June 2014
Synergy Paranormal Investigators:
A Haunting in Nebraska
Jesse Bravo
New York Psychic Medium Has Something to Say About Lady Gaga
Haunted
New Bern, N.C. Author Jack Heath on
Ghosts
LET T ER FRO M T HE EDITO R Welcome to the premier edition of Paranormal Galaxy Magazine! We are kicking off this first edition with a focus on mediums and psychics. Our editorial team is comprised of several world-renowned psychics as well as those who specialize in reaching into the world beyond our own. Alan Cox is our Paranormal, Editor-At-Large and has brought together some of the top contributors you’ll be hearing from each month. We welcome Celebrity Editor-in-Chief, Jesse Bravo who is talking about Lady Gaga this month, Kris Sedersten is a leading expert on paranormal investigations and is talking to us straight about ghost hunting, while Chelsea Wilson gives us some insight to some of her own personal experiences in her article An Introduction to the Paranormal. A special thank you to Jack Heath, our Executive Editor and dear friend who has introduced me to the paranormal world, as I would have never imagined. Thanks Buddy. No matter where you are in the world, Paranormal Galaxy Magazine will take you on journey to discover everything the paranormal has to offer and more. Sherrie Wilkolaski Editor-in-Chief Ps Paranormal Galaxy Magazine is looking for contributors!
Contents Haunted Oxford, Nebraska 4 Ghosts 8 What Do Lady Gaga and 9
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
Liberace Have in Common? Popular Horror Movies 10 Based On True Events
JESSE BRAVO Celebrity Psychic Ed i tor- at -Large
Ghost Hunting 12 Psychic Surgery 14 The Weeping Arch: My 16 Hometown’s Haunted History Letter from Reverend Sue 18 When You Think 19
CONTRIBUTORS Melissa Jones David Marchant Reverend Sue Chelsea Wilson
INTERNS Melissa Jones Ashley Magliane Chelsea Wilson
Paranormal Thriller Author 20 Takes on Book Expo America An Introduction to the 22 Paranormal Who is David Ashworth and 24 The Emerald Heart? Between Life and Death 26 Mojo Book Excerpt 28 Salem VI- Rebecca's Rising 32 Book Excerpt
Paranormal Galaxy Magazine
is published in English. Our audience is a global market with global contributors. Each writes, using the form 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.
Haunted Oxford, Nebraska By Kris Sedersten
Synergy Paranormal Is Called In
GOT MOJO? When Scottie Brown, a New Orleans college student, is aggressively haunted by vivid nightmares and daytime apparitions, he begins a search for answers; unwittingly putting himself and those closest to him in a confrontation with evil. To defeat the energy that torments him, he recruits a team of paranormal investigators, friends from high school, and a psychic medium. Together, they pursue the ghosts of Scottie’s ancestors in a haunted plantation deep in the Louisiana countryside. They uncover dark family secrets and the spiritual energy of a malevolent patriarch who projects an unholy prophecy that has deadly consequences for all mankind. The power of an elusive mojo amulet becomes central to fighting Scottie’s demons as the journey through the haunted mansion, filled with twists and turns, takes on a life of its own against time. Mojo is a fast-paced paranormal mystery-thriller. Edgy and fun, this book will show the reader how having faith in a power greater than ourselves will lift us through even the most unforeseeable obstacles in life.
One of the most active sites Synergy Paranormal Investigation has ever investigated thus far came to us as a referral from our good friends at Midwest Paranormal Investigators (MPI) in Kearney, Neb. They asked for our assistance with a residential site due to their full case load at the time. The site was located in Oxford, Neb., which is roughly an hour and a half southwest of Kearney. The case involved a family who believed their house to be haunted. The paranormal activity seemed to be ramping up, and they were becoming more uncomfortable with their situation.
The Clients This family consisted of a very energetic grandmother, Connie, and her three grandchildren. The younger two grandchildren were boys, 11 and 12, and the oldest was a girl, 14. They were very gracious folks who had been through a lot of drama and disappointments, but they managed to keep a good attitude about life and healing in general. Connie had lived at the residence for more than 12 years. She’d had a few paranormal incidents over time, but she coped with them well. It wasn’t until the children moved in that the activity began to accelerate. By the time I first talked to her, the family was terrified by dark shadows, apparitions, whispering voices and a very heavy electric energy that plagued the house. Connie is active in Bible Study, and she genuinely feared the potential for demonic activity around them. At that point, in her mind, anything that was classified as paranormal was demonic in nature.
After having contact with Connie per email and then phone conversations, I changed up our schedule in order to prioritize her case. The youngest boy, Nathan, was having trouble sleeping, and he reported encounters with a creepy "white face with black hair" when he got up to use the restroom in the night. His sister was terrorized by a shadow man, approximately six feet tall, who randomly crawled along the walls and ceiling in her room. She slept with the television on every night to drown out the whispering voices. In fact, her T.V. was on all the time. Friends and cousins who had spent the night with them readily validated the family’s claims of the unexplained.
The Investigation Our first investigation was fairly quiet. We did
“She slept with the television on every night to drown out the whispering voices.”
feel the energy at times, and we experienced a
ghost box that responded with, “I miss her,”
few incidences of high electromagnetic fields
when asked why it bothered the children so
with our KII meters. But personal experiences
much through the night. We then spent a good
were limited, and there were no anomalies
deal of time explaining that the children needed
noted on video. Toward the end of the night, the
their sleep so they could go to school the next
Then, there was a very solid second
energy picked up a bit and we could definitely
day–they felt bullied and afraid–and it needed to
electronic voice phenomena that said,
feel the electricity that the family had described.
stop. I suppose you could say we were provoking
“Yeah,” when asked if anyone wanted
We finally captured a very distinct voice on the
the energy to try to get more of a response.
to talk to us.
A Conclusion By the time we had analyzed our evidence and shared it with our MPI counterparts, we couldn’t necessarily say the house was haunted, but it was decided that a second visit was indeed warranted. We scheduled it immediately, and it would prove to be a much more productive ghost adventure.
“It was decided that a second visit was indeed warranted.”
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 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.
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/ You can also subscribe to his YouTube channel at www.youtube.com/user/newyorkpsychicmedium
Paranormal Galaxy Magazine is looking for contributors! Go to www.paranormalgalaxy.com to learn more.
And Like Jesse Bravo on Facebook at www.facebook.com/pages/New-York-Psychic-Medium-JesseBravo/198231016906750
Ghosts By Jack Heath
When I was writing "Salem VI- Rebecca's Rising," I wrote from a memory I had of one of my earlier homes in Goffstown, N.H. The house was a classic New England Cape, located on a country road, with a small brook that ran behind our home. It was our first home. I remember being in a semi-deep sleep when I could sense an older women sitting in a chair in the corner of our bedroom. The chair was a rocking chair and perched in the corner of the room near a closet and a dormer from the window and attic. This sensation would happen quite often especially after we brought our first daughter home from the hospital. The woman's presence was not creepy, but almost calming. It was like she was just hanging out in the background. She would sit there rocking back and forth and knitting. In the morning, I would remember my dreams and look to the chair in the corner of the bedroom, and it was empty in daylight. Years later, we moved to another home in a neighboring town. It was not until some time later in the new house that Patty and I spoke of the older woman's presence. When we lived in that first home, I was working as a TV reporter in Boston and would be gone for long periods of the day. Patty would often be watching over our daughter and home. She became increasingly unsettled when she was home alone, even during the day. In hindsight, the ghost's definite presence was one quiet reason why we moved. While we never went to the extent of verifying "her presence,"
Salem’s Past Comes Back Having stepped off the fast track of primetime network television news, John Andrews has chosen a quieter life as editor of Salem News, a small paper in a quiet New England town. Life is perfect until Andrews’ wife is killed in a tragic accident. After several years of trying to numb the pain with alcohol, Andrews is visited by the spirit of a long dead ancestor who opens a door to a shocking family history. After he experiences a surreal Glimpse into the past, Andrews must confront the question of whether he is losing his mind or whether for several hundred years his ancestors have been engaged in a secret battle with a coven that worships Satan.
we both felt it. Frankly, I was not bothered by it and rather enjoyed her company. It was as if she was there for whatever reason and helping watch over our baby and home. Patty lost her mother and a sister, and I had lost several female relatives, so it is hard to ever know who that spirit really was. When I created the Salem Witch Trilogy, I used that memory, and others, to create the spirit of Rebecca Nurse. In my books, Rebecca enters the life of her descendant John Andrews, and makes her strong presence known, seen and felt in his home in Salem, Mass.
“It was as if she was there for whatever reason and helping watch over our baby and home.” There were other experiences where I have been in a home and felt a ghost's presence. I have no doubt that spirits can linger in a home, for whatever reason. Only once while visiting someone in Charleston, S.C., did I feel the presence of a ghost who definitely did not want me and a colleague in the home. I found out later from the homeowner that the house originally belonged to a physician who died in his living room when the Union Army invaded. A cannon ball, I was told, blasted through the wall of the doctor's home and ripped off his arm and shoulder. He died shortly after. On this visit to the downtown home, pictures hanging in the stairway literally popped off the wall as the homeowner gave us a tour. I felt the ghost's presence and immediately figured out he knew my friend and I were from the northeast, and I knew he still had resentment over the civil war. As some say in Charleston, "the war never really ended."
salemwitchtrilogy.com
Pina Colada
What Do Lady Gaga and Liberace Have in Common? By Jesse Bravo During my many conversations with spirits of famous people who have past, I always think why they are drawn and reincarnate themselves back into living humans. This happened a while back when I had a chance to speak with the late great Liberace and it was then that he revealed that Lady Gaga was Liberace back alive in a woman’s form. The comparisons between Liberace and Lady Gaga seemed to snap together like two pieces of a puzzle that were made for each other that created a great picture. Liberace said, “People would come from all over to see my show, now my playing wasn’t the greatest but my playing was a part of my show.” Upon hearing those telling facts brings me to see all of the strange ploys, wardrobe and mystical sense that surrounds Lady Gaga’s ascension into the upper levels of the music industry. Think to yourself right now about how you may or may not like Lady Gaga’s music, clothes, songs, diet or any news about her, yet she is
constantly relevant in the news and social media. Every time you turn around, there she is. So in this way her persona becomes bigger than her music and that’s the point. Liberace said that his clothes, jewelry and personality were more than enough to fill a stadium but he says the he and Lady Gaga need music to fully express the old souls that is in them. Without music we would be fish living out of the water, what a miserable life that would be! Liberace explains that he composed many of her songs and that she wrote the words to the music. He also said if I had the internet when I was alive my music would have touched more people but that’s why I came back. Back in 2012 MTV asked me to forecast Lady Gaga’s year, and I did so completely and accurately. Today, I predict that Lady Gaga will be pregnant with child in late 2016 with an uptrend in her career in early 2015 with new music being released. The real question is whether she will carry the baby or will someone else?
“Liberace said that his clothes, jewelry and personality were more than enough to fill a stadium…”
Popular Horror Movies Based On True Events
By Melissa Jones
Everyone Loves a Good Scare Many of the horror movies we’ve all come to love are actually based on true events, which makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise, because the truth can be even more terrifying than fiction. Listed below are a few horror movies we all know that are based on true events.
“The Exorcism of Emily Rose” The Exorcism of Emily Rose is based on the case of Anneliese Michel. Anneliese had episodes of intense shaking and seeming loss of control over her body, which led doctors to diagnose her with grand mal seizures. Anneliese’s behavior became violent when she began attacking her family, drinking her own urine and having violent reactions to religious paraphernalia. Desperate, the Michel family turned to some priests to perform an exorcism believing Anneliese to be possessed. Many exorcisms were performed with none being successful and before the last exorcism(the 40th) Anneliese died in 1976 of pneumonia. Despite being front page news, there was still much debate over whether Anneliese Michel was actually possessed.
“The Girl Next Door” This story comes from the real life case of Sylvia Likens, who was left with a family friend, Gertrude Baniszewski, while her parents traveled and performed with the circus. Sylvia was terrorized and tortured by Gertrude in ways Images courtesy of Amazon.com
similar to that in the film until her death. Prosecutors on the case named it “the most terrible crime ever committed in the state of Indiana.”
“The Conjuring” This movie is indeed based on a true story, and paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren (who are very much real) did help a family with their haunted farmhouse. The Warrens also investigated the home that inspired “The Amityville Horror.”
“The true story behind the film comes from Al and Carmen Snedeker who had lived in an allegedly haunted funeral parlor in Connecticut.”
“The Hills Have Eyes” The movie is based on Sawney Bean, a Scottish man born during the 15th/16th century. Bean married and had 14 children, many of which were a product of incest. The family were cannibals that lived in caves and killed over 1000 people.
“The Haunting in Connecticut” In the movie, a family moves into a new home to better accommodate their son who has cancer. The family discovers that their new home used to be a mortuary and the dead who once rested there aren’t happy about their new tenants. The true story behind the film comes from Al and Carmen Snedeker whom had lived in an allegedly haunted funeral parlor in Connecticut. The paranormal activity going on was so disturbing that paranormal researchers Ed and Lorraine Warren were brought in to investigate.
Ghost Hunting By Kris Sedersten
Ghost hunting, or paranormal investigating
as it is commonly called, is a rapidly growing, worldwide phenomenon. Adventurous pseudo-scientists painstakingly record and review evidence of the paranormal while chasing the spirit world. They utilize a wide variety of scientific equipment to support the existence of ghostly beings.
One survey conducted in 2008 by the Associated Press and Ipsos reported a full 34% of Americans believe in ghosts. A Gallup poll conducted in 2005 showed one third, 32%, said they believed, which indicates the numbers are on the rise. Other surveys cite the belief in haunted houses as one of the more compelling items on the test. Evidently, everyone loves a haunted house.
The demographics of the enthusiastic pursuers of the afterlife cross all the usual boundaries. Ghost hunters are culturally diverse, young and old, male and female, upper and middle class and white collar and blue collar workers combined. There is no stereotypical picture of a paranormal investigator, and anyone can join the hunt. There are no clear cut rules for either avid researchers, or curiosity seekers who are trying out a new hobby.
Ghost hunters utilize a wide variety of tools of the trade to aid in their quest to prove the paranormal is real. The equipment ranges in price and sophistication from the ridiculously simple to the outrageously complex—and expensive. Most items are easily accessible and can be purchased at the hardware store or from online ghost hunting equipment shops.
However, serious ghost hunters are very particular about what types of evidence they put out as factual proof of a haunting. Amateurs should be careful about what they choose to display to the world as actual evidence of the paranormal. Those who consider themselves to be the real deal are on a mission to present clear and irrefutable evidence to the skeptics of the world that the paranormal truly exists. Hoaxes and questionable pieces of evidence damage the credibility of the entire community. It might be wise to keep smiley faced orbs to yourself. The upsurge in popularity of the paranormal has been spurred on by the numerous reality shows about ghost hunting on television, celebrity ghost stories and the growing acceptance of unexplained phenomenon in today’s culture. The concept is no longer taboo in most circles and has become essentially mainstreamed in the media. Related industry and celebrated ghost tours have enjoyed an overall increase in popularity, as well. In some major cities, ghost tours have almost doubled in size since 2006. Haunted hotels, historical sites and other locations frequented by the dearly departed have become solidly booked tourist attractions.
Common LED flashlights, digital and mercury thermometers, walkie-talkies and motion detectors are staples in most ghost hunting kits. EMF (electromagnetic field) detectors are fairly inexpensive tools, as well. These small but mighty gadgets pick up electrical fields at varying frequencies. Paranormal research theories perpetuate the belief that spiritual energy will create changes in electromagnetic fields as it manifests itself in the environment. Unfortunately, so will man-made electricity. Some investigators use a simple compass as a back up to the EMF detector because it will also react to changes in the Earth’s magnetic field and remains unaffected by modern sources of electricity. More complex, high dollar equipment can be incorporated into the array of ghost hunting gadgets, such as infrared thermal imaging devices or scanners used to enable the investigator to view temperature variations from a distance. They may also use ion counters that measure positive and negative ions in the air that serve to capture anomalous conditions in the haunted environment. One can purchase white noise generators and computer software designed to enhance EVP’s (electromagnet voice phenomenon) in conjunction with laptops and tablet PC’s. The EVP’s are purported to be spirit sounds or
voices that operate on sound frequencies not audible to the human ear. They can only be heard when audio recording devices are played at a later time. Most EVP’s are widely open to interpretation, but they can be tons of fun, and extremely compelling, even to the untrained ear. Nothing says “Boo!” like a good EVP. In contrast to the scientific route of collecting evidence, some paranormal investigating teams are more metaphysically minded and choose to use mystic methods of communicating with the dead. They may defer to Reike Masters, dowsing rods, oldfashioned séances or psychic mediums in their quest for answers. Demonologists and members of the clergy may even be asked to lend a helping hand in extreme cases of negative spiritual energy. Yet other teams use a combination of all of the above in their quest for answers. Whatever the methodology, a healthy dose of skepticism is a necessary component for any ghost hunting crew. Finding real world answers and debunking claims of spiritual activity is a huge part of the process. Sorting out very simple logical explanations from extraordinary evidence requires a rational attitude and the heart of a skeptic. Some paranormal researchers report that greater than 90 % of paranormal claims can be debunked by an experienced team of investigators. Most often, things that go bump in the night can be easily removed by any number of real world problem solving techniques—and plumbers or electricians. But, it is the other 10% that keep the crafty ghost hunters going back for more. Many profound personal experiences with the paranormal are just that. They are profoundly personal and occur spontaneously, and involve the senses of touch or smell in addition to sight and hearing. It can be impossible to adequately share that type of personal experience with others, except by verbal description. Sometimes the sensory perceptions have no particular significance to anyone other than the one who experiences it, and even then it is easier to pass an unexplainable incident off as random cosmic coincidence rather
Some paranormal researchers report that greater than 90 % of paranormal claims can be debunked by an experienced team of investigators.
than to consider spiritual explanations. I don’t believe science will ever confirm the existence of ghosts in the physical world. No scientific link has ever been provided thus far despite the feverish attempts of the world’s ghost hunters to provide one. Scientific methodology is not likely to effectively provide that link. Ghosts do not act on command. Most often when an amazing paranormal event is captured on video or audio equipment, it is a one-timeonly thing; it isn’t likely to happen again in exactly the same way. That makes it extremely difficult to duplicate results over time. It is impossible to validate studies. Does that mean ghosts don’t exist? I think that is up to each individual to decide. I believe there are mysteries in our world that we just won’t solve. I understand the curiosity, the desire to explore the unknown, and like many others, I am fascinated by it. But some things are just not meant to be understood in this lifetime. Someday, we will all know what happens to us when we die. Until then, I hope people will keep on exploring, developing new technology and sharing their experiences.
Psychic Surgery By Alan Cox
Healing and psychic surgery has been with us since man first walked on Earth. Over the centuries it was considered, as many people were afraid of the unexplained results, to be witchcraft. Those people who did not understand put many healers to death. However, as
was asked, at the last minute,
been telling her story each
She asked me to come back
to stand in to do psychic
week in "Take a Break"
the following week. This time
readings at a hotel in a small
magazine, the sister weekly
the healing was gentler and not
village in Worcestershire. This
publication to the one we were
so intense. She said she felt
is the first part of the
being featured in.
energized and could do more in
On arrival my first client was a
Anne told him that we had met
lovely and bubbly young
a young woman in this village
Christmas came, and she
woman.
in Worcestershire and how we
came down with a very heavy
were helping her. She asked if
flu. She was in bed for two
"You know you have health
it was appropriate for him to tell
weeks and at a low point. She
issues and you are determined
this woman about me to see if
recovered in time to go to a
to get well," I told her as we
she could be helped. The
prearranged hospital
began the reading.
photographer said, in an
appointment for a scan. At this
incredulous voice, the name of
point she said she felt great, no
She told me then that she had
this lady and we said yes it's
pain and loads of energy.
been given six months to live
her I was helping.
time went by, there came a more tolerant understanding of healing. As the persecutions stopped, it was acknowledged more as a faith healing. Today, most people have a better understanding of healing and realize it is a universal God given energy that is there for us all to tap into. I have been blessed with the connection to help people in this way. I must state that I do not take credit for the example I am about to tell you about. I am a vessel, or conduit, for God's energy that travels through me from the ‘Doctors’ in spirit. Going back to 2008, my partner Anne and I were featured in "Take a Break Fate and Fortune" magazine, one of the top monthly mainstream magazines in The UK, sold at
A week before the photographer came to our home to do the photo shoot I
The scan revealed that all the
due to aggressive cancers in her liver, kidneys and stomach.
The photographer lived in
cancer had gone; there was not
I put my left hand on her right
Warwickshire, the woman in
a trace anywhere in her body.
lower arm. She said she felt a
Worcestershire and I live in
The doctors couldn’t find an
surge of intense energy go up
Staffordshire; making a perfect
explanation for this.
her arm and down into her
40 mile triangle between all of
She is now able to enjoy her
stomach, back and side. She
us.
life to the fullest. Here is a series of events that
felt energized she told us. She then asked me if I would go to
The following week I went to
cannot be explained except in
her home the following week to
the young woman’s home and
a spiritual way.
give her more healing, which I
she had psychic surgery. I
agreed. This was in the
placed my hand on her
I shouldn't have been at that
November; her diagnosis
stomach, she immediately said
hotel that evening; it was if it
having been that August. The
she thought my hand had gone
had all been prearranged by
meeting at the hotel took place
inside her and felt her insides
God that these connections
on the Tuesday evening and
being pulled and tugged about,
were meant to be.
that coming Saturday was the
but no pain. This was the
Blessings.
photo shoot.
‘Doctor’ in spirit, Dr. David Ingles, doing his work.
all Newspaper shops and supermarkets.
the day as a result.
unexplained happenings.
Just as the photographer was
This went on for around an
about to leave, he was
hour. I don't feel anything while
following a young lady who had
the work is going on; and I
terminal cancer who was
cannot physically move my
determined to beat it. She had
hand until it is complete.
To learn more about Alan Cox or listen to his radio program “Calming Thoughts” go to: calmingthoughts.com.
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The Weeping Arch: My Hometown’s Haunted History By Taylor Young
From the old graveyards to the
Bern has been the setting for
historic homes, my hometown
some of the works of famous
certainly had its encounters
author, Nicholas Sparks,
with the supernatural and the
including “The Notebook.”
paranormal. When I was
Throughout its history, New
growing up, I consistently came
Bern has been an economic
into contact with my
and cultural hub for the eastern
hometown’s history, and it
region of North Carolina. It is
definitely influenced my
no wonder, then, that ghosts
opinions on the spiritual world
have been known to haunt the
and its complexities.
historical downtown areas. Exploring the stories of these
The small town that I grew up
ghosts had become a highlight
in until I was a sophomore in
of the tourism options in my
high school was New Bern,
town. Ghost tours are offered
N.C. Founded in 1710, it is the
regularly that take tourists
2nd oldest town in the state,
through the downtown area
and was founded where two
throughout the year, and a
rivers, named the Neuse River
special tour is offered during
and the Trent River, met. This
the Halloween season.
town is most widely known for being the “Birthplace of Pepsi”
When I was still in middle
in 1898 and for being the first
school, I went with a family
capital of North Carolina. New
friend on the annual Ghost
Bern is also known for the
Walk that took place three
Tryon Palace, a mansion built
evenings of every October.
for the governor a short time
Each year had a focus, and
before the American
you would tour a variety of
Revolution, and it is an icon of
historic sites in the downtown
the tax corruption that
area, and it always started with
upheaved British rule in the
the Cedar Grove Cemetery.
Colonies. More recently, New
This past year, the theme was
Image courtesy of Shutterstock.com
“The Haunted Housewives of
the back of the archway.
experiences with the
New Bern.” What fun would
Although I wasn’t dripped on by
supernatural deepens my
that be? At every site or home
any water that came from the
spirituality and refines it.
that was on the tour, there
actual arch, I had become
Having an instinct about the
were live actors telling the
legitimately nervous, and the
supernatural also gives you an
ghost stories associated with
creepy tone was set for the rest
idea of how real some ideas of
that particular place, and
of the evening.
the occult can be. I definitely believe the ghost stories of
sometimes these actors were portraying the ghosts
As a Christian who has read
New Bern are truer than the
themselves.
about spirits and demons in the
existence of vampires that
Bible, I have never believed it
glitter in the sun. Ghost stories
Although I do not strongly
impossible for supernatural
and history makes me feel at
remember all of the stories that
phenomenon to exist. I like to
home and ideas about life a lot
were told to me on this walk, I
hear any ghost story. I have
more intricate.
remember one particularly
heard stories from my friends’
creepy legend associated with
own experiences, seen movies
the Cedar Grove Cemetery on
about ghosts and demons and
Queen Street. This cemetery
read about them, but the Ghost
was built in 1800 when too
Walk in my hometown had
many yellow fever patients
been the source of some of my
passed away and had filled the
favorites. The Ghost Walk I
local church’s cemetery to
went on made my taste in
capacity. In 1854, an arch was
ghost stories refined because
built within the fencing on the
after going on those tours, I
cemetery, and that is what the
wanted every ghost story I
legend is about. The legend
heard to be historic and as
says that a pallbearer who gets
plausible as possible. I also
dripped on by water from under
had an increased pride in my
the arch will be the next to die.
hometown after the Ghost Walk
Because of the number of
because my town has enough
individual stories that have
history to be haunted, and not
been told about the dripping
too many towns have as many
form the arch, it has become
stories to tell. I have never had
famously known as the
any direct contact with any
Weeping Arch. On the Ghost
spirits, but I have had that
Walk, everyone entered the
feeling of something being
cemetery through this arch
present with me even when I
after hearing this legend. When
was alone. That feeling always
I walked through, I got dripped
reminds me of my encounter
on. I was not marked for death,
with the Weeping Arch. I
however, because the
always accept these feelings
organizers of the walk decided
and the supernatural
to exaggerate the dripping by
possibilities because I believe
hanging an IV bag of water on
that having occasional
If you would like to learn more about the ghost tourism options and the history of in New Bern, N.C., here are some sources below. Ghost Walk: http://newbernhistorical.org/ghost walk/ Ghosts of New Bern: http://www.ghostsofnewbern.com The Weeping Arch: http://hauntedstories.net/mysterie s/north-carolina/weeping-archnew-bern Tours: http://www.visitnewbern.com/wal k_to_remember_tour.php
Letter from Reverend Sue From Me to You Life is full of new beginnings, mine is no different the last year has been a change for me as I have moved from being Sue Thompson (Sue The Word) to Reverend Sue Thompson buts it's only the title that has changed not me I have always been the one that shouldered the pain of others the one who could if needed was there to help and guide, so in many ways life is no different but if you like I have now made it known that I am there for all and am proud to walk the walk and talk the talk. Sometimes in life we need to take that step however big it seems to fulfil our own life's purpose. Taking on the mantel of being a minister gives the opportunity hopefully to inspire others by word or deed to achieve and overcome their own trials and take on the responsibility of living their life to its full potential. Words can ignite so many thoughts, I hope you can find within the following poems something to inspire or comfort you or take away negative thinking. So what do we class as negative. I rather think that there are times when we say or think things that are negative. And don't realise we are giving out vibrations which can be negative. So what can we do? How do we change our thoughts and the concepts around us? There is the old saying a glass can be half full or half empty. Sharing the words I write is my way of giving to the world something that can inspire or uplift maybe create a new thought within you if that happens I have achieved a positive act As you look around you will always see others far worse off than you are. That's why the next time your glass is half empty be thankful you have half a glass full because you could have nothing, and if you have nothing half a glass full would be just amazing. Remember your positive action could change another person’s day Sending my loving thoughts to you all, From Reverend Sue Tewkesbury UK
Reverend Sue will be entertaining us with a new poem each month. To learn more about Reverend Sue please go to: www.tewkesburyspiritualistchurch.com
By Reverend Sue
When You Think Just when you think all is well Turn the corner here comes hell It shakes you up and leads you to The place of darkness there to dwell In fact it’s just a thinking mind That takes away that freedom sign In truth there lies within yourself The true and honest way to move on Your life is but a brief encounter With those around with who you share All day to day work thoughts and treasures At times all seems too much to bear The suffering of ones for whom we care Why should this be we ask The answers not clear How can acceptance come and go Where did the trust now disappear? Why we are just so complex let our thoughts become so clear Then negativity overcomes and once again Our feelings fall away into that deep dark hall Remember now when feeling low Not knowing where to turn or go That all around is ones who care Sending love and light to share So embrace when you can the love that is sent “Just in case you should forget” That even in the darkest hour the light is not so far away Let positive thought invade your mind Create a space so you can find The peace and quite within yourself To take away all pangs of doubt Allow your light to shine once more Then freedom of life will be there to adore
Paranormal Thriller Author Takes on Book Expo America By Sherrie Wilkolaski
It’s true what they say, if you build it and they will come. Jack Heath attended his first Book Expo America event this past Saturday and he was blown away with the response from fans who have read already read the first book in the Salem Witch Trilogy, "Salem VI: Rebecca's Rising" and most raced through book II, "Chain of Souls" with great anticipation of what is to come next in book III. Friend and fellow author, Tom Raffio ("There Are No Do-Overs") was also in attendance. We held a book signing at the Author's Boutique booth, but decided to be adventurous and take the signing on "the road" and ventured out into the Javitz Center looking for just the right spot to attract attention. We found our mecca. Just past the Book Con entrance on the second floor, we positioned ourselves at a crossroads. I started reaching out to one person at a time asking if they liked paranormal and if they would be interested in a free copy of the book that is on it's way to the silver screen, come 2015. People stopped in their tracks and before we knew it, we had a line of eager readers clamoring to meet Jack Heath and learn more about the story. One woman stopped by and was a teach from Harlem who told us her six and seventh grade classes have been learning about the Salem witch trials and they can't get enough of it. She gladly took a copy and asked if Jack would come by and speak to her class. She was thrilled to learn he's a direct descendent of Rebecca Nurse as well as the Putnam's.
Jack Heath talking with Harlem school teacher (right) with Author's Boutique assistant Carol Clinton (middle). Photography ©Sherrie Wilkolaski
Authors Tom Raffio and Jack Heath. Photography ©Sherrie Wilkolaski
Overall a great success. We didn't realize we had set-up shop next to where actor Cary Elwes was promoting his new book his book "AS YOU WISH: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride" which will be published by Touchstone in October. It was fun to compete with this fans.
Did you attend BEA? Please tell us about your experience below. If you haven't read "Salem VI: Rebecca's Rising" or "Chain of Souls" please order your copy at Amazon, Barnesandnoble.com or your local bookstore today!
Cary Elwes at Book Expo America promoting his new book “AS YOU WISH: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride” Photography ©Sherrie Wilkolaski
Jack Heath signing "Salem VI: Rebecca's Rising" for blushing young fan. Photography ©Sherrie Wilkolaski
An Introduction to the Paranormal By Chelsea Wilson
As children our parents do their best to assure us that there is no such thing as ghosts or monsters. Those strange noises and shapes we encounter at night have logical explanations. It’s always just the wind or a shadow, and a nightlight is the only defense needed. I grew up believing these notions to be true. In my mind, accounts of the paranormal were entirely fictitious. I would roll my eyes at the “based on a true story” horror movies and television shows. I would likely still have this outlook on the world had I not met people who opened my eyes to other possibilities. These individuals have taught me to accept that some mysteries can’t be explained away by the wind. My first encounter with someone who was unequivocally interested in the paranormal occurred my freshman year in college. A boy named Daniel sat beside me in my biology class and ended up being one of my lab partners. He always had stories to tell about the supposedly haunted places he would visit in his spare time. Ghost hunting seemed like a strange pastime to me, but I always found Daniel’s stories fascinating. I even went with him on one trip to a house that was said to be haunted. Even though I didn’t experience anything paranormal, I did suddenly develop an interest in ghosts. I began watching those television shows about paranormal research teams just to find potential places to visit one day. Despite Daniel’s best efforts and my new fascination with creepy places, I still didn’t exactly believe in ghosts. It was completely by chance that I met a girl in my literature class my sophomore year who believed in the paranormal world just as much as Daniel did. She, however, had an entirely different view on it. Image courtesy of Ben Earwicker, Garrison Photography, Boise, ID.
Raised by a very superstitious family,
suddenly felt as if someone was standing
Caroline believed in nearly everything:
behind me. I even imagined that I could
Ghosts, vampires, witches, and more.
hear them breathing. I chalked it up to
Unlike Daniel, she never went looking
paranoia caused by Emily and forced
for these things. She believed that
myself to remain calm.
messing with the supernatural only led to suffering. She was horrified that I
Thirty minutes later, I was having trouble
had gone looking for spirits and would
staying that way. Several times we heard
tell me stories and legends to try and
more sounds in the hallway, which
scare me from doing it again.
sounded very similar to footsteps. Then, to my complete surprise, a cabinet in the
While I was hesitant to believe
kitchen actually opened while we were all
anything Caroline said, her genuine
in the living room. We heard a creaking
fear began to make me wonder if
noise, turned to look behind us, and could
maybe I was wrong. It also seemed
see that a cabinet that had been closed all
like a strange coincidence that I met
night was suddenly wide open.
“It suddenly felt as if someone was standing behind me.”
Daniel and Caroline in such a short period of time. Still, nothing completely
Despite thoroughly investigating the
convinced me that there might be more
kitchen and cabinet itself, I could come up
than just us here until I saw proof for
with no explanation for it. Nor could I
myself.
shake the persistent feeling of being
Maori Art
watched. I even thought I saw a figure Emily is a girl I grew up with. She has
walking down the hallway before I left.
always been calm, easygoing, and
Emily was nearly in tears by that time and
never prone to drama. When she told
I have to admit that I was a bit disturbed,
me her boyfriend’s childhood home
also. Emily’s boyfriend, who had grown up
was haunted, I was instantly interested
in the house seeing and hearing strange
in seeing it for myself. One night a few
things, even seemed wary of just how
weeks later, Emily, her boyfriend and I
much activity occurred that night.
sat in the living room of his house to begin watching a comedy; I could have
I can’t say for certain that the house was
never guessed that I was about to get
definitely haunted. My own mind could
my first real glimpse at the paranormal
have caused some of what I thought I saw
world.
and heard, but I was spooked enough that I didn’t go back when invited.
About twenty minutes into the movie, Emily began shaking my arm violently
Daniel, Caroline, and Emily are the reason
when she heard a shuffling sound in
that I am now more open-minded to the
the hallway. Not expecting much, I got
paranormal. I have realized that I don’t
up and looked into the hallway and the
know everything and there is the real
rooms connected to it. I didn’t find any
possibility that we are not alone. There
sign of what caused the noise and
are too many accounts of supernatural
decided that it was probably nothing
events and experiences to simply ignore,
serious.
especially when adding my own to the list.
On the way back to the living room, where the other two had remained, I
Image courtesy of sanja gjenero.
Who is David Ashworth and What is The Emerald Heart? By Sherrie Wilkolaski
David Ashworth
We live in a big world with billions of people in
SW: David, where are you from and what kind of upbringing did you
it and occasionally you come across someone
have?
who is extraordinary and you ask yourself, “Why
DA: I was born in north Manchester in the United Kingdom to a fairly ordinary,
have I never come across this person before?”
but hard working family, who had drive and enthusiasm to get on in the world. That is probably where I get my work ethic from; it must be in the genes.
David Ashworth is a Visionary; a trailblazer,
(Laughs). I went to fairly ordinary schools, not grammar schools, and my
philosopher; an original thinker and doer and a
senior school was a church school, not that that meant much to me in terms of
leader in his field, as well as an author with
understanding either the church or religion. I don’t think I was over intelligent
several spiritual books to his name. He is
or even smart and certainly didn’t fit in very well with the others. I sort of went
someone both of this time, but also ahead of it
to school because I was sent there and didn’t really question why, not that I
in many ways. The Emerald Heart is a spiritual
could have opted out of it. I did reasonably well, but nothing outstanding. In
light for the evolution of human consciousness
fact my school report usually said, ‘Could do better, but doesn’t apply himself.’
that was given to David in January 2005. He
Well, how many times have you heard that about people who ultimately did
formed The Emerald Heart School of
quite well in the world?
Enlightenment shortly after to share the teachings that he was given.
However, I was an avid reader. I used to keep a secret library under my pillow from a young age and would read until I dropped to sleep each night. I would
In a series of interviews, we are going to speak
read anything and everything. My mother told me that I could actually read
with David and get to know something about his
before I went to school, around three years old and the written word has
life and work.
played a huge part in my adult life. When I was about 18 years old, I was the buyer of food supplies for a hotel and one day I went to a ship’s stores to make some purchases. The manager was a young chap around 22 years of
“In hindsight, I can see how the universe was preparing me…” age and once we had collected the supplies, he sat at a typewriter to make out the invoice. I was fascinated, as in those days, the only people who typed were the girls in the office or typing pool. I had never seen a man type before. That afternoon, I went to a local store and ordered a Pitman typing manual. I knew that I just had to have this skill under my belt. In my early 20s I had the opportunity to learn how to be a typesetter and a few years later started my own typesetting business and then spent the next 20 years typing all day. Clearly the Universe was guiding me from that very first introduction to typing and I still love it, spending many hours a day communicating across the world with my fingers on the keys. Working with my old apprentice from the typesetting days, we have produced all my books together, just for the fun of it because we love type. SW: David, what did you want to do when you left school? DA: Well, I had no idea what I wanted to do. In fact, with a birthday in November, I had the opportunity to leave school a half year earlier than others, and so I left in the Easter at 15 years of age. I worked in a pub, then an engineering firm for about six months, then I was apprenticed to a commercial artist. I have no idea how that came about as I had no artistic talent whatsoever and so I left that after about six months of getting nowhere. I then left home and moved several hundred miles away and worked as a builder’s mate, gaining some interesting life experiences along the way, until ending up more or less running a small hotel. I literally drifted into any opportunity that came my way. I guess I was a personable guy and so people offered me jobs, but I had no drive or desire to be or do anything in particular. SW: Did you have any early spiritual experiences? DA: No, in fact nothing at all. However, I always felt that I had some kind of close connection with Jesus the man. I would chat to him whilst driving the car and in many other ordinary daily life situations. I would just chat to him as you would a close friend. On several occasions I did actually think that I might like to become a member of the clergy, training as a priest. Something was calling me from an early age I think, but it wasn’t the church, as I didn’t seem to understand most of what was happening in their services and having been to a church school I had attended a lot of church services and always found them a real struggle from the perspective of total and utter boredom. Many times I initiated conversations with friends, asking them what they thought God was, or did they believe in a God. I remember clearly one night with friends, when I was about 25, feeling so full of the energy of life that I said to my friend, “There
must be more to life than just living, for how can we contain so much energy, which is literally bursting out of us?” Of course, Kirlian Photography can photograph this life-force these days, but back in the 70s there was not much in the way of scientific evidence for the electro-magnetic make-up of what we are. Rather than having any early spiritual experiences, I was so afraid of anything of a psychic nature, that I would not even read my astrological profile in the daily newspaper. With my knowledge today, clearly I had suffered some difficult experiences on the spiritual path in previous lives to have come into this life with a brick wall between myself and anything of a psychic nature. Yet, I did have a fascination with crystals, having bought my first amethyst when I was about 12 or 13, and had also read books on chakras in my late teens, so clearly something was bubbling. I definitely had an awareness of the Gurus of east. SW: When did things begin to open up for you spiritually David? DA: In hindsight, I can see how the universe was preparing me, as with the typing for example. As a younger man, I was perhaps a little brash and dismissive of others - I had a lot of lessons to learn- because I was so focused on life and absolutely full to bursting point with the energy to live life to the full. I also had quite a strong ego. Well, part of the preparation was in the Universe choosing to help me smash the ego and in my mid-twenties I had a serious breakdown, essentially through burning the candle at both ends and in the middle too. I lived life to the max and on the edge, always pushing the boundaries, as it were. I reached a point where something had to give and slipped into a psychosis and began to hallucinate. It was a horrendous time where I thought I had lost my mind completely and began to experience the fine line between everyday sanity and not being able to function at all through being overwhelmed with fear and panic attacks. It took me ten years to recover and in that period I completely lost my old personality and my ego into the bargain, coming out the other side a much more thoughtful and considerate person, as I rebuilt my life. Again, in hindsight, I discovered that what the universe put me through was a massive learning experience to do with understanding the aura. After my awakening, I was dragged kicking and screaming into becoming a healer. As my vision expanded, I could see that what I had actually experienced was not so much a breakdown, but a totally destroyed aura, but through careful self- management and a bit of assistance, no doubt, from upstairs, I managed to get myself together again over that ten year period. By then I was around 35 years old, married and with two children, running my typesetting business. The next massive blow to my life followed about three years later when my awakening began. SW: Perhaps you will tell us something about that next time David? DA: Yes, I would be delighted to. Thank you very much.
To learn more about David go to: www.davidashworth.com.
Between Life and Death By David Marchant
“To be or not to be, that is the question.� First line from Shakespeare's Hamlet, 1602 Over seven tenths of the total surface area of planet Earth is covered in water, yet in contrast to its ubiquity, water holds the unique property of existing in three distinct states within the normal range of temperatures and pressures that prevail upon our planet. Imagine having to explain to someone who had not received the benefit of a traditional school education that a glacier, an ocean and a cloud all consisted of an identical molecular structure and as such was categorised as a single substance . So, if asked, how might we describe what water really is in light of the fact that it co-exists on our planet in the three very distinct and seemingly separate conditions of a solid, a fluid and a vapour. In other words what makes water, water? What is the essence of water as opposed to its physical state of being? It appears circumstantially that the true nature of water must endure independently from that of its physical condition. If this is indeed true of water, then what of other physical matter upon Earth, perhaps even humans. After all, we are described as human beings are we not, but is that to say that we are simply being human and that our true nature actually exists independently of that of our condition? Such is the nature of the philosophical debates of the ages, in particular that of the ancient Greeks who not only dared to contemplate such matters but also made a profession out of it. In support of the hypothesis that our true nature exists independently of our state of being, I have detailed below an account of a personal experience I
inadvertently received whilst working within the UK medical profession in the early 1980’s. I hasten to add that I was not working as a nurse or a member of the medical staff, but rather as an in-house electronics engineer responsible for first line maintenance, calibration and repair of the ever-growing number of electrical devices that were populating the most critical area of the hospital I was assigned too. Although some thirty years or so have passed since the occasion of this event, I found the experience to be so profound that the memory of it remains with me to date. Having arrived at work one day, I was greeted and then instructed by my immediate boss that my task for the morning was to drop in at the Coronary Care Unit (CCU) of the hospital and check that the nurses and medical staff who worked there had not turned up the brightness of the screens of the bedside monitors to such an extent that the beam that was tracing out the patients heart rhythm, was in danger of permanently damaging the device, as was their custom. Furthermore, I was instructed that should I find evidence of this practice, I was to alter the maximum externally selectable intensity of the beam to a safe level by adjustment of an electronic component within the machine itself that was not accessible to the nurses and medical staff. Dutifully I arrived at the CCU and set about my task having first been granted permission to do so by the senior nurse in
charge. Moving from bed to bed I eventually came across a bedside monitor whose screen was so great in intensity that it required immediate attention. I introduced myself to the patient to whom the monitor was connected and explained my intention to recalibrate the equipment whilst simultaneously trying to reassure him that these adjustments were a regular requirement within the department and were not born as a consequence of his particular medical condition. Unfortunately, my polite bedside manner did not solicit a response from the patient and thus I commenced the task at hand without his approval. With the side off the machine and tools spread upon the bedside table, I suddenly became aware that the patient’s heart rhythm had faded to a flat line upon the monitor screen and as a result the patient and I were quickly surrounded by the emergency crash team. Beating a hasty retreat, I abandoned my work and my tools to allow the medical staff to work on reviving the patient. Sometime later the same morning I received a call from the staff of the CCU to say that all was well and that I could now return and finish the work I had begun. Remarkably, upon my return, the patient was not only conscious but responsive too. Consequently I re-emphasised the reason for being at his bedside and sought once again to reassure him that this work was not born as a consequence of his particular medical condition. To my astonishment the patient then proceeded to engage me in a conversation as follows: Patient: “I saw you, you know” Me: “Saw what?” Patient: “I saw you working on this machine they have me connected to. Have you fixed it yet?”
Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What do you mean you saw me working on this machine?” Patient: (getting a little annoyed with me) “I saw you working on this machine and then I saw them over there (referring to the staff) gather round the bed.” Not wishing to annoy him further with my ignorance especially in light of his obvious frailty I changed tack. Me: “When did you see me and from where?” Patient: “From up there (gesturing toward the ceiling). I saw it all. I saw myself too.” Incredibly, the patient who was in effect unconscious at the time he described, was able to give me a detailed account of the events immediately following the cessation of the beating of his heart, witnessed through the medium of an out of body experience or some form of projected consciousness. Having completed the adjustment of the equipment, I could not help but confront the medical staff with what I naively considered would prove to be some form of revelation. To my surprise, the staff did not seem to consider my experience to be anything out of the ordinary and passed it off as such. I did however get the distinct impression that whilst frequently experienced by the staff of the unit, events such the one I had just experienced, were not readily spoken of. The example above is a true account of the extraordinary event that took place that day back in the early 1980’s. I relate this story to you solely for the purposes of illustration of the concept that our true nature, that which makes you the person that you are and me the person that I am, could in fact endure independently of our current physical condition. If the element of water can exist in such distinct and separate forms but still retain its identity, then why not us? Moreover, do we possess the capacity as human beings to transcend that of the realm of physical being in favour of not being, if only for a moment and without necessarily having to endure a near death experience?
Patient: “From up there (gesturing toward the ceiling). I saw it all. I saw myself too.”
Book Excerpt
MOJO By Kris Sedersten
On a country road four miles north of the small farming town of Harvard, Nebraska, a black Dooley pickup sat on a forgotten dirt lateral road once used by local farmers. Traffic had largely been rerouted to roads maintained by the county, in recent years, so the isolated back road was rarely used. The truck was well hidden; tucked away, behind a wall of rogue bushes and tall, thick trees. The man in the driver’s seat yawned; patiently waiting. He glanced out toward the hilly road to his right. His gaze automatically darting to the carefully spaced spikes he’d planted under the loose gravel a few hours earlier. The sun was rapidly sinking in the western sky, spilling pink and orange hues across the horizon. The sharp, shiny tips of the hidden steel would soon be impossible to see in the fading light and the man smiled to himself. A small, light-colored SUV came into view and flew up the hill toward the spikes in the road, kicking up a trail of dust that blew behind it in a long, billowy tail. The man in the truck smirked, and the smug, self-satisfied grin slowly widened across his face while he licked his lips in anticipation. “Let the games begin!” He whispered under his breath. When the approaching vehicle topped the hill, the buried spikes immediately hit their intended mark. Both front tires blew at the same time, and the small Tracker jeered dangerously out of control. Maria, the young Hispanic woman behind the wheel, fought desperately to keep the car under control, but it swerved from one side of the road to
the other. The thick layer of loose gravel on the rough surface made it even more difficult to keep it centered between the ditches, and it slid sideways for several hundred yards before straightening up again, still fishtailing. Elia, the girl in the passenger seat screamed, clutching onto the dashboard with both hands, trying to remain upright in the seat. The road was narrow, and the steep ditches on either side were scattered with trees and wild shrubbery. At the bottom of the hill, a narrow wooden bridge loomed in the fading light, and the driver slammed her foot on the brake pedal with full force, hoping to avoid the collision. The vehicle
finally came to rest only a few feet in front of the bridge railing, and wound up situated almost sideways, dangerously close to the edge of the road. Initially, the two teen-aged occupants were in a state of semi-shock. They huddled together in stunned silence, too terrified to make any movements in either direction, for fear the car would topple off of the road altogether. After unbuckling their seat belts, they hugged one another, each looking for validation that the other was safe and still in one piece. They laughed and cried at the same time, grateful to have escaped injury, or worse. The man in the black truck watched the near-collision from his hidden spot on the hill. His plan was falling into place perfectly, and he looked on in eager curiosity, impatient for the darkness to fall. He lit up a cigarette, slowly inhaled a deep draw of smoke, and exhaled it in small bursts of perfect circles, sending smoke rings wafting in the air through his open window. Once the girls were completely satisfied that neither was injured, they exited the Tracker to check out the
damage. Both of them used the driver’s side door to avoid tempting fate by putting too much weight on the passenger side of the car that was closest to the ditch. The driver, being the older of the two, attempted to make a call for help on her cell phone while they looked over the flat tires. There was rarely good reception on the hilly country roads between the small towns in Clay County, and she quickly found that this evening was no exception. Her phone was not responding. The girls soon discovered that both front tires were obliterated, with literally nothing left of them, but random patches of black rubber clinging to the rims in bizarre patterns of torn tread. They were dismayed by the extent of the damage, realizing it would put a serious crimp in their plans for the evening. They had no idea what they’d hit, but it was obvious that they were stranded on the gravel road for the time being, and it was getting darker by the minute, making them even more uncomfortable with their situation. Initially conversing in Spanish, they discussed the possibility of walking the four miles back to Harvard, where they’d come from. Neither was anxious to walk the country
Maria slowly walked down the road; putting distance between her and the others. roads in the dark. They had an engagement in the nearby town of Giltner, where they were scheduled to sing the Gospel at a diversity celebration in the community church. But they weren’t going to make it there any time soon, and they regretted the decision to take the short cut through the country that had seemed like such a good idea some twenty minutes earlier.
conservative brown slacks and blouse she was wearing. “You always gotta be the diva! Maybe you’d be better off goin’ barefoot!”
Together, they searched for a spare tire in the storage compartment of the Tracker. Though neither had ever changed a flat tire before, they were desperate enough to give it a try. The daylight was disappearing and they hated the thought of struggling with the unfamiliar task in the dark, but the older girl searched through the back end of the vehicle, and located the one spare tire they had in their possession, along with a jack, and a tire iron.
Both girls frantically waved their arms, signaling for the oncoming vehicle to stop. It was common in Nebraska for farmers and townspeople to stop and help stranded motorists on the road. People were neighborly like that in and around Harvard. The hope of rescue was alive, and the girls were ecstatic at the renewed possibility of being on time for their debut at the church.
Elia dug out the owner’s manual from the Tracker’s glove compartment and she scanned the material for instructions to guide them in changing the flat tires, while the darkness continued to fall. She was impatient and frustrated at not finding the information she needed. She tossed the book onto the seat beside her, and started to voice her complaints. “I don’t see why we’re messin’ with this, Maria,” Elia said, pointing out the obvious. “Even if we can change one-a the tires, we aren’t gonna be able to drive on the other one!” “I know that: But at least it’s givin’ us somethin’ to do besides just sit here and look stupid,” Maria snapped.” Maybe we really should just start walkin’ toward Giltner. I think there’s a farmhouse just a couple of miles down the road.” “Not if we keep goin’ toward Giltner,” Elia argued. “There’s nothin’ for at least five miles in the direction, 'cept maybe a cemetery, and cornfields. None-a that is gonna help us.” “Well, let’s head back to Harvard, then. This is gettin’ ridiculous! Whoever heard of two flat tires at the same time? How can that even happen?” Elia looked down at her shoes, wishing she had on a good pair of tennis shoes instead of her high heeled dress pumps. “Whatever! Let’s just do it. But my feet are gonna die in these shoes!” She smoothed out her tight fitting little black dress and sighed. “Hey, at least I still look good!” “I’m glad I wore flats!” Maria said appreciating the
Before Elia could respond, the welcome sight of headlights came toward them from over the top of the hill.
“Stop! Stop!” Elia yelled out to the driver of the big black truck that was rapidly approaching them. “Please stop!” Maria joined her, jumping up and down on the side of the road. “Help! Please help us!” The enormous Dooley pickup pulled over to the side of the road just a few feet from the crippled Tracker. The roar of the engine quieted as the driver hopped down from the cab and joined the girls on the road. They were immediately put at ease by the friendly stranger and his air of confidence. It was difficult to see his face in the fading light but he laughed a lot when he spoke and he was pleasant; reassuring. Then, after checking the damage, the man was certain he had another spare tire in the back of his truck that would fit their vehicle, and he insisted upon changing the tires for them; just as they had hoped. Taking control of the situation, the stranger walked back to his truck and gathered the necessary tools. He engaged the girls in small talk while he assembled the jack and rolled a usable tire closer to the Tracker. It was indeed exactly the right size and they couldn’t believe their luck. Elia was talkative, and she readily joked with the stranger as he worked on the first tire, while Maria slowly walked down the road; putting distance between her and the others. Being the responsible one, she was determined to let Reverend Carter at the church know why they were late for their engagement and she didn’t want anyone to worry about them. It was dark now, but she could see fairly well from the headlights of the Tracker that was perched cockeyed on the side of the road; and she appreciated that while she meandered closer to the old bridge, still trying to find reception on her cell phone.
Meanwhile, the man carefully explained each step in the process of changing the flat tire to his captive audience. Elia listened closely, grateful for the crash course in auto mechanics, taking mental notes for future reference.
About the Author
He eyed her carefully while he went through the motions of preparing the tire. She was a beautiful girl with long black hair and delicate facial features. She was a little too petite for his taste, but her tiny figure looked strong and well put together just the same. Elia was bent over the tire, concentrating on the task at hand, when from out of nowhere she felt a blinding pain in the right side of her skull. She slumped to the ground, trying to raise her arm up to hold her head and stop the agony, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Terror seized her as she felt consciousness slipping away. Awareness faded into a foggy blur, but not before she realized that the tire iron the helpful stranger still held in his hand was now covered with dripping blood—her blood—that flowed down the metal bar and melted onto the ground beside her face. She had a fleeting thought of her boyfriend and she pictured herself safely cuddled in his arms. Then everything faded to black. The stranger started to whistle while he bent over to scoop the girl up in his arms. He swung her limp body over his shoulder and carried her over to the back of his truck. He flipped the tailgate open with one hand and plopped her body into the truck bed. She landed with a thud on a ragged assortment of spare tires that lined the bottom of the box.
Kris Sedersten is a Registered Nurse with a degree in Human and Social Service Administration. She has held credentialing in both Gerontological and Psychiatric-Mental Health Nursing. She is currently employed as a Nursing Home Administrator and RN Consultant in her home town of Harvard NE. where she lives with her husband, Paul and their mini-doxies, Chloe and Bailey. Kris has three adult daughters, Lyndsi, Ashley, and Sara who continually enlighten her with their inspiration and unconditional love. Her eight grandchildren bring delight and imagination to the empty nest whenever possible to remind her that the world is always more fun when viewed with childlike wonder. Kris has a passion for the paranormal, writing fiction, and sharing her faith in innovative forums so combining the three has led to a series of books she is working on. Mojo and Lost Mojo are the first two books in her series. She is founder and lead investigator of Synergy Paranormal Investigations.
Learn more about Kris at: http://www.krissedersten.com/
Book Excerpt
Salem VI: Rebecca’s Rising By Jack Heath and John Thompson
Prologue Burlington, Vermont, October 17, 1978 THE MAN STOOD IN THE SHADOWS, SHIVERING, rocking from foot to foot to keep his toes from freezing and watched his breath whiten in the cold air. It was only mid-October, but up here in Vermont the unseasonably frigid night felt like January. Across the street the lights of Davis Hall burned through the clear air and reflected a dull glow off the frost-rimmed grass. The man checked his watch. Nearly four a.m. Most of the college kids seemed to have turned in for the night, because the vast majority of the room lights were off. The man didn’t care about most of the kids at all. He cared about one single kid, in room 321, and he didn’t care about him in the way a parent might. He cared about him the way a risk management specialist cares about looming liability. The kid wasn’t a problem yet, but the man knew he had the potential to become a big problem. Nobody knew exactly when it might happen, but according to people who knew more about this than he, the kid had begun to glow with awareness in the past couple days. It was way too early. It was pure luck that somebody with the ability to see such things had spotted him and gotten word back to Salem. Awareness didn’t normally develop, if it ever did, until much later in life, but if people said it was happening now, the man wasn’t going to argue. As a self-defined risk management specialist, his job was to nip problems like this in the bud. He looked again at the window of room 321. It had been dark for two hours, and he knew the room’s three occupants were totally dead to the world.
He’d made sure of that, because earlier that afternoon, dressed as a University of Vermont janitor, he had picked the lock on their room and injected their pony keg with a little mixture of his own, a concentrate of dissolved sleeping pills that would put them down deeper than the alcohol ever could. The whole point was to make sure they were sufficiently unconscious so the smoke and heat could do their job. And now as he watched the window, he saw the first wisp of smoke escape. It was very subtle.
If he hadn’t been staring at the window he never would have seen it. It meant that the very small incendiary device he had planted in one of the room’s electrical outlets had ignited and was starting to feed on the old dormitory’s walls. The device would never be detectable, not after the tinderbox dorm had fully caught fire. And it would definitely catch fire. He knew this because earlier that evening he had also disabled the dorm’s sprinkler system. The three boys in the room would be dead within fifteen minutes. No doubt some other kids would die, too, but that couldn’t be helped. It would be collateral damage, just like what the papers used to call it a few years earlier when the Air Force accidentally napalmed a village in Vietnam. John Andrews tossed his head from side to side on his pillow and wondered for the hundredth time if he was going to hurl. Maybe two hours earlier when he’d gone to bed he’d suffered through the exact same thing, and now here it was back, the room spinning like a top. He cursed himself for sucking down so much of the pony keg he and his suitemates had tapped. Stupid, really
stupid, he told himself. But then he corrected himself, he really hadn’t swilled that much beer. He’d drunk more lots of other nights and not felt half as smashed. Same with his suitemates. Both guys could usually hold their beer, but they’d both been slurring their words, and when they first went to bed he was pretty sure he’d heard one of them barfing out the living room window. Now, strangely, he was awake again, and it was still the middle of the night, and he had the bed spins for the second time in a couple hours. How was this possible? Usually when he went to sleep with a load on, he slept like the dead until sometime around noon the next day. Only something had disturbed him. He struggled to remember. Had it been a shout? If that was it then he’d heard it in a dream because it had been an old lady’s voice, but a harsh and forceful voice and incredibly loud, and there weren’t any old ladies in Davis Hall. In spite of having a terrible case of the spins he was
“Fire! Get up!” he croaked. keeping his eyes closed and starting to sink back into sleep. He was so totally out of it he didn’t even care if he blew lunch all over his bed. But then he heard the voice again. “Get up!” The voice slammed him, as impossible to ignore as a dental drill in his ear. Actually it was even worse than that because it was coming from inside his head, like some strange old lady was locked in there wanting to get out. He struggled to open his eyes, working hard against the heaviness of alcohol, feeling like a diver trying to swim to the surface in a pool filled with Jell-O. Had it been beer or tequila shots he’d been drinking? He really hadn’t had that much to drink. How could he feel this hammered? He heard the voice a third time, a female drill sergeant shouting, “Get up!” and this time it slices through his drunkenness like a sharp knife cutting through rope. Knowing he had to stand if only to stop the painful caterwauling in his brain, he slid one foot out of bed and put it flat on the floor. Weird. Davis Hall had a lousy heating system so the floor should have been cold, but it was hot. In fact, it was really hot. He pushed himself up on one elbow, took a deep breath through his mouth, and right away started to cough. Boy, am I a mess, he thought as he continued to hack. He tried to suck down another breath, but it caught in his lungs like a jagged piece of chicken bone. He sat up reflexively, and that was when he began to realize that, between the hot floor and the air, he had a much bigger problem.
Strangely, the man did not move. John blinked. Was he imagining this? Smoke was pouring out the window all around him, but the guy wasn’t budging? The smoke had to be easily visible from across the street, and yet the man continued to stare up at the dorm like he was waiting for something to happen, or maybe like he was looking directly at John. What was wrong with this jerk? “Move!” Another shout pierced his brain, the feeling like somebody was stabbing the inside of his skull with an ice- pick. It made him forget about the guy and think about his roommates and all the other people on the floor. Where had the fire started? Did they know about it? Were they already evacuating? Why weren’t the alarms going off? Weren’t there supposed to be sprinklers? Feeling a surge of panic he left the window open, got down on his hands and knees where the smoke was much thinner, and crawled toward his door. On the way he pulled on the jeans he had thrown off when he got into bed and pulled on his boots. He didn’t bother to lace them. The bedroom door was hot, but no hotter than the floor. He opened it and looked out. More smoke, but thankfully no sign of flames. He crawled into the living room, found a pitcher of beer that was still three-quarters full then grabbed a crumpled sweatshirt off the floor nearby, soaked it with the beer, and held it against his face like a filter. Then he crawled to the door that led to his roommates’ bedroom. When he turned on the wall light he could barely make out two lumpy forms under the blankets on the two beds. “Fire! Get up!” he croaked.
He was still coughing, nearly retching, as he reached over and fumbled for his bedside lamp. When it came on a surge of panic helped sober him because he saw that the room was full of thick gray smoke, so much that he couldn’t even make out the door about ten feet away. He lurched out of bed, stumbled to the window, and threw it open. He shoved his head into the cold air and took deep breaths until he stopped coughing. Slowly, as his brain started to work he looked down three stories to the frozen ground, and then his eyes went across the street to where a man was standing in the shadows. The man was nearly invisible, just a shadow slightly darker than the night, but John hesitated because he thought the man was staring up at him. “Help,” he called, his voice hoarse from coughing and barely more than a whisper. “Fire.”
Neither one moved. John crawled to the window, stood up, and heaved it open to let in some fresh air. He stuck his head out and took a quick breath so his lungs could work. “Get up! Get up!” he shouted. At that, Steve, one of the suitemates, made a groaning sound and started to cough. John crawled over and jerked him out of bed and onto the floor. “Wha’re you doin’, man?” he mumbled, barely coherent. He seemed terrible out of it, much drunker than he should have been given how much beer they’d consumed. “The dorm’s on fire.” John slapped him hard across the face. “Wake up!”
“Get out as quick as you can, okay?” he said. Steve barely seemed to register the slap. John dragged him to the window, pulled him up, and hung him out. “Breathe!” He left Steve and crawled over to Mike’s bed. Like he had with Steve, he grabbed Mike by the arm and jerked him to the floor. “Lemme ‘lone,” Mike slurred. John slapped him just the way he had Steve, alarmed at how little Mike responded. He dragged him over to the window and pulled him to his feet beside Steve, and a second later both suitemates were hanging out the window coughing. “Stay here,” John said. “Don’t leave the window unless you can get out on your own. I’m gonna go pull the alarm and knock on the other doors on the hall. I’ll be back in a minute.” John crawled toward the door that led into the hallway, felt it, and realized it was hotter than the other doors had been but still not in flames. He cracked the door, half afraid a wall of fire would come shooting inside. He was relieved to see only thick walls of smoke in both directions. He tried to recall where the smoke alarm was located. They had showed him during freshman orientation, but of course he hadn’t paid attention. To the left was a double with two girls, one from Massachusetts, the other from Virginia. He had fantasized about getting the blond from Virginia into bed, but now he only thought about keeping her alive. He tried the door handle, but it was locked. He banged on the door, then swiveled around, sat on his butt, and hammered the door with both feet. The third time the lock gave and the door swung inward. “Get up!” he shouted. Fortunately the girls had gone to bed reasonably sober. They were coughing, but they woke up and got their window open.
With the alarm blaring, he continued on. That’s when he saw the flames glowing lurid and yellow through the smoke. He also saw the bathroom door. Knowing what he had to do next, he crawled into the shower, turned it on, and soaked himself from head to toe, then tore the shower curtain from the rod and soaked it as well. Crawling back into the hallway, he took the biggest breath he could, stood, and wrapped the dripping shower curtain around his head and torso and ran toward the flames at the farthest end of the hallway. His lungs were burning before he’d gotten halfway, but there was nothing he could do. The wall just past the last room door was totally in flames. He grabbed the door handle and jerked his hand away because the metal was so hot it blistered his skin. He took the shower curtain, put a thick wad of it against the handle, and tried again. The door was unlocked, and he stumbled inside, went straight to the window, and jerked it up. He sucked down a couple quick gulps of air then went to the single bed in the room. He tried to wake the sleeper, but she did not open her eyes. John could hear voices in the hallway now as other students from other floors responded to the alarm and began to knock on other doors, making sure everyone was out. “Two guys in three-twenty-one!” he shouted into the smoke. “Get them out.” He went back to the window, took one more breath, returned to the bed, and heaved the girl over his shoulder. She was deadweight, nearly impossible to carry in his current condition. John stumbled to the door, which was now on fire. He shouldered it open, felt a lick of flame on his exposed ear and neck and kept moving, passing open doorways as headed toward the stairway at the far end of the hall. As he was going down the stairs he met two campus security officers coming up. They took the comatose student from his shoulders. “Any others up there?”
“Get out as quick as you can, okay?” he said. As soon as they said they would, he crawled out and since the girls’ room was the end of the corridor, he went in the other direction. He kicked in three more doors and got the occupants out of bed before he managed to spot the fire alarm in the near darkness. He stood up, broke the glass, and pulled the switch. Suddenly the loud smoke alarm filled the hallways with noise.
John nodded as he bent over coughing. “Gotta check on my suitemates,” he managed after a few seconds. “Three- twenty-one.” “We got ‘em both a minute ago,” one of the officers said. They carried the unconscious student out and helped make sure John got down the stairs. When he stumbled into the freezing Vermont night, he realized he wasn’t
wearing a shirt. At the same time the cold air lit up the burned skin on his hand and his ear and neck. The pain nearly took him to his knees, but he didn’t think about that. He was thinking about the guy who had stood and watched the smoke roil out around him when he opened the window and who hadn’t done a damn thing to help. John pushed past the security officer who was trying to get him over to an ambulance where EMTs were treating students for burns or smoke inhalation and headed across the street to where the man had been standing. He wanted to find the jerk and drive his fist right into his nose, and he looked around, trying to recall exactly what the guy had looked like. He could only remember a dark silhouette. The guy hadn’t been too short or tall and hadn’t been particularly fat or skinny. He’d probably been wearing a down parka and stocking cap like everyone else in Vermont in late October.
How could he forget her? He’d never heard a voice with so much power. He was about to walk out of the room when he glanced once more at what was left of his desk and the skeletons of burned books atop it. As he scowled at the destruction, he noticed something white on the floor. Out of curiosity he went over to see what had managed to keep its color amid all the char. On the far side of his desk where it had apparently fallen to the floor in all the confusion, he could see what looked like one of his papers. He bent over and picked it up, feeling the wetness of the pages that had somehow survived. He let out a sarcastic laugh because except for some black singe at the bottom of the cover sheet, they looked almost perfect. The paper’s title, “Rebecca Nurse: A Wrongful Death in Salem’s Witch Trials,” was still crisply legible.
The only feature that had been distinctive had been the guy’s eyes. Even from across the street John had felt the…what…the hatred that had seemed to make them burn brighter than the night. Well, if he found the guy, John was going to make him understand what hatred really felt like.
“Dude, what’s funny about this?” his roommate Steve asked from the doorway.
Late the next day, wearing thick bandages on his neck, ear, and right hand and still loopy from the prescription painkillers he’d been given, John accompanied his suitemates when they got permission to go back into what had been their college freshman room. A fireman led them up the stairs and down the corridor where water still dripped from the ceiling. What was left of the blackened carpet squished under their feet, and the reek of smoke came from every surface. The pony keg they had tapped was now a puddle of melted aluminum. John went into his old bedroom and saw that nearly all his clothing, bedding, books, shoes, ski and hockey gear, and UVM knapsack had been burned or badly charred. The few items hanging in his closet that hadn’t been burned were soaked with soot-colored water that had dripped from above and heavy with the permanent stench of smoke.
He looked again at the paper and below it his name and the date, Sunday, October 17, 1978. Rebecca Nurse, his distant ancestor, he thought, recalling the family portrait of the woman that hung in his great aunt’s house. She had been a grim-faced Puritan with a face like a Rottweiler, but it was weird because it had almost seemed like he had felt her presence looking down on him when he wrote the paper. It was probably her he had conjured up in his dream to make himself wake up. He snorted another laugh as he tucked the paper under his arm and headed out of the room. He was thinking Rebecca Nurse was so ugly she could probably wake the dead, so it was nothing for her to wake up a drunk college student.
He turned a slow circle, studied the devastation, remembering how little beer he’d actually drunk but how smashed he’d felt when he went to bed. It was a miracle he was still alive because he knew how soundly he slept when he’d had a few. What had woken him? Had it really been a dream? He remembered the shouting old woman.
“This.” John held up the paper. “I just finished typing it yesterday. Somehow it survived. I can still hand it in. Go figure.”
“Rebecca Nurse: A Wrongful Death in Salem’s Witch Trials,” was still crisply legible.
Chapter One Salem, Massachusetts, October 17, 2012 JOHN ANDREWS PULLED THE COVERS BACK from his face, slowly opened his eyes, and croaked out a curse. The early dawn light that managed to make its way through his curtains hurt like a stab wound. “Crap,” he said as he elbowed himself into a sitting position, put his feet on the cold floor, and started to bat his hands in the direction of the alarm. Some idiot announcer was saying it was unseasonably cold for late October. Like he needed to be reminded since he could nearly see his breath in the cold bedroom. He stood, shivered, padded into the bath- room to pee, then slipped on his terrycloth robe and slippers and headed downstairs to make coffee. At the bottom of the stairs he flipped the thermostat from 50˚ up to 70˚. What had he been thinking last night?—well, the point was he hadn’t been thinking—then pulled open the front door and snatched the three plastic bags containing The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Boston Herald. In the kitchen, he tossed the papers on the counter, hit
the switch to start the coffeemaker then started dumping the papers from their bags. On their one or two bounce trip from the delivery guy, across the sidewalk to his doorstep, each bag managed to pick up some street crap, which always dropped onto his counter. It made a mess, and the mess reminded him of Julie. She’d been a cleanaholic, always after him to sponge off the counters and put things away. He missed being told to clean up. He missed the noise of another person. That wasn’t even the start of it. He missed too many things. He put the papers in a pile, wiped his hand across the granite counter, and swept the crumbs of street dirt into the sink. He glanced at the plate on the counter beside him and the dirty glass and empty bottle. Pizza crust on the plate, a bare drop of scotch left in the glass and none in the bottle. How many straight nights of pizza, he wondered. Maybe four, maybe five. How many straight nights of scotch? He chuckled a humorless laugh. Way too many to count. More to the point, how many nights had that dead.
About the Authors fifth lasted? Two? Two and a half? Something like that. If Julie was here she would have a fit, disgusted at his diet and his drinking. “It’s your fault,” he said to the empty kitchen. He got his coffee, but before he started skimming the papers he looked at his reflection in the kitchen window. He still looked okay on the outside, he thought, giving himself a frank appraisal. Mostly full head of brown hair with just a tinge of gray over the ears. Trim physique, flat stomach, much flatter than he deserved. Good genes helping to cover for bad behavior, he thought. The face was still there, too, good cheekbones, strong chin, reasonably tight skin, amazing lack of bags under the eyes considering how much single malt went down his throat every night. It was a face that still could be on national network news every night if that was what he wanted, but he didn’t. He just wanted his quiet life and his quiet little newspaper. He was done with the big leagues and the stress. He was done with love. He was holding it together, he told himself. Just barely.
Jack Heath is the host of NH Today, New Hampshire’s only live afternoon radio talk show, and cohost of Sport Legends of New England with Bob Lobel, which can be seen throughout New England. A direct descendant of Rebecca Nurse, the last person to be tried and hanged during the Salem witch trials, and Ann R. Putnam, one of her accusers, his first novel, Salem VI, is an altogether modern take on Arthur Miller’s The Crucible.
For more information on the authors, or the Salem Witch Trilogy visit http://salemwitchtrilogy.com/
John Thompson spent twenty-five years as an investment banker in New York before retiring to write full time. He is the author of the Brent Lucas trilogy, The Girl from Felony Bay, and coauthor of Salem VI. He lives with his wife and daughter and divides his time between Charleston, South Carolina and Hawley, Pennsylvania.
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 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.
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/ You can also subscribe to his YouTube channel at www.youtube.com/user/newyorkpsychicmedium
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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