Excerpt from newest work--

 I have two projects in the works right now- Soul Garden and this project which will be a full novel. Take a look and stay in touch for more excerpts and updates 

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 Her breath came in short painful bursts as she pushed herself to run faster down the beaten earth path that lead from the village center to her small cabin- a hovel, really, - on the edge of the wood. The same path that village women and young girls would steal down at dusk or just before dawn -whenever the light would assure that they would be less likely to be seen – to trade heads of cabbages or a small fish caught in the burbling creek for a Simple or a Tincture that would soothe the occasional tooth ache or stomach ailment. A silver coin or a pretty locket could get  a young girl the tea necessary to rid herself of an unwanted child before it had a chance to quicken in the womb, with a gold coin or brooch being able to procure the ointment needed to grow such a child should it be wanted.  

   The village men came as well but were more cautious and arrived in the dead of the night. These desperate souls sought salves and oils that would beguile their beloved, washes that would bring out the most of their manhood and powders that would restore lustrous hair at both scalp and chin. In payment they would bring the odd ax head or pine branch fashioned into a fishing pole. A garden hoe was a true boon and would insure that extra Boneset and Eyebright be added to their potions. But for those potions and brews requested that would end a neighbor’s prosperous garden or do away with  a prized calf coin was the only payment accepted and Elsbeth had gathered a middling sized purse over the years. Squirreling away each silver as insurance against an uncertain future it now seemed rather pointless. She was being chased down by the very dolts who had come to her for help and they wanted her hide. The grand irony in it all is that they were screaming for her death due to a recent still-birth and not one of her doing. She had neither assisted in the birth nor the death of this child – this time

A peak at the new book in the works...

original photo-Annie Russell. Private Garden.

~Good Morning and 'Happy Summer 2017'!~

Below is a short excerpt from the new book I'm working on - 

Soul Garden. My goal is to have this completed for an October release but as this one will incorporate many original artistic details that is a very rough time slot. As I get closer-usually at the third edit- I will release pre-sale information. For now please follow this blog for excerpts. If you've not read my first book yet it is available on my etsy store, website and at amazon. 

Introduction

 ‘Psychic’; the word conjures so many different feelings, scenarios, and judgments- some accurate, some not – from both people with advanced Abilities and those who have just an inkling of Intuition. The recent glut of television shows portray Psychics as both victims of their own gift as well as outsiders who act and dress outrageously. Is this a true representation? Yes and No. Psychics are, after all, people and people present themselves in all types of ways. However, if one were only to watch the TV shows – not to mention the big screen movies- it would seem that a person with Psychic Abilities could be spotted a mile away; they are the ones dressed in a flowing cape with an abundance of esoteric jewelry and a gloomy disposition darting furtive looks left and right - always on the look-out for malevolent spirits lurking in bushes and behind doorways. You might be surprised to know that the woman serving you coffee every morning with a cheery smile has amazing Psychic Abilities or the gentleman who jogs by your home in the evening with a wave as he passes is an accomplished Tarot Card Reader. My examples here are not designed to judge clothing styles or jobs and activities but rather to demonstrate that there is no ‘right’ way to be Psychic just as there is no ‘right’ way to be blonde or tall, blue-eyed or brown. That being said what I would like to address – and do in this workbook – is the idea that a Psychic is a victim of their own talents and abilities. While this may make for good TV and dramatic entertainment it is not a necessary way to live your life if you have Abilities. There is nothing wrong with living life as a Happy Psychic- well-adjusted even! Unlike the innate ability to create music or paint, this particular gift does have a tendency to overwhelm and take over one’s life BUT it doesn’t have to be that way. Being victimized and scared is not a prerequisite to being a Psychic. In fact, living in such a manner can not only reduce the accuracy and accountability of your Readings and communications but will curtail your basic happiness and joy with your life in general.

  In this workbook I have chosen the visual of a garden – a Soul Garden – as the vehicle in which we will work towards living joyfully as a Psychic or Sensitive. You do not have to be a professional Psychic to enjoy this workbook. It is my opinion that every human has innate Abilities to one degree or another. Some consciously develop latent talents in order to more accurately use them and some people are born with full-fledged highly tuned Psychic Minds. Most people fall somewhere in between those two extremes. In this workbook we will work together towards harmonizing the unique energetic tides that a Psychic will encounter on a daily-if not hourly!- basis. We will explore exercises designed to balance and stabilize our own energy and how to regulate our emotions in the face of outside emotional storms so that we feel safe. The energies and Spirits that dwell within certain flowers and plants will be used and visually ‘planted’ within our personal Soul Garden so that later when a particular plant’s help is needed we can quickly and safely ‘go within’, find that plant and open to its energies thereby gaining the wisdom and gifts that that flower is known for. As we plant our own garden we leave behind the inclination of victim hood and move more fully into self-assurance and enjoying our gifts and Abilities. Our Psychic Minds will develop and fine-tune and the waves and tides of energies from outside and inside ourselves will begin to diminish. All of that being said, this workbook will be FUN! It is my deepest desire to show you that the gifts you have are joyous! Even when some situations get scary- and they can- remember that you are living an amazing life that most people only watch on TV or read about in books. That alone should make you smile.

  If you’re ready to hone your Psychic Mind, remind yourself to live joyfully and spend some time cultivating your own Soul Garden come along with me as we start down an amazing garden path.

Soul Gardens and Dream Spaces -- or how to cultivate a healthy relationship with the news if you're a Sensitive

Red Dahlia by Jennie Marie Schell 

 There are days, no WEEKS, that I just cannot stomach the news. I try to stay informed but the constant barrage of dead children, abused animals, apartment fires, blown up kindergartens (this morning from China), and our own government continually working against 'we the people' feels like the death of a thousand cuts to my soul.
  I sit at 'my spot' at the dining room table, coffee in hand, and try to be an 'adult'; I catch up on emails (70% of which are spam), return those that need my attention, check my digital and paper calendar, pay what bills I can and attempt to stay informed but what I really want to do is lay on my back in the tall grass of a secluded meadow and watch clouds float by over head. And as I mentally add lemonade and a nice blanket to this internal dream space  the next news story is about ticks and lyme disease.

*sigh*

I add a spray can of poisonous Deet to the image and move along to updating business pages.....

  I am seriously considering hacking away at my on line preferences to show ONLY happily adopted children and animals, couples celebrating 75 years of a joyous marriage or relationship, what colors to paint a room, decorating journals, and food porn. I just don't know if 'staying informed' is healthy any more... at the same time I wonder if running from the on-going insanity is giving up and allowing it all to continue.
  Should I be a warrior or an escapist? Is there a way to be both???
I mean, can I work in my soul- garden cultivating beautiful flowers AND be strong enough to weather the constant stream of hurtful insanity that seems to flow from every direction? Can I use that garden to filter the stream so that only those insane items I MUST deal with can come through? And how do I determine what those are???

  These words float to the top of my consciousness as I ponder that question :

~Ritual

~Guides

~Meditation

~Yoga

~Art

~Goddess

~Strength

~The Color Red

~Breath

~ Ground, Center, Shield


Time to work on my Soul Garden. How about you? What will you plant in your's?

....and there's a book!! A real, live book! Available Now! (oh-- and more in the works LOL)

Good morning!

Divine Interference - Living with Angels, Demons, Fairies, and Ghosts

Here's your publishing update- Its done!! Yay!! The book Divine Interference-Living with Angels, Demons, Fairies, and Ghosts is now available in 2 forms- Kindle and Paperback through Amazon and a signed paperback edition through my etsy store. Go HERE and HERE for each venue. I've sent out the batch of pre-orders yesterday and am anxiously awaiting the responses.
 In the meantime....

There are more! Seriously -- about three more books (with one being a full length YA novel) flitting around in my head so this blog will probably get pretty busy over the summer as I use it for notes and ideas and you all get to wander through the process with me! Isn't that cool? What you can look for are notes and excerpts from 3 books --



*A Handbook/Workbook of sorts
*A book dealing only with my experiences in New Orleans
* A full length YA novel about magic and witchcraft...

original painting of a New Orleans Creole-style Cottage in The Treme

A unifying visual theme of anything I write and/or publish will be the inclusion of my personal artwork and photography which means I need to up my game on creating my own covers. Totally worth it because you all know that we DO judge a books by its cover, right? :-)

So please stay with me on this blog- it will be worth it! If you're inclined to share it I would be very honored - the more the merrier! And if you haven't read the final product of Divine Interference  please consider it. If you have and would like to comment here, on etsy, my website and of course- Amazon - that would be beyond wonderful!

Happy Reading!

PS-
I saw a dead man in an orange shirt at the baseball field yesterday - he seemed so sad but would not talk with me. After all these years it still taken me by surprise when I have an unexpected encounter..

Its almost publishing time!

Divine Interference   - Living with Angels,Demons, Fairies,& Ghosts

Good morning~

 The memoir which began life as this blog is almost ready to be sent to the publisher- just a few more tweaks and we'll have a book! I expect a box of books to arrive at my house and a listing on Amazon by the third week in June- I'm so excited!

  I've enable a Pre-Order feature on the etsy store for those of you who would like a special - A signed copy with free shipping in the Continental US. Go here to order your copy. There is no minimum so please feel free to order one or two more as gifts

  Once I get my 'summer legs ' ( similar to  sea legs but more difficult to acquire) under me I will begin the next writing project- a handbook of sorts for those who are 'sensitive'. I have some lovely images and thoughts on how this book will be set up- I'm anxious to begin! Please 'stay tuned' for updates and excerpts on that project.

  Thank you to those who read this blog and have followed along- I would love it if you shared , commented and let me know who you are and from where you're reading...

 Until Next Time -
Annie

We're live on Kindle now!

 

working paperback cover with original artwork

Hello!

  Having taken the advice of a few readers I have moved my writing of this blog onto my private files and developed a book that is currently available on Kindle. In a few weeks a paperback a will be available for those who prefer a 'real' hold-it-in-your-hands book.
The paperback can be Pre-ordered on my etsy store HERE. You will receive a signed copy and shipping is complimentary
. 

   There are at least 2 more books in the works and those will be previewed here as well -- stay tuned!

In the meantime- please check out the Kindle Book - 

Divine Interference , Living with Ghosts, Angels and Fairies  

Available now for your Kindle or eReader.

Ghosts in a Small Town.. an excerpt

Ghosts In A Small Town

“Be whole, be dust, be dream, be wind

Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,

Now slip, now slide, now move unseen,

Above, beneath, betwixt, between.” 

― Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

  I still live in the same small northern Midwest town that my mother moved us to after I graduated from high school. It is a very small town situated on the bank of one of The Great Lakes with its primary economy being tourism. It is quite picturesque and almost every angle makes for a postcard worthy image to send back to friends and family in Chicago or Cincinnati or wherever you’ve come here from. If you look the town up on ‘haunted USA’ or similar websites you won’t find a mention but for people like me there is nowhere that is NOT haunted – Spirits are everywhere and active in varying degrees. Some want our attention, some are simply residual energy reenacting an event over and over in a continuous loop -with or without consciousness. Some aren’t Spirits at all but rather living people from the past or future that we have happened across. This happens when we encounter a ‘thin space’ – for lack of a better term- that allows people, animals or things to sidestep between time. These thin spaces most often occur at liminal places such as stairs, doorways, windows, beaches and the entrances to cemeteries.  As I said, though you won’t find my town listed as a hotspot of haunted activity the following stories – all true – might help you to remember that Spirits are everywhere. Where ever there is life there is death and we mix and mingle together all the time. The difference between most of us is that people like me know it. Ready? Read on for some ghost stories of the northern Midwest as experienced by me

The Girl in The Theater

 When my first born was quite young and I was trying to get my personal life together I took a job at the local movie theater as a housekeeper. It was a terrible job but it paid cash and the hours worked with the sporadic daycare I was able get. It was my job to vacuum the lobby, blow the debris from the theater floors with a leaf blower then sweep all of it up. I then cleaned the restrooms and wiped down the glass entry doors. This took me about 4 hours every other day. The theater wasn’t large- it had a concession stand in the small lobby, two public restrooms, and 3 theater rooms- two to each side directly to the front of the lobby and a smaller one off to the left of the lobby.  Most people complained that the smaller theater was creepy but I had no problem there. It was one of the larger rooms to the front and the left that created a very hostile work environment in what was an otherwise empty building. 

  I felt the spirit the very first day I was working. I have been to this theater on more occasions than I can count as a patron and felt nothing out of the ordinary but in the quiet and empty building the presence was quite pronounced. I carefully entered the theater room where I felt the spirit and looked around but couldn’t see anything nor did the feeling I was having coalesce into anything more specific. I mentally acknowledged that there was a presence and moved along in my work. 

This scenario continued for over a month before the change occurred suddenly and without warning. I entered the building as usual, gathered the cleaning supplies from their closet and energetically ‘felt outward’ for the spirit as I walked toward the two front theaters. As I entered the theater to the left the spirit rushed me suddenly and became visible as a young girl of about nine years old. This rushing is one of my least favorite things that a spirit can do; not only is it frightening but it’s an aggressive move and leaves me feeling very off-kilter. This girl took me so by surprised that I fell backward and crab-walked as fast as I was able out of the theater and into the lobby. My heart was pounding and I was in a full-blown cold sweat. What in the world had just happened?!  I took several deep breaths, shielded myself for protection and carefully stepped back into the theater. And Wham! There she was again – a very angry young girl rushing me so abruptly and so quickly that all I could see was her face in front of mine. And it was not a nice face. This was one pissed off ghost. I left the theater again and regrouped once more in the lobby. I could feel the anger and malice emanating from that room but it became obvious she couldn’t leave that area. I decided to clean everything else except that room for the day and leave good enough alone for the time being. 

 The next time I came into clean I broadcast to the ghost that I was there and I would be coming into the room to clean. No arguments and more ghostly temper tantrums. I stepped in to try out my newly established rule and she promptly rushed me again. This time, however, scary as it was- I held my ground. She was literally in my face and very angry but I refused to move. After what seemed like a very long time but was probably only 3 or 4 seconds she backed off and moved towards the theater curtain. I cleaned the floor and blew the debris toward the curtain and as I walked down the aisle to finish sweeping it up she watched but didn’t make a move towards me. I pretended to not notice her while sweeping but was taking stock of her appearance; two braids in her light brown hair hung just to her shoulders on either side. She was dressed shabbily in a dingy white pinafore with black woolen tights and black leather lace up shoes that had seen better days. A plain long sleeved shirt of undeterminable color covered her arms and disappeared under the grungy pinafore. The year 1932 flashed at me and the image of a mechanic’s garage or workshop. I finished up and left to clean the remainder of the building. When I got home I asked my husband what used to be where the movie theater now stands. He said that for years a mechanic and car lot was located at that spot. While I could never get her to talk to me nor could I get her to tell me the reason for her aggression I believe the ghost of that child is connected to the activity that existed on that plot of land decades before the theater was built. I’ve often wondered what she sees- does she see the theater and not know how she got there or does she still see the mechanic’s shop and is angry that I was in it.

A Trip to Gettysburg -- an excerpt

   ~ Posts from here on out can be considered excerpts from the larger book that is being developed. For information on when that will be available and how to order a copy please email me.~

Thank you

A

Gettysburg, PA

When my children were still quite young I made a trip back East to visit my brother. We chose to meet in Gettysburg, PA.  My brother – being military minded in the family tradition, was interested in the battle fields and war history of the place. I – not being militarily inclined – was simply happy to be away from the role of mother and housewife for a few days. While we were walking along yet another open expanse of field where god knows how many people died and my brother chatted merrily on about war strategies and cannons my attention was drawn to a copse of trees about midway out into the field. Hiding in the trees were 3 young children very dirty and dressed in homespun rags. The oldest couldn’t be older than 9 and the youngest looked to be about 4. They watched as the tourists walk by, taking pictures and consulting maps- but they stayed hidden in the small gathering of trees. I don’t know if the children knew that I could see them- they didn’t react to me any differently than they reacted to any of the other living people but I know I will never forget seeing them.

 Later that day we came to the area of rocky outcropping known as Devil’s Den. Again, my brother was going on about ambushes and bloody battles but I was more interested in climbing to the top to stretch my legs against the endless monotony of the flat fields and battle grounds. I left him and began climbing the trail to the top of the formation. Once up there I stopped to look out across the fields thinking as most probably do that the pastoral beauty seemed incongruous with the bloody history. I turned to follow the trail and saw what I believed to be a male Reenactor dressed in Rebel Blue. He was stretched out on a bench enjoying the sun and watching people wander by. I looked at him, he smiled and tipped his hat and said clear as day ‘Howdy Ma’am’. I smiled in return, said ‘hello’ and walked around the next bend of the trail where I came upon a sign and historical marker with period images. One of the images showed a dead Confederate soldier – the same man who just said hello to me! I turned and ran back to the bench but there was no one there. I asked another gentleman if he saw where the costumed soldier went but he hadn’t seen anyone. I went back to the sign marker with the soldier’s picture and said a silent hello, acknowledging that I had seen him. I am glad that he seemed not only peaceful, but genuinely happy.

The Care and Feeding of a Lost Spirit

image from www.dailybackgrounds.com

 When I was 6 years old my family moved off base and into a nice suburban neighborhood in the same town. We moved into a brand new house- it having been a model home for the emerging development - and I had my own room with pretty pink wallpaper. The neighborhood was carved out of forests and swampy areas allowing for endless play in woods, creeks, and patches of meadows scattered between the homes being built. We lived here until my parent's divorce when I was 11.
  The years spent here were some of my best times. The neighborhood and the times were 'safe' and I was allowed to free range throughout the many acres. As soon as I was permitted each morning, I was out the door and outside; building forts in the woods, catching salamanders near the boggy areas and riding my bike to friend's houses. There was no pre-arranged 'play dates' ; if you showed up and they were home you asked if they wanted to play. If you were at someone else's house at lunch time you were given lunch. When the street lights came on you knew it was time to go home; it was all very simple. I will often times mentally ride my bike throughout that neighborhood if I can't sleep.
  Thankfully the chaos and terror visited upon me in the last house didn't transfer here. I do remember one "laundry game dream" but for the most part everything in my world at that time was pretty wonderful.
   Strangely enough, that was not the case for the rest of the family as I was to find out later. My brother was home more often than me and witnessed the unhappiness of my parent's disintegrating marriage. I am thankful for whatever or whoever allowed me the gift of avoidance.

  When I was somewhere around the age of 10 a girl passed away on the other side of the housing development. She was a little older than me and her mother was an Interior Designer who had converted an old barn into a house. It was amazing an amazing house.
 Courtney died suddenly from a brain hemorrhage at home. The neighborhood mothers were shocked and everyone rallied around the family. Courtney had a younger sister ,who's name I cannot for the life of me remember, but I was volunteered by my mother to babysit for her shortly after Courtney passed away. Having been raised to do as I was told - though I remember absolutely NOT wanting to go to that house - I showed up at the appointed time and date to watch the younger sister while the parents left for the evening. I cannot remember much about the actual babysitting job because Courtney was absolutely still there and very much confused and scared. Her mother had kept her room exactly as it had been before she died and this caused the Spirit no uncertain amount of confusion. Most of what I remember about that night is in flashes of visuals- Courtney's spirit 'rushing' me because someone could finally see her. Her showing me how she died when I tried to ignore her. Her crying in her bedroom and watching her little sister eat breakfast every morning. She tried so hard to communicate but no one in the family was able to see or hear her. I imagine they felt her, I don't know how they couldn't, but more than likely they associated that feeling with their own grief.
 At 10 years old I truly didn't know what to do when I left the house that evening. I was so relieved to be able to get away from the over-powering sadness of the place that I gave no thought about whether or not I *should* do something about or for the Spirit there. My feeling over the years is that Courtney came to terms with her sudden passing and was able to move on as her family healed. I think it took a while though.
   Something I've learned is that the living absolutely have the power to trap the dead through grief, love, or loneliness. Maintaining a personal space ,such as a pre-teen's bedroom,as a shrine for an extended period of time is rarely a healthy idea for the living or the dead. A small space dedicated to a loved one's life is a comfort to both the living and the dead loved one - a picture, piece of jewelry that was cherished, favorite fresh flowers and a candle can offer peace and comfort without becoming a spiritual fly-trap.

  Fast forward many years and a similar confused spirit situation occurred. An acquaintance of mine , more a friend of some friends because she never really cared for me. (this knowledge is often times a lovely bonus of being a Psychic or Sensitive. The absolute deep knowing that you are disliked. It used to cause me no shortage of pain and confusion but as I move through my Middle Age years I've learned that most times this unspoken response by people is none of my business. If I have not caused harm or upset then its not my baggage.) This woman and her former partner had a teen aged son "Chris" (not his real name). Chris died suddenly and unexpectedly from a self inflicted gunshot wound in an apparent suicide. The parents were devastated - of course - and confused because Chris had at no time shown any indication of being depressed, suicidal , or had engaged in excessive use of substances. As a rural family he was well trained with the hunting rifle that caused his death and none of this seemed to make any sense to anyone.
  The morning before I received the afternoon call from the mutual friend about this situation a teen aged male spirit that I did not know showed up in my home with an abundance of fear, confusion and sadness. I didn't know who this spirit was and he was not verbal but radiated his emotions - the most being regret and that an accident had happened. Not knowing where he came from or what I was supposed to do I spiritually 'made space' for him and waited. I was sure that sometime very soon I would know who this boy was and why he was here.
  The call came and we all mourned with the family as well as my personal mourning with this
boy-spirit at the sudden and unexpected loss of his life. He maintained that an accident had happened and that he did not mean to die. He wanted so badly to speak to his mother but was unable to.
For several days I maintained Chris's altar and spiritual space to offer him comfort. Meanwhile the family seemed to be leaning in the direction of not organizing any death ritual for themselves, the community or their son's spirit. This left Chris in true despair- a terrible accident had occurred, he could only find comfort in a stranger's home and there would be no gathering on his behalf by his loved ones. His family was so shocked and in such despair that they simply could not organize such a ritual. Being fairly 'nontraditional' in their life style and religious beliefs also meant that there was no church or religious organization to make the arrangements on their behalf. However, the mother's friends and extended family noticed the true need for a Memorial - 'traditional' or not - and hosted a luncheon for Chris at a local diner. There friends and family stood and shared their memories and love for him as they chose; it was all very low-key and loose. Chris was there and felt all the love and devotion of his family and loved ones. It settled his spirit immensely but he had still not moved on.
   I maintained Chris's space in my home and he passed in and out becoming less 'there' as time went on. When the medical examiner determined that his death was a terrible fluke of an accident Chris came to me while I slept. He was smiling, peaceful, but still a little sad. This boy was definitely not desiring to be out of this life but he was at peace, and grateful that his mother knew he had not willingly left her.
  This situation is why I am hesitant to automatically 'move a spirit on', The prevailing thought within the professional  paranormal community seems to be 'if its here move it to The Light'. Not every Spirit that is interacting on this plane is 'stuck'; some need closure, some are confused, and some maintain pathways between our plane and theirs for the express purpose of interacting (for good or ill). If a Spirit is confused, lost and in need I take my time and try to understand what is needed. I 'make space' for it and dedicate a small altar for her or him. I wait for communication from the spirit itself or from the living.
 Another thing I've learned from the dead is the need for a death or passing ritual. We like to say that a 'funeral is for the living' but I can tell you this is not entirely correct. The dead know that you have gathered and they are almost always in attendance. They feel and sometimes can hear the love and the tributes and it provides as much comfort and closure for them as it does for the living community.

 
 

and the Demon (trigger warning- gruesome details)

"dreaming true' from tant.co

This post has been the most difficult to write because not only was it terrifying on its own and occurred when I was so young, but the entity encountered here continued to attack me at random times through out my life.

 The dream-that-was-not-a-dream happened a few months after the Angel's visit. In the dream (that wasn't) I was in my house on the Air Force Base and it was afternoon. Alone in my parent's room,I was afraid because I was by myself. I looked out of the double windows that over-looked the back yard and rapped on the glass to get my mother's attention- she was in the back yard with our dog. She told me to play and she would be back inside shortly.
  Laying on the floor were three large piles of laundry as if they had been sorted for color before washing. Still feeling afraid ,I decided to distract myself and play while I waited for my mother to come indoors. The game I chose was to jump over the piles of clothes without touching any of them. I did this successfully 2 or 3 times but the 4th time I miscalculated and landed on the clothing.
  And fell in. I fell all the way through - like Alice down the well - and landed in the arms of someone or something.It was a female and she had long talons for finger nails and short blond curly hair, very similar to how Glen Close wore her hair many years later in the movie with Michael Douglas and an unfortunate rabbit.
The thing held me very close and began laughing as she scratched me, tickled me and constricted her arms making it difficult to breath or move. The physical attack was terrifying but the mental attack was worse- she projected such an over riding feeling of dread and malice directly into my psyche that the effect was to simply give up. To go limp and give in. This thing was completely and utterly evil. It wanted nothing more than to transmit that to me. I wish there was a more effective way to relay what this thing did to the mind and soul- not to mention the outer body but words truly escape me. There was no dramatic rescue by the Angel, no Fairy Godmother who showed up to banish this thing. As far as I remember I woke up from this 'dream' scared, shaking, and crying and waited until it was 'morning enough' to get out of bed.
   How do I know this wasn't just a very vivid nightmare? Because not only did I have the exact dream several more time -each with my being the current age as opposed to the original 5 years old - but this Thing has attacked me in different ways over the years- most recently while staying in New Orleans.
     How do I know that this wasn't a dream related to a spooky movie I saw? Because we were not allowed to see them. My mother was VERY strict about what we watched - at 5 not only was television usage restricted for my brother and I what we watched was relegated to Sesame Street, The Wonderful World of Disney or whatever game show my father was watching if he was home from an over-seas trip.
     Where did this Thing come from and what is it? Its taken me many years to sort this out and new pieces to the puzzle present themselves on occasion .
 As for what it is I believe it to be an entity that the Christian Church would call a Demon. There is nothing good about this thing and its goal is to terrorize and destroy. Is it female? I don't know- it has always chosen to show itself as such.
  Where did it come from? It is my opinion that it was originally drawn to my father due to his war experiences and once in our home found me to be better for snacking on. Don't get me wrong - this is not a 'tell-all' blog wherein I blame my family for my troubles. I'm sure there is room for that somewhere, but not here. My father certainly didn't voluntarily serve his country fighting in a jungle for the sole purpose of bringing home a demon to terrorize his daughter. That is absurdity at its highest level. Having researched the type of physical attack that this entity first used it is eerily similar to torture techniques described by POWs from that war. Why did it stop using those types of attacks on me? Because over the years it has gotten to know me and what will REALLY terrorize me- which is its goal and delight. That is the worst thing about this entity - the gleefulness in which it levels its attacks.
   This is the last situation with other-realm entities that I remember from this time period. A situation developed shortly after this that taught me in no uncertain terms that discussing these encounters with the adults in my life would not be advisable. I imagine that the majority of children who have abilities such as mine learn this the hard way as well.
  This is not to suggest that I just wandered through my 5 to 6 year old life with nary a care; I wish that were true but its not. While other realms kept to themselves for awhile there was still THIS realm to navigate and no adult to talk to about it. I knew which friend's homes where 'bad' simply by crossing the threshold. I learned to not trust how a house 'looked' - most of these homes where nicely decorated, clean and upper middle-class yet so uncomfortable I could not step more than a foot or two inside the door. (in adult speak: which homes held unhappy or dysfunctional vibrations).
I knew when adults lied - this happened a shockingly HUGE number of times and shaped my parenting skills like nothing else. The dishonesty was so callous and unnecessary and left me in a constant state of fear, paranoia and anxiousness.
Church was a mine-field for my kindergarten self too, I absolutely believed in Jesus, Angels, Mary, etc. but the rules I knew to be contrived and I didn't understand why any questions asked were met with anger and fear. My lesson-once again - was to not speak to or ask adults about these things. While very sad and lonely at the time it allowed for an insatiable thirst for knowledge regarding religions and beliefs from then on out. If the Church's goal was to silence me and scare me into submission it ultimately failed miserably and I give it full credit for that.

Original painting by me - 'Mr Elmo's in the Treme'. The house we stay in in Nola

  As I mentioned this Thing has made regular though random appearances over the years. At first it was several years of repeats of the Laundry-game Dream-that-was-not-a-dream. At each incident I was the age in the dream that I was in 'real life' and I *knew* what was happening though I was powerless to do anything but act it out as it had occurred in the original dream of my 5 year old self.
  In the early 2000's she switched it up and began showing herself as a woman with green skin. She would sit on my chest while I 'slept' and I was powerless to move, breathe, or cry out. I was not on any medication to account for this 'sleep paralysis'. This went on - off and on - for about 5 years. During this time I was involved with a Wiccan Clergy Training group and there was A LOT of psychic energy flowing in and around me as well as other realm entities that I routinely worked with (much more on that time period later on in this blog) but this Thing has always been able to slip into my psyche and simply remove me from this realm as well as any realm where I may find succor. She isolates me to prey on me. To this day I have yet to find a deity, god, goddess, saint or angel that can keep her from doing this.There also seems to be no rhyme or reason as to when she shows up. No pattern that I can discern and thereby defend myself.
  In early Spring of 2014 my husband and I were driving home from a visit to family in Florida. We stopped for the night in Atlanta at a brand new hotel that was clean, comfortable and in no way felt 'off' to me. We watched TV for a bit and fell asleep-all perfectly normal.
At some point I became aware that I was somewhere else. It *looked* like New Orleans just after Katrina- flooded and stinky and people wandering about lost. I knew I was somewhere else and in another 'dream-that-wasn't-a-dream'. In this place I was pushing a metal shopping cart ('buggy' my brain quickly corrected me) through water that was gross and oily and smelled terrible. It was up to my upper thighs. My dog Megan (who has passed) was in the shopping cart (buggy) and I was trying so hard to push it through this miasma of gunky water because I needed her to be safe. It all seemed hopeless and I was so hot and so thirsty and I didn't think I was going to be able to do this. Just then a woman tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned around and it was her- the Thing. She didn't have green skin or long fingernails any more but her hair was the same. She smiled at me and my knees buckled. It was absolutely terrifying. I was prey and I had been caught. She said she could help me and before I could move or say anything she produced a large knife and cut off my dog's head, tossing it nonchalantly into the noxious water. She then very calmly told me that it would be easier to push the buggy now because there was less in it.
I woke up crying. It was emotionally devastating and so scary. I had not saved my dog, the Thing had found me again and I couldn't get the gruesome images out of my head. I cried through breakfast and for most of the morning on the road.
  In November of 2015 while staying at our regular house in New Orleans it found me again. Again I was removed from any realm I was familiar with. I was in a house . A staircase going to a second floor was to my right and I was among a group at a dinner of some sort. It was happy and easy going but I didn't know where I was or how I had gotten there. Just then I noticed a woman walking down the stairs. I tried to hide but I couldn't move. She turned her head , saw me and smiled. I felt like a bug that had been impaled by a straight pin - I couldn't leave, there was no escape and she had found me again. She walks me outside to a large grill where dinner is being cooked. People are standing around it and man has sliced a section of my current dog, Bentley's cheek off of his head that is there on the grill.
 My dog again - no head, I had at least found out her new game.
I woke with a huge jolt and couldn't get out of bed fast enough. I ran out the back door of our house in New Orleans to the courtyard and the swimming pool and I jumped in- I needed to cleanse and wake fully. It was an instinctual response. After that I dried off, dressed and made one of many pots of coffee waiting for my husband to wake up. At 11 am when the Botanica around the corner opened I was first in the door asking the Haitian Mambo for help with cleansing the house. I had one more night there before we left for Michigan and I wanted no repeats of that dream-that-wasn't. It was comforting to speak with the Mambo but in my heart of hearts I knew it was over for now- the Thing never visited twice in a row.

  I will apologize now for those of you who read this and are offended by the gruesome images and the negative experiences. I sincerely wish I was of the 'all is love and light' variety of psychic,I wish the Angels that I saw were beautiful blond haired beings. I wish the Fae were sweet twinkling winged little girls and I wish there were no entities that gained such pleasure from hunting and terrorizing humans. I mostly wish that my earliest experiences weren't so scary. As I grew older and matured I was gifted with more positive and loving entities and experiences; I promise I will tell you about those too...

The Angel

'angel of light' by marina petro

  During the years surrounding my time in Kindergarten while living on an east coast Air Force base many paranormal instances occurred in our home. Some of these experiences were scary, some terrifying and some awe inspiring. The Angel was all of these things ....
 
   It has taken me a long time to come to terms with The Angel insofar as the context in which it showed. Was it a Thought Form born of my mother's fear and religious mythology? Or was it as it said it was - an Angel.
  Part of the reason I decided that the Angel was in fact an Angel was because it gave me its name. At 5 years old I was not aware that Angels had names or that there were different kinds of Angels. But as I grew up and learned more within Christianity (for better or worse) I learned that Angels do in fact have names, ranks, and places within their 'world' (something I still believe to be true today) I was also told that they are completely 100% good and devoted to humans except for those that fell with Lucifer who was himself an Angel- and a powerful one at that. Trouble ensued when I asked how Angels could be 100% all-good and rebellious at the same time and if they really are wonderful comforting Beings why are they booming 'FEAR NOT!"  in the Bible stories with their arrival to an array of cowering humans? As to why The Angel came I believe now that a psychic disturbance was felt in other realms from the activity in our home and this 'ripple' summoned this Being.

 But to backtrack to my encounter: as I said, the period of time living in that house was paranormally and psychically chaotic. Shortly after The Skull Incident (see the previous post) I was once again awake in the middle of the night and not sure what had awoken me. I remember laying on my back and staring at the green and white checked canopy without blinking until the checks blurred and began to move around - this was a habit of mine when I was awake in the dark. This time though a hole opened in the center of the fabric and a column of light came down from not only through the canopy but through the actual ceiling and roof. I could catch a glimpse of the night sky around the shaft of light.  I was not afraid but I remember feeling cautious- I was aware that this was something entirely different than even The Skull. There was a gentle pulsing coming from the column but it was comforting, not buffeting. Like a gentle heart beat or soft waves on a beach. Then in my head - I could not literally hear the voice with my ears - a male voice spoke. It told me what it was and what His name was (is). He let me know that I was being watched over and that the scary times were not done but that I would not be alone. The colors within the shaft of light changed gently through out this Being's monologue  - sometimes coral reds, sometimes violets, sometimes blues and pinks and yellows.
I don't remember The Angel leaving and I don't remember falling asleep. I woke the next morning knowing something momentous had happened. I cannot clearly remember if I told my mother about this visit right away or later but there were ramifications that happened which showed me in no uncertain terms that I was to not speak of the things that I saw and spoke to with my family.

Photo by me. taken in 2010 in New Orleans, LA

 This encounter or meeting has permanently influenced the way I see and relate to such Beings. After having experienced this at such a young age the Old Master's paintings of beautiful androgynous humans with gorgeous wings were forever taken from me. Don't get me wrong- the paintings are amazing and I adore them and I even suspect that Angels can present themselves as such should they so choose, but the entity that came to me was massive on a scale that is unimaginable. And while He was not unkind the enormity of Him was -and still can be- very intimidating and scary (the whole 'Fear Not!' thing in the Bible).  It is my belief that these Beings that we call Angels have been interacting with us on our realm for as long as we have been in existence. They belong to no particular belief system though they show up time and again in almost all of the major world religions. I believe that they are essentially good and work for human kind's highest ideals though I think they may 'see further' than us and have a more complete view of what that 'highest good' actually is.
What I absolutely scoff at is the whole fluffy winged fairy type angel that sits on shoulders and one is assigned to each person as a 'guardian'. This is a combination of  human ego and Victorian-era romance. We all have guardian spirits - this is true - but to relegate such astoundingly powerful Beings to human babysitters is, to me, the height of human arrogance and folly.

  True to their traditional roles as Prophecy bearers and all round Announcers , The Angel spoke Truth; the scary times were indeed not over. And I would not be alone.

The Perfect Storm

 

'calm in the storm' by Ann Cultri

The events that occurred when I was approximately kindergarten aged have haunted me - sometimes literally - for the decades since. I'm still not quite sure how to categorize the things that happened but I think in the last 40+ years I have come to a basic understanding of what occurred over the 2 years or so that we lived in that house.

  When I was somewhere around 4 or 5 years old my father was stationed at an East Coast Air Force Base and we resided in Officer's Housing on that base. This means that we lived in a larger home in a more traditional neighborhood setting than what was provided for Enlisted Service People and their families. I remember the house itself being nice and fairly roomy - 3 bedroom, 2 full baths, traditional downstairs with eat-in kitchen , dining room and living room. The house was not scary.The incidents that occurred in it were terrifying.

  Its difficult to express in words the feelings that I have come to reconcile with that time. Living in a 'haunted house' would have been so much easier -- and that has happened, and it is. This, however, was more about haunted people and what they bring through. Some of what occurred I believe to have been ' Thought Forms' produced by the adults in the house. Some of the entities I believe were unintentionally brought through from the fear and trauma of those same adults.Some entities came through due to the fear and terror that I was experiencing as a young child. The same energy that allowed for the production of a 'Thought Form' also allowed for an opening between realms or planes for other entities to come forth.

( a quick primer about 'Thought Forms' : Thought Forms are physical manifestations of an emotion produced by a living human, usually by accident. Practicing and trained Witches and Mages can and do create Thought Forms but these constructed entities don't run amok . They are created for a specific purpose and are controlled by their creator. When a non trained person inadvertently creates a Thought Form it is chaotic to say the least. This type of Thought Form is  the product of extreme stress, emotional distress and trauma that is not being appropriately dealt with on this realm. It is a *type* of Poltergeist activity but less random than what would traditionally be seen with that scenario. A Thought Form is personalized energy - it has a form and is separate from the creator. Poltergeist activity is just that- activity. Plates fly about, chairs move, lights flicker, etc.)  

Where to start? I suppose with the adults since we have already established that even as a young child I was extremely sensitive and had Medium and Psychic abilities.  Some of what I say here will be conjecture as this time has never been talked about in my family.

  My father is a Vietnam Vet. During this time period -1974-76 (ish) he had been home from Vietnam I would guess about 4 years . He had completed additional training in his chosen profession within the Air Force and this new station began his non-war, non-training time. (I may be off on this and I'm sure if any of my direct family happens across this blog they will let me know. But, again, since so little is talked about during that time this is what I have pieced together).
My mother was a stay-at-home wife and mother typical of that time though I remember that she and a friend had a wall-papering service on the side. My mother and her mother would have considered themselves 'devout' - church every Sunday and grace said before every meal. They both also had a leaning toward the more mystical ends of their Christianity- firmly believing in a spiritual war between a powerful Satan and their God. This expressed itself with talking in tongues, anointing the home's entrances, fasting, a belief in The Rapture and group prayer.  It also expressed itself in an unrelenting and oppressive spiritual environment of fear. All worship- while verbally expressed as Love for the deity - was done to appease the fear of hell fire and damnation of not being 'saved'.
 My father - at the time - was non spiritual, non religious and non repentant.
Add the spiritual fear, the trauma of a war, and a mother who I'm sure has some abilities as well -mixed in with a highly sensitive young child and you get a Perfect Psychic Storm of literally Biblical proportions.
   As a child I was very afraid of the dark. I *knew* that the old adage of whatever is there in the light is the same as what is there in the dark was total BS. For one thing- I dreamed in the dark. And my dreams were almost always terrifying. In fact, I don't believe that I had any dreams other than nightmares until I was over the age of 17. Given that I hated to be left alone in the dark bed time was not a happy time for me. Three times in particular have remained with me my entire life--

'My' ballerina was like the image to the left

  The first incident I will describe I believe now to have involved an adult's Thought Form. I was about 5 years old and had been asleep for awhile. I'm not sure how long but the rest of my family was asleep and everything was dark. I became aware of movement to my left where my green and white checked canopy bed butted up to the room's exterior wall. I looked fully in that direction and saw small red 'devils' (that is what they looked like to me) moving up and down between the bed and the wall - almost like there was a trampoline on the floor that they were jumping  on. I remember that there were 3 of them. I don't remember being frightened at that point, just more curious as to what they were and why they were there. They made no noise and seemed to pay me no mind at all.
 I heard a noise then and rolled over facing right and the door of my room that led to the hallway and almost directly across from my parents room. To the left of my door there was a ballerina picture that was that weird 1970's foil that appeared to move--very cheesy, but  I was 5 and I loved that picture! But as I scanned the doorway, the hall outside and my room trying to figure out what I had heard, that picture became a point of terror. I heard laughter - male laughter. I looked at the ballerina picture that I always loved but the ballerina was gone. Instead there was an image of that weird blue-eyed almost Irish Jesus. We had many of these images around the house so my first thought was that my Mother had put that there instead of my ballerina picture. But as I watched ,the image of that Jesus slowly turned into a skull- it was laughing and I could hear it. The skull burst into flames and said very clearly "You'll never see him again". Well that about did it for me- I was up and out of that bed and across the hall to my parents' room like a shot. This was a regular occurrence- the running to my parents' room when I was afraid, though THIS vision was beyond anything I had every experienced before in my young life. This time, rather than run to my mother's side of the bed to the left as I had always done,I ran to my father's. I woke him up crying. He sat up, took one look at me and began screaming. Then from down the hall my brother began screaming. My mother was up and trying to figure out what had happened. From that point on I don't remember much except that my father said that when I woke him up he didn't see me there- He saw a skull. My brother also said he had dreamed of a skull.
 I have never ever forgotten this incident. It has never blurred or been relegated to the back part of my head as a 'realistic nightmare' - I've had plenty of those and this was not that. It has taken me many decades to come to a tenuous understanding of what might have happened that night. Raised as an evangelical Christian I spent many years believing that this was a physical manifestation of that Spiritual Warfare that I had been raised with; Satan had chosen me specifically to threaten. Nice for the ego, huh? As I grew older and found my way out of that belief system my understanding has grown and widened about this. On the one hand the visions were absolutely about the Christian idea of Spiritual Warfare- my mother's fear for my father not being 'born again' combined with the overwhelming fear of hell, Satan, and losing salvation coalesced into this vivid vision or dream that I was able to see and hear. And I mean that literally - I could physically see and hear the skull. When I ran into their room I now believe that I knew this was originating from my mother's subconscious so I went to my father. I woke him suddenly and unexpectedly -- not recommended for a war vet -- and he,being still between sleep and wakefulness ,saw what I saw.

  Though it is doubtful that anyone from my family will ever find and or read these blog posts I feel it only fair to state unequivocally that I do not blame the adults in the house for this particular incident. Our subconscious is a strong vehicle and gets away from the best of us. Add fear, psychic abilities, and war trauma and again - its a perfect storm.

  And then the Angel came... more on that in the next post

Haunted Parades On The High Plains

"Yesterday, upon the stair,

      I met a man who wasn't there.

      He wasn't there again today,

      I wish, I wish he'd go away.

When I came home last night at three,

      The man was waiting there for me

      But when I looked around the hall,

      I couldn't see him there at all!"

~Hughes Mearns (1875–1965), "Antigonish," Psyco-ed, c.1899

 'You're so sensitive' or 'You're too sensitive' are phrases I have heard my entire life. As a child these words were told to me on a regular basis- usually when I was upset for no reason that the adults in my life could figure out.
   As a very young child I didn't possess the verbal skills to explain why a certain room scared me or why I was afraid of being alone in the dark. At 5 years old trying to explain to adults why another adult was 'bad' or 'wrong' became nearly impossible in a 1970's military family because children simply did not speak out in such a manner even though adults did routinely ask what was the matter with me. For the record, to my knowledge I was not every physically abused by an adult as a child. However, I was able to very keenly become aware of an adult's vibrations and intentions. A kindergartner who *knows* that the teacher has just lied or that the neighbor doesn't like your family is left in a frustrating no-win situation when asked what is the matter. Of course that type of *knowing* is nothing compared to knowing that the man you see standing next to your father cannot be seen by anyone else or that the Cavalry Horses prancing in the parade on the military base are not seen by the other parade viewers lining the sidewalks. Suffice it to say that as a very young child I was continually bombarded with visual and verbal stimuli that the adults in my world were unable to see or hear for themselves. This left me feeling very much alone and very insecure most of the time.

  About the Cavalry Horses 
When I was very young - about 3 years old- my family was stationed at the military base in Cheyenne, Wyoming - F.E. Warren.  FE Warren is a very old installation located on the branch of the South Platte River, three miles west of what is today Cheyenne and originally named Fort D. A. Russell -it was established in 1867. Originally named in honor of Civil War Brigadier General David A. Russell, F. E. Warren Air Force Base is the oldest continuously active military installation within the Air Force.  Without going into huge amounts of High Plains and Western Expansion US history the short version is that Fort Russell housed military Cavalry units which participated in everything from General Custer's defeat, protecting railways moving westward and the continual attempts to coral and put down indigenous people, control their lands and destroy their ways of life in order for the US to move westward in its campaign of 'Manifest Destiny'.
  The base has maintained its historic outward appearance and was listed on the Register of Historic Places in 1975 - 3 years or so after my family left that area.
 The maintaining of an area's or building's historical integrity is important when it comes to paranormal activity and is something that has taken me awhile to catch on to. Of course I knew nothing of this at 3 years old. What I did know was that the beautiful horses and smartly uniformed men leading the other parade members seemed absolutely solid and most decidedly 'there'.
 I could hear the horses hooves clip-clopping along the road and the soldiers in their unusual uniforms 'tshking' and otherwise muttering corrections and encouragements to them. Right on the heals of  the group of soldiers on horseback came groups more easily recognized with more modern uniforms and motor vehicles. My recollections of the 'real' members of the parade are hazy though my mental image of the Cavalry is still sharp and colorful. Also clear in my memory was that no one else reacted to that first group- no cheers, no flag waving, no applause.
 This is my first clear memory of seeing and experiencing something that others around me seemed oblivious to. I don't remember if I mentioned the Cavalry group to my mother or not.
  I've often wondered if those soldiers continue to parade on the base and if anyone else has seen them.

Introduction

 

 I'm a Psychic Medium though I rarely describe myself as such, in fact- this will be the first time in my almost 50 years on earth this time around that I publicly discuss what this means to me, my family and my close friends.

   When I say I am a Psychic Medium I mean that not only do I have a gift and a developed skill for communicating with other realms, beings and sensing energies, but that I also work for people utilizing those skills to help or explain situations going on in their lives.
   I've toyed with writing all of this down for several years, usually when I'm relaying a story or anecdote of an incident and the person I'm talking to says ' You should write a book!' I laugh it off but the idea bops around in my head for a few days before its shoved to the back shelf of brain space by more pressing matters such as job orders, house repairs or family concerns. On the few occasions that I have seriously sat and thought about writing down my experiences self- doubt inevitably crops up and I worry about things like how a published memoir may effect my family or whether or not this is just personal ego and maybe no one would be interested in anything I have to say at all. Then there's the BIG concern of 'do I even know HOW to write about this?' I am a firm believer in paying attention to recurring thoughts, though and this thought and idea of a writing it all down just kept on cropping up so I've decided to begin.

    Some of the stories you read here will be humorous, some paranormally interesting and some down-right scary. All will be true though some locations or personal names may be changed to protect other's privacy. Scattered through out I will add 'tips n tricks', if you will, for how to address paranormal situations that you may encounter in your life.

    As I mentioned above I am nearing fifty years old now. Unlike others that I have spoken to or read about I never - to my knowledge - suffered any type of dramatic or traumatic incident that heralded a psychic gift or disposition. Just like being petite and blue eyed this has always just been 'me'. In fact, some of my earliest memories are of paranormal encounters and interactions with other-realm entities such as Angels as well as Thought-forms brought forth by the adults in my life.

  I hope this collection of my experiences and anecdotes will help you understand the experiences that you may be having or to help a loved one navigate their world if they are a Sensitive. Its an interesting way to live and not one that I would ever give up or shut down.
 Are you ready? Here we go.....