I don't ask to

see dead people...

they just show up.

"

I AM A GHOST MAGNET

 

Some women attract men, some attract riches, and some attract trouble. I, on the other hand, seem to attract ghosts.

 

When I was a little kid my Jitney bus driver (yes I rode the short bus) departed this earth and came to me in the middle of the night to tell me that she wouldn't be able to take me to school anymore. Imagine my mother's surprise when I told her about this visit and five minutes later the phone rings with the official news from the school that Mrs. Hill had passed away in her sleep.

 

All of my life I have seen heard and felt things that had me thinking either I was concussed or perhaps in some way I had a gift. I'm not talking about The Ghost Whisperer where Melinda carries on conversations with full body apparitions. I'm talking more like in the moments of my darkest despair; I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, I hear a giggle when I do something stupid or amusing, I see a young boy chasing my dog through the house, wait...what? Yes, and I have seen and heard so much more.

 

Many of these experiences have been beautiful, and I took comfort in what I learned. Some experiences a little frightening and others simply left me baffled. I wanted to share these stories because for the most part these interactions with the afterlife are quite humorous and while they can be a little unnerving they are not like something described in a horror flick. 

 

A few years ago, something really struck me about these ghostly interactions. Some spirits appeared, merely to visit loved ones or to check on their grandchildren. Others to keep an eye on things at the places they worked. Margaret, a spirit who was so attached to the antique sofa in my living room; would often perch comfortably against the silk pillows and hum a little song. I don't know what to say about that- other than I love it too and hopefully, the sofa will end up at one of my niece's homes so I can haunt ”the shit” out of them someday.

 

I also wondered about the agitated souls that I've come across. Did they leave behind some unresolved issue, did they depart during an argument or perhaps didn't get the chance to confess their love. All these scenarios had my imagination going wild.

 

That's how the idea for Trudy Hicks Ghost Hunter came to life. The opportunity to write a compelling story about ghosts and to recognize that these chaotic spirits were really just people with problems, big problems.

 

Hell exists. How do I know? I've been there.

Case three, Jason and I take our team to an antique store in the Big Easy where a Voodoo Queen ran a brothel until her untimely death in 1969.

While trying to make sense of this case, things get weird quick. Papa Legba shows up, demanding I deliver the queen’s soul to him by the new moon or else…

Then, to make matters worse, the Voodoo Queen outmaneuvers and forces me to find Obeah’s Veve in exchange for Jason's soul.

I am completely out of my element, but losing him is not an option. With the help of some badass witches, I find myself chasing the Veve into the darkest recesses of the Underworld.

Anyone who knows me understands that I will damn my soul for all eternity - before I give up on Jason.