Good morning everyone! I have a 3 AM Ghost story to share.👻
As most of you know, yesterday was to be my deadline; I set for myself to get my book submitted. Well, a little glitch with formatting on page 133 had me pulling my hair out until about 1 AM -oh it’s fixed- but I’m going to check it one more time, once I get home from work before submitting. I’ll forgive my lateness-this time.
But anyway - back to my ghosty.
I was looking forward to a little break from writing. As you all know, these stories consume my life. I don’ t spend a whole lot of time living instead, I work and write.
But this 3 AM visit I had- has messed with my head.
I’m gonna tell you how it all went down- but before I do, I wanna add, ”Please remember I never said I was normal.” as many of you will read and think, ”this girl is bat shit crazy!”
I felt the bed vibrating before I even opened my eyes; I knew someone was there. My limbs were paralyzed ,as they often are ,when spirits are manifesting. The growls, I could hear from my big dog under the bed, told me, he was also frozen. Just as I noticed the time on the nightstand, I heard a voice,
” Song, I’m here.”I listened close, recognizing the nickname he called me, as it's been whispered in my ear all my life.
I squinted my blurry eyes to study him; I already knew what he looked like - he’s visited me before. Memories stir of a past life but disappear instantly in the shadows.
”What do you want?” I gasped as the Specter came closer to the bed. ”Stop.” I sqeaked
He ignored me, of course, obviously not understanding why I’d be afraid of him.
He spoke again, ”Song it’s time to tell your story.” ”My story? ”That would be pretty boring. I scoffed, now fully awake.
I still couldn’t move my limbs, and chills raced up and down my body, as every hair stood up on end. This wasn't from fear at this point-more like exhilaration.
He said, ”No the story of us, Song and I. The story of the sacred land, the heartbreak that curses the soil, how she survived and how she died. That story.” I knew what he was referring as I had planned to write the next book in the Trudy Hicks Ghost Hunter series about my parents land. The road to their land is cursed. Neighbors have suffered heartbreak, suicide , addictions, misfortune and untimely death. I knew somehow my parents were the gatekeepers of the land, thriving and enjoying a beautiful life among the heartbreak.
I already knew I was going write a story of a family trying to build a life there in this magical place so like Heaven to a few and Hell to others. My struggle has been with the concept of the ghostly part.
This visitor is trying to make it a personal story and I’m trying to understand what the story is? I asked him, ”Where do I start?” His answer...”Where the eagles fly.” and disappeared.
”Wait come back!” I called out, realizing that my limbs were now free and I could move.
”What do you mean?”I cried, overcome with emotion.
Here I go deep in the throes of research... Something tells me Case Four- The Curse or The Damned, haven't quite decided on a title yet, is going to hurt.