Similar to recurring dreams, these dreams are populated by people the dreamer hasn't met in waking life. The paranormal community has several explanations for this, including guardian spirits, angels or those who have passed on. I have two recurring dream people that pop up on a regular basis. Likewise, I experience a recurring place (and dream) every couple of months.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Origins of the Fae

Legends of faeries date back to the beginning of time and are prevalent in many cultures. In European folklore, they are described as mythical beings or supernatural spirits. Typically, they are depicted as humanoids of small stature, sometimes winged; but some accounts describe them as tall, radiant and angelic beings, or even short, wizened trolls. As far as European folklore, there are many theories as to their origin.

Theory One:

Faeries were originally worshiped as minor goddesses, such as nymphs or tree spirits. In alchemy they were regarded as elementals.  With the coming of Christianity, the church decreed them to be evil beings and they were marginalized. 

Theory Two:

Faeries were a folkloric belief concerning the dead. Ghosts and faeries have similar legends; the burial mounds of the Tír na nÓg, the danger of eating food in the Realm of Fae or Hades, and both the dead and faeries living underground.

Theory Three:

Faeries were a class of demoted angels. One story states that when the angels revolted, God ordered the gates shut; those still in heaven remained angels, those in hell became demons, and those caught in between became faeries.

Theory Four:

Faeries were an intelligent species, distinct from humans and angels.  The Celts describe a race of diminutive people who had been driven into hiding by invading humans. They came to be seen as spirits and believed to still exist in the Otherworld.

Some believe faeries still exist in one form or another--a race of beings, spirits of the dead, or descendants of fallen angels. Others believe they are nothing but folklore and myth. What do you think?

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Veil

Photo courtesy of Damian via Flickr

October. The time when the veil between both worlds, ours and the spirit world, becomes thin and is easily crossed. The dictionary defines "beyond the veil" as a mysterious or hidden place or state, especially the unknown state of life after death.

The concept of the veil is prevalent throughout the history of Halloween. Traditionally, the holiday was dedicated to remembering the dead. Not only was it a time to honor and appease those who had passed on, but to honor the death of nature. It was believed that during this time, the dead roamed the earth freely and it was much easier to communicate with those who had passed on. So why would the veil thin "only" at this time of year?

Personally, I don't believe that October is the only time the veil is lifted. It may seem more active because people are thinking of the paranormal. November, December, January... the year speeds by and things go unnoticed. The moments for communication with the dead are there; dreams, meditation and the quiet times you find yourself alone. You just have to listen.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Green Children of the Woolpit

Photo courtesy of Rod Bacon
Creative Commons Licence 

I came across this story while watching a You Tube video "Top 20 Unexplained Mysteries" with my kiddos. I found it very interesting and had to look into it further. The 12th century story originates from the village of Woolpit in Suffolk, England and it goes like this:

It was harvest time and reapers were working in the fields when they discovered  two children--a girl and a boy--in the wolf pits. Their skin was green, they spoke an unknown language, and their clothing was made from strange material. The children were taken to the home of Sir Richard de Calne, a local landowner. They were offered food and drink, but refused both. This went on for several days until the children came across some raw beans, which they consumed eagerly. The children gradually adapted to normal food and in time lost their green color.

After learning to speak English, the girl explained that they came from a twilight land where the sun never shone. She called their home St Martin's Land and claimed everything was green, including the inhabitants. She wasn't sure where her homeland was located, but said another 'luminous' land could be seen across a 'considerable river' separating it from theirs. She remembered that she and her brother were looking after their father's cattle. Following the cattle into a cavern, the children heard the sound of bells. When they tried to follow the sound, they appeared inside the pit and didn't know how they got there.

Interesting story, isn't it? There are different reports as to what happened to the children after they were found. One states the boy became ill and died a year later. The girl, on the other hand, became a servant and later married. Another report states that the boy died soon after he was baptized and the girl died five years later.

Many theories have been put forth regarding the tale, as it has all the trappings of a myth. Some say the children were fairies, other believe they were aliens from outer space or from a parallel dimension. The "accepted" theory is that the children were from a distant Flemish village. Many Flemish immigrants arrived in England during the 12th century and were persecuted. The parents may have died and the children fled Fornham St Martin and ended up in the village of Woolpit. Disoriented and dressed in unfamiliar Flemish clothes, they would have presented a very strange spectacle to the Woolpit villagers. The green skin may have been caused by hypochromic anemia, a dietary deficiency (historically known as chlorosis or green sickness).

There is a mix of evidence that both supports and undermines this "accepted" theory.

* It is unlikely that an educated man such as Richard de Calne wouldn't have recognized the Flemish language spoken by the children.

* It is also unlikely that the children's clothing would have been unrecognizable, since there were many Flemish immigrants at the time.

* The closest cavern to Woolpit would have been a flint mine, some 32 miles away--much too far for two young children to walk. If the children came directly from Fornham St Martin (10 miles away) there were no caverns in the area. So, what cavern could the children have gone into, only to find themselves at Woolpit?

* What of the girl's claims of being from "twilight land where the sun never shone" or that "everything was green, including the inhabitants" ? (Twilight lands and the color green are associated with faerie lore) Interesting indeed.

Regardless, we'll probably never know. But it makes for a good story.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Skipping Around the Maypole

Photo Courtesy of Gabi Witthaus via Flickr

Last March, I was fortunate enough to speak at my daughter's middle school on Career Day. They had the usual questions one would expect: "Do writers make lots of money?" (hahahahaha!) "How did you get started?" (I wrote a play in high school) "Which classes were the most helpful?" (all of them) "Have you ever seen a ghost?" (Yes, right behind you) and the big question: "What advice would you give to someone who wanted to be a writer?"

The most important advice I can give to someone who wants to be a writer isn't "just write" or something equally as ridiculous. It's to let your mind wander and "what-if?" Writing is kind of like a maypole--you grab one ribbon of an idea and skip around and around until it starts to weave itself into something coherent. I think the middle-schoolers were somewhat surprised at this advice. A grown-up telling them to day-dream? Shocking.

My mind wanders and "what-ifs" constantly. Some "what-ifs" grow into stories and some remain on the back-burner. And some skip around the maypole until they get dizzy and fall over. Here are a few "what-ifs" that were skipping around in my head as I was writing this post.

What if everyone had amnesia at the same time?
What if the leaves that fell from trees were the souls of faeries? 
What if the ghost of an unknown writer couldn't "move on" until someone read their book?
What if our universe were a glob of sand on a beach?
What if I'm dreaming?
What if everyone on the planet were granted one wish...and one minute to make it?
What if you were a ghost's sole form of entertainment?
What if UFOs were really angels dabbling in technology?

And yes, it's a weird place in my head sometimes.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Catacombes de Paris

Photo courtesy of Vlastula vis Flickr

The Catacombs of Paris (Catacombes de Paris) are underground ossuaries located in Paris, France. South of the former city gate, they house the remains of approximately 6 million people. The network of caverns and tunnels run more than 300 kilometers under the city. In the 12th century, offering burial in their cemeteries was a source of income for the churches. As a result, they often took in more bodies than they could house. To combat this, mass graves were dug. When the remains had decomposed, the bodies would be exhumed and relocated so new bodies could be buried. The bones were moved to underground limestone quarries and stacked neatly in rows where they remain to this day.

Photo courtesy of skidder via Flickr

Paranormal researchers have captured strange EVP recordings as well as photographs of strange, unexplained lights and misty figures. Visitors report feelings of sadness and some report hearing voices and of being touched. Ghostly figures have been seen roaming through the passageways and some tour groups report seeing large groups of figures walking behind them as they go on the tour. Some tours have even been cut short because of a growing sense of unease. Paranormal activity is routinely captured on film.

Photo courtesy of van Van Es via Flickr

When I was looking through photos of the catacombs it was overwhelming. Thousands upon thousands of human bones, some carefully arranged--heart-shaped outlines crafted from the arrangement of skeletons, pillars made from human leg bones, and fountains crafted from skulls. I can't imagine the energy housed in such a place.

Tour and historical information can be found on the Les Catacombes Histoire de Paris website

#Paranormal Wednesday-Robert the #Haunted Doll

Photo courtesy of Susan Smith via Flickr

More creepy dolls, just what you wanted, right? Guess I'm on a creepy doll kick. Here's one on eBay I would purchase if I had the money. There's just something about it...and I don't even like dolls.

The doll pictured here was owned by Key West painter and author Robert Eugene Otto. It's said to be possessed by evil spirits and has become the subject of urban legend and Creepypasta. It was difficult to separate fact from fiction when researching this post. I do think that Robert Eugene Otto experienced mental illness and poured a lot of energy into this doll. Energy which may have something to do with the issues surrounding the doll today.

In 1906, a Bahamian servant gave the doll to 6-year-old Robert as a gift. One story claims she was skilled in black magic and voodoo and was displeased with the family. Other sources say it was a gift of love and the 40" doll, stuffed with wood wool known as excelsior, was meant to be a replica of the boy. Regardless, Robert (nicknamed Gene) took an instant liking to it. He named the doll "Robert" and would often dress the doll in his own clothing. His parents would hear their son talking to it and answering himself in a changed voice. Later, as the family began to feel there was something eerie about the doll, they claimed it was actually speaking to him. Gene blamed the doll for mischief he would have otherwise gotten in trouble for...but he and the doll were inseparable.

When Robert "Gene" Otto married, his wife tried to convince him to store the doll in the attic. He wouldn't hear of it. He insisted the doll needed its own room where it could see out the window. The doll ended up in the Turret Room of the house where Gene would spend countless hours painting. The Otto's marriage was a rocky one. Gene would go through extreme personality changes and fits of rage (oftentimes directed at his wife) and blame the doll for his behavior. 

When Gene died in 1974, the doll was left in the attic. Stories of the doll’s strange behavior became commonplace. Tenants heard footsteps in the attic room above them. A plumber heard giggling and claimed the doll moved across the attic on its own. The house was eventually sold to Myrtle Reuter. In 1994, Myrtle donated Robert to the Fort East Martello Museum. She also claimed the doll was haunted and moved around on its own. Myrtle died a few months later.

Today, the doll is on display at Fort East Martello. People taking a photo of Robert must ask permission first. Those who don't, experience camera malfunctions and other misfortunes. Guests claim to have seen Robert's expression change right before their eyes. To appease his spirit, peppermints are left in the glass case where Robert sits, only to have them gone in the morning--wrappers discarded and laying off to the side.

If you're interested, here's a short video:

#Paranormal Wednesday-Imaginary Friends

Photo courtesy of jdurham via morgueFile

Did you ever have an imaginary friend when you were a kid? I did. I had one when I was about four-years-old. He was kind of faceless (well, it was blurry when I would try and look. Eventually I just gave up trying) and was always in my peripheral. I was an only child and he would indulge me by playing tag or hide-and-go-seek. Sometimes, we'd play board games. My mom would come into my room and I'd be chatting away and accusing him of cheating (which he did). She would frown and give me a stern talking to about real vs. imaginary.
In retrospect, I think it used to freak her out.

I know some kids blame their imaginary friends for doing things they'd otherwise get in trouble for. I never did that. I think he kept me out of trouble, truth be told. Kind of like a little voice in your head that says things like, "Do you really think that's a good idea?" or "Really? *sigh*"  Yeah, I was one of those kids.

As imaginary friends go, he eventually stopped showing up. I'm not sure I ever forgave him for that. I had a rough childhood and could have used a friend. Such is life.

There are two theories about imaginary friends. One is scientific and pretty cut-and-dry, the other is a little more complex and open for debate.

Theory One: Psychological
A phenomenon-where a friendship or other interpersonal relationship takes place in the imagination rather than external physical reality. 
This is the standard explanation offered by child psychologists. Most young children socially interact with dolls, stuffed animals and toys. But according to one study, only about 37% of children have imaginary friends. When questioned, the number drops even further--only 2% of these children insist they are real.

Theory Two: Paranormal
Children are much more open to seeing ghosts and other entities. Once they hit adolescence, it is no longer widely accepted by society and the phenomena either disappears or is kept secret. 
There are numerous claims that support this as well. Jason Hawes, co-founder of The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS) states, “Many times, when I am contacted by someone having a paranormal situation, I am informed that their child or children are playing with invisible friends and that they talk to things that are not there." Hawes explains that the child could be psychic, and may possibly be “sensitive,” but a better explanation is simply that children have open minds. “They have not been conditioned by society yet as to what is real and what is not,” he wrote. “Over the years they will be told, ‘Stop playing with your pretend friend Bobby,’ and this helps close them off to what they experience. We have done some investigations into this, and the conclusions are outstanding.”

While I understand Theory One and in most cases support it, Theory Two gives me pause for thought. I was convinced that my imaginary friend was real. It was only through constant reprimanding that I eventually learned to keep my experience quiet and convinced myself that my imaginary friend was...imaginary.
Is conditioning children to deny their experiences a parental obligation? I find that kind of sad, really. I always indulged my children when it came to their imaginary worlds and friends. It's what leaves us open to life--in all it's complexities and unexplained madness.

How about you? Are there any stories you would like to share?