Due to my usual ineptness where finding the proper Chat Room is concerned, the following blog (scheduled for TWRP's Halloween Ball) didn't reach its destination in its entirety. Learning this, the gentleheroes of "Love, Vampire Style" and "Demon in Blue Jeans" complained loudly. Therefore, to give the boys their chance to speak out, I promised them I'd repost the blog. So...without further ado...here's Valerius Andresciu and Zellascrastides Amschönstenundeinliebendius. Wow, that's a mouthful!

ZEL: (waves one hand permissively) Don't sweat it-- Even my wife can't pronounce it. That's why I took her last name. Kind of a reverse feminist thing. Just call me Zel Carter.

VAL: (snorts derisively) You wouldn't catch me changing my last name. Dude, you should have kept it! Even if it is a tongue-twister and a half!

ZEL: Valerius... Hmm. (thoughtfully) Sounds like someone who should be chasing after Julius Caesar on the Ides of March.

VAL: (smooths back a jet-black curl hanging over one eye) As a matter of fact, my family was fairly prominent in Rome...

ZEL: ...but my family can trace its roots back further than the Roman Empire...

TVS: Gentlemen...Let's not argue over whose heritage is the oldest...although Zel does have you beat, Val, by a few thousand millennia.

ZEL: (graciously) But we won't even mention that.

VAL: So good of you not to. (stares at TVS with a deep, bottomless gaze) Thank you for inviting me. May I say that--for a woman of a certain age--you're the most enchanting female I've seen in a century...or two...

TVS: (a little nervously) Thank you...I think.

ZEL: (looks around with interest) So this is the Internet. Wow! And I thought the Great Satan was exaggerating when he said he'd found a new and faster way to tempt humans!

TVS: (hastily) Back on course, Zel. Your esoteric beginnings aside, I believe you two have much in common...

VAL: What do you mean by that? (dark eyes flare crimson) I don't think there's anything that an aristocratic--and handsome--young vampire like myself would have in common with a mere Hell-spawned incubus. (to Zel) What does she mean by that?

ZEL: (Shakes his long blond locks) Search me! I'm still trying to figure out what esoteric means!

TVS: Let me rephrase that. You're both supernatural creatures...

VAL: You get no argument there.

TVS: You both have wings...

ZEL: Just don't ask us to show you...(leans forward, whispering) Have to be naked to release our wings, y'know...

VAL: (leers) Unless you absolutely wish to see...

TVS: (Hastily)...and you've both gotten into a bit of trouble because of the ladies.

ZEL: (shrugs) Let's face it, Valerius. She's got us there. But, hey--I'm an incubus. Seducing women is in my job description. As for Val--what vampire worth his--if you'll excuse the expression--salt, isn't going to go after a slender, pale throat?

TVS: Val, wasn't that the reason you had to leave Transylvania?

VAL: Don't blame me for that! My older brother Marius was the one who got himself exiled because he couldn't keep his fangs off necks the Prince had marked as his own. I just came along for the ride.

TVS: Uh-huh...and have been mooching off Big Brother ever since.

VAL: (defensively) I'm a younger son. I'm not expected to amount to much...(looks at Zel defiantly) That's my job description!

ZEL: And you were doing your darndest to carry out those expectations, weren't you? Living la vida American, partying until dawn, etc? How is Noo Orleens these days?

TVS: Mustn't be so uppity, Zel. Didn't I hear that you were a definite underachiever back in the Inferno?

Zel: Yes...well...I come from a large family--there were 200 of us... so I figured...why exhaust myself if I can just get by and no one notices?

VAL: (snarkily) Unfortunately, someone did notice, didn't they--wasn't it...Satan? Hmmm? The Big Boss himself?

ZEL: Don't look so superior. (as Val does just that) I understand your older brother gave you an ultimatum--get married or else...something like that?

VAL: All right--so we're both slackers. Still, I thought we handled our individual little crises pretty well, wouldn't you say?

ZEL: I don't know that I'd call being kicked out of Hell by the Great Satan himself handling anything well. I was lucky I got off with some burned wingtips and a bit of sulphur in my hair! But, I did get Katy out of the deal....

VAL: and I got Anike...

ZEL: (admiringly) I'll have to admit you took a pretty big chance...

VAL: Yeah, if Anike had turned out to be human...it would've been all over...stakes and sunrise...

ZEL: You almost made an ash of yourself. (laughs at his pun)

TVS: I guess you could say you both got HEAs out of this.

ZEL: HEA? What's that? Hell's Everywhere Always? Here's Eventual Apathy? How E--

VAL: It means Happily Ever After--and I'll drink to that! Speaking of drinking... When we're through here-- Zel, want to go down to that little pub on the corner and raise a few?

Zel: (primly) I'm sorry. I don't drink alcohol.

VAL: (brows rising in astonishment) And you call yourself a demon? I thought you guys could drink anyone under the table! Anyway, I was talking about good ol' plasma!

ZEL: Actually, blood gives me indigestion, and alcohol makes me hiccup...as does caffeine...and chocolate...

VAL: You are definitely missing out on some of the finer things in life. So...how's about we just have a couple of Sprites, then? (stands up)

ZEL: I think I can handle that. (stands up also) Say, why don't I call Katy and you get your wife and we meet there? I'd really like to meet Anike...

Val: (suspicious) And what does that mean? I don't know that I want to introduce my woman to an incubus--

ZEL: Relax, Pal. I admit I'm always going to have an eye for the ladies, but Katy's got my heart and saying hello to another woman and shaking her hand is as far as it ever goes nowadays.

TVS: Guys...about the interview---

VAL: (ignoring her feeble attempts to steer the conversation back to the subject) In that case...do you like Cajun food? There's this little diner near my digs in New Orleans...serves the best hot ribs in town...and I mean Hell-fire hot!

ZEL: Sounds like my kind of place....

(they walk toward the door, still talking)

TVS: Guys? The interview?

VAL: (looks back) Tell your readers to see the trailers or download the novelettes if they want to know more about us!

(they disappear through the door leading to the street and disappear into the twilight).

(The above photos of Zel (first) and Valerius (second) are courtesy of www.fotolia.com., and can also be seen in my trailers of "Love, Vampire Style" and "Demon in Blue Jeans.")

I may have posted about restaurant.com before, but they are having a 3 day sale. Go to the website and type in your zip code. Restaurants in your area will come up. Select the restaurants you might like to try. When you check out, apply the code SURPRISE for an 80% off savings. You will pay $2.00 for a $25.00 off of $35.00 certificate.

These certificates print out on your computer. If you go through mypoints.com, you will earn an additional 6 points per dollar spent.

Happy eating!

"I can't afford to save any more money."

I know, I'm behind, but I recently saw THE SPIDERWICK CHRONICLES (on Netflix) with my 11 yr old niece, a close friend, and my 19 yr old daughter, and we all LOVED it!
Considering the last review I did was of Jack Black lip balm--I'm addicted to chapstick and lip balm--I've gone all out and written up a short post for this film.

The Spiderwick Chronicles is a wonderfully imaginative, delightful YA movie with appeal to all ages, except for very young children. Technically it's an urban fantasy but has classic fantasy elements. All the actors do an excellent job, but I particularly enjoyed the exceptionally talented Freddie Highmore. The brother/sister team of twin brothers Jared and Simon (both play by Highmore) and older sister Mallory (Sarah Bolger) is engaging and touching as they battle the evil creatures bent on reclaiming the all important book, The Spiderwick Chronicles. The magic circle placed around the mysterious old house by their long-lost Great Great Uncle Arthur Spiderwick (David Strathairn) is in danger of being breached by the cunning lord of evil, the shape-shifting ogre, Mulgarath (Nick Nolte). Not to mention, a host of goblins. Unlikely allies come to the childrens assistance, a comic Brownie, Thimbletack, (Martin Short) who must be fed honey to sweeten his temper and a gregarious Hoggoblin, Hogsqueal (Seth Rogen) who helps them better 'see' this fantastic realm.
Do magical creatures truly dwell among us? Arthur Spiderwick thought so, and after seeing this movie, I agree.

Beth Trissel
www. bethtrissel. com

Valentina flattened two fingers against each eye and forced them closed. How shameless, using her sister to force her cooperation.

The bastard.

They could not escape until she complied.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and dropped her hands. He examined her expression and what he saw must have amused him, because he smiled. Indifferent to his amusement, she leaned back. She focused on the ceiling to distance herself from his stare.

“I have waited several months for you.” He dragged up a chair and sat across from her. His muscular legs brushed against hers. “I ask for a truce between us.”

He reached out his hands to her across the table.
Valentina had gotten used to the gadjes’ unfamiliar smells and filthy palms. All strangers. She breathed the nearness of him—a manly scent of earth and leather.

His palms were clean.

“And if I refuse?” she asked.
His masculine fingers stroked her hands. “Then we will continue with this come the morrow, and the day after the morrow—as long as it takes.”

His touch felt possessive—strong and controlling.

Fatal Fortune, my historical romance, continued from last month:

His silver eyes impaled her. “Do you want to see your sister again? From what I understand, she is a sweet girl, shy and dependent on your strength.”

Valentina shuddered. Already he had sensed that Yolanda relied on her.

The earl picked the dagger off the floor. Relaxed, he wiped the blood from the blade on his torn shirt and set it atop the wooden mantel. His deliberate stance in front of the fireplace blocked her from reaching the dagger.

“Come here.” His command resonated silky, yet smooth. He turned toward a slim ornate table in the corner of the room.

She eyed the mantle. If the earl moved another foot, she might be able to retrieve the dagger.

He sighed heavily. “Do I need to drag you?”

She stood motionless and debated whether to defy him, thinking of Yolanda. “Nay. I can move on my own.” With a haughty lift of her head, Valentina purposely walked ahead of him. She insulted him by doing so, although he was not aware of it. In the Romany culture, a woman never walked in front of a man, as she would contaminate him. He would be unclean. The secret affront gave her a little pleasure and she smiled.
Then she realized that a commoner also did not walk in front of a noble, and this might be an insult he would recognize. She held her breath and waited.

He pulled out a heavy wooden chair and beckoned her to sit with a courteous sweep of his hand. “My interest in speaking with you is a simple one. I want you to read my fortune.” His eyes flicked to steel ashes. “And then you may see your sister.”

“You think our ways are mere superstitions,” she countered. “Most Romany don’t read fortunes.”

He shrugged and smiled. “What I believe and disbelieve is of no concern to you. But you possess an astonishing ability to foresee the future, and I admit I am intrigued. Your superstitions have more than an element of truth.”

Hi Ladies,
Great, easy recipe today featuring five ingredients. I saw it in a recipe/type women's magazine. I hope it is OK to post.

1 cup artichokes (chopped)
4 large eggs, beaten
1 16 oz container ricotta
1 8 oz container of garlic-herb cheese spread
1 package frozen chopped spinach, thawed

Mix ricotta, eggs and cheese spread. Wring out the excess water in the spinach and add to mixture along with artichokes. Pour into 9 inch pie pan and bake at 375 degree oven for 45 minutes.

Enjoy!

Linda Nightingale is joined today by Tristan McLaghlin and Lord Morgan D'Arcy, both musicians and both vampires.

Linda: What does it feel like to be a vampire?
Morgan: Linda, if one more person asks me that question, I shall bite them, quite literally. Why not ask what it feels like to be a concert pianist?
Linda: Morgan, put a cork in it.
Tristan: Shall we call you Mum as your pen gave us entry into this life?
Linda: Perhaps, then Tristan, you would like to answer.
Tristan: At the certainty of sounding condescending, what it feels like to be a vampire is beyond mortal comprehension. You've heard it all, heightened senses, physical and metaphysical abilities and, of course, sensuality.
Linda: I think that being a vampire would be—
Morgan: Everything that you have led these people to believe. And more.
Linda: I did give you the ability to read thoughts but I don't appreciate it when they are mine.
Whisper of movement and Tristan has taken her hand.
Tristan: You were broadcasting loud enough for any of us to hear your thoughts. There are ways to block the transmission. I could teach you.
Linda: Both of you had better mind your manners. I have an eraser in my hand.

Both men sit back, eyes unfocused, listening not to their creator but to the sound of footsteps in the hall.

An attractive woman, long hair swinging at her waist, enters the room. She gives Morgan a smile, winks at Linda and sits beside Tristan, linking her arm with his.

Carol: Go play your cello Tristan and your piano Morgan. Leave us girls alone for a few. Sorry, Mum, to rob you of the eye candy.

Girls now that the fellows are not underfoot, from the trailer, you'll see that Black Swans are rather special people and treated to intense, addictive pleasures. If you care to join our select society, I can probably arrange it, but you can't have Tristan. A girl can get spoiled to the best. Our story releases 2/25/09 from The Wild Rose Press. Please join me in falling in both the L-words.

Linda: Nuff said. Join us at the kickoff party for Black Swan released 2/25/09. There'll be prizes! Check my web site: www.lindanightingale.com, and give the serialized vampire story a look see.

Get your pet stories ready! November 23-26 we'll be sharing pet stories. We want stories and tons of comments. We'll take photos, too.

If you will be in the Richmond, Virginia area tomorrow evening, Friday, November 14th, please stop by the Chesterfield Towne Center Barnes and Noble Sammie Jo Moresca will be signing SMOLDER and MORE, MORE, MORE! alongside her chaptermates from the Virginia Romance Writers: Mary Burton, Pamela Kinney and Donna Dalton!

Kevin MacLeod is a composer par excellence. From a Dr. Who documentary (A Matter of Time) to TV series (six episodes of On the Bench) to horror films (In Case of a Zombie Attack, Once upon a Midnight Dreary II, and infomercials--"Dr. Abergel"), his music lends atmosphere and emotion to the story. For those among us who might not be acquainted with his work, I'll start off by saying that it can be found (and listened to) at www.imcompetech.com, which also features little insights into how each piece was composed and the instruments utilized.

First of all, Kevin, let me say how much I appreciate your agreeing to this interview. It was such a wild idea I wasn't sure whether you'd want to or not, so thank you very much! I'm sure our readers (and writers) are going to enjoy it...and now, I'll let Kevin speak for himself:

Have you always had a leaning toward music or was it something that came to you after you'd decided on another occupation?

I started young. You pretty much need to start young. I actually don't remember that far back. Oh, I was a computer programmer before I did composition full-time.

What's your educational background? Did you study music as a child? Where, if any place, have you studied as an adult?

I went to University of Wisconsin for music education... but I got a job programming before I was certified to do anything.

Is composing your fulltime occupation or do you have a "day job," now?

Just music.

--which, I suppose is enough, isn't it? It's always great to be doing what you enjoy. What type instrument do you use to play your music? I envision you standing before a full orchestra but I'm sure that isn't so.

Yeah, orchestras are incredibly expensive. I have a video over on YouTube that shows one of my set-ups. It is just a little MIDI controller, and a laptop. I'm glad there is a good illusion of an orchestra, though!

I've enjoyed reading the little anecdotes you've included with your music. Which do you like best: writing a soundtrack for a movie, writing something for a video game, a score for a musical, or for something like a podcast or radio drama?

Musicals are the most difficult, but I really like them. Audio dramas are probably the ones I like best. You only need to control mood and pacing with sound there. There isn't a need to work around visual cues.

Do you have a favorite piece among all of them? How did you come to write it?

Gah! I can't answer that! I will say that my more favorite ones, I marked with a star on my site. Usually the last thing I did is the one I like best, and then my like of it fades over time, but a few stay alive. Gagool is a good example. It was written for an audio dramatization of King Soloman's Mines, and the point where the witch lady gives an extensive monologue.

I see that your Archives only go back to 2006. Is that when your website went online? When did you get the idea to have a website?

1995. Remember that programming job? Yeah. That was then. I switched to a blog format in 2006.

Have you ever come across any of the trailers on YouTube which have used your music? If so, do you remember which ones and what did you think of them? Do you still get a thrill out of seeing your name credited or is that "old hat" by now?

Yeah. All the time, actually. One day 7 of the top 20 videos had my music in them. I'll be walking past my friends who are watching videos, and go "Oh! That's me!" Credits are not really a thrilling thing. They are a marketing thing. I do like the IMDB credits page. It actually motivates me to take more work. Now if only I'd get more listings on that. I've done projects that are listed there... but I never took the time to figure out how to edit the entries. No worries.

As I mentioned to you recently, I was channel surfing the other night and heard some familiar music and realized it was Laid Back Guitars and Tango de Manzana being used as background for an infomercial. It gave me a little thrill to realize that I not only recognized the music but kind of knew the person who'd composed them! I suppose most people don't look at the credits in movies, etc., (I do!) so for those folks, are there any recognizable titles you've written for which they might recognize?

I do the DVD Extras on Doctor Who, and a pretty cool film in the UK that was called "Simon and Emily" when I had it. Also just did a short for Michel Gondry, but I don't know the title or release on that one. I've done TV programming for BBC, CBC, NBC, and a lot of other stations in... nearly everywhere; China, Poland, Netherlands. I really- honestly - do not know the industry that I'm a part of. I don't know who is big, or what is popular. So if you're super famous - you'll have to let me know. I don't have a TV, and rarely go to see movies.

I watch Dr. Who on DVD, as well as a lot of other BB shows, so I'm going to look at those credits extra-closely from now on! I think thus far, my favorite piece is "Pilot Error." Do you remember how you came to write it?

That's just a straight-up rock piece. I don't remember exactly what that was for, but it sounds like background music coming from a radio or TV. It may have been in the background of some movie or another.

Falling back on the stereotypical interview form, I'll close this in the usual way: Do you have any words of wisdom or advice for anyone who might be thinking of going into some form of music--playing, composition, etc.--as a career?

For composers, I have several!
Number one: Write a lot of music, and get fast doing it.
Number two: Figure out a way to get your music in front of as many
ears as possible. I think that's foolproof, actually. Even if you start out not very
good - you'll get good quickly because it is all you do! For a musician? I don't know. You'll probably need to ask a musician.

Thank you, Kevin, for giving us some insight into your life as a composer.

Cheers!

And let's give a big cheer for Kevin MacLeod--Hip, Hip, Hooray!--for all the beautiful music he's created and allowed so many of us--myself included--to use...for free. I, for one, have a little roster with the names of people whom I have to pay back when my tenuous finances settle down, and Kevin's is high on that list.

(The trailer below is a montage of scenes from some of my trailers, set to four of Kevin MacLeod's pieces--Achilles, Beach Bum, Bright Wish,and Tango de Manzana.)

While the photos don't show the carving, they do show buildings in the "Plantation compound".

FYI
Stone Mountain State Park contains hiking trails, paddle wheel boat rides, museums and much more. Visitors to the park can see the largest high relief sculpture in the world. The carving, set 400 feet above the ground and recessed 40 feet into the mountain, depicts three confederate heroes, Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee, and Stonewall Jackson. Many of the park attractions celebrate life in the Antebellum South before the US Civil War, as we residents of the south call it The War of Northern Aggression.

Each year the Stone Mountain ART Center sponsors a tour of the mock-up of a plantation as part of their Halloween celebration. Storytellers from over the southern states tell southern ghost stories for visitors in the Halloween tours.

I worked this year as a guide, taking groups visitors to different places to head stories. While I didn't capture any ghosts on film, I did get stories of the plantation to share.

Could there be a ghost on these photos? Look closely at the clothing. Not exactly modern!

See the mountain in the background. It's all rock! In spite of the green trees, the evenings were cool and some nights were quite cold for October. There were a few leaves trying to change, but it is Georgia.

Back about a quarter of the last Century ago, when I lived in the Wilds of the American Mid-West, the State of Nebraska celebrated its Sequecentennial. Momentarily caught up in the fervor of how it felt to be in a New State of the Union, and with suggestions from a boyfriend who liked to read Westerns, I wrote two novels set in Nebraska--Walk the Shadow Trail and Vengeance from Eden. The story of a German nobleman's assimilation into the American West's culture and the effect it has on him and the man who befriends him, Walk the Shadow Trail was in the Publishers Top 20 list during the months of July, August, and October, 1998.

I received notice of its acceptance by Books in Motion Publishers two weeks before I went in for the surgery to replace the worn-out prosthesis in my right hip , and so long after its submission that I had forgotten about it. Later, it was published as an ebook and in print by Double Dragon Publications. The audio book allowed me to hear Will's German-accented, and--in the beginning--naive voice, as well as Johnny Moon's weary cynicism. In the following trailer, you can see them as well, to the accompaniment of Kevin MacLeod's Laid Back Guitars.

Do you remember when soap and water were beauty products? I grew up using Dial soap because my parents bought it. I had good skin, too. Ponds Cold Cream was a luxury for some ladies who still swear by it. I know one of my relatives used it because my aunt and I played with the jars in our arbor playhouse in the country in Mississippi in the 1940's and '50's. I do know my mama and grandmama couldn't afford that lovely product.

Some women my age are passionate about their Dove soap and Oil of Olay and have been forever, as have their mama's before them. Again, these would have been luxuries for our family.

And then there are ladies who swear by Preparation H and they aren't using it on their bottoms.

Today there are so many skin care products that we can become confused, if we don't already have our own favorites.

Though some ladies use Vaseline or olive oil to moisturize, it's not recommended by skincare experts.

A few suggestions.
Avoid products that contain alcohol because they are likely drying. If your skin is oily, you don't help matters by taking the oil your skin loves.

Avoid glopping heavy creams on your skin if it's dry. It will just become drier. Hydrate your skin with water. Splash it on your face and let it soak in, Then use a small amount of light moisturizer and let it soak into your skin. You may add thin coats, 2 0r 3, until your skin feels soft and smooth. If you put a dollop of lotion in the palms of your hands, it will warm and spread more evenly.

Washing your face in hot water or cold water will just bug your skin.

Read labels and watch for products your skin doesn't like. You should recognize some of them by now. Fragrances can be the worst offenders.

Take your vitamins and don't skimp on E and A and C. Drink lots of water.

What would you like to know about winterizing your skin?

CREATIVITY has no script; it is inspired ad-libbing.

AMATEURS practice until they get it right; professionals practice until they can't get it wrong.

THE WISE PERSON isn't the one who makes the fewest mistakes; he's the one who learns the most from them.

THE GREATEST underdeveloped country lies under your hat.

ALL THE WORLD'S a stage and most of us need more rehearsals.

and--last, but not least--

IF YOU WANT a place in the sun, you've got to expect a few blisters.

Someone once told me I should write my autobiography. I countered, "Who'd want to read it?" She answered, "A lot of people who want to know how you tick."

Ok-a-a-y. I gave that considerable thought.

So if I were to write this grand tome of personal information, here's how it might start off (with apologies to Denzel Washington in Fallen):


Let me tell you about the day I died....

August 22, 1970...a day with vignettes of consciousness held together with laces of excruciating pain....

Saturday, August 22, 1970, 11: 45 AM, on Pio Nono Avenue in Macon, Georgia....

...a road named for Pope Pius IX...soon to become my road to Hell....

I'm sitting in the passenger seat of my husband's brand-new Toyota Corolla. We're on the way to the car wash. He wants it to be clean when we go to the theater tonight. We turn into the driveway...

****

I awake face-down in the dirt, hearing voices I can't see...Where's Dennis? Where's my husband?....

****

Hands seize me, place me on a stretcher, put me in the back of an ambulance. While the siren shrieks, I hear another sound...deep...tearing...ripped out of lungs struggling to breathe...I see my husband convulsing, two attendants holding him down....

****

We reach the hospital. Dennis is unconscious. My shoulders and legs are grasped. I'm flipped onto my back. I scream as broken bones collide with each other. Everything goes black....

****

I awake freezing. My drug-muddled brain tells me I'm lying on the deck of a battle ship, plowing through the North Atlantic. Waves of ice are thrown over the prow as the ship cuts through the frigid water. A man wraps me in a blanket. I struggle against him, screaming, "Don't touch me! Where's the captain? I'll have you courtmartialed!"

My father walks away from the bed, sits down in a chair, buries his head in his hands, and sobs....

****

Three days later, I become lucid enough to learn I have a crushed hip, a pelvis broken in three places, a fractured vertebrae; one eye has been cut open, as well as the right side of my mouth, all my front teeth have been snapped off, numerous shards of glass embedded in my face, arms, and legs. Dennis is in ICU. He won't wake up for three and a half months. In October, we were to go to New Orleans. The day we were to leave is the day he regains consciousness. Until the day of his death, he'll be an epileptic and a borderline psychotic. That same month, I leave the hospital in a wheelchair, crutches at my side....

****

Every year on August 22, I don't go outside. I stay away from automobiles, and for a few brief, terror-filled moments, the events of those few moments come unbidden into my mind. I tell myself it's forgotten, but it never will be because that's the day my life changed forever...that was the day I died.

I tell myself it might have been prevented...if I'd refused to get into the car...if I'd talked Dennis out of having the car washed...if...if...IF....

...then I put my regrets away for another year and tell myself next time August 22 rolls around, I'll just let it pass--it'll be just another day--but in the back of my mind, I know I won't, and the words of the poet echo through my resolve:

Of all the words of tongue and pen, the saddest are It Might Have Been....


There! Think it's got a chance? My next post will be more uplifting, I promise. (The above picture was taken by my husband in June, 1970.)

As I've said in many of my interviews, Sinbad sh'en Singh, hero of Sinbad's Last Voyage, is my favorite character. Want to see my ideal man?...check him out! He's loyal, loving, a doting father, a good leader who's gentle with those he cares about but doesn't back down from a fight if it becomes necessary, and has managed to survive--from the age of 5--in the harshness of a futuristic world where anyone from a conquered race is automatically classified as an animal and only given human status by governmental decree. Not only has he survived but he's achieved status, eventually becoming the patriarch of a galaxy-wide shipping empire. He loves his wife, Andrea Talltrees, with a passion that sometimes frightens him, and convincing Andi to marry him took every bit of his ingenuity and guile. How he manages this part of their story is told in Sinbad's Wife, tentatively scheduled for release this month by Double Dragon Publications.

With that in mind, I offer the following trailer of Sinbad's Last Voyage which gives a little more insight into Sin and Andi's story. (I've tried to make this film noir. Hope I've succeeded!)

Though there have always been vampires among us, the literary vampire didn't begin to flourish until the mid-1880's. Then came The Vampyre, a short story published in 1819 in England whose authorship was for quite some time in question. Written during the famous "Geneva Summer" which produced Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, it was long attributed to George Gordon, Lord Byron, but is now fully believed to have been written by his personal physician, John Poliodori, with Byron as his model. Then, came Varney the Vampire-- a newspaper serial running 220 chapters and written either by James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Preskett Prest in 1845-47--and the fanged fiend was off and running--with Bram Stoker's Dracula (another vampire supposedly modeled after an employer, actor Henry Irving) becoming the pinnacle. Allowing for individual differences attributed to the creatures by their various creators, novels, stage plays, movies, and TV shows concerning the Undead have flourished ever since, but it was in the 1970's that the literary vision of the vampire began to change. Up until that time, the vampire had been a creature damned and doomed to walk the corridors of time for Eternity, with an immortality which enabled him to laugh at puny humans. Then, something happened. The vampire was still cursed--yes...but immortality is no longer a blessing...occasionally he laments his ability to live forever, hating the fact that he is forced to kill others to continue his own survival, searches the world for someone brave enough to accompany him on his Undead travels. That was the point at which I decided to start collecting vampire novels--to see just how this facet was going to evolve. Before I moved from my home to the Midwest, I had over 500 novels chronicling that event. When most of these were destroyed due to inadequate storage, I started over and now, I have even more, and the theme has continued to change. From cursed creature of the night subsisting on a diet of liquid protein, to sympathetic protagonist who wants nothing more than to be accepted by someone who will love him in spite of his fiendishness, to a man alone, trying to fit in and adjust his different lifestyle to more acceptable patterns, the literary/theatrical/film vampire has done an almost complete about-face. Oh yes, he still avoids sunlight, has to drink blood, and can change from human-appearing to fanged demon in the blink of an eye, but these days sunscreen shields him from the sun, he has a friend at the local bloodbank (or buys synthetic blood). and generally doesn't morph unless he or his colleagues/friends/lover are in danger. He works for a living--as a private eye, on the night shift of a police department, as the owner of a New Orleans restaurant--but he's still looking for something...the key to again becoming human--or at least being accepted as human.

The one thing that has been carried through in all of these stories--other than the search for acceptance--is the ennui and despair that accompanies being immortal. As Christopher Landless explains it in Murder in Old Blood: "Why bother to like someone when you know he'll soon age and die...as will his children, and his grandchildren...and his great-grandchildren...?" Perhaps this can be summed up in the opening sentences of Night Man, as the vampire Damian La Croix introduces himself to his readers, "Time...something a vampire has in abundance...time to enjoy the pleasures of Immortality...time to contemplate his sins...and his mistakes." Sometimes, this inevitablity is accepted, as the vampire in "Well-Met by Moonlight" states, "It may take several millennia for the truth to sink in, but at last, it does. Eventually, I realized that I would never find the woman I was searching for. I had lost her when I chose to become Undead, as I lost my family and all the others I had loved. I purposely made myself this way, placed myself outside the pale of human existence and human love, and for eternity I would pay that price. At last, I bowed my head to the inevitable, and continued my existence alone. As I was meant to be all along...."

Slowly, the vampire is shown as coming to realize that his immortality is a mistake. Even though he's seen history in the making--may have known Beethoven or witnessed Ivan the Terrible's atrocities or stood beside Columbus aboard his ship--it's now all a blur in his mind. Humans, however, are in awe of speaking to someone who could quote one of these historical figures! As the heroine of Murder in Old Blood says:

"...the thought that I'm actually talking to someone who's seen Beethoven, a-and...partied with Mozart...it's eerie!" That made him laugh, a little ruefully. "How do you think I feel?" She smiled. "You ought to write your memoirs. It's be a bestseller!" "Who'd believe it?" "Well, no one could refute it, could they?"

All the "new" vampire wants to do is become human again--or does he? Is this just wistful thinking? In one episode of "Moonlight" Mick St. John does re-obtain his humanity and finds himself so weak he can't fight off his fellow Undead who are attacking his girlfriend. He's just as helpless as she is--a case of "Be careful what you wish for, you may get it!" Eventually, he allows himself to become "re-vampirized" so he can regain his abilities.

The new breed of vampire--the 21st century one--seems to have shaken off his dulled-by-the-millennia boredom and bounced back with enthusiasm...he thrives in all walks of life, more times than not helping Mankind instead of harming it, finding better ways to sublimate the killing urge, and doing something the "old-fashioned" vampires never did--getting the girl...or the boy...in every sense of the word. Today's vampires are not only sexy but extremely capable, and I think that's part of their...dare I use the word charm?...or shall we say--mystique? They've had forever to perfect their techniques, and--whether sadistic or gently seductive--do it very well.

In Shadow Law, when vampire Marek Strigoi dares to ask the woman for whom he has a secret passion why she likes vampire movies, her answer is less than a little satisfying for him:

He set down the chair and dropped into it. "Tell me exactly why women have such a fascination for vampires!"

For just a moment, she stared at him as if she thought he was teasing. "I'm serious," he went on. "I'd really like to know. Why would an intelligent woman like Suzanne Griffin like a tale about a creature who turns into a bat and drinks blood?" Yes, Maggie, tell me--so I'll know if you feel the same way, if you could want such a creature if he said he had fallen in love with you.

"Because..." she stopped, frowning as if thinking it over. "I don't know--it's so romantic."

"Being bitten in the throat is romantic? Having a reanimated corpse make love to you is romantic?" he scowled. "Perhaps I'd better revise my definition of the word!"

"Perhaps I'd better give you mine," she answered, studying her fingers a moment. "The way they portray a vampire is romantic...tall, dark, handsome, with an air of mystery and danger--" Briefly, the ultramarine eyes met his. "--sort of like you, Mark." He affected a disbelieving laugh.

"No mystery here, I assure you, and as for danger--I hope there are no more muggers lurking in the bushes."

"--and that accent...." she shivered slightly. Marek wondered if he should have lost his own so easily. "I mean, any woman would be swept off her feet by a rich, handsome man who acted as if she were the only woman in the world."

"Rich." He snapped up that one word. "According to Hollywood, every vampire in the world is rich...and noble. Have you ever noticed how none of them ever have to work for a living?" His mouth twisted ironically. "But then I guess a vampire who's a shoe salesman or was a street sweeper wouldn't be quite as romantic, would he?"

"I suppose when you're immortal, you've time to amass a fortune." She was laughing now, though still seriously plowing along with her explanation.

"There's that," he agreed. "But what about the rest?" She looked at him questioningly. "The bloodsucking, I mean. From what I understand, that's portrayed pretty graphically nowadays. Not just--" Here he affected a Bela Lugosian accent, "--I vant to drink your blood--and cut to the next scene!"

"I guess." She looked unconvinced. "But it's all so sexy beforehand."

"Sexy?" The word was almost whispered.

"Yes! That's the whole thing right there." She looked excited as if she'd just discovered the answer to a very difficult riddle. "You see--a vampire might bite, but that's all." She leaned forward, totally serious, dropping her voice slightly. "They can't have real sex, you know...."

"No?" Marek appeared fascinated. God, if only she knew how much sex a real vampire could have!

"No. They're impotent....so all they can do is kiss...and bite..." she gestured as if offering him the solution. He didn't bother reminding her of her cousin's novels--and hundreds of others like them--which contained vampires who spent half the story shagging one female or another, sometimes at the same time! "It's the ultimate way to have sex without losing your virginity...and gaining immortality in the bargain!"

"I see." So that was it--spelled out very plainly...a woman wanted to get laid without actually getting laid, with everlasting life as a dividend. Hmmm.

Little Maggie is in for a big surprise when she gets to know Marek better!

So there we have it:

Vampires are mysterious, exude sex, as well as make love very passionately. They've actually seen history happen, been an eyewitness to things we mortals can only read about or see in newsreels. But most importantly of all, they want--and desire--companionship and the love of someone who will want them in spite of what they are--and, in the end, isn't that what we all wish? And if the one with whom we find that companionship and love also offers us the bonus of immortality--of being with him/her forever--that would be the icing on the cake. That, in my opinion, is the vampire's lure...and appeal.

(The image above is The Self-Portrait of Ivan Leone, courtesy of www.fotolia.com. I think it well represents the moody, shadowed subject of this essay.)

Please welcome author Traci Hall. Traci's novel 'Love's Magic' is one of the best paranormal romances I have ever read. Traci is also past president of the Florida Romance Writers and is loved by all. She is a wonderful writer and a pleasure to know.

Hello! I am Traci Hall, author of Love’s Magic – a medieval paranormal romance complete with ghosts and family curses. This book came out in July 08, and it’s done pretty well on the review front. What I love the most is the fan mail. Just this morning I received a lovely, heart-warming, eye-misting email from someone in Australia who said that my book helped her during those long hours of chemo.
I wanted to send her a hug, and chocolate too.
This is the first in a trilogy about the Montehue women, and their royal ancestry. They can trace their bloodline all the back to Boadicea, warrior queen of the Iceni tribe. Throughout the centuries, each generations has borne one tall, flame-haired, green-eyed healer who has been gifted the right to choose her mate – but if forced to wed against her will, she disinherits her magical powers.
In the first book, Love’s Magic, Celestia Montehue is the eldest daughter of three. She has inherited Boadicea’s healing gifts, but she’s short, blonde, and has one green eye and one blue. With her powerful healing abilities, she is forced to choose between marriage or being burnt at the stake for witchcraft. Celestia vows to make her new, moody husband fall in love with her, but he is riddled with demons of his own. And if she’s worried about family curses, he has those as well. Between the two of them, they are lucky to survive, and they owe it all to the love that binds them.
In Beauty’s Curse, Galiana Montehue is ravishingly beautiful. Tall, slender, flame-haired and green-eyed – just as the prophecy foretold. But only one daughter in each family gets the magic, and Celestia has it. Galiana can create unique scents and play the lute, but she has no talent in the sickroom. Tired of listening to lame poetry regarding the color of her skin, she longs for one simple adventure before marrying for money and family advantage. She and her brothers are alone at the manor during a snowstorm when it is attacked, and she accidentally blinds the Black Knight who threatened them. He blackmails her into going to Prince John’s court, and together they must locate the mythical Breath of Merlin. Much to her surprise, Galiana’s years of training and being in tune with her senses have made her a natural seer, and when she touches the stone, she is transported to the past. She and Rourke must work as a team to save King Richard’s England from destruction. (dun du dun du.dun)
In Boadicea’s Legacy, the youngest sister, Ela, is now grown up at nineteen. At odds with King John, she is banished to the wilds of Wales. She can shoot an arrow, swing a sword or axe, and ride as if one with her stallion. She sees auras…and comes to find out that she is the direct reincarnation of Boadicea’s youngest daughter – and Ela’s lover is the Roman who killed her. She must find the key to what happened almost twelve hundred years ago, and finally end the curse before her entire family is ruined.

This series has been so much fun to write, and the research is amazing. I can’t even remember what it was like to do all of this without the internet! But my favorite way to research is to sit down with post it notes and a non-fiction book and get jiggy with marking things that might pertain. The fact that I adore research might come as a huge surprise to my old high school English teacher…

I also write Young Adult paranormal romance – the first one is Her Wiccan, Wiccan Ways, available now in ebook format with Samhain Publishing – and available in print in December. The second in the trilogy, Something Wiccan This Way Comes, will be available in ebook format in November – the first book finaled in the 2008 Indie Book Awards, so that’s kinda cool, lol.
And last, but certainly not least, I have a non-fiction book co-authored with Rhonda Pollero titled Adoption is Forever that will be available in March 09.

If it seems like I have a lot of books coming out – I do (wink) but I have been writing toward this goal forever…and the journey hasn’t always been smooth. My words of wisdom (if I had to pick something after a glass of wine or two) would be to persevere and never toss in the keyboard – focus on a goal, and don’t lose sight of where you want to be!! (okay,
maybe three glasses of wine…)

Thank you to Mary, Joanne and Mona for having me on Pink Fuzzy Slippers – it has been a joy!
Traci
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Judith Gilbert sent me a really eerie story. I KNEW this group would enjoy it!

EVER HAD THE FEELING YOU'RE BEING...WATCHED?

The minute I entered the Alamo I felt uneasy, like someone was watching me.

As I moved through this busy place, the feeling grew stronger. I glanced around and saw nothing unusual, so I shoved my uneasiness aside. I'm a history buff. The Alamo is literally a cemetery for hundreds of people, both Mexican and Texan, and nothing was going to stop me from touring the most visited historic site in Texas. I intended reading every plaque and scrap of paper in the place.

I spotted two small boys, maybe thirteen years old, dressed in period costumes, walking behind one of the tour groups. I figured the boys were actors, part of the props and smiled at them, only to see them become smoky, transparent and disappear.

My heart did a flip. Okay, the Alamo has ghosts. No surprise. For decades, people have been reporting bizarre tales. You've seen ghosts before. They won't hurt you, I kept reminding myself. But they died horrible, sad deaths and are restless. But you can't help them, my mind screamed.

I strolled toward the courtyard and fountain. The four sides are engraved with Bonham, Bowie, Travis and Crockett, defenders who lost their lives at the Alamo. What should have been a tranquil scene turned anything but tranquil. A deep sorrow filled me, so heavy, so intense I could barely catch my breath.

That's it. I've seen enough.

As I walked the grounds, I quickened my pace, heading toward the exit. A sharp pain pierced my side, filling me with a hot burning sensation. Instantly I had a sense that I was dying a thousand deaths.

Unable to shake the oppressive terror, I ran like hell, until I found myself outside.

Since then, I've talked to several people who've also reported similar feelings, as if experiencing the deaths of those spirits trapped forever within the Alamo.

I took a couple of paranormal classes as research for writing and mentioned this incident. The psychics contributed the strong reaction to a possible reincarnation, "What if you died at the Alamo?" I haven't been able to shake that question, but I don't believe in reincarnation. I only know what I saw and what I felt. Maybe I did feel the deaths of some of the people who died back then. Whatever it was, you won't find me visiting the Alamo again, not to relive my own past death, as some believe, or to feel how others died. That's the one and only time I've been terrified enough to run like hell because I really think there were too many ghosts for me to block feeling their horrible anguish and sudden, violent death.

J Gilbert, the dark side of Judith

www.authorjgilbert.com

Yes, this posting is late. HUGELY late. Before you judge me, let me explain. I was up late last night building a flying saucer with my sister's boyfriend.

Oh, all right, it's because I'm visiting while I'm in town for some booksignings and they are huge Halloween junkies. Let's put it this way: I have to go to the store later for another fog machine, stakes, another fence if we can find one, caution tape and Krackles. (Well, those are for me.)

If you're Halloween isn't as busy as mine (I hear knives being sharpened for pumpking carving!!) I recommend you sit down with a good Halloweeny book, mine: Underdead in Denial and a bowl of candy. Underdead In Denial is the sequel to award winning Underdead, about overworked, underappreciated middle school science teacher Jo Gartner who is bitten by an inept vampire and becomes almost undead.

In the sequel, orgeous, enigmatic vampire Will is back and nearly undead Jo Gartner is more determined than ever to avoid all things vampire and maintain a normal life. And what's more normal than doing community service to help a lovesick friend? But getting dressed up in a Halloween costume for a haunted house fundraiser is not what Jo had in mind. Especially when one of the extras turns up dead…

"Light-hearted mystery with a touch of the paranormal and a hint of romance is a recipe for a just about perfect read. Having read tons of vampire novels since getting hooked on the genre, I thought I had seen pretty much every variety of the story, but this is something refreshing and new."~~ Huntress Reviews on Underdead


EXCERPT:
“Something’s going on with you.” Becky gave my black-topped demo counter a quick, automatic check for spills and leaned against it. “And I think I know what it is.”

“You do?” It came out as a whisper.

“Yes. Let’s look at the symptoms, shall we?” She ticked them off on her fingers. “You haven’t gone on a date in months, you get here at dawn, leave at dusk and spend your weekends sitting alone inside your apartment eating nothing but takeout burgers and chocolate, when you eat
at all.”

She narrowed her dark almond-shaped eyes at me. I swallowed convulsively, unable to look away.

“You’ve got chronic PMS,” she said.

“What? I do not have—”

She grinned and then her expression sobered. “I am worried that you’re depressed.”

I grunted in dismissal.

“Not that I blame you,” She looked around my classroom at the solar system dioramas, sagging volcano posters, and dusty mineral display and curled her lip. “Teaching eighth grade earth science would depress anyone. But I have a plan.”

“Oh no.” I knew her plans. It was because of one of them that I now occupied the strange and lonely world between normal human being and vampire. I sank deeper in my chair and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sharp bite of disappointment. I longed to tell her—tell her what? I couldn’t explain what was really going on. It was too fantastical.

I was too tired to make up another of my excuses. Maybe if I fell asleep she’d just go away.

“Better yet, I’ve already set the wheels in motion.”

My eyes snapped back open. “Becky, what have you done?”

*****
And don't forget to etrick or treat with me and other Paranormal, Fantasy and Horror authors. The winner gets a huge bag of books and Halloween treats, including a signed copy of UNDERDEAD. To play, visit my website at www.lizjasper.com!


Liz Jasper
Award winning mystery author of UNDERDEAD and
UNDERDEAD IN DENIAL
www.lizjasper.com Not undead, merely...UNDERDEAD

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

The spirits played rough with this post, so I'll apologize for weirdness in the spacing, font size, etc. By the time I get it up on the blog, I will have gone through at least a dozen different "fixes" to make it work! Hang in for some great stories today.

Before we get started, I have to ask...Have you got your candy ready for the little ghosts and goblins?...or did you have to sample it all to "make sure it was still fit to give out?"



We NEVER have Trick-or-Treaters. I miss seeing all the kids in costumes. Going out to Trick or Treat through the neighborhood is a good childhood memory for me.

Well, it's time for part two of my ghost stories. The ones for today are really good. I hope you enjoy them...and maybe get a little thrill.

First up is Shada Royce

My daughter see's dead people...

Ok, maybe not literally, but she says enough to give me the heebie-jeebies. My daughter, Madison, just turned three years old this July. She’s everything a mother could ever want in a daughter - loving, smart, and beautiful (I’m not biased, really). But when I say ‘smart’ I’m not talking about the ability to read and do math. My child can talk with the best of any thirteen year old at a slumber party. That’s right; I was blessed with a storyteller.

Now her teachers say she’s ‘special’, which to me translates to ‘we can’t shut her up, she talks all through nap time’. My mom, her MeMe, tells me she’s gifted, which I am sure is grandma talk for ‘she’s a jabber mouth’. And my friends say things like “Oh, she just cracks us up with what she says.” Yes, she does do that. Most of the time I have no idea where she gets her mind wonderings from, such as her latest tale about an alligator, a unicorn, and an ogre. Mixing fairytales I suppose.

Now at this point you are wondering why I say my child sees dead people. Well, ever since she could walk and talk she has REFUSED to go into our guest room. She says “There is a mean witch in there”. Madison tells us where the mean witch is sitting in the room, about how the mean witch throws sheets over her head at night, about how she stares at her from the curtains in her window. She is very adamant about ‘the mean witch’, to which we refer to as our first resident ghost.

That’s right, I said our first ghost. Although the mean witch is a great story to tell, I have one much more heart-warming I’d like to share.

Let me stop here and talk about my belief in afterlife. I do believe that sometimes our souls get trapped on earth, that we wonder around places or people we loved, longing for just another glimpse. I think the deceased miss us just as much as we miss them, and why wouldn’t they?

My grandfather, Charles William Johnston, my mom's dad, was a fantastic grandfather. He was my hero and I think about him every week. He was a great bear of a man with a huge booming laugh and laughing eyes. He wore cowboy boots until the day he died (actually think he was buried in them), a western string tie, and a button up dress shirt. He could two-step with the best of them and he hunted or fished just about every day he could. He also always carried a buckeye (for good luck) and a pocket knife everywhere he went. Also a retired master drill sergeant from the US Air Force, he never went into ‘drill sergeant’ mode with his grandkids. We always made him laugh, and he did the same. He was big on practical jokes, my favorite being the one where he’d hide a plastic spider in the Yahtzee cup because he knew I’d find it when we played. Some might think this was mean, but his great, boisterous laugh always took the fright out of any practical joke.

My story starts many years ago, a few weeks after my much loved PawPaw passed away. I remember huddling under my blankets one night, afraid to stick my head above the covers. I always felt safe with my grandfather so I remember saying out loud, “PawPaw, if you are near, I’m scared.” I don’t think I felt any sudden sense of peace or anything, but I did eventually fall asleep. The next morning, while dressing for school, I found the words “PawPaw” etched into the wooden door frame of my closet. I never had trouble falling asleep after that because I always knew he’d be near.

Now fast forward to a few weeks ago. My daughter, the storyteller and future Hollywood actress (I kid you not), was in my room drinking milk from a straw while I got ready to take us shopping. I was putting on my make-up and she was sitting on her little stool in my bedroom 'admiring' herself in the full length mirror on my closet door. She's batting her lashes; talking in the mirror, etc. (Did I mention she just turned three). Well, she starts blowing bubbles in her milk, which is fine since the cup has a lid, but all of the sudden she spits the milk bubbles in the floor.

I run and get a towel, screaming “Madison! Why did you do that?”

She looks at me kind of funny and says, “That man told me to spit it out.” She points toward her stool.

“What man?” I ask, looking over at the stool where she was just sitting.

She says "That man who I was sitting with. Charlie."

I'm sure at this point I had the "dumb-struck" look, mouth agape, mind reeling. All I could think about was my grandfather and the possibility that he was with my daughter, protecting her. I finally managed, "Who are you talking about?" just to clarify.

My daughter looks back at the stool and points again. “That man. Charlie.” She says.

“Why did he tell you to spit out your milk?” I asked, thinking maybe I gave her bad milk or something and my grandfather was really looking out for her.

She says, “He said there were bubbles in there and that I should spit it out and make you get me more milk."

I was floored. A joke, my three-year old daughter had just spit out milk because she’d blown bubbles in it. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry, so I cleaned up the rest of the milk and immediately called my mom and told her the story. She starts laughing as I finish and says "That is exactly something my dad would do to you. You know how he loved practical jokes."

Now to clarify, my daughter has seen maybe one picture of my grandfather and she has never met him, considering he passed away close to 12 year ago. And even if she’d seen more than one picture, where would she come up with the name like Charlie after I just yelled at her for spitting out milk? She’s three!

Needless to say, I’m convinced. My grandfather, always so protective of me, has moved on to his great-granddaughter, teaching her all the practical jokes and laughing ways that he taught me all those years ago. And all I can say is I’m grateful he decided to hang around.

I have slept in this room (I think it was this room) at Shada's house. No grandpa. No rocking chair. Of course, my deep sleep could have been related to Peach Bellinis! Thanks Shada.

The next story comes from Rita Scott, one of my buddies from another blog.

The entity where I'm living now, her name is Leona. After I moved in, I would smell things cooking, even if I hadn't even eaten anything here in a week, much less cooked! I would find the back porch door open in the morning, when I knew I had locked both the storm & inside door the night before. I started asking the neighbors questions and found out Leona was always cooking something and went out to tend her flowers early every spring & summer morning. She never had children but was 'grandma' to all the neighborhood kids. She died in this house when in her 70's. She gives a very peaceful feeling.
It's a different story when my brothers and husband are around! The lights blink on & off,in sequence! And the aroma of pot is in the air! (some things don't change! LOL)

I LOVED this story when you told me this in August. I knew right then that I want to share it! Thanks Rita.

Another blog buddy, Becky Hutchison volunteered this story:

I'm a believer. I've taken photos of the undercroft at the church in Baltimore where Edgar Allan Poe is buried, and some strange things appeared on the pictures..more than just orbs. I also have some eerie photos I took at Fort McHenry (also in Baltimore). While there, the guide of the ghost hunter group I was with set up an audio device in the officers' quarters. We all left but made sure no one went in the building. When we went back and played the audio, we could hear cannon fire and men talking...very weird!

I've had someone talk in my ear, and I've had strange things happen in my house. My dining room hutch has a locked section that holds my mom's china. A few years ago, two Fridays in a row, I left for work with all doors to the house closed and locked. When I came home, the doors to the locked portion of the cabinet were wide open. Both times I fiddled with the lock to make sure nothing was wrong and stamped on the floor to see if it would dislodge the doors. Everything was okay.

Just last week I took my laptop computer down to the kitchen, along with its headset, wireless mouse and power cord. I walked out of the room for something, and when I came back the headset was missing. I went upstairs to double-check if I left it in my bedroom, but I didn't see it anywhere. I checked downstairs again...nothing. I went back upstairs and noticed a lump under my bedcovers...that HADN'T been there when I made the bed. I pulled back the sheets and saw my headset! I was surprised to say the least!!

I do believe you have a poltergeist living with you!

And finally, a touching story from a good friend, Teresa Reasor
My grandfather passed away when I was 10 after a prolonged battle with lung cancer. My grandmother was by herself at the house about 4 weeks after his death. She'd laid down to rest and dosed off. She woke to the feeling that someone was lying beside her in bed holding her hand. She said she lay there for about 10 minutes waiting for the sensation to go away but it didn't. She got up and went into the kitchen. About that time we (my mother, brother, and I) pulled up in the car. The front door openned and closed on it's own, like someone was stepping out of the house to greet us. Then a minute later we I came in.

I would sometimes wake to the same sensation after that. And I always knew it was my grandfather just holding my hand to let me know he was there.

I was home by myself with all the televisions and stuff around the house turned off so i could have some quiet time. My father had just passed away and I had really had a hard time with it.I still am. I was reading a book and just trying to relax. Daddy always called me doll. He'd always say, "Where you goin', Doll or What you been doing, Doll? In fact in the hospital the last words he spoke to me were to ask where I was going. My grandmother was ill with bladder cancer and I was going across the street to her house to check on her. He said, " Where you goin', Doll?" And I told him I'd be back in a few minutes. He was never able to speak after that.

Anyway, while sitting in a completely empty house, I distinctly heard my father say, "What's wrong, Doll?" And sat there for the longest time just waiting for him to say something else, but he didn't. I just said, "I miss you, Daddy?"

Now that you've read all these ghost stories, see how steady your hand is with this little maze. Can you keep the dot between the lines and make it to level 4? Thanks to the Scarlet Pumpernickle for the link.

Click here

I hope everyone had a good time yesterday and today. And to my new blog buddies...I'm so glad to be here!

Until Next Time here or visit me on either of my other sites

Cyndi
http://cynthiadalba.com/ or Cynderella's Castle