Paranormal October: Looking Across the Veil with Angela Scavone

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What a fun ghost story today by Angela Scavone! What's better in October than an old village, dressed for the season and a ghostly appearance on Halloween? Angela shares a story about her experience one time on the day the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. Have you had any experiences like this?

I hope you enjoy her spooky story and make sure to enter the Giveaway at the end of the post :-)

When the Veil is Thinnest

by Angela Scavone

Halloween is said to be the night when the veil is lifted between the living and the dead worlds yet most believe it is just a celebration for children and adults alike to dress as their favourite characters and eat as much candy as possible.

Whatever the tradition or the folklore, I believe the veil is lifted on Halloween that only some can see or feel.

Let me tell you a story…

On Halloween day in 199-something, a friend of mine and I decided to start Christmas shopping. We were both off of work that day and decided it was the perfect time to start. We travelled out of town to a small village that boasted great little shops that were full of unique gift ideas. All the shops are set in old houses along a main street, each of the houses were easily a hundred years old and was fully decorated for Halloween.

 We moved along main street from shop to shop until we came upon one of the last houses on the block, it was set back off the street and had an eerie feeling to the outside of it. We chalked it up to the age of the house and the spooky decorations. Not wanting to miss a unique gift idea we entered despite our feelings, once inside the eerie feeling persisted and became stronger.

The woman that owned the shop pointed us to the upstairs saying that there were Christmas treasures to be had up there.

At the top of the stairs was a long hallway with two doors on either side, each door was a room that held items for different seasons. The Christmas room was at the end of the hallway, it was a bright room because of the two windows on either side. We entered and began to look at the items on each of the display cases, I went to one side of the room and my friend went to the opposite side. I looked down at one of the little Christmas items and suddenly the room became very dark, like someone had closed heavy curtains over the windows, the air became very heavy and I could feel a presence in the room watching us. I turned quickly to my friend across the room and she was staring at me with the same frightened expression that I’m sure I had. We didn’t say a word to each other but literally ran from the room, almost knocking down two older ladies chatting in the hallway. I ran down the stairs and I was met with the owner at the bottom of the stairs.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Someone was murdered here many years ago, however the ghost only visits on Halloween and only to certain lucky people, who always come running down the stairs.”

I’m not sure what was in that room or what would have happened had we stayed but I’m pretty sure that ghost was not happy we were shopping for Christmas during their Halloween visit J

Angela lives in Ontario, Canada sharing her home with her father and her two much-loved pups (and one evil cat).  She currently works for the Board of Education behind the scenes supporting and analyzing student data, however, in her spare time, apart from her avid love of storytelling, she likes to read, spend time with family and friends and concoct dairy free recipes from scratch. Sometimes she wins some and sometimes she loses some – tofu, banana and peanut butter pudding we are looking at you.

Links:

Website: www.angelascavone.com    

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/angela.scavone.52

Twitter https://twitter.com/busterwhyte

Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6683076-angela-scavone

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/busterwhyte/

 

A Journey Home by Angela Scavone

Angela’s latest release A Journey Home is about Stephanie Tyler, an air force captain, whose sole job is to fly overseas to war torn areas to retrieve bodies of fallen soldiers. While executing this difficult duty, a myriad of conflicting emotions makes Stephanie ponder how short life really is and to question her own ability to forgive. 

  

Buy Link:

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00W3UK05A/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d16_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=desktop-1&pf_rd_r=1ECR1S1MKJY50BF4CEC5&pf_rd_t=36701&pf_rd_p=2079475242&pf_rd_i=desktop 

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Paranormal October: Halloween & Death and Days of Passing with Ingrid Hall

Paranormal October continues! 

Today I welcome to the blog writer Ingrid Hall. Today Ingrid shares with us some thoughts about the relationship between Halloween and death. What do you think? And please be sure to check out the free anthology (link below) and enter the Rafflecopter giveaway (link after the bio). 

Our Day of Passing

Ingrid Hall

In the same way that consumerism has taken over Christmas Day and millions of people now associate it with the giving and receiving of presents rather than the birth of Jesus Christ, Halloween, rather than just being an opportunity to don a silly mask, dress up in an outlandish costume and scare your neighbors into giving you loads of candy actually has a darker meaning. For All Hallows Eve, the night before All Saints Day in which the dead are honored was once the night when people stuck two fingers up at death by ridiculing it.

Death has both scared and fascinated people in equal measure since the beginning of time.  Whether it scares you or fascinates you, it is not something that you can escape. Many face their fear of death  with with a gallows style sense of humor. Perhaps that it one way people wrap their heads around their own mortality.  I used to be terrified of dying until a near-death experience in my mid-twenties changed all that! The experience would later be the inspiration for my novella The Tunnel Betwixt… and it was also the main reason I was happy to agree to compile and edit Our Day of Passing – An Anthology of Short Stories, Poems and Essays with my co-conspirator Franco Esposito.

The Anthology, which includes work by an eclectic bunch of over thirty international authors and poets, tackles the subject of death and dying head on.  At times macabre, at times uplifting, one thing is certain it is guaranteed to get people thinking and talking about the subject.

Some people believe in ghosts. Some people do not. Others believe in God and Heaven, whereas for others death is quite literally the final curtain. Whatever your beliefs and no matter how comfortable (or uncomfortable) the prospect of your own mortality makes you feel, I hope that you will find something in this collection to make you sit up and think.

Our Day of Passing – An Anthology of Short Stories, Poems and Essays is PERMANENTLY free to download from Smashwords.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/563817

Death is a topic that has the ability to stimulate the most creative and thought-provoking written pieces. Testament to this is Our Day of Passing which is formed from an eclectic mix of short stories, poems, fictions and essays. With contributions from more than 30 talented writers across the globe, this anthology provides a fascinating interpretation of an event that comes to us all...eventually.

The following authors and poets have all contributed their work to Our Day of Passing: Ingrid Hall, Franco Esposito, Dennis Higgins, Virginia Wright, Candida Spillard, Valeri Beers,Dada Vedaprajinananda, Strider Marcus Jones, Adam E. Morrison, Allyson Lima, D. B. Mauldin, David A. Slater, David King,  Dee Thompson, Don Illich, Edward Meiman, Eileen Hugo, Emily Olson, Joan McNerney, J.S. Little, Kin Asdi, Madison Meadows, Malobi Sinha, Marianne Szlyk, Mark Aspa, Mark David McClure, Megan Caito, Michael Brookes, Michael Burke, Pijush Kanti Deb, Prince Adewale Oreshade, Rafeeq O. McGiveron, Robin Reiss, Sasha Kasoff, Stephanie Buosi,  and Talia Haven.

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A Ghostly Encounter at the Nootklatch Lodge by Leigh Shearin

Can you believe it's October already? The time of pumpkins and chilly nights. Of cider and costumes and ghost stories. It also happens to be my favorite month of the year.

This year I've invited authors to share their ghostly stories with us on my blog. When I sent the invite, I had no idea I'd have such an overwhelming response! And oh, the great stories that are pouring in. You're in for a treat this month!

Today I welcome author Leigh Shearin to the blog. She has a wonderful true story of her  ghostly encounter. And be sure to check out Leigh's most recent release, John Bloom and the Victory Garden.

"The Lodger"

by Leigh Shearin

Room #5 at the Nootklatch Lodge is haunted.

Awake at 2 am, despite a comfortable, clean room, I cursed menopause for the 689th time, and flipped over in a vain attempt to capture some Zs.

...and heard footsteps.

At first, I though my husband had slipped out of the massive king-sized bed and gone to the nearby bathroom. Made of some low-jiggle space-age foam, the bed was also so large, he would have had to telephone to let me know he was getting up. I turned my face over to look at the place he'd occupied, only to find him still wrapped in sheets.

It was then that my hackles rose.

Who's footsteps was I hearing? Ribbing myself, I started a mental checklist of possible non-paranormal sources for the noises I was hearing. We were in a first floor room; surely someone above us was just moving around, causing the floor to creak. The part of the Lodge we were staying in is constructed of enormous logs, so it made sense that some shifting and squeaking would happen. The sound wasn't really what I associate with creaky boards. It was more of a shuffle.

More desperate to sleep than I was to commune with the afterworld, I put the notion of wandering spirits out of my mind and began to doze off.

...and heard more footsteps.

Annoyed now, more than scared, I flipped over, slammed my arms down on the mattress and blew out an exasperated sigh.

"Cut it out, will you?" I said, feeling only mildly foolish for talking to an empty room. "I'm trying to sleep here. Can you please go away for a while and come back later?" I tried to be polite. I didn't want to irritate the specter, after all.

Nothing.

Growling with exasperation, I flopped down on the pillow and rolled away from the offending emptiness. Ridiculous, I scolded myself. Get to sleep. You've got a long day of driving tomorrow and if you...

    A push of energy stopped my self-lecture in it's tracks.

    That's the only way I can describe it. Almost a breeze, the sensation manifested itself between the nightstand and my head. Gooseflesh accompanied my now pounding heart as my eyes flew open, straining to pierce the darkness, trying to identify the cause of the feeling.

    Nothing.

I wouldn't say I was afraid. Alarmed, maybe, but fear wasn't a part of my emotions. Acquiescing to the presence,  and working to control my heart, which was going like a trip-hammer, I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes.

"Okay." I whispered, "I hear you. I sense and recognize you. I know I'm not dreaming. You're welcome to stay, but can you please settle down and stop making noise so I can sleep? I'm really tired."

I imagined the phantom moving away, toward the window at the back of the room. Utterly undone, it took me an hour to start feeling drowsy. Eventually, I fell soundly asleep and woke with no immediate memory of the experience. Later that day, on the drive home, I had a vivid flashback, but hesitated to relate the story to my just-the-facts-ma'am, hard-driving husband. Still, I wanted his take.

"Our hotel room was haunted." I blurted. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. Braced for ridicule, I grinned over at Jeff, who was tensely navigating construction traffic.

"Yes," he said. "I know. I thought I heard something. Footsteps, wasn't it?"

Settling back in my seat with a gasp, I realized it was true. I wasn't crazy, hallucinating, or unconsciously grinding out ghost stories to lull myself to dreamland. Room #5 at the Nootklatch Lodge was haunted.

I had felt it with my own two eyes.

Leigh Shearin, Author

Leigh Shearin is farmer, baker, teacher, and lifelong dreamer.

Leigh earned a B.A. degree in Studio Art at Maryville College and worked as a graphic artist before earning an ASS degree in Culinary Art.  She has worked as a chef, baker and culinary arts instructor.  Most recently, she and her husband bought rural land and are developing Winterrest, a small farm in central New York.  Through all this, Leigh wrote stories and poems…some published; some tucked away.  

She is happiest living off the land and developed a passion for local and sustainable farms, farmers and practices, spending hours researching farming and learning by trial and error.  She is an avid supporter of Farm-to-Fork and “locavore” restaurants and plans to supply these restaurants with her own farm’s products soon.

Leigh writes fiction stories for middle-grade readers. Along with illustrator Kate Shearin, Leigh spins tales of self-sufficiency and independence, along with gentle agriculture education. Since historical fiction is also a lifetime interest, Leigh uses true stories of the past to bring inspiration and joy to modern-day children.

Leigh lives with her husband and children in rural central NY.  You can check out Leigh’s blog at www.winterrestfarm.weebly.com, www.LeighShearin.weebly.com, www.farmeatlove.blogspot.com

Social media:

www.leighshearin.weebly.com

Twitter: @LeighShearin

FB: Leigh Shearin, Writer

Instagram: Winterrestfarm

Check out Leigh's book here: http://goo.gl/3tHqej

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