All posts by Range

Under Watchful Eyes

They stand still, with crunched up brows, narrow slits for eyes, maybe with tilted head, a most curious look upon their face. It might be enough to say in silence to clue someone watching them that their friend has seen this moment before. The French have a name for the phenomenon of feeling of such experiences – they call it déjà vu.

 Déjà vu literary means “already seen.” These events do occur, but no one is quite sure why. In any case, the matter has more to do with revisiting a moment than reliving it. The fact is a moment is lived only once. However, we only become aware of the event being familiar when it is revisited for some reason. The question is by whom, and why?

The problem is when whoever is orchestrating a visit they can if they wish replay a moment over and over…causing confusion to build and possibly madness in those being viewed. Yes, a moment can be revisited many times – But, why? The question to be asked is whether the revisiting a moment is a concern, or some helpful guide of understanding.

The answer is of course yes to both…yes as there is a reason for these moments to occur to reveal some issue for the viewer…and, yes to give the person viewed the chance to see with a different prospective. The fact remains all moments exist forever. They act as records of our existence on the earth, revealing just who we are as if in some open book.

What if after all has been said and done on this world, we are the watchers? Poise in the hereafter all of history is opened to us…from the beginning to the end…our history as well as the world…all truths are laid open. With every moment opened for visiting – we are allowed to possibly give ourselves some sort of insight, or awakening.

The question is what should one do if they were to recognize someone re-experiencing a moment? The answer is simple. Always allow those experiencing a moment to tell you about it first before you go charging in explaining what they were seeing. Otherwise you only add to the confusion, especially if they recall the very words you share.

Thankfully, the revisiting of any moment does not last long. Quite often they are forgotten no sooner than they end. The calling forth of their occurring is not normally necessary. Unless someone calls attention to something that took place during the moment the experience will remain working behind the scenes within our subconscious.

The revisiting of a moment could happen at anytime especially when something is troubling us. That is the time our subconscious goes to work to solve some issue. Our lives are laid open like some book, one moment placed upon another. What better way to turn our life around, or to even marvel, than taking a good look at past moments.

 

 

 

 

The Forgotten Samurai

 

 

 

The Forgotten Samurai is truly an unforgettable tale of honor and courage of many samurai from across the ages who come together to face an evil intent.

A massive tsunami casts a great twelfth century samurai warrior upon the shore of present day Japan. When he awakes, he soon finds himself tossed into chains by Oda Nobunaga’s henchmen. His only crime is he does not want to join the plot to take over the world.

By his strength and courage alone, he has resisted all previous evil attempts that have come against him. Finally, forced to attend this gathering by a great storm he has to choose between becoming a follower of Nobunaga, or risk the anger of evil itself.

Only through the forces of nature is this confrontation made possible. The purpose follows the old adage “Evil cannot prevail unless good fails to rise against it.”

Good needed a champion and it chose a forgotten samurai named Rangemura to lead the fight.

His and other honorable samurai join the fight against evil. Along the way they will duel other samurai, as well as other enemies and monsters.

Some of their friends will fall. In an attempt to rescue them they will go as far as to journey to the land of the dead.  Some will be successfully brought back to the world of the living, while others can never return.

The Forgotten Samurai is a fantasy born out of the need for heroes. Name some of your favorite Samurai. More than likely you will find them fighting on either the side of good or bad in this tale. In learning this, keep heart for those  heroes who start on the side of evil. Remember it is never so important to know where one begins, but to know how they finish.

 

 

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Strange – Yet True – and Unbelievable Sports Tales – Part 1

On this site I have written strange- yet true tales about ghosts, both seen and unseen. Also, I have explored the possibility of time travel, and thoughts of the unbelievable. So far, I have not truly delved deeply into the origin of voices from beyond.

I wrote one story which tells of someone receiving a word of knowledge.

The truth is the story is the basis of what happened to me on the evening of October 20, 2004.

To begin with I am very passionate about a lot of things…but, losing and winning is at the top of my list of what raises my blood pressure. As fate would have it for some insane reason I root for the underdog. In most cases this leads to my downfall.

As for the 2004 on the evening of October 20, the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox were playing the seventh and deciding game of the American League Championship Series.

Let me be very clear I am not a fan of either team, but I was well aware of how the Red Sox after losing the first three games of the ALCS clawed their way back to tie the series. I also knew how many times the Sox came close only to lose in the final game of some World Series. In fact, until 2004 they had not won a World Series since 1918.

Of course, the Sox and the Yanks were only playing in the ALCS and not the World Series. However, seeing how hard the Sox had to fight to tie up the series you would think fate was on their side – and who knows that night by my way of thinking if they won that final game maybe they could go all the way and become that year’s World Series Champs.

Then again, I thought maybe fate had other plans. Painfully enough to consider is the idea maybe the Sox were about to learn yet another lesson of how to lose the big one and break a lot of people’s hearts unnecessarily. Frankly, what would have been worse to lose in four games, or lose the seventh game?

In the first inning of the game, the Sox looked like they were about score big. Then tragedy struck.   On a single Johnny Damon was cut down at home.

I was angry. I shut off the TV, and stormed out of the house. How would I know what would happened next?

No sooner was I outside I began raising my voice to heaven. I was steaming mad. I also began to beg, pleading that Johnny Damon wouldn’t become the goat of the game. Not a lot of time passed before I started to rant and rave. I cried out, “It’s not fair.  The Sox haven’t won a World Series in eighty-six years.”

Then I said the craziest thing. I said, “Just ask Mickey Mantle if he thinks it’s fair.” Before I could say “what am I saying” in my mind’s eye I saw a youthful Mick.” He was smiling. Two great big dimples rose up upon his cheeks. His eyes sparkling as he was a young once more.

The Mick then gazed further up to heaven. Less than a moment later these words  began echoing from above, “The Red Sox will win this year’s World Series.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Then the voice continued in saying, “As a confirmation of what I say consider what these three numbers have in common with the Red Sox…18, 86, and 104.”

I then returned to my house just in time to see Johnny Damon at bat at home plate. He hit the next pitch, lifting the ball into the right field stands at Yankee Stadium for a grand slam.   I knew the Red Sox  were going to win that night from that moment on. As for the Red Sox winning that year’s World Series they did. So, my confirmation held true.

The next day after the Red Sox victory in the ALCS  I tried to contact anyone who would listen. I wrote to the Boston Globe, sent a email to a sports radio show in New York. I even put a post on a popular radio show’s fan page. Everyone had to know what I knew that the  Sox were going to win the World Series. Of course no one really cared about I what had to say and why should they. The Writers, and Radio Sports talk hosts had the real story.   The Red Sox  became the first Major League team to come back from a three games deficit to win.

As for the three numbers, 18, 86, and 104…they had a lot in common with the Red Sox – a whole lot.

The Three Numbers:

The last time the Red Sox won a World Series before 2004 was 1918 – (18)

Before 2004, the closest the Red Sox came to winning a World Series was in 1986 – (86)

1986 was 18 years before 2004 – (86) and (18)

The Red Sox 18th season in the American League was in 1918 – (18)

The Red Sox 104th season in the American League was in 2004.   – (104)

If you add 86 with 18 you get 104 – (18) (86) and (104)

There are other instances, but you get the idea.

As for Mickey Mantle, I really do believe I saw him up in the sky within my mind’s eye. I did not know it that night…but October 20 the night of the seventh game was the Mick’s birthday.

So that is the story behind “Kiss the Curse Goodbye” which I featured in my novel The Goat, The Babe, and The Maroons.

The Cubs Win It All!

                                                                                                  Click the book icon to go to Amazon.

“The Cubs Win It All!” – is a revision, which enhances and replaces the original amusing tale presented in the novel “Murphy: Billy Goat Curse.”

In “The Cubs Win It All!” I again take a fantasy approach in explaining how the curse is actually lifted during the fifth game of the 2016 World Series. Thus, the Cubs are given the chance to become Baseball’s World Champions without the curse raising its ugly head.

“The Cubs Win It All!”

Finally the wait is over…after 108 years the Chicago Cubs have been crowned World Series Champs.

What fans around the world do not understand is that this event was never supposed to take place. This only comes about because the curse which was placed upon the team decades ago was miraculously lifted during the fifth game of the series. The scourge in question was simply named; “The Billy Goat Curse” which when unraveled becomes a series of misunderstandings, grudges, and blindness.

Although there are some who believe they know the truth, the individual who was truly scorned was not Billy Sianis, but it was Murphy the Goat. Thus, this is the reason behind the creation of this story.

The Cubs Win IT All!

“The Cubs Win It All!” is a fun packed fantasy for all ages born out of the frustrations of Chicago Cubs fans had over the fact their beloved team had not won a World Series since 1908.

There are many who feel the main reason for the drought was due to the Billy Goat Curse which came to life in 1945.

The so-called curse came to be on October 6, 1945, when Billy Sianis, a well-known Chicago saloon owner brought his pet goat Murphy to the fourth game of that year’s World Series. When asked to remove his goat from Wrigley Field, he was insulted. Upon leaving, he uttered the now infamous words, “Them Cubs, they ain’t gonna win no more.”

When Frain’s army of ushers heard those words, they contributed the curse to Sianis. However, Murphy was the one who actually put the curse on the Cubs. Seeing he was the one who was insulted, it was only natural. Unbeknownst to the Cubs fans, the only way to break the curse was for someone from the Cubs organization to apologize to Murphy personally. Of course, as of 2016, the biggest problem with that happening is Murphy has been dead for many years.

However, in the spirit of “Fair Play,” Murphy the Goat, armed with the gift of speech, is forced to return to Earth to lift the curse. Murphy being very persistent, and annoying, has a stipulation. He will lift the curse only if and when he gets his apology. But, Murphy isn’t the only one with a stipulation. No one is going to allow him back into his reward until he lifts the curse.

In need of earthly assistance, Murphy goes to the Billy Goat Tavern in Chicago in October, 2016. It is here Murphy is to meet a troubled young man named Daniel Talbert who is supposed to assist him in this endeavor.

When they meet Daniel has his own problems. Thus, from the start he has no intention of having a talking goat around especially as the two continue to butt heads. However, his biggest problem is his wife Sara believes he has lost his marbles.

Eventually, Murphy and Daniel come to the realization they must change their ways, and join forces in order to arrive at the happy conclusion for all concern.

 

3445082392_e163db9d16_s                                                                                                                                                         The Cubs Win it All!

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/97838323@N00/3445082392″>Severed goat head hung from Harry Caray statue at Wrigley Field</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a>

Eyes Upon You

Gentoo penguin with baby by hotblack

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by hotblack

Eyes Upon You -written by Stanley Phillips

…Here is a little change of pace…

In this time of celebrating of you dad…let us also be aware that someone is watching your every move every day of your life…

To every dad in the world, whether you know it or not someone is watching you. Closely scrutinizing your every move…every word you say, and how you react to everyone that crosses your path.

No matter what you do or say, whether you know it or not you make a difference in each of their lives…for you can be as priceless as anything in their world can. You are special to them no matter who you are. Much of what they hear and see they will carry with them the rest of their lives.

Listening to their thoughts and fears, and about the little occurrences, as well the big moments in their lives, celebrating even the smallest of their successes shows that you care.

Take a moment during your celebration and look at your children, and marvel at them as you see what they are becoming and who they are for they are the true reason for the celebration.

I apologize to every mom in the world for not taking the opportunity to say the same for you. Of course, you know you also make a difference in each of their lives. The process of growing up is hard and takes many years. Still, their development is visible as the days pass under you watchful eye. Through it all, remember they are watching, learning from you as they take parts of you, making it a part of their selves as they grow into mature adults.

 

 

We are Never Alone (Part 4)

Moonlight sepia“We are never alone” by Stanley Phillips

Creaking doors that squeak even though they do not move, harmonica tunes heard in the still night in my otherwise silent home, and our dogs staring into an empty corner of a room are only some of the sounds and occurrences that my family and I have confronted and learned to live with these past few years.

We live in a modest home that we probably will never be able to outlast the mortgage to own the place outright. The people we bought the house from were regular folks except they liked the color gray. They liked that grim color gray so much, they went out and covered every wall with it.

They were not a happy family. Some believe houses and places take on the characteristics of those that live in them. Thankfully, their attributes did not have lasting effects. For no sooner had a new colorful paint been applied on these walls I could almost feel the house come alive.

In fact, with every change we made to undo something they did the air within the house became lighter. This turnaround also brought a renewed drive within me to go back to my writing. Here too is a strange, yet wonderful development, as I have never written any better in my life. Even when I am tired, the words flow.

What’s more, I have to smile with the thought that maybe when I write I am not alone in the room where I do my work. That might sound strange. However, I have no other explanation for what takes place. How else could you explain, subconsciously directed to go back a few pages and to look at the very spot where a word or a line needs changing.

Then there is the clanging metal pull chord of the desk lamp in the room. That first came into play when I took out an old friend that I had forgotten all about…“Reign of Valor.” Here was a work that I thought I had successfully completed. Why I decided to rewrite the entire tale was unthinkable for any time until I moved into this house.

Within this house, with the end of every night’s writing, I could not mistake hearing that chord clanging against its metal stem. That in itself is not strange. After pulling on the chord to shut off the light, you would expect a clang or two to follow. Yet, you should not expect to hear a clang a minute after you left the room – clang…clang.

Now, I cannot make anyone believe my house is haunted. Instead, allow me to say I try to remain sensitive to the unseen world. So have my dogs – a German Shepherd, and a hound. They are both about a hundred pounds – Let me say, they are not afraid of anything or at least I use to think so. They will no longer go into one room in the house.

One day, I found them in that room both staring into an empty corner growling as if they had cornered someone or something that should not have been in the house. I had to pull them away to settle them down before ordering them outside. Outside, they quickly settled down, leaving me inside scratching my head wondering.

I do not believe they were in any danger. Also thankfully, we have had no repeat of the occurrence. However, that does not explain the harmonica playing in the middle of the night. No one in my household has one, nor does anyone in the neighborhood. Yet, there was that unmistakable sound of a harmonica playing in my bedroom in the middle of the night.

Even though my wife is a light sleeper, the tune did not wake up my wife. After a few nights I had enough…my wife heard the harmonica. Next morning, I remembered having someone telling me if you were to tell your unwanted guests to leave…they would go if they were friendly. Well, I tried it and I was somewhat saddened as all activities stopped…

At least they stopped for a while. If you believe as I do, that we are but spirits trapped in an earthly shell. What is to stop us from returning after we cross over? Our return might be as a simple reminder of who we are…not were…a familiar scent or smell, maybe even a friendly touch, or lend a helping hand with some hint on what could be done to head off some problem.

Do you think that brainstorm of an idea you suddenly came up with, was brought on by your brilliant mind or might there be someone watching over us…giving us hints, or direction? My writing is a case in point. Take for instance, my new novel “The Goat, the Babe, and the Maroons.”

I am a baseball and a football fan. For the most part, I do not go for frontrunners, although I have been a fan of the Green Bay Packers since 1963. Most of the time I root for the underdog, maybe that is why I joined the crusade to get the 1925 Pottsville Maroons their rightful NFL Championship back, thus the reason for writing the story.

The way I came about writing the story was strange enough. However, by my choosing Charlie Berry as the main character is the real story. Originally, “The Maroons Return,” was a screenplay. I even pictured the main character in my mind. This spring as I wrote the short story I found out the character I envisioned resembled Charlie Berry.

The third story in my novel “The Goat, the Babe, and the Maroons” is “Kiss the Curse Goodbye.” Here again is another unbelievable occurrence that I could not have dreamt up. It could only have truly happened to become a story. To start off, I am not a Red Sox fan.

However, what happened on the evening of October 20, 2004 might make you wonder. As I said, I root for the underdogs. On the evening of October 16, shortly after the Yankees slaughtered the Red Sox by the score of 19 to 8, I took up the cause of the Red Sox to not only to win the ALCS, but also to win that year’s World Series. Shortly after the seventh game began, I subconsciously heard three numbers 18, 86, and 104 and I knew the Red Sox were going to go on to win that year’s World Series.

Ghosts are Real – part 3A

Ghosts Are Real – part 3A   _DSC6373(written by Stanley Phillips)

Some ghosts go unseen, while others seem to appear going through some normal course of life. Some ghosts can even see you, and may even interact with you. While others, do not actually see you or do not care that you are there.

My dad had an interesting tale to share. Veteran of World War II, he fought the Japanese from 1942 to 1945. He never once spoke of the war. As for his meeting with the specter, he could not wait to share what had taken place.

In the case of my father, he was actually viewing an action that had taken place years before when his apartment did not exist and there was only bare ground beneath the cover of some trees, and not a man-made roof.

That night, two worlds met on the very same spot. Maybe to say two worlds is not be correct on what takes place from time to time. To be more precise think of the many days and actions that occurred throughout existence. The memory or the impression of each event resides where it took place – at times at the very spot where we stand or sit.

My dad had just sat on the couch to enjoy a bowl of ice cream. Slowly, from out of nowhere a chant was faintly heard, that seemed to be coming from all around him. The song or tune was not threatening, but it soon became annoying. My dad had no idea where it was coming from.

That is when the vision of a Native American suddenly appeared in his apartment as he began to dance about the couch. With the bowl of ice cream in his hands, my father began to circle about the couch in an attempt to get away from his visitor.

The visitor never once tried to make contact with my father. As if performing the ceremony he had done a hundred times before he was following the custom of his people as he danced.

This visit was one of many images, events caught on the fabric of time to be view by anyone. The Native American dancer, possibly a medicine man was a willing participant in a ceremony that was as important then as it is today. Not that my father ever considered it, but maybe somewhere along the corridor of time the dancer chose him…not only to view the dance, but also to participate.

Not all Native American dances were conceived for war. The Native American has dances for many events for life. One is to thank the Creator for life, children, as well as good crops. The sad commentary on life today we are taking for granted when we should be grateful

Wherever there are memories there are also visions of the past that will from time to time surface to remind us where we come from. Maybe my father’s friend was such a vision, reminding us we should be thankful for what we have.

GHOSTS ARE REAL – (3 OF 4)

A passagePhoto “The Passage” by FidlerJan

Ghosts Are Real (3 of 4) written by Stan Phillips

Often when we hear tales of ghosts from someone we do not know we have to wonder if the stories they share actually happened. However, if we can rely on the credentials of the storyteller the tales can come alive for us.

For this segment, I rely on the words of a very strong and honorable man. He is not one for fairytales…nor is he afraid of mere mortals, or needs approval of any kind. In fact, as he recounted his tale, he found amusement over what they confronted in a quaint old French Quarter hotel room.

Thinking about how he told the story, his enjoyment may have been due to the recalling of the spirits’ playful and yet potentially damaging display.

During a recent vacation in the French Quarter the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans, my friend and a relative of mine stayed at a historic hotel. Even though the room was small, there was enough room. That is until they realized they were actually sharing the room with others.

From the moment they stepped into their room, they felt an eerie sensation as if they were not alone. Worse yet, they believed they were being watched by someone, or something within the room.

To quiet my niece’s fears, my friend began a search. He looked under the bed, behind the mirrors, and in every corner. He found nothing. Then the feeling of some presence being there with them began to grow. There was also a chill in the room. As they moved about, the chill followed them. Even when they moved to stand in the opposite sides of the room, the chill was there. To some it might conjure up the thought there was more than one entity in the room with them.

Of course, some could easily dispute the thought by just thinking the room was drafty. However, that was not case. The air in the room was still. Moreover, a blast of warm air greeted them when they first opened the door and entered the hotel room.

In time they laughed, believing it was only their overactive imagination. Why not, they thought. They were in the land of spells, incantations, surrounded by beliefs of old New Orleans-just a place where the imagination could run wild.

There had been no physical touch, or sounds to startle them-only a room with numerous cold spots they believed. All else was just their mind playing tricks. At least that was what they thought before they returned after an evening of festivities and slipped under the covers to fall asleep.

After arriving in their room, they barely stayed awake long enough to dress for bed. It was early in the morning. The sun had not come up yet, and they just wanted to catch a little sleep before the new day began. However, that was far less than what they were about to experience. No sooner had they almost fallen asleep, they heard the splat of water dripping onto the bathroom floor.

My friend got up from the bed and dragged himself into the bathroom. He soon stared down to the sink basin in disbelief. A shower towel was blocking the drain. The cold water faucet was on. The water was overflowing the basin and streaming onto the floor.

To this point, there was not much of a puddle on the floor. It was as if the faucet had been just been turned on, and the towel just inserted, the situation just developing. My friend wasted no time in removing the towel and turning off the faucet.

After drying up the floor, my friend made certain that both faucet knobs were securely off before returning to bed.

Not more than a moment after his head hit the pillow he once again heard the sound of water dripping onto the bathroom floor. The water was once again flowing over the sides of sink basin. This time it was hot water. A towel was again in the drain hole.

You can form any explanation for this occurrence you like. As for my friend, he believed that they had guests that wanted them to leave. Maybe the guests wanted to be alone on their own romantic rendezvous. In any case, after he dried the floor my friend returned to bed for what turned out to be a restless night.

As strange as it might sound, someone from another time, or some departed soul might be watching us. Then again, we could also from time to time catch a moment from some time in the past.

With moments caught on time, the spirit can awaken to allow the reviewing of events. Worlds then merge, as moments become one.

Part 3A – will follow in the next few days.

I must apologize about the long period between posts. I had devoted most of my final touches on my new novel “The Goat, the Babe, and the Maroons.” The novels deals with three sports curses, and how they were or can be broken.

Ghosts are Real – (2 of 4)

A doorGhosts are Real (part 2 of 4) written by Stan Phillips

Cameras can capture a moment, cherished memories. They can also capture the unseen.

For me, it took place a number of years ago. My wife and I were on our November honeymoon on Aruba. Some think it is the perfect getaway…except from November through January…the raining season.

Because of Aruba’s close proximity to the equator, the complex wind patterns that drive hurricanes are limited. This fact, combined with the island’s location to Venezuela the possibility of hurricanes hitting the island head on is remote. However, it does not mean inclement weather does not wreak havoc with vacations on the island during the hurricane months.

As for my story, a lot had to come together to bring about the rendezvous.

Thinking of what had to take place to make my rendezvous possible; I have to begin with hurricanes. As for hurricanes, they have hit the island with little damage…except for November 1877, when a hurricane hit the island head on and leveled it.

We had scheduled a Cancun honeymoon, but a hurricane struck a few days before our wedding. Thus, we quickly changed our plans to honeymoon on Aruba instead. It is after all a wonderful place to vacation under normal settings. As I said a lot had to come about to make my rendezvous possible.

Aruba gets on average 18 inches of rain each year. Most of the yearly rain comes between November and January, which was the time we choose to honeymoon on Aruba. Of course, fate would have it that rain or mist fell every day the entire day through… except for the last few hours before we stepped on the plane to return home. On the last two hours, the sun burned so brightly we both got sunburn.

One morning, while it was not raining, a fine mist and overcast sky greeted us in the new day. Being adventurists, we rented a car and went exploring. Our travels brought us to the far side of the island where we found a natural stone bridge and a partially destroyed stone building near the shore.

Taking out my camera, I took a couple shots of the rock formation. However, the partially destroyed building caught my imagination. In my mind’s eye, I could sense a world of activity going on high along the one full remaining wall. The floor was gone, but somehow I could feel that something invisible was hovering high up against the wall.

I moved as close as I could to snap a number of photos, concentrating my efforts on the walls and what I felt was there. My breathing became heavier as I wanted to get even closer as if being beckoned. However, the spell was soon broken as my wife’s displeasure with what she thought was only foolishness pulled on me to leave. Also I felt an awesome pressure building against my chest as if I was being closed in on. This encouraged me to leave.

Returning to our hotel, I learned that the building was once a fish warehouse. There was even a wooden wharf, where fishing boats docked and fishing men unloaded their daily catch. Storm waves from the 1877 hurricane decimated much of the building, destroying the wharf, leaving the partial shell. The man went on to say a number of people that had taken refuge in the building perished during the storm.

A few days after the vacation, I had my film developed at a cheap 24-hour site. You know the kind that use to sit in the middle of some parking of a small strip mall. Most of the photos I took came out beautifully, even the natural stone bridge. However, strangely, the developer said none of the shots of the warehouse came out.

Oddly, checking the negatives I noted none existed of the warehouse, good or bad. Someone had painstakingly snipped them from the strips of negatives…in one case, a single good negative was by itself.

A year went by before I found one of the photos. They were developed, or at least one of them had. The photo appeared in a psychics’ book. I recognized the photo immediately. I have remained silent until now, not that it would have made a difference then, nor should it now. Today, as then there is a sort of veil over my mind dulling my senses toward the injustice done to me.

Regarding my discovery, I know the psychic was not at fault. In fact, I did not care one way or the other of not having the photo. Somehow, inexplicably, it did not matter. Instantly, I became at peace with the entire episode as if I had played my part of making them known and my job was finished.

As for the photo itself, it showed more than a partially destroyed warehouse. Amazingly, in the photo, along the walls were glowing columns of light. Unseen by the naked eye, the photo revealed them hovering high up on the wall.

Ghosts Are Real…(1 of 4)

SONY DSCGhosts are real…(part 1 of 4) written by Stan Phillips

It’s not to say ghosts, or spirits do not exist. Why, if you believe, we ourselves are spirits…trapped in a shell we call a body. Then when that body corrupts and fails a new world opens to us.

Normally, once released from the body the soul moves on. However, some souls have a reason to remain, or are trapped…some even come back to help us.

As for the ones that have a reason to remain…what could have caused them not to leave? Was it because their life ended much too early…and, they want to finish what they long to do. Or, are they searching for someone, or something?

What of the images imprinted on time that occasionally present themselves to the living? Are they trying to tell us something? Are they trapped between this world and the afterlife and cannot escape, and the torment replays and replays.

No matter what, they vie for our attention. At times, they are playful. Some prove to be even helpful. Maybe, their age at the time of their departure of life has an effect on how they react to the living about them.

Thankfully, I have only had contact with friendly spirits.

Once, when my brother was very young, he had a very large stuffed toy gorilla. At the time, we lived in a very old house. I was about seventeen at the time.

Late one night, everyone in the house was in bed except for me. Just off the hallway was the living room. As I moved down the hallway past the living room, I happened to glance into the room.

The living room was dark, except for the light emanating from the hallway. Stopping, I saw the large stuffed toy gorilla. Beside the stuff toy sat a shadowy figure about the size of young boy. I thought it was my little brother sitting beside the toy. However, it wasn’t him. He had been fast asleep for hours.

As I recall, the shadow appeared to be embracing the toy, and even made it move ever so slightly. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My eyes soon strained in disbelief. I searched the dark for the light switch. I could have sworn it was on the wall just past the doorway. Finally, I found the switch and flicked it on frantically.

Instantly, the living room’s darkness gave way to the light. I looked back at the gorilla to see the figure.

There, seated beside the toy gorilla was an image of a little boy with big brown lonesome eyes. His face, curved into a saddened expression. The image lasted in the light but a few moments before it slowly vanished.

We moved a few days later, and I never saw the saddened little specter again. (More to come)