August 2014
A Paranormal Experience in Jerusalem Survival Physics: Does the mind survive after death?
A Childhood Friend No One Can See
Dancing Like No One is Watching
Psychic Surgeon Alan Cox
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR THE POSSESSED is the focus of this August 2014 edition of Paranormal Galaxy Magazine! From spiritual encounters to stories of friendship and paranormal technology, our contributors have given a lot for out readers to think about. This issue is sure to entertain, educate and bend your mind on ideas of paranormal. From Tech Time with Brock and Doc: The Ovilus, to A Life-Changing Friendship, and Castle Hill Ballroom. There is something for everyone. Be sure to check out Paranormal Galaxy Radio. It airs on Paramania Radio network every Thursday at 5pm EST. To listen to our podcasts go to http://paranormalgalaxy.com/radio/. Be sure to check out a new column, Survival Physics! Sherrie Wilkolaski Editor-in-Chief PS Paranormal Galaxy Magazine is looking for contributors!
Contents It Didn’t Happen by Accident 5 A Life-Changing Friendship 6 Just Dance! 9 Survival Physics: Part One 8 Tech Time with Brock and Doc 12 Castle Hill Ballroom 15 Cleveland Paranormal Research Society 17 A Paranormal Experience 18 Kris Sedersten’s Favorite Paranormal Stories 23 Because 24 Hugged from Behind 27 The Guinea Pig Diaries 29 Chapter Excerpt of Trial by Witch 32 Visitation 35 Featured Contributor: Alan Cox 36 Maze 38
SHERRIE WILKOLASKI Ed i tor-in- Chief and Managing Partner JACK HEATH Executive Ed i tor ALAN COX Paranormal Editor-At-Large KRIS SEDERSTEN Ed i tor- at -Large JESSE BRAVO Celebrity Psychic Ed i tor- at -Large TAYLOR YOUNG Production Editor CONTRIBUTORS Paul Bergman Hazel Bergman Brock Burroughs Colin Christopher B. Joann Crisp Dave Erickson Eric J. Gates Barbara Gremillion Melissa Jones David Marchant Amanda Morris Karen Murray Robert Pearson Penelope Rollinson Reverend Sue Chelsea Wilson Cyrus Yavneh Taylor Young
INTERNS Melissa Jones Ashley Magliane Chelsea Wilson
Featured Online Quizzes 39 Word Search 40 Horoscopes 41
Paranormal Galaxy Magazine
is published in English. Our audience is a global market with global contributors. Each writes, using the f orm of English with which they are f amiliar. So you’ll see US, UK, AUS, CAN, versions, etc. We hope this eliminates any conf usion on spelling.
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It Didn’t Happen By Accident By Barbara Gremillion
A few weeks back, I was in a nail salon for my monthly appointment.
While there, a woman came in. I knew I remembered her from somewhere, but it did not come to me immediately. After a while I asked her name and then it all came back to me. We had sat next to each other on a plane where both of us were returning from a trip to New York. We both live in the same city. We shared a little about each other as is sometimes the case when you are traveling and you meet someone. After a few minutes, I turned to her and asked how her sons were. She replied fine thank you (during our conversation she told me that during her life, her mother had told her no matter what someone ask you about your personal life just say everything is fine. To keep things to yourself).
When my nails were done, she asked me to come and sit next to her. She immediately asked me why I had asked about her sons, and I told her I was psychic, and spirits told me to inquire about them. She shared with me that one son was doing fine but that the other son was having trouble in his marriage and at this office. We talked for about thirty minutes, and then I needed to go. She told me she was taking a trip to Istanbul with her daughter in law, and when she returned, she wanted me to read for her at the country club. I told her that would be fine; I would love to do it. I told her at this time that I felt her son had made a decision regarding his marriage and that is why he wanted his father to meet him in London. Just the two of them. I told her I felt he still loved his wife, but his was not in love with her anymore. She said a mid-life crisis, and I replied yes. I also asked her about the confusion I was sensing. She said it was coming from a woman at her son’s office. I told her this too would be resolved. During our conversation, she came to tears, and I felt she longed for someone to talk to. She is a very private person, and living in the same city as we do and knowing how things are, she did not want her private life and what was happening to be public. Her husband is a prominent physician and they are well known. Being psychic, you see so often that people want to tell you all and they don’t understand that we can already pickup on so much of what is happening with them. I have always done a better job at reading someone if they don’t tell or ask. Just let spirits give to me what they need to hear to help them on their path. I could see in her that she wanted so much to talk to someone. To have someone to confide in. I have found that they just want to know someone cares and understands. We exchanged phone numbers and I told her to phone me when she returned to set up the reading. I gave her a hug and we parted to go on our separate ways. She seemed a little more at peace. It did not happen by accident. She needed to hear what I had told her. I could tell she understood more now the reasons for what had been happening and what lay ahead.
“She came to tears, and I felt she longed for someone to talk to.” Image provided by Trish Parisy.
A Life-Changing Friendship By Alan Cox
I have had the privilege to have known my closest friend the late
Manny Fox; Broadway Producer. I will explain how I came to know and love this extraordinary man.
We have to go back to 2005 to a series of remarkable events that lead to us knowing each other. That November, there was a documentary on British television Channel 4. Anne, my partner and I watched this documentary that was made by David Icke and his then wife Pamela (now Pamela Leigh Richards). David Icke has made a career out of world dominating conspiracy theories. When the program had finished, I said to Anne that I could psychically see that David and Pamela were being psychically attacked. I found David’s email address and wrote to him with my contact phone numbers. A couple of weeks later, to my surprise, Pamela phoned me and invited Anne and I to their home on the Isle of Wight, which is just off the South Coast of England. We went over to meet them in the January of 2006. Although we didn’t stay in touch with David, Pamela did. Events happened that caused the separation and the eventual divorce of them. This is significant in the eventual meeting with Manny. Pamela is originally from Phoenix, Arizona. She returned to America by herself and lives in Sedona, Arizona. In the November of 2010, Pamela was at the checkout in an organic food store in Sedona paying for her groceries when Manny came along, and in typical Manny fashion joined in the conversation that Pamela and the cashier were having.
Manny and Pamela didn’t know each other; however, there was a cafe in the store, and they went and had a coffee together. Manny told Pamela all his problems, at the age of 75 he was going through a nasty divorce from his wife, Cinda Firestone Fox. He told her that Cinda had taken everything from him and he was living on spousal support. Pamela said she knew someone who spiritually could help him and gave him my email address. I received an email from Manny in the February of 2011 asking if I could help him. I said yes and phoned him from England. Now you can see the remarkable set of events that brought us together. If I hadn’t have watched the documentary and contacted David, and Pamela hadn’t have phoned me, and then she leaving David going back to Sedona and Manny meeting her at the checkout we would never have met. If you search engine for Manny Fox Broadway Producer you can read about the incredible career he had. He worked with some of the all time great stars of film and stage and composers. The list includes Rogers and Hammerstein, George Gershwin, Orson Wells, and his best friend Bing Crosby. The list goes on and on. Over the months that followed, we talked everyday on the phone and built a close relationship. He told me of his ambition to have another Broadway hit. His last one being Sophisticated Ladies, which was all about the life of Duke Ellington. He had told me he couldn’t pay me; however, he would sign me into the new production. This production was also about Duke Ellington. During that year, Manny became very ill.
This one day we were talking on the phone, and he fell off a kitchen high stool on to a hard fall. I kept calling him, but he wasn’t answering. I was trying to figure out what to do. I was going to look up on the internet the emergency services in Sedona and call them from England so they could help him. Just as I was about to put the phone down Manny answered me. He then called for help himself. I felt really helpless being thousands of miles away on the end of the phone. Well, this was just the beginning of a series of illnesses Manny went through. I called the hospital everyday and most days were able to speak to him. I got to know his sons Jon, Richard and Steve. Also his two brothers Bernard, who is an award winning film sound engineer with Universal Studios, and Charles, who is a prolific song writer (he wrote killing me softly for Roberta Flack amongst a lot more).
“Over the months that followed, we talked everyday on the phone and built a close relationship.” He had recovered by the autumn time and wanted us to meet. By this time he had started to write the script for the new production and had people in place including members of the Duke’s family to get the show going. Manny had been a close friend of Duke Ellington. Manny had also told everyone about me. So In the first week of December, I flew over to Arizona to meet Manny for the first time. Jon, Manny’s son, paid for my entire trip including a limo to pick me up from Blue harbour airport in Phoenix to take me the 120 miles to Manny’s home in Sedona. The meeting was emotional has you can imagine. It was Manny’s 76th birthday on the 6th. Because of all Manny had told people about me and to coincide with his birthday friends and family flew in from all over America. Jon and his friend Jay whom I was now friends with also came in from New York, and friends from Oregon, Chicago and Texas. We all had great time with Manny at the head of the dinner table telling us all about his life and all the people he had worked with. This was an important meeting because an investor was there and Manny secured the first monies for the show, although a lot more was needed. I recorded five interviews with Manny at his home. The first one went out live www.paramaniaradio.com on my show Understanding Spirit, where he told his life story. The shows can be listened to via my website www.calmingthoughts.com and on demand at paramaniaradio.com. Manny had this dream of us all being rich and famous. He even wanted Anne and I to move over to Sedona when the show was a success and build a home there. He had big plans and so much energy. I visited him again in the January 2012; little was I to know we wouldn’t meet again. All was going well with the preparation for the show and then Manny was taken ill again. He was in and out of hospital. He had planned for the show to open on Broadway by the end of that year. It was not to be. His friend and lawyer Bill Mortimer now is trying to get investment to carry the show on to have a legacy for Manny.
Manny rallied and in the August time he made a trip to Beverley Hills where his brother Charles lives and his cousin Cyrus Yavneh. Cyrus is a Hollywood film producer with accreditations for the making of the series “24” and “Supernatural”. Also, his son Steve lives there and he stayed with him, his daughter in-law and grandchildren. We still talked everyday and he shared pictures with me of his time there with them. He had lunch the one day with Charles and Cyrus telling them of how I had helped him and how much his friendship with me meant to him. As a result, Cyrus wanted to talk to me. Cyrus and I now speak every week on the phone and when he came over to England to be in his home here for Christmas, Anne and I spent the day with him. Manny flew home to Sedona and quickly became ill again. He had to be flown by helicopter to a hospital in Phoenix for life saving heart surgery. He came through it. I would call the hospital every day. The staffs there got to know me and were in awe that I called every day from England. He rallied again and was moved to the hospital in Colindale. During the time there his condition was up and down. I phoned him every day and some days he was asleep, some days incoherent. On the 23rd September, a Sunday I called him at 10am Mountain time, 6pm over here in the UK. Manny was bright full of vigour, he said he felt great. He said he had a shower and shave and was fully dressed. He was looking forward to his sons coming to visit him that afternoon; they had flown in to be with him because the signs for his health weren’t good. Also Bill and Bill’s daughter Kristie were going to visit him. The last words Manny spoke to me that day on the phone were, “Alan I love you”. It was 6.30 am the next day over here in the UK, and I was woken by a message from Bill saying Manny had passed away. He had a great day with everyone. They left, he got undressed, got into bed and died peacefully. It was the end of an era. A man who gave me more than anything I could have given him. He showed me that you need passion and compassion in life. Manny visits me in spirit regularly. He is here as I write this. Bill sent me one of Manny’s hats. He had a collection. Look at media photos of him he always wore a hat. I will treasure it. We never know whom we will meet in life. It doesn’t matter if they are rich, poor, and famous or not. The main thing is to love and care for people. Strive for your goals, never give up and enjoy the journey. The world would be a better place if everyone did this. We will get the show on Broadway. Bill and I will strive until we succeed.
“We never know whom we will meet in life. It doesn’t matter if they are rich, poor, and famous or not. The main thing is to love and care for people.” Images provided by Jack Sanders and Peter Suneson.
Listen to with Alan Cox Some recent guests include:
New York Author Celebrity Psychic Dave Ashworth! Jesse Bravo! UK Singer, Songwriter, Pop Star Psychic Daz Simpson! You can also listen to Alan on Paranormal Galaxy Radio!
Listen live on Paramania Radio Thursdays at 4 pm EST
Just Dance! By Amanda Morris Oh, Thebes, nurse of Semele, crown your hair with ivy! Grow green with bryony! Redden with berries! O city, with boughs of oak and fir, come dance the dance of god! Fringe your skins of dappled fawn with tufts of twisted wool! Handle with holy care the violent wand of god! And let the dance begin! He is Bromius who runs to the mountain! To the mountain! Where the throng of women waits, driven from shuttle and loom, possessed by Dionysos! --Euripidies, The Bacchae, trans. Richmond Lattimore I went to a concert recently (ARACDE FIRE) and I danced the whole time. I didn’t care how goofy I looked – a solitary fat sweaty girl in a space dress and a tiara, dancing and singing my heart out. It helped that I was in a different city (hell, a different state) and I thought “gee, I don’t know these people. I’ll never know these people. I don’t care what they think of me.” And I didn’t, and it was incredibly liberating and I had the best time ever. I’ve been trying to dance more. I’m not very good at dancing. I’m not coordinated and I don’t have rhythm. But I really enjoy it. I really really really love dancing, actually. I love to go to dance parties and to go to concerts and to dance in my car and around the house when no one is home. I try to dance more and more every week, and one day when I have time and money (ha) I hope to take swing dance lessons with my husband so we can learn how to dance for realsies. Dancing was never really on my radar until I went to a Midsummer ritual a few years ago, with a locally famous circle dance teacher in attendance. We spent hours outside in the heat and with the mosquitoes, dancing to the Cosmos. And while there were about a dozen of us, we were all too busy dancing for ourselves and for our Gods that it didn’t matter how goofy we all might have looked. No one was watching us because we were too busy focusing on ourselves, trying to get the moves right. When I’m facilitating rituals that involve movement or chanting, I try to reiterate this – that we aren’t doing the ritual for each other, we’re singing or dancing for Deity. It doesn’t matter how bad we think we sound – Deity is just glad that we’re singing and dancing and chanting and sending them love and devotion and energy. And if it’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that the Cosmos have a sense of humor, so even if we look or feel a bit goofy, it’s okay. The Goddess loves to laugh, especially when we are laughing at ourselves. It’s hard to get into this mindset. Believe me, I know. After years of occasionally crippling social anxiety, it’s taken a lifetime to work up to this point, where I can sing and dance for Deity, that I can have fun with my voice and with my body.
But certain Deities who I have been working with in recent years really want their devotees to do these things, so in my love to Them, I’ve been trying to put forth the extra effort. (Which is admittedly much easier when I’m by myself or in Priestess-Mode...) Dancing can be a lot of fun, and ritually, it does a lot, too. It raises energy on many levels. Your body gets hot and sweaty and that raises physical energy. Your raise your voice as you sing or shout or chant, which is the energy of physical vibrations in the air. You push toward your comfort zones, which can be an act of sacrifice or devotion. It’s like telling the Gods “this makes me kind of uncomfortable but I love you so much I’m gonna push through it.” It’s an emotional exercise, pushing through the anxiety of dancing or on a less-traumatic level, having fun! The emotions of fun and ecstasy create energy, and that energy can be sent out to the universe! It takes mental energy to focus on dance moves, or even mental energy to allow your mind to let go a bit. All of these energies combine to create magical energy, especially if dancing within a magical circle or ritualized setting. I recognize that dancing isn’t for everyone, but I do feel like most have a lot to gain by dancing a bit, if just around the house or while you’re in the car or at a nightclub or even in your dreams. Dancing might be a bit awkward at first, but the more you do it, the more joy you’ll feel, and the more the Universe will be celebrated. And the more magic you’ll create with your mind, body, and spirit. Image provided by galofgray
Survival Physics: Part One By Robert Pearson
Introduction
It may seem strange that the topic called "Survival Physics" is being
introduced from an engineering background rather than from one of quantum physics. However, a large area of overlap exists between these two disciplines. Here the engineer can sometimes offer a new angle, not evident from the physicists approach, after sufficient knowledge of quantum mechanics has been acquired. A major paradigm, accepted across all established scientific disciplines, states that mind and consciousness result from brain function alone. They are considered to be abstract constructs caused by interaction of the neurons that comprise the brain. This means that mind must vanish at the instant of brain death, a conclusion at variance with all religious belief and indeed contradicted by available evidence. This evidence has been building for over a century and is now so firm as to effectively constitute convincing proof of survival.
A major intellectual conflict has therefore existed for many decades and a resolution is desperately required. Many scientists fear that a successful challenge to their paradigm would discredit the whole basis of science. Consequently scientists perceive any challenge as a threat needing to be discredited. In this article it is shown that physics and cosmology can actually be enhanced by a solution to some of their outstanding problems. The mathematically based theory involved, however, shows that a background mind needed to pre-exist the creation of matter. Indeed, the way this mind could have evolved and the mechanics of its construction appear, together with the way matter could have been formed by it as a deliberate creative act. Consequently a resolution to the conflict is presented which in no way threatens any scientific discipline. The theory was first published by the author (1&2) in the proceedings of two Russian scientific conferences of 1991 and 1993 and in the scientific journal "Frontier Perspectives"(3) in 1997. The hope is that, with the threat removed and a paradox-free theory provided, scientists will cease their efforts to discredit the available evidence of the survival of consciousness following bodily death. This summarises the compass of "Survival Physics".
Has Quantum Physics already proved Survival? Quantum theory is the study of mechanics on small atomic scales where everyday commonsense logic seems totally inapplicable. One unresolved enigma is known as "wave-particle duality". Some kind of unknown wave system seems to control the places where minute objects are to be found at any instant. They behave as if they occupy a large number of places simultaneously in a ghost-like unresolved wave-state of limbo until the instant at which an observer looks at them. Then the waves collapse into the reality of particles. This is known as the "Copenhagen Interpretation of wave-particle duality". Any object consists of countless billions of such particles. Consequently no object can be considered to truly exist until the instant it is perceived! The extraordinary situation is that, despite the clear acceptance of the role of consciousness in creating reality, all mainstream scientists still insist that consciousness is nothing more than brain function and that brains are made out of matter. The obvious paradox, which never seems to be mentioned by theorists, is that matter could not, in consequence, really exist prior to any brain! Has quantum theory, therefore, already demonstrated that some form of consciousness had to pre-exist the creation of matter? I will show that, in trying to answer this question; a new lead in the search for a theory of everything is made possible!
To Be Continued in September 2014‌.
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Tech Time with Brock and Doc: The Ovilus Original Ovilus
By Brock Burroughs and Dave Erickson
Another popular piece of equipment that is used by paranormal
investigators and researchers is the Ovilus. The theory behind this device is that spirits can speak by interacting or manipulating the environment (EMF, ELF, and temperature), the device then converts those readings into a number that indicates either a word from the pre-loaded dictionary or a phonetic sound depending on the mode of operation selected. It is suggested that a spirit or entity can manipulate the environmental factors in a way that would produce a word or words that would be appropriate to the questions being asked. The Ovilus is a type of Instrumental Trans-Communication Device (ITC), which is the communication by spirit with through electronic devices.
The Ovilus is manufactured by Digital Dowsing (http://digitaldowsing.com/) and has had many revisions to the device since the original came out in April 2008. The Ovilus became a hit in the paranormal field after it was seen being used on episodes of Travel Channel’s “Ghost Adventures” and Syfy’s “Ghost Hunters”. The original Ovilus (April 2008) was a hand held device that would take energy readings and convert those to speech. The device had seven operation modes and that dictionary of 512 words. The Ovilus FX was the next revision to the original Ovilus. The Ovilus FX had and increased dictionary of words (1024 words), the ability to repeat the last 1000 words and a computer interface that would allow real time capture of the data. It also had two new modes of operation added (total or 9 modes of operation) and a built-in speaker. The iOvilus was then released, bringing the popular Ovilus device and functionality to the smartphone (iPhone/iPad) market. The iOvilus had an increased dictionary of 1000 words. Skipping ahead in the revisions of the Ovilus, we have arrived to the Ovilus III. The Ovilus III has a lot of new functionality compared to the original Ovilus. It has a built-in 6 line display (for displaying the words that are spoken), multiple operating modes including dictionary and phonetic, a thermal flashlight with color LED light to indicate changes in temperature and the dictionary has been increased to 2,000 words. The Ovilus III has dictionary, Q&A, phonetic, reverse phonetic, touch, draw, white noise, energy scope, utility, sync and thermal flashlight modes of operation. The whole theory of spirits or entities being able to manipulate environmental factors to produce words is just that, a theory. The idea that there would be a device that you can use to communicate with the paranormal world is a great idea, but there are a few issues that need to be addressed. First off, the technology doesn’t exist at this time to do this to a level that could be scientifically provable. This stems from the fact that we don’t know exactly the nature of spirit or how to communicate with the paranormal world or even know what we are communicating with.
iOvilus App
Until we have an understanding that can be used in scientifically to reproduce the outcome over and over, then we will not truly know if these devices are producing communication with the paranormal world or just speaking random words. Also, this form of communication is extremely slow and often only produces a single world at a time with large amount of time in between. The tendency for onlookers to jump to conclusions based on a single word is very high and people tend to let their imagination take off on them while doing an Ovilus session. The speech synthesis chip also is very robotic and is very difficult to understand. With the earlier versions it was very easy for people to have differing ideas of what the Ovilus said. This issue was resolved in the more recent versions by displaying it on an LCD screen and also data logging it so it can be reviewed later. Don’t get us wrong here, these devices are awesome devices but you have to keep the results in perspective. The Ovilus has been known to say demon over and over when used, I think it is a little strange that a majority of the time when using the Ovilus you hear demon. It’s also been said by many that the word demon isn’t even in its dictionary. That to me sends up the red flag that maybe it is randomly saying words even when there is nothing trying to interact with the device. Although, maybe something is manipulating the device to say demon knowing that it will get people’s attention and get rid of the people who are asking it annoying repetitive questions. In conclusion, we believe that the Ovilus is a cool device to have and use, the technology limitations and the inability to scientifically reproduce the results from the device limits its ability to be used in the paranormal field for communication with spirits or as evidence in an investigation. The cost of this device is a limiting factor unfortunately as it is priced at $250. If you do decide to try out the Ovilus, please purchase the device and not the iOvilus app for the smartphone. We all know that smartphones receive and transmit different frequencies of data and should not be used or even turned on during an investigation. The iOvilus app would be more susceptible to interference from the smartphone device itself, which could increase the frequency of false positive results.
Ovilus III
About the Authors Brock Burroughs and Dave Erickson are both paranormal investigator/researchers as well as they host the internet radio show, Tech Time with Brock and Doc, that airs every Sunday at 10PM Eastern / 7PM Pacific on ParaMania Radio (http://paramaniaradio.com/). Tech Time with Brock and Doc is a show all about the Technology used in the Paranormal, interviewing paranormal teams and exploring their use of technology, inventors of new technology and exploring new potential technology that you may want to start using on your next investigation! Both Brock and Dave (Doc) work in the Information Technology field and have a passion for all things electronic.
Castle Hill Ballroom By Ashley Maglaine
My childhood years were spent with my father at a place we lovingly referred to as 'The Club.' Castle Hill Ballroom had been one of the most exciting parts of my young life, and it was for the most mundane reasons. At least they seem mundane when looking back now. There was one tree out front that was perfect for climbing. A piano was tucked behind the curtain on the stage that was often a source of entertainment for my unpracticed hands. It was a race to get out from the overwhelming darkness that seemed to swallow everything up once the lights were off in the huge ballroom and bar. Leaving was always bittersweet, especially since I had a playmate for my visits—a playmate that no one else could see.
It was apparent to the employees that someone else was there more often than not, and it became most obvious when the doors were closed. As a frequent viewer of paranormal television shows, the stories of my parents' experiences at Castle Hill sound familiar. Things being moved when no one is around, seeing shadows from the corner of your eye or a child playing with another that is unseen. One of my dad's favorite stories to bring up, usually after rather farfetched episodes of the previously mentioned shows, is the tale of the cook that quit. As this story goes, bowls of ingredients and dishes would be on the floor or moved to another area of the kitchen overnight. Out of the corner of their eye, they would swear they saw a small shadow moving across one doorway and then the next, but they were the only ones in the building. This is perplexing when considering the layout of the kitchen. The island in the middle provided a simple work station with plenty of room to prepare food for the banquets and receptions 'The Club' hosted. The two doorways in question were to the left of the island and to the back right. According to the cook, this shadow would move with great speed from one doorway and be passing the next on the opposite wall by the time they turned. Another story I hear involves what most people have come to call a shadow figure. My dad, my mom and another employee were sitting at the bar after closing when a shape passed by the door in a fashion similar to the shadow in the previous story. Instead of being frightened, the three employees got up to make sure the person wasn't causing any problems. They followed this person downstairs and watched them disappear through the closed door to the back room. What you have to understand is that my father is a very rational and stubborn man. He wouldn't let something that could have been a trick of the light unsettle him. To this day, he will still swear that he thought he saw a real person walking around. The final story that I hear is a little more unsettling for me.
My dad would take me with him to Castle Hill when he had some work to do during the day. When they were turning the basement into a night club, my father helped install the new lighting, among other things. The room was huge. Two staircases fed into the room— one from outside and one from upstairs. Anyone coming into the room was instantly greeted with the sight of a couple dozen tables set and ready for seating. The dance floor was the highest point of the room in the back and accented with lattice-style walls to separate it from the seating area. The lights my dad put in covered the room with neon orbs and bright strobes. To make sure they were working, we turned the overhead lights out and let the strobes and swiveling colored lights run. I'm told that I was very young at the time, four or five, and at the stage where I was confident enough to take to the empty dance floor without a care. I cannot personally recall what happened next, but my dad remembers vividly that he saw me sit down and start talking to the air. When he came over and asked me what I was doing, I replied with, "I'm playing with Timmy.“ Timmy would become a common fixture in my visits, and the playmate I mentioned at the beginning. Was Timmy a ghost? I can't say for sure if he was, or if he was simply a child's imaginary friend. Did the others see real shadow figures? Castle Hill Ballroom has since been sold, renovated, torn down and turned into a grocery store. Will anyone ever know the truth of these events? No one can say for certain, but there is always the possibility of something more interesting than the mundane.
“Leaving was always bittersweet, especially since I had a playmate for my visits—a playmate that no one else could see.”
Images provided by Lisa Setrini-Espinosa and Alessandro Paiva
Cleveland Paranormal Research Society By Chelsea Wilson
Cleveland Paranormal Research Society (CPRS) specializes in investigating the supernatural. The team of twelve researchers venture into territory that would make most people cower. They face not only the creepy, but also the potentially dangerous.
Recently I had the pleasure of speaking with this remarkable society, but first I did a little research of my own. Jennifer, who has an impressive resume, founded the research society. Interested in the paranormal since childhood, she was a top casting choice for A&E's My Ghost Story and SyFy's Ghost Hunters, she investigated with the Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventures, and she has a Bachelor’s degree in Criminology and Psychology. The rest of the members of CPRS come from a wide array of backgrounds with many different interests. Among the diverse members there are army veterans, an army recruiter, X-ray technicians, parents, grandparents, martial arts enthusiasts, a stand-up comedian, and many other professions and passions.
Have you ever felt threatened during an investigation? Of course! Several of the staff members have been threatened, scratched, punched, or partial possession has taken place. Several years ago we had to stop investigation due to people having spirits latch onto them. What advice would you give to people experiencing strange activity in their home? If someone is having legitimate paranormal activity in their home, call a paranormal team to handle it, or seek advice. Sometimes people think they can get rid of a spirit themselves and end up doing more harm than good.
I also looked into the equipment used by CPRS. As it turns out, paranormal research can be quite an investment. The team uses EMF detectors, digital recorders, digital cameras, a White Noise X, a laptop, Ableton Live 8, a spirit box, a speaker, flashlights, a temp gauge, mini mag lights, an Ovilus 2, a K2 meter, and their own bodies to gather and observe evidence. Obviously, proper investigation requires much more than walking through a building with a flashlight. After getting this background information on CPRS, I decided to delve a little deeper into what the organization does. Luckily, they were willing to answer a few questions for me. How often are reports of the paranormal actually caused by supernatural activity? Do you prove or debunk more cases? We average two or three calls/emails a week with people reporting paranormal activity, or in need of advice on how to handle something within their home. Out of those calls, some of them are legit paranormal but most are debunked as non-paranormal. High EMF readings are usually the first thing we check for at a location because high EMF can make things seem as if they are paranormal, but really they are not. Some locations are actually paranormal investigations, but other things can be the cause of activity. Of the locations you have investigated, which would you say is the most haunted and what evidence was found there? I can say as a group, we all really love Mansfield Reformatory. The building is beautiful and the spirits there always show us great evidence. The staff at Mansfield is top notch and we love investigating there. We have seen everything from full bodies, to hearing music, to being scratched and wonderful EVPs are captured time and time again. It really is a great place to investigate. Images provided by https://sites.google.com/site/clevelandparanormalresearch/ and Mike Swope
A Paranormal Experience By Bernard Fox
I’m not what you might call a paranormal kind of guy. I am an audio engineer/ inventor. I deal in reality. I try and translate technical things into the artistic language of music and back the other way. I try and use my knowledge of how I believe the world works, into previously unassembled new machines. So if something is not explained I just figure it is not explained yet. And before writing this I asked my friend Alan Cox what he meant by “Paranormal” and he said “paranormal is anything that cannot be explained, I would say”. Well perhaps I am a paranormal kind of guy. I can’t explain this.
The Old Temple in Jerusalem I had gone with my brother and his family and my cousin Nina, to Israel, to celebrate my brother’s grandson’s Bar Mitzvah. I had never been to Israel before, and this was a good opportunity. I was traveling without my immediate family, as the trip would have been too hard for them. Walking isn’t easy for them. We all arrived in Israel a few days before the Bar Mitzvah, and had a chance to do some sightseeing. My brother had hired a guide and the whole bunch of us was going to see some sights. It was December 25th, my mother’s birthday, the first real day of sight-seeing. Just as we leave the hotel this morning, it began to snow very hard. In Jerusalem they are not used to snow. When it snows there, the cabs and busses just pull over and everything stops. It snows in Jerusalem about every 8 years, and even more rarely, a mini blizzard. This meant a lot of walking. The hearty of us, me, Charles, and my cousin Nina, decided to sight-see anyway. Everyone else, mostly Californians, went back to the hotel. So the guide walks us over to the Old City where the Old Temple stood. From a distance I see the Wailing Wall.
It is snowing but some people are praying there anyway. It’s supposed to be the holiest spot in all of Judaism, not that Jews really have an especially holy spot. Jews hold their religion in their hearts, not in a location. But as far as the holiest, best location is concerned, most would think of the Old Temple site.
“In Jerusalem they are not used to snow. When it snows there, the cabs and buses just pull over and everything stops.” So here I am at the Wailing Wall. It is tradition to place notes to God in the Cracks in this wall, as if putting a message into one of these old cracks was a more direct route to the Almighty. In my wallet I am carrying two pieces of postit paper notes to stick into this wall. One was given to me by Muriel Adler, dean of the school where I am teaching. The other was given to me by my wife. I of course haven’t opened either. The messages are between them and God. As the guide leads us to the wall, she goes to the side for a moment and quickly comes back to says, “because of the snow, the scheduled special tour given by the army is not full and would we like to see some of the newest excavation.” We all jumped at the chance. It was not a tour we could have gone on without a great deal of advance notice and probably “pull”. The Soldier leading the tour takes us just to the side of the Wailing Wall and we go down some new, some old, excavated steps, about what seems like four floors worth.
I said to the soldier I want to put some messages into the Wailing Wall. He answers. “It isn’t the Wailing Wall any more. It’s the Western Wall.” And then he says, “Why would you want to put messages into those Roman holes anyway?” I was baffled, but we went downstairs and he explained. We get downstairs in a group of about 10, and there illuminated by work-lights is the side of the Old Temple. It is pristine Jerusalem limestone. Jerusalem limestone is a very particular color and grain size. Every one of the temple building blocks is perfectly trimmed with a border. The boarder is not so obviously visible upstairs, on the blocks exposed to the elements at the Wailing Wall. Here the building blocks are un-cracked. Here there is no discoloration. Here there are no spaces between the blocks wide enough to slip a message into. Here is the rest of the Old Temple, buried below the ground level.
“In my wallet I am carrying two pieces of post-it paper notes to stick into this wall.” The soldier explains: “These blocks are all fit together perfectly. There is no mortar holding them together. These are just sitting, in alternating rows, one on top of the other. Some of these blocks are twice the size of a NYC subway car.” He goes on to tell: “These block from the bottom stories up to the platform that the Temple sat upon.” “When the Romans destroyed the Old Temple, they destroyed the synagogue on the platform, the temple that was on the platform that made the peak of this mountain, flat. The platform is about 6 stories high and is 1600 feet by 900 feet.
“Why would you want to put messages into those Roman holes anyway?” Inside there are many big spaces for all kinds of things. For those of you who can’t quite conceive of it, that’s many times bigger than Madison Square Garden. The old temple used to sit on top of this platform, near where the Moslems built the Dome of the Rock about 800 years later AD. In 70 AD The Romans could not knock down the foundation or the platform of the Old Temple. The blocks were too big to move. He says that even today these stones are too big to move. This I found hard to believe with today’s machinery but the question still stands, how was this built then. So it seems the Romans decided that rather than try and knock down the whole thing, they would simply pile rubble along its side and cover up the old temple site bottom six stories. When it came to the Wailing Wall section, they chiseled small holes in the wall then forced a stone into the hole with some of it protruding. These protruding stones were used as securing points for a plaster lath that was spread over the wall. By plaster lathing over the Old Temple stones were no longer identifiable. Over the centuries, the lath and the small stones fell out/off reexposing the Wailing Wall and the holes the Romans made. And why call it the Wailing Wall? Jews were not allowed to spend much time at this location until Old Jerusalem was re-captured in the 1967 war. So from 70AD to 1967 almost 2000 years, Jews did no excavation or archeology there. People thought the Old Temple was destroyed and this old wall was all that was left. And with that came the sadness for the Temple being gone, and so it was called the Wailing Wall. Then after 1967, after the excavation began and it was discovered that the whole base of the temple is still there, untouched, the wall was renamed the Western Wall. It is and was part of the Western Wall of the Old Temple. All four walls are intact and everything between them, we believe. So now I understand why the soldier said “why would you want to put a message into the Roman holes? The tour begins to move to go around the whole building. On our right is the larger exposed temple wall. On our left is a slanted wall / ceiling leaving a triangular tunnel for us to walk single file through. It is lit all the way by yellow, plasticincased, work lights, 1600 ft along one side of the temple. You see a triangular tunnel, lined with work lights, as far as you can see
It is clearly an excavation site. It is not yet a tourist attraction, so we are fortunate to be allowed to go here. Not far down the tunnel, from the first place where we came downstairs, the soldier stops. In the side of the temple is an arched entrance way. The arch is filled with rubble, completely blocking entrance going through the arch. The arch reminds me of the New York City Subway tunnel at 168th street. It’s about that size, very large, large enough for two trains to go through. The soldier explains, the Moslems monitor any digging from above at the Dome of the Rock. If the Israelis went inside, underneath the old temple, below the Dome of the Rock, there would be a major political disturbance caused. So no one has been inside there for who knows how long. Perhaps no one, since the time of the Crusaders and the Knights Templar. All we know is, there a big space under there and the structure holds up the Dome of the rock and all the pilgrims that visit. This entrance is how the KOHANIM, the priests of the Old Temple, got in and out. This is perhaps where the real Menorah was stored. Rumor has it; it was not supposed to be out in public. Just like the Arc of the Covenant, it was not supposed to be just left lying around. Both were stored out of reach and danger, to the public. People knew the Arc of the Covenant had powers, but people still don’t know what the powers of the Menorah were. All we know about the Old Menorah of Israel is; a replica is stamped on every Israeli coin for thousands of years. It must be important. Even the Arc of the Covenant isn’t stamped on every coin. The oldest known replica of the Menorah is the Minorah of Titus. He was the Roman General that destroyed the temple. (70AD) Depending on what you call the temple, it is either the Synagogue on top of the platform, or the whole thing including the platform. An interesting point because if it’s the whole thing, then he clearly didn’t destroy it all. And if Jesus was upset by the money lenders did he mean money lenders in the actual Synagogue, or the ones on the platform that was as big as a shopping mall and that would probably have been a legitimate business there and then, like a bank at a mall, like its still done today throughout the Middle East. Whatever Jesus meant actually isn’t important to me, as I like what he had to say. So here I am. The tour is pushing on to walk around the outside of the Old Temple underground. I figure what better place to leave those two post-it messages than in the real old wall.
I’m not putting these massages into the old Roman holes now. I’m putting them into the closest to where the old Synagogue stood, right where the KOHANIM entered. I take out my two messages. They are about 3x3 inches originally, folded into envelope-looking little packages. They are now about 1 inch by 1.5 inches and maybe 3 layers of paper thick. One is blue and the other is yellow (both easily seeable). The tour is pushing on. I see them 100 feet father ahead up the tunnel. I try and put these messages into a crack in between the blocks. Nothing fits at all. I can’t push them in a millimeter. I search for wider spaces or cracks. There are none. I take out my Swiss Army pocket knife to probe the wall. Nothing, not a knife point can be pushed in anywhere. I try low and high on the wall, nothing. The floor is clean of dust and I can’t go under anything.
“I figure what better place to leave those two post-it messages then in the real old wall.” While I’m trying, I’m thinking to myself, I’m here at the side of the Old Temple, should I leave a message too? Nah!! It wouldn’t be right. I’m not a religious Jew. Now that I’m here I’m suddenly going to pray for something? How convenient, like the dying man becoming religious on his deathbed. I’m suddenly going to do the rituals and believe on a whole other level? No, the one thing I wouldn’t do is become religious out of happenstance. I believe in being righteous and doing unto others, and turning the cheek, and going for the betterment of man, and maybe even a supreme being. As Einstein said “God didn’t play dice with the universe.” And there is a difference between written Torah law and tradition. It would almost be like blaspheming, to pray and ask for something for myself, just because I’m here.
I’m still probing around with no luck. I put away my knife, that’s getting me nowhere. I’m pushing with the end of the folded post-its. It’s also getting me nowhere. While I’m pushing I suddenly think of what I could pray for, that would be “cool”, something that would be “OK” between me and God. Not like the dying man. Not praying for myself, out of location convenience. I would be praying for all mankind, that’s cool at any time, any place.
“The two post-its get sucked right out of my hand and into the wall. SLAM! They are gone in a flash. I am in shock.”
I say to myself “I would pray that one particular one of my inventions, works, because if it does that would free the whole world of energy needs which in many cases is the cause of war and famine and generally bad things. If any of my inventions works as I believe they all do, then the world would be without want. And whether I get recognition for it or not, or make money from it or not, I pray it really works for mankind.” And with that thought, the two post-its get sucked right out of my hand and into the wall. SLAM! They are gone in a flash. I am in shock. They were yanked out of my fingers. I fall down. My knees are shaking. I am looking around on the tunnel floor for two post-its. Did that really happen? Did I really see that? Are they on the floor? They are not on the floor. They are gone. I am really freaked. I check everywhere carefully. The post-its are gone. They were sucked into the wall. Wait a second. I couldn’t get my knife tip into the wall. I couldn’t put the post-it paper into the wall. Then they seemed to be sucked right into the seam between two blocks, like there was a huge vacuum on the other side of the seam. They were yanked right out from between my fingers. How did that happen? I have to sit back down on the floor of the tunnel. I’m still shaking. My brother and Nina are way up the tunnel with the others and the soldier. First Nina stopped and looked back for me. She saw me sitting on the floor like something was wrong. Nina got back to me first. She asked me was I OK? I must have mumbled something incoherent. Then Charles got to me, I was still on the floor. He said “Got claustrophobic, huh? I said softly, “no”. I never had a religious experience before. Least that’s what I’d call it. Maybe now I’ll call it paranormal. I wasn’t able to go on up the tunnel. I couldn’t say anything further to Charles or Nina. We three left, with the guide. As we left the guide took a picture of the three for us still underground at the Old Temple site.
Images provided by Alex Bruda and Dawna Capln
Calming Thoughts Listen to Alan Cox, International Psychic, Spiritual Counsellor, Healer, and Psychic Surgeon, live every Thursday 1 PM PST/ 4 pm EST/ 9 pm BST on Paramania Radio with his "Understanding Spirit" show. Each week he will be joined by guests who will share their believes and experiences.
PARANORMAL MOJO RADIO Paranormal Mojo Radio Show Paranormal Mojo is an hour of casual conversation with paranormal investigator and author, Kris Sedersten and Laura Krieser about all things paranormal. Right now we broadcast the 2nd and 4th Monday nights of each month at 8:00 EST, 7:00 CST on DTM Wicked Radio. http://www.krissedersten.com/paranormal-mojo-radio-show
Next show will be on the 5th June 2014 with guest Singer/Songwriter and Psychic DAZ SAMPSON
Paranormal Galaxy Radio Show All new radio show starting on Thursday 12th June 2014! Alan will be joined by co hosts Jack Heath and Sherrie Wilkolaski each week from 5 p.m. to 6 p.m. EST to talk about all things paranormal.
Jesse Bravo: New York Psychic Medium Jesse Bravo is the Premier Psychic Medium In NYC who is sourced by the media and his predictions can be found in magazines and media outlets throughout the world. Psychic Jesse Bravo provides his insights into the spiritual world to such media outlets as ABC News and MTV to name a few because he is one of the most exciting Real Psychics on the planet!. Jesse would like this site to help those in need, whether it is information on psychic topics or issues in your lives. Many people throughout history with psychic gifts have helped humankind using their gifts and he is doing the same. Here you’ll find many free articles, which will help you, understand many topics dealing with the psychic arena, but he feels that ultimately this site can help you become more aware of the gift that has been given to all of us. For more on Jesse, go to www.mediumjessebravo.com/
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Paranormal Mojo Radio Show Hosted by Kris Sedersten & Laura Krieser Listen LIVE on DTM Wicked Radio 2nd and 4th Monday nights of each month at 8:00 EST
Guests on the show have included paranormal researchers and psychics!
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Kris Sedersten’s Favorite Paranormal Stories Every month, Kris selects a list of articles that intrigue and ignite interest. She is the author of Mojo and Lost Mojo. Visit her website krissedersten.com A Step into the Paranormal with Milton’s Ghost Hunter A fascination with ghosts usually starts with a paranormal experience, and for Milton’s Dan McMath, it happened over three consecutive nights in his childhood home in Narromine in western New South Wales. Over the course of the week, an ornament was flung across the room from the loungeroom mantelpiece at about 9:30pm. The first two nights they heard the thud – the third they were there to see it happen. “Ever since then I can’t forget that experience, and that’s why I’m a believer and know ghosts exist because I can’t rationally think what else would’ve caused that ornament to do that,” he says. Read the full article.
Paranormal Corner: Startling Experience at Barrett’s Plantation in Mannington Township
Sports fans have their favorite arenas. old couch 1353813 m Paranormal Corner: Startling Experience at Barrett’s Plantation in Mannington Township Wine connoisseurs have their favorite tasting rooms. And paranormal investigators have their favorite haunted locations. A choice spot for Jersey Unique Minds Paranormal Society to investigate is Barrett’s Plantation House Bed and Breakfast in Mannington — a hotbed of paranormal activity. The final stop of this year’s Historic Ghost Tour of Salem County hosted by JUMPS and Revolution Tours, Inc., was at Barrett’s.
The historic home was built in three sections — the first in 1735, the center during the 19th century and the rear in 1991. The original, front section of the house includes two guest rooms on the second floor, the garret on the third floor and a dining room and sitting room on the first floor. Read the full article.
Because by Reverend Sue Because you’re very special These words are meant for you To lift your mood when you feel down They will smooth away the blues So never feel alone my friend in all you say or do Remember there are those who care enough To wrap you in love they wish to share Never feel you’re silly don’t fear just take that hand Then awaken and just realise Help is at your command Accept the offers that come your way Don’t always say it’s OK For there is as much joy in taking As you always receive in giving “Balance is all”
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Hugged From Behind By Taylor Young
The most memorable trip I have been on was to London,
England. My great-aunt, the travel master in my family, brought me and a couple of my more distant relatives over in the summertime one year to see the sights and enjoy. It was my first international trip, and I was fully excited to see everything I could. I remember being particularly attracted to the darker parts of London’s past and historic landmarks. I still have a booklet that is about the locations and stories behind the Jack the Ripper killings that I remember looking at a lot. The Tower of London was also a highlight because I was (and still am) a fan of the Tudors and the many royals that were taken there. As for something completely different, we went through a scare attraction that was based on the dark parts from London’s history and popular culture from the black plague to Sydney Todd to, oddly enough, Jack the Ripper. We went through a thorough tour of the positives and negatives of what is popularly associated with London, and we enjoyed each minute of it.
Although I did expect this trip to be life-changing, I wasn’t able to predict how much it ended up being. My favorite place that I went to was Westminster Abbey. I was itching to visit there because of how much history has been in that place and how cool it looked on the outside. I have been to churches, but I certainly never had been to an abbey. There are definitely big differences between the two. There was so much to take in at Westminster. I saw many places where people had been buried there including an unknown soldier’s tomb surrounded and adorned by red roses. Queen Elizabeth I’s coffin was on display in a room almost too tiny for its dark ebony grandeur, and even as a fan of her reign, I felt odd that I was looking at a big box of dust. Westminster itself was beautiful. The sunlight made everything feel airy and alive. The stone floors spoke of history, and the pews and altar showed long lasting tradition. The whole time I was there, I felt like there was a presence just behind me, and it seemed to follow me while I was inside the abbey. It wasn’t that one of my travel companions was near me because I walked around on my own while this was happening. The presence was particularly strong when I was near the place where people lit small candles to help send up their prayers. I wasn’t afraid, and I wasn’t really confused about what I was feeling, either. I knew I was in a holier place than I have ever been, so even though I felt my hair stand on end a bit, it felt completely natural to feel something spiritual while I was in Westminster. I was so much in tourist mode that the presence served as a reminder of what this place was: a church. I had never had up until that point experienced such a spiritual pull on myself, and since I don’t go to churches anywhere near as old as Westminster, I thought I would never have again.
I certainly tried to find that feeling again when I was back home. I suddenly had a desire to find a church that had a traditional quality in its walls, but had the open-mindedness of a modern church. I never found that interesting combination because, well, I am from the Southeast of America. There weren’t any churches like that. I then had forgotten all about trying to find that presence, and I went on thinking Westminster was a one-time experience. I was wrong. A couple of years ago during my first year of college, I was participating in a worship service that is run by students once a week. It had already become by favorite place to go every week because I was gaining genuine friends and was seeking a spiritual renewal that involved regular fellowship and worship. I was standing with everyone as the band was playing a song. It is saddening now that I do not remember the exact song it was, but it was definitely a song of reassurance. My eyes were closed as I was listening and singing along. Suddenly, the presence and feeling I had felt before in Westminster, except this time it was different and stronger. It did something more astonishing than simply wandering behind me. I felt it hug me from behind. I looked down and didn’t see arms around me, but I could still feel them. I was astonished. I knew then that it didn’t exactly matter how old or holy a location is deemed to be. If you are in a really genuine spiritual state, interesting things will happen. My first guess as to who hugged me and followed me is the Holy Spirit, simply because the presence was good and pure and I was in a church setting both times it happened. Also, the Holy Spirit is supposed to be with Christians from the moment they start believing. I am open to other explanations, but I certainly feel it would have been something like that. I definitely want to visit England again. Westminster is definitely first on the list of places to visit. Because of my experience there, I definitely want to explore more of the older cathedrals to see what happens. Of course, it looks like the presence that followed me and hugged me will only come when it wants to or when I have completely forgotten about it.
“The whole time I was there, I felt a presence just behind me, and it seemed to follow me while I was inside the abbey.”
A Meeting of Souls By Christine Milano The airport guards jabbed their guns into my body and encouraged any loitering men to join in the “fun”. My stomach hurt; my heart pounded; I needed to think straight and kept pushing down the fear that was creeping into my knees. I knew one of the guards spoke English from earlier encounters at various airport check-points, but he refused to oblige me. It appeared they were about to “barter” me off as some sort of prize. Unsure what to do next, I prayed and it was then that She appeared. The look on the woman’s face caused the men to fall away as she charged forward. As I watched her approach, the wall of men seemed to dissolve as her smallish frame grew larger and without hesitation she grabbed my arm, pulled me back through the crowd, and shoved me into a chair surrounded by various bags. I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath. I made a feeble attempt to thank my heroine. If you asked me what she looked like, I can’t remember. I do remember her eyes. Eyes that seemed to suck you in to an unexplained depth. Dark. Beautiful. Sad. The woman simply continued to look at me with her dark tear-filled eyes, while stroking my hand in comfort. In very broken English and a lot of body language, this middle-aged woman explained to me that her husband had been killed for political reasons in Iran. Her sobs grew more intense as she pointed to her daughter, son-in-law and young grand-daughter, as she painfully explained that they were moving to Canada. She would not be traveling with them. She could not. How was she going to survive the loneliness of traveling back to Iran without them. They had just spent four weeks together in India as a final bonding before they would go their separate ways. I continued to hold the woman's hand while she cried. Silence overcame the airport lounge as the morning ‘Call to Prayer’ broke out from the overhead speakers. She continued to grasp my hand – as if it were somehow a lifeline, a means of fending off the loneliness that she felt loomed in front of her. I prayed for peace to come to her heart and that soon she would be reunited with her family in Canada. For the moment, it was only she and I in the Bangalore airport, waiting for our connections, both going into the unknown. The spell broke as her family returned and gathered up their belongings. They looked at me with suspicion. Who was this uncovered American woman holding their mother's hand? They scolded their mother. She said in broken English “She my friend”. They walked off leaving her to trail behind them. I felt a strange loss, as if we did not get to properly say goodbye to each other. It was at that moment, she came running back to me, hugged me, said she loved me and to be safe in my travels. Little did I know that this would continue to be the “theme” of my travels throughout India. A theme of praying, heart connections, sadness and laughter.
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Another Installment of The Guinea Pig Diaries By Penelope Rollinson
Last month I gave you the first half of the second chapter to read so
you could get an insight into guinea pig Henrietta Harriet’s background and how her personality developed, she is outspoken, domineering and manipulative. When I found her in a pet shop she was being kept in a box in a cupboard, something she was not happy about. After July’s article appeared in Paranormal Galaxy Magazine, I had a lot of people who wanted to know how Henrietta Harriet got on. They were curious to find out if she had acquired that much needed human, so this month, I have included the rest of the second chapter The Box and the start of the third chapter “My New Home”. You can follow her story every month in Paranormal Galaxy and see how her life develops. I have finished writing the first book in the series of The Guinea Pig Diaries and I have written over hundred pages of the second book Henrietta Harriet’s Guinea Pig Clinic. I have sent a submission to an agent and will have to wait eight weeks before I receive a reply.
The Box, Part II My human hurriedly placed me in the cupboard and slammed the door. I shrieked and shrieked in despair, but there was no response. Where had I gone wrong? My mother, who used to affectionately wash my ears, had shown me how to groom myself ready for the pet shop and a new owner, so where had I gone wrong? Hours later, I was still lying on the floor of my box which was now wet with tears, then I heard the front door of the shop open and then a few minutes later someone asked about my brother. I was deeply depressed and vaguely heard someone ask, ‘‘Have you got anymore guinea pigs? I really wanted a girl.’’ The door of the cupboard creaked open and I hurriedly composed myself and put on another type of grimacing look. I heard my human say, ‘‘Don’t blame me if you don’t like what you see, she’s an awkward guinea pig this one, that’s why I keep her shut away. I can’t have her frightening all my customers.’’ When my box was put on the counter, I saw the lady look inside and say, ‘‘What an unhappy little guinea pig, she seems to be frowning.’’ My human grunted and the lady continued to stare at me. I tried to make my face look even grumpier but instead a huge smile spread across my lips and I forgot all about being grumpy and foul mouthed. I had looked into her eyes and seen and felt that this human was special. I knew that this was the one, this was my human and no one else’s human. When she picked me up, I felt the warmth of her hands and I made sure I didn’t pee on her or let any stray pellets pop out.
I was my normal starved of love self and I cuddled into her purring with delight as she held me closely. I hid under her long hair and smelt her perfume, filling my lungs with her smell. I held onto that smell when I was put back into my box, it would help me survive until she came back for me. We had bonded and I heard her tell my soon to be ex-human that she would think about buying me.
“I hid under her long hair and smelt her perfume, filling my lungs with her smell.” I knew she was my way out of that box and the dark gloomy cupboard and each night before I fell asleep, I would kneel by my bed of hay with my paws clasped together praying to God and Jesus for the lady with long dark hair to return. In the intervening two weeks before the lady rescued me for good, I saw in my guinea pig dreams that she had been given a good quality wooden hutch that had been used for a rabbit. She took it home, cleaned it up and then made plans to come back to rescue me. I was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to be taken away from this horrible life.
My brother was sold the week before the lady came back and I should have been put in the cage, but I was still in the cupboard in that box! I spent a whole week being cross and moody and trying to bite anyone who was foolish enough to pick me up. My owner was threatening never to let anyone see me again! What did I care, I was waiting for the lady to come back and claim me as her own. I cheered up considerably when she came back into the pet shop and asked about me. My soon to be ex-human, carried my box out of the cupboard and I saw money change hands. The lady took me out of the shop in that awful box and I hoped I would soon be put in the posh hutch I had seen in my dreams. It was wonderful to be outside and feel nature all around me, I smelt the air and felt the fresh breeze on my hair as she carried my box. I could hear the birds singing in the trees and I envied their freedom to go wherever they wanted. I used to see them in my ex-humans garden when I was with my mother and I had longed to get out of the cage to watch them soar into the sky. As the lady carried my box she told me that her name was Penny and that my name was now Henrietta Harriet. I looked up at her as she talked and I tried to look intelligent. I wanted to understand everything she said and be her closest companion. When we reached her car, Penny said, ‘‘It won’t take us long to get home.’’ And she talked about the hutch she had got for me and all the things we would do together. I listened intently to everything she said and I tried to take it all in. It was all new to me and I was so excited to be out of the shop. I was bubbling over with happiness and joy, and purred as loudly as I could to let her know how happy I was. I decided I loved Penny and I was working out in my head all the charming ways I could entice her and make her love me more than any other animal.
I could tell Poppy resented my presence in the house. I couldn’t understand why, but to be truthful, I resented Penny having another animal. I was supposed to be her only and most important pet. This cat was a lot bigger than me. It had long legs and a long tail and I tried to smell its bottom but that made Poppy mad, anyway, it smelt foul, not like the smell of us guinea pigs. This cat was a Bengal and let me warn you, a Bengal is not like a ‘normal cat,’ not that I knew much about cats at that time, but I have since learnt a lot about that breed of animal. A Bengal is a frightening thing for a little guinea pig to deal with, they are manipulative, territorial and single minded in the way they go about getting what they want. This Bengal was a possessive brown spotted creature, who resented my presence in what she considered was her house and garage. I have since found out that the Bengal is a cross between the Asian leopard and the domestic cat, which produces a very selfish and extremely intelligent animal, who will work out a strategy to wear down the resistance of their owner. They weigh up their owners personality and manipulate their weaknesses to their own advantage. This Bengal was far more devious and cunning than I could ever be and I would have to be one step ahead of this animal. I wracked my little brain, wondering how I would achieve dominance over an animal like this. My forward planning would have to be well thought out and meticulously executed. It would be a formidable challenge to overcome and dominate a Bengal. My only thought at that time, was how? How was I going to win my way through this situation? I had to be the key pet, the most important and pampered pet. How would I win this position with the challenge I now faced?
When we got to Penny’s house, which was bigger than the shop, I noticed it smelt of food and sweet scents I had never smelt before. I could also smell another animal and I hoped she didn’t love it like she would love me. I kept looking at Penny in an appealing way and she seemed to respond to my efforts. I had lots of cuddles and kisses and was put in my posh new hutch in the garage. The garage had different smells, I recognised the smell of boxes and dust and there were other smells I didn’t recognise, harsher smells that I didn’t like. Her garage was attached to the house, so she kept popping in to check on me and I was very outgoing and friendly, going up to the bars and greeting her each time she came to see me. Not for me the scurrying away and hiding, like some guinea pigs I have since met. I wanted to make friends and impress. I wanted to be loved, like no other guinea pig had been loved before. I wanted freedom, friends and good food. I didn’t know then that there was so much more to life than I could possibly imagine and I was about to find out exactly how good life could really be, but first I would have deal with the darker side of my new home.
My New Home Being the beloved pampered pet of an overgenerous human is a wonderful experience for any animal, but especially for me with my early weeks being spent in the box. I felt so special and so loved. The only draw back, I soon discovered that I was not Penny’s only pet. The animal I had smelt in the house was a cat and I was introduced to it after being in the garage a few days, ‘‘Henrietta Harriet this is Poppy.’’
Images provided by Andreas Krappweis.
Chapter Excerpt of Trial By Witch By B. Joann Crisp I've dug bullets out of my back, bamboo splinters out of my hands, and even retrieved asphalt gravel from my own backside. But the shards of glass imbedded in my shoulder, neck, and face were proving much more difficult than any of that. Especially with freshly burned hands. On the bright side, the Miller kid was dead, ending his family line, and I finally earned the scars on my hands and feet. Yippee for me. I have a medical kit for just these occasions and the plastic tweezers felt clumsy in my hands. As I pinched them over a large, two-inch piece caught in my left cheek, the plastic scraped over the side and the points jabbed straight into my eyeball. "Shit!“ It was quiet in the abandoned workshop where I had escaped to after the fire. My curse echoed in the large empty space. Only a few overturned cardboard boxes and about a dozen empty oil bottles scattered the room and the boarded up windows boasted a sign for a father-son car repair business. The large roll-up doors on the north end were bolted to the floor but I could see where someone had taken a crowbar to one, trying to pry open a space large enough through which they could crawl. I had climbed in through the roof hatch after scaling the side of the building thanks to a Dumpster and I had the place to myself. I tried again at the glass in my cheek, still squinting, eye watering. The piece was proving to be a hindrance and I finally gave up with the tweezers and pinched it between my thumb and forefinger and pulled. Blood oozed around the cut as I finally wrenched the glass free and dropped it into the oil pan I'd found sitting on the workbench. I could see in the reflection of the small sun visor mirror that hung from an unraveling piece of ribbon that the cut had already begun to heal. The witch hadn't mentioned my uncanny ability to heal in her love-hate letter to my father and after scouring the book hundreds of times, searching for any clue, I'd come to accept it and tried not to let it draw attention. When you're chasing someone half-way around the city and you're hit by a car or fall from a five-story building, it gets a little hard to explain to onlookers why you're not dead. My only guess is that the witch had to keep me alive and well to make sure her plan worked. As long as the injury isn't too grave or lifethreatening, I get to live on and fight the good fight.
If it is too impossible to heal, if someone successfully manages to put an end to me, well, I still get to live on and fight the good fight, but it gets a little tricky. Luckily, these injuries happened in darkness. Well, save for the glow of the fire I pretty much started. When Justin's lifeless hand fell with the lighter, it ignited the pool of gasoline he had poured. The fire spread quickly and it was apparent that I'd gone and trapped myself. Justin's body began to smolder as it caught fire, his clothes damp with his own sweat, but the deed was done and I had earned my scars. I dropped the gun when the sudden, intense pain in my hands caused a spasm. My hands began to blister and I could feel the webbed skin between my toes pucker and stretch. Just like the witch said it would.
I didn't wait around to suffer the pain of a whole-body burn and the subsequent healing process--although blessed with the ability to heal, the witch ensured that I could feel every moment of agony. Awesome. I doubled over and allowed myself a minute to recover from the pain but it was a minute that I couldn't afford. We were on the ground floor and in that minute, the fire had engulfed most of the bottom portion of the building, following the thin trail of gas and catching the forgotten wooden pallets that Justin had also drenched in gas. At least the sucker was thorough. I looked behind me to see that my entrance had been completely overtaken by the fire. The large wooden beam above the door gave way as the supporting joints melted and the thing collapsed, blocking the way with an inviting heat that said I'd suffer if I chose to go that route. I didn't bother to pick up the gun where I'd dropped it--I'd just have to dump it somewhere anyway--so I left it where it was and looked for a way out. Jumping over a particularly large flame that had snaked its way toward me, I darted for the door leading to the stairs. The little sign with the stick-figure man running away from the flames stuck in my head as I climbed the stairs, taking two and sometimes three at a time. My feet throbbed and it's safe to say that walking was unpleasant, but I continued on, bypassing the two locked doors leading to the second and third floors, finally finding the door to the fourth was unlocked and hanging ajar on fallen hinges. I wrenched the door as open as I could manage, the skin on my hand screaming with the pressure and hot as the fire below, and wriggled through the opening. Old cubicle walls, some stacked, some fallen over, littered the floor and the three large windows revealed the only possible exit. The smoke from the fire had followed me upstairs and I was starting to feel the familiar burn at the back of my throat. "They didn't burn your sister, witch," I told her, wherever she was. I'm sure she was listening somehow. I moved closer to the window and wiped away the film that had settled. Below, the asphalt parking lot welcomed me, the faded lines of the handicapped symbol smiling, goading me to jump. There wasn't much left in the office and it would take some effort to break the glass and I had to work quickly if I was to avoid being burned alive. That, I knew first-hand, would take some time to recover from and although neither was a good option for a normal man, I preferred the crushing injuries of a fall over smelling my own charred skin. In the corner, I spied a small metal filing cabinet with the drawers pulled out of their tracks and laying near by. I raced over and plucked up one of the drawers and then chucked it at the first window. It bounced off without leaving so much as a scratch. I picked up the second drawer and pounded it against the window with direct force. Crack! The handle on the drawer was loose and wobbled in my ruined hand, but I swung the drawer twice more and the window finally relented. Thick glass showered down and covered the asphalt below and it never looked so welcoming. I pulled myself through the opening and out onto the tiny ledge underneath. Standing beside the window, I probably looked like a madman: soot-stained clothes, smoke billowing out of the floors below, the only possible outcome a jump to the ground below. Luckily in this part of the city, I might have found a few homeless onlookers, but with the recent string of fires in this area, there wasn't a single vagrant in sight.
A four-story fall could definitely kill a man and this would be my third fall of this height in my life--I'd fallen from much higher before and that had not been a fun experience. I lowered myself on the ledge and scooted down so I was clinging to it with my fingertips, my legs hanging down and reaching just above the windows of the next floor. Without giving me a second chance to think about it, my fingers lost their power, the hot, scarred skin giving way to pressure, and I fell. The sound of my own bones breaking is something I'll never get used to. Most of the time, during these instances of what would have been a mortal injury, I stay conscious and the ensuing pain of being injured and having complete awareness of it is just another gift from the witch. When I was able to pick myself up and reset the dislocated and broken things in my body, the warehouse had gone up and the walls were beginning to buckle. The emergency response here was limited, at best, but I heard the faint whine of a siren not too far away, so I knew I had to get myself out of there. There were plenty of choices, abandoned buildings that is. The repair shop wasn't the easiest to get into, but I thought that it could offer the best means with which to lick my wounds and hide. After pulling out all of the imbedded glass that I could find, I made my bed beneath the workbench. "Now boarding flight 4873 to Toronto," I mumbled to myself. I pulled out the book from where I kept it, sewn in the lining of my jacket, and flipped open to the page where Justin's name had been. The name was now written in black and faded. The blood feud between the Millers and the witch was settled.
“‘They didn't burn your sister, witch,’ I told her, wherever she was. I'm sure she was listening somehow.”
To find out more about Trial by Witch, go to the website: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/bjoanncrisp
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Driving an open golf cart across a dimly illuminated flat plain, akin to a huge vacant playing field or fairgrounds or industrial site. The ground hard, damaged, the tires squish the short leveled grass and weed stalks oozing water splaying puddles. Destination unknown, originating from, I donʼt know. I am driving fast, for a golf cart, headlights dull. To my right almost in tandem, two figures appear in another cart. Who are they? Are they spirits? We speed forward. Toward? Away? Then they are gone. I am alone driving fast completely enveloped in a pervasive translucent haze. Darkness abounds, headlights illuminating only that they are on, nothing else.
I am aware I am captured I am nourished. “Are you Joseph my Spirit Guide?” I ask. “Are you the Baron?” I ask. “Are you the Elders?” I ask. Through my closed eyelids seeing only dark, a face forms in Red dispelling the blackness. A dream? Maybe, but I was awake or half awake, conscious enough, to feel to see to ask. I asked for help for my loved ones, myself also. Although I wanted to hear a responsive voice. Upon reflection, the experience itself was their reply.
I am racing forward, encapsulated in a void of dark night. Where am I going? I cannot see beyond the cart. Why am I racing there? I stop.
VISITATION By Cyrus Yavneh
I turn around. Then, an inner bliss, a catharsis, escalates. A majestic omnipresent tsunami overtakes my visceral self, satiating my being. Image provided by Vivek Chugh.
Interview with Alan Cox: Paranormal Galaxy Magazine Editor-At-Large By Sherrie Wilkolaski
It is interesting how certain people make their way into your life. Over a year ago I reached out to Alan Cox about booking author Jack Heath on his radio show, Understanding Spirit. Jack went on Alan’s show and then Alan and I lost touch. After the interview, Jack and Alan started corresponding and then Alan was invited by Jack to come on his radio show New Hampshire Today and since then Alan has been a regular weekly guest. So how did Alan and I reconnect? Jack and I were talking about my luxury magazine, Luxe Beat Magazine and how it has been a huge success. Jack said, “Why don’t we do a paranormal magazine?” and well, that is how Paranormal Galaxy Magazine was born. Jack recommended that I get in touch with Alan to see if he would like to be involved and he was thrilled to jump in and join the team. He has been a treasure. It’s amazing how many wonderful people he knows in the paranormal community. We talk several times a week and he always seems to know what is going on with me. Let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to play poker with this guy, he could read my poker face with his eyes closed. He really does have a gift. Alan is a renowned psychic investigator, along with his partner Anne. They have helped hundreds of people by clearing unwanted and evil presences from their homes and businesses. He has also been given the gift of healing. His connection is natural, and has been developed by himself with the guidance of God and the Guides. He has in spirit Dr. David Ingles, who works psychically through Alan to perform surgery when necessary. He is also a renowned clairvoyant. If you’re in need, he can help you to find your true spiritual path in life. To introduce Alan to our readers, we’ve done an interview. We hope you enjoy getting to know Alan, as much as I have.
How did you first encounter the paranormal world? In 1996 my partner Anne and I went through a very traumatic time in our life together. At this time we had not been awakened to our spiritual path. However, we were aware of a presence in our home. One day when Anne was at home alone, she felt herself being pushed downstairs, which resulted in Anne breaking her wrist. Obviously something had to be done about the situation. After watching "house busters" on Channel 5 TV, we called in David Ashworth who appeared on the programme. David cleared the house of ghosts. We formed a good friendship with David. This enabled the Guides to open the channels so that I could begin the important work that was and still is awaiting myself and Anne.
How did your paranormal experience change your life? From this event I was opened up to my spirit guide by David Ashworth. It changed my life completely. I spent the next four years trying to understand what I was doing with my life, I changed my job three times within those four years until I realized I needed to leave employed work and follow my spiritual path.
How did you first deal with your abilities after you found out? I just accepted and embraced it. The only difficulty for me was discovering how to use it to the benefit of others. What are you most passionate about with your work as a healer? I cannot just list one thing; I am equally passionate about clearing demons and other bad energies from people and being able to help people with their ailments through healing and psychic surgery.
Has there been any time where your psychic ability attracted unwanted attention or criticism? How did you deal with it? When working in the spiritual field it is inevitable to attract criticism and unwanted attention. There will always be people who think badly of the type of work I do. I ignore it as much as possible; not that it happens very often at all. However on two occasions over the years that I have been doing my spiritual work I had to get the police involved to stop the persons in question sending me hate messages online. In both occasions it was shown I had done nothing wrong and the two separate individuals had mental problems. They left me alone after this; and I hope they now are getting on with their lives in a positive way.
What would you say to people who aren't psychic and have misconceptions about psychic abilities? Nothing; it isn't possible to get anyone to believe. It is something we have to experience ourselves; then we know the truth. Individuals who are meant to know; will.
What advice would you give to a psychic who just discovered their abilities? You have been awakened to the spirit world for a reason. You will discover that reason as time goes on. Embrace it and use your connection wisely. You are on YOUR journey, no one else's. Listen to others and take from it what fits with you but do not follow anyone; be your own person. Believe in your own connection.
To learn more about Alan Cox go to www.calmingthoughts.com.
August 2014 Maze
Can you make it through August’s Labyrinth? Start Here
Exit Here
Paranormal Online Quizzes! How Well Do You Know Dracula? From the history to the novel and the movies, Dracula is definitely one of the definitive monsters known worldwide! Take this trivia quiz to find out about how much you know about the most infamous bloodsucker! Take quiz on PlayBuzz
What is Your Psychic Ability? Take this fun personality quiz to see what psychic power you have! The result may surprise you! Take quiz on PlayBuzz NOTE: If you truly feel you have a psychic ability, this quiz is not for serious knowledge seekers and may not be 100% accurate.
Take our selected online personality and trivia quizzes every month to sharpen your paranormal knowledge or have fun finding out something new about yourself!
August 2014 Word Search Take the time to enjoy this Possession themed word search! Some words maybe found backwards or diagonally.
Word Bank: Possessed The Exorcist Visitation Soul Levitation Demons Devil
Tongues Priest Catholic Crucifix Multiple Personality Holy Water Cast Out
Annelise Michel Robbie Manheim Annabelle the Doll Chair of Death Dibbuk Box Son of Sam
July 2014 Monthly Horoscope Provided by the Astrotwins
Is that a bird, a plane or…Super Leo? Life is really looking up for the kings and queens of the cosmic jungle. Since July 16, lucky Jupiter, the planet of adventure, abundance and optimism, started its 13-month trek through Leo—a fortunate transit which only happens every 12 years. Hello, cosmic jackpot! After a murky and emotionally challenging first half of 2013 for many Leos, this is a major reboot. Say goodbye to uphill battles and dark nights of the soul (which, truth be told, have probably gotten boring). You're ready to turn a fresh page, and it could be so major that your life will barely resemble its current state a year from now. To this, your brave sign will likely say, “Bring it!”
Pull those covers back up to your chin, Virgo. It's your annual sleepy season, a time to unwind and catch up on your Z's. Read More
Plug in, Libra! Until August 23, the Sun is in Leo, your eleventh house of networking and technology, getting you uberconnected on all fronts. Read More
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If this were the 1980s, you’d be rocking a shoulderpadded power suit, Scorpio.
Set your GPS to "freestyle roaming," Sagittarius.
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All or nothing! Until August 23, the Sun is in Leo, your eighth house of extremes, intensity and perma-bonding, making this a high-octane month, especially when it comes to your emotions. Read More
How sweet it is to be loved by you, Aquarius. With the Sun in Leo, your partnership-oriented seventh house, your mind is on relationships, collaborations, and dynamic duos.
Health check! If you spent your summer roving through parties at Ibiza or overdoing it on margaritas at an endless stream of barbeques, it might be time to rein it in, especially with the Sun in Leo, your sixth house of wellness, until August 23.
Let the sun shine in! Actually, for he first three weeks of the month, you ARE the sunshine, Aries, as the Sun grooves through Leo, your fifth house of celebration, play and passion.
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Nesting time! Until August 23, the Sun is roving through Leo, your fourth house of home, roots and family, heightening your need to pull out that “home, sweet, home” welcome mat.
Chatterbox in the house! Until August 23, the Sun is moving through Leo, your sector of conversations and collaborations, making you quite the raconteur (even more than usual!)
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Buckle down, Cancer. After a thrilling birthday season, not to mention lifeexpanding Jupiter’s yearlong journey through your sign that ended July 16, you’re feeling the need to plant those Manolos on terra firma. Read More
Salem VI: Book II Chain of Souls Weeks after Salem newspaper editor John Andrews avenges his wife’s four-year-old cold case murder, he’s thrust into the mayhem of another mystery. The Coven, who’s kept tight their secrets of power and blood-lust for centuries, is bent on silencing Andrews. Though his nightmares tell him otherwise, he’s willing to keep things under wraps until there’s proof— he’s a newsman after all. But when the Coven kidnaps his daughter, Andrews must further reveal Salem’s murky past—his daughter’s life depends on it. As the Coven’s onslaught continues and the body’s pile up, good souls and bad, Andrews learns that Salem isn’t the only place controlled by the Coven. It’s an international organization on a dark mission with an even darker past. And so begins the witch-hunt.
See the book preview in the July edition of Paranormal Galaxy Magazine!
salemwitchtrilogy.com