chatterbrew.com

How to Outsmart the Freshman 15 – By Shannon Hammer

Sep 2nd, 10 / 0 Comments

Shannon Hammer

If you’re like most people, when you started college, you also started a new life. You had a new wardrobe, a new schedule, a new sense of freedom and—unfortunately for many of us—a new roll around your middle by semester’s end. Weight gain is so common among first-time college students that it’s earned its own nickname: “The Freshman 15.”

It’s completely understandable why so many of us end up weighing more by our December break than we did when we unpacked in our dorms. Away from home and parental eyes, faced with crushing course- and workloads, we easily succumbed into lifestyles of too much unhealthy food and alcohol and too little exercise.

The good news is that the Freshman 15 doesn’t have to turn into the Sophomore 17. If you’re hoping to either lose or avoid college-level weight gain, here are some low-cost, schedule-friendly actions you can take:

Eat breakfast. When the alarm rings, it’s easy to run out the door on an empty stomach. Not only does this set you up for overeating later due to excessive hunger, it can also impact your grades: Studies show that skipping breakfast detracts from scholastic achievement. So even if you can’t sit down and eat a balanced meal, at least grab a protein bar or a piece of fruit, which you can easily store in your dorm room.

Exercise on the cheap. You don’t need an expensive gym membership to get moving. Put on your headset or grab a buddy and walk or run around your school’s track. If bad weather is keeping you indoors, try adding a dance or workout class to your syllabus if your schedule permits.

Remember that beer has calories. There’s a reason they call it “beer gut.” The most popular beer brands run between 140 and 180 calories for every 12 ounce serving and are loaded with sugar and carbs. Moderation is the key to keeping your alcohol intake and waistline under control.

Have healthy food available at all times. Irregular schedules and all-hours studying are staples of college life. That’s why it’s extremely important to make sure you always have healthy food available when you need it, day or night. If you’re pulling an all-nighter, rather than run out for an 11:00 pm fast food fix, save yourself time and money by heading to the kitchen instead. You can fix yourself a delicious healthy snack such as a bowl of hot or cold whole grain cereal and soy milk, almond butter paired with celery sticks or banana slices, lightly buttered popcorn, fresh or canned fruit topped with Greek yogurt, or raw veggies and dip.

Pack snacks. When you’re on the go, with no time for meals due to a hectic class and work schedule, make sure you carry healthy food with you. Snacks that travel well include protein bars, bags of trail mix, dehydrated fruit, and cans of vegetable juice.

Keep salads healthy. Ordering the salad bar instead of the pizza is a good choice. However, the minute the croutons, shredded cheese, creamy dressings, and bacon bits start piling on, those healthy salads just morphed into equivalents of 500+ calorie Big Macs. Keep your salads in shape by first creating a base of lettuce and veggies, then adding proteins like cottage cheese and chicken, then adding one (that would be one) ladle of dressing, and finally topping it off with crunchy extras like croutons and seeds.

Use those smarts that got you into college in the first place to outsmart the Freshman 15 and look and feel your best during your college career.

Shannon Hammer

Vampires Do Exist! – By Staci B. Aka Tiger Lilly

Sep 2nd, 10 / 0 Comments

quote:

We all know about the myth of the vampire and how many scientists have “logically” explained away the origin of these intriguing creatures. However, if you watch, read, or listen to these explanations they do not truly give us a logical reasoning behind creatures so powerful and mysterious. Although scientists want us to believe that the legend of the vampire started with the overactive imagination of ignorant people, http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/AroundTheWorld/story?id=7174356&page=1 (ABC News) the truth should be told; at least the truth as I see it.
-Staci Butler

If you take the time to watch the show Ancient Aliens you will find that there is much truth to what is being said, or at least an improved “logical” explanation for various unexplained events ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYjVfySUOAM ). I have always been a very curious person who needed viable answers to my question about where the higher power came from; the answer “He’s just always been here,” did not work for me. In 1999 I met a young lady named Gina S. at college. She was home schooled the majority of her life and had extremely religious parents; I was the opposite. We became best friends and one day she helped to bring my theory of the higher power to legitimacy. She explained that the good book made reference to people who had experienced metallic or shiny metal type rooms. With that knowledge and my theory, we agreed on what the higher power was. Mary saw a star (spaceship) which abducted and artificially inseminated her; this theory says we all have alien DNA. Several years later, along comes the Ancient Aliens show, finally, saying the same thing. Aliens have been here since the beginning of recorded time, with different worlds visiting us for varies reason. The Greek Gods; were powerful, human looking beings, many of which were shape shifters. The Egyptian Gods; were powerful, half human, half animal beings, and list goes on and on. So let’s suppose we take this information and explain the origin of the vampire.

As stated by the ABC News report, some people think that vampires were made reference to in the good book. This would mean that vampires have been around long before Bram Stoker ever wrote his book. Now let us combine all of this into an example (this is just an example to prove a point). Some religions’ worship cows, while many of us eat them. So imagine for a moment that cows were once the dominate species on Earth. A small number of humans began to show up, but cows still out numbered humans, keeping them as the dominate species. Humans reproduced quicker than the cows could; their numbers grew, and cows were dominated and turned into a food source. This leads us to the vampires; an alien race, from a small planet that no longer has a sufficient food source. They may have come to this planet to become the dominate species, but with their numbers being so small it is impossible for them to do so; regardless human beings are still the cows.

Putting the Myths to Rest

As a vampire species there are many myths about them that ring true and others that do not. I will start with why it is they have not become the dominate species; as we all know they do not breed as we do, a vampire is made and reborn. One must bring their victims to near death and then let the victim drink in their species’ genetic makeup in order to become a vampire. This not only takes time, but forethought as well because vampires are immortal. How many people can you think of, in this world, that you would want to spend eternity with? My answer would be, not many, which keeps the vampire population lower than human beings.

The sunlight myth can be debunked by stating that dead bodies do not burst into flames when exposed to the sun. Although they may have an allergic reaction to the sun, they can still walk in the day, but choose not to because hiding under the cover of night helps to keep them safe and undiscovered by those who wish to hurt or study (dissect) them. In similar context, if you hold a mirror up to a dead body the reflection is there, meaning vampires have a reflection and can be videotaped.

Holy water, crosses, religious instruments, and hallowed ground, cannot hurt or deter them. I am sure this is just an annoyance, as it is to most of us who answer the door and hear “Have you heard the good word?” They are from another world, let them worship, or not, in the way they see fit.

Not entering a home without permission from the owner. Vampires may see us as dumb cows and have been on our planet for a long time, but that does not mean that they are not respectful and polite to those humans they feel deserve it. I mean really, would you knock on someone’s front door and then walk in without an invite? That’s rude; so why would vampires be any different?
Silver is a myth that is true because of the vampires’ genetic makeup. It has nothing to do with some magical reason, simply put, they are highly allergic it to. Many human beings are allergic to certain types of metals, it just so happens that the vampires’ reaction to silver is severe.

Glamour is the ability to control and entice humans when looking into the vampires’ eyes. The majority of humans only use 10% of their brain; aliens are evolved beyond that therefore giving them the ability to control the minds of those using less brain power.

Wooden stakes and decapitation are also true, but not in the context of myth that we are use to. Anything that will hurt or kill a human being will hurt a vampire; it doesn’t matter if it is wood or a stake. Although vampires have the ability to regenerate and heal quickly, if you leave a stake, bullet, pipe, etc. in them they will be paralyzed. The vampire can regenerate but only if there is nothing obstructing the way. If the body tries to heal itself around the obstruction this causes excruciating pain, therefore causing a form of paralysis. In addition, a vampires’ biological makeup is somewhat different than ours. Although they have a heart it is not used to keep them alive; the organ that performs this function is located in the cranial region. If one was to decapitate a vampire, they will die with no hope of regeneration. This also brings up the point of how human beings can be turned into vampires. Human beings are decedents of aliens and the human structure is closely related to that of a vampire, making it easier for a human body to accept the genetic material and change into a vampire.

These explanations are for those myths that are most commonly associated with vampires. I understand that there could be some, less common, myths that were not mentioned here, but I hope this has helped answer most of your vampire questions. Please remember that vampires are not evil, and did not come to this earth to be feared or studied, they are just trying to survive like the rest of us.

Note to all vampires

I understand that humans are a less superior species than yours, but could you please do a favor for all of us humans that have good hearts, live honest lives, and are just trying to make the world a better place? Please stick to victims that are repeat offenders of heinous crimes and those that have not been put caught or have been set free on a technicality. Please remember that not all humans are bad, a person can be reasonable and understanding; however “people” are more likely to be unreasonable and panicky.

People are scared of things they don’t understand and if they don’t understand it they vow that it is the wrong way to do things, or that it must be destroyed. They run their mouths about how evil it is, and although they know little about it, they talk to others as if they everything about it, desperately trying to make people think and feel the same way they do about the things they don’t understand. The cure for that is to find the truth. Logically if people understand it, they won’t be scared of it anymore, therefore minimizing hate and ignorance in the world………Right?

References

History Channel. (2010). Ancient Aliens. Retrieved August 30, 2010 from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYjVfySUOAM

Shipman, Claire. (2009). Vampire Legends Linger for Centuries. Retrieved August 30, 2010 from http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/AroundTheWorld/story?id=7174356&page=1

Distributed by Paul Dale Roberts, HPI General Manager
www.hpiparanormal.net

paul dale roberts

Things That Go Bump – By Michael G. Batcho

Sep 1st, 10 / 0 Comments

Michael Batcho

THINGS THAT GO BUMP (Michael G. Batcho)

It has been over 25 years ago now, and yet I remember these “things” as if it were just yesterday. (And I call them “things” because they were happenings, sounds, overpoweringly strong negative feelings, and even infestations . . . caused by something . . . by someone . . . by some “thing” or “things”.)

The house is not the one I live in now (and the house I live in now has always been my “home” since I was born) but another house I lived in alone for a few short years; a house not so very far away from this one though.

It had served as a church rectory for many years and also before that as a bar. The house was about 100 years old twenty five years ago when I was in it and it had “character”.

Similar in style to the brick homes you see in Philadelphia or Camden N.J., a basement, a first floor, a second floor and a third floor consisting of single line of rooms on each. When you entered the front door, you came into a small alcove and into a front room or office space. Beyond that was a large high ceiling-living room and dining room divided onto two by an accordion sliding door between them . . . And beyond that a kitchen and then the back door out into a small garden area.

One could go to the second floor either from the front where there were stairs or from the back kitchen area where there were some old wooden steps leading up to the hall that ran along the rows of three bedrooms. Toward the front of the house was the largest bedroom and study outside which were the only stairs leading to the attic. It is this area of the house which seemed to always have the creepiest feel and experiences encountered. . . . This side of the house and the stairs and the attic.

The attic was interesting. At the top of the stairs leading to it there was a solid wooden door. Inside that door one entered a small room with very old and very old styled wallpaper and plain wooden plank flooring. There were the old antique gas-light fixtures till mounted into the wall (long since inoperative). From that small room one turned down into a longish wood panel “tunnel way” which led to the large open attic space which extended over the entire length of the house. Old wood beams and flooring . . . unfinished lumber, rustic and dusty . . . At the very far end of this long attic was the only electric light fixture: one solitary light bulb with one of those pull string chains to turn it on and off. It was an odd location for an only light because one had to traverse the entire attic area to get to it to pull the string to turn it on . . . and . . . Once you pulled the string to turn it off, it was a long walk to that “tunnel hallway passage” and into that small wallpapered room to exit down the stairs. If it was nighttime, you’d better have a flashlight with you. This attic light became part of the strange events.

As the late actor/comedian Red Buttons used to say: “strange things are happen’n.”

And “the strange things happen’n” kind of began in a sneaky “sneak-up’ sort of way. The day would end, I’d have the clock-radio on the beside table on listening to music (I remember that John Lennon’s last album was still receiving radio air-play at that time), open a book to read in bed a while . . . And for no reason . . .without warning . . . A strong overpowering feel or sense of “something evil” or at least “not good” would permeate the atmosphere. Sometimes it might be accompanied by a pungent odor of a chemical sulfurous sort, sometimes not, but the feeling always grew stronger until I’d feel compelled to get up and get out.

And that’s what I’d do: get up, quickly get dressed (whether the weather might be summer warm or bitter winter cold) and get out of the house no matter the late hour. I might go out and just sit on the porch steps or get into the car and drive for a while – just until I felt I “had” to go back inside and get some sleep, which I’d do leaving the lights on and the radio playing as a sort of ineffective reassurance. This happened more often than I care to remember.

So, maybe it was just a “mind trick” where the mind just pops free-floating worries or fears from the sub-conscious or unconscious and brings them to the conscious . . . Maybe that was all it was?

But then . . . One night while sitting in the parlor watching television I heard a scratching/clawing sound in the ceiling over the doorway from the front office area into the parlor area where I was sitting. It was ominous and eerie . . . And it moved slowly and persistently . . and loudly. I stood directly beneath the sound as if I could almost watch it. I tapped on the ceiling with a broom handle to see if whatever it was took notice . . . It didn’t. I just sat there on the couch listening to it and getting creeped out until it finally stopped about a half hour later. The sound was so distinctive and explicit that I can still almost “hear” it in my memory as clearly as when it occurred.

Later that summer, in one of the spare bedrooms, there was a noise of a sort of cooing or owl-like or dove-like sound coming from a closet. This closet had two sliding panel doors and the entire interior of the closed was wood paneled as well. I heard the sound and could see the sliding doors actually moving a bit forward and back as whatever it was inside hit against them. I decided to slowly slide one of the doors open and see for myself if a bird somehow got inside and might be trapped trying to get out. I fully expected to see one . . . But the closet was empty. I checked and rechecked every and any place where something could have been hiding.

But the closet had no interior nooks or crannies . . Just a wooden bar to hang clothes and wall to wall wood panel. Nothing was inside; but I heard it and saw the sliding doors move as whatever it was banged against them from the inside. So, another case of the sub-conscious floating up into the conscious?

On another occasion, my older brother was visiting and stayed in the front bedroom (the one close to the stairs that led up to the door into the attic room and attic). I stopped by where he was in the den area reading and found that he’d locked the door. So I knocked and he opened it and when I asked laughingly why he’d locked the door he answered: “wait a minute or two and you’ll see for yourself”. . . and he wasn’t far off. Within a few minutes I heard the door at the top of the stairs bang with a loud bang! I simply walked up the stairs and said, “a draft must have shut the large wooden door”, and I closed it and heard the latch click shut and walked back down the stairs. Before I reached the last step at the bottom I heard that door bang loud again . . . It was now wide open again. I walked back up and closed it again . . And again it opened.

The next time I climbed the stairs I closed the door and made certain the lock and clicked shut . . I pushed against the door hard to make sure it was closed and closed securely and told my brother “this time it will stay shut, no air draft can blow that open now!” . . . before I reached the bottom of the stairs – BANG! There it was!

Now I knew why my brother had locked his door. (Smiley Face)

That same summer there was the experience of the flies. Now all summers have flies and screen doors and windows that allow some in no matter. So it isn’t strange to see flies. But these were huge “huge” black flies with bulging red eyes and they flew so slowly you could catch them in your hand easily. At first it was just a slight nuisance, a few of these buzzing around, but their numbers grew . . . More and more . . . Until a window at the bottom of the back stairs was completely covered by them, you couldn’t see out.

There were way too many to swat so I took to spraying the air with an insecticide. That effectively choked “ME” but the flies seemed to prosper. Eventually, and I don’t remember now just what the time frame was, they did die out and were no more. But it was annoying, disgusting and scary while they lasted. Red eyed flies.

Then there was that attic itself. As I mentioned, the only and sole light in the entire attic was way at the far end and had a pull string/chain to turn it off and on. And it was a single solitary light bulb in the ceiling. So okay, it could be scary to go up there at night and work your way over to it to turn it on and more so to turn it off and find your way across the attic and through that small wood paneled tunnel hall to the end room and then out that door and to the stairs. But that wasn’t the odd thing that made one’s thoughts wonder.

Often I would deliberately check to make sure that that light was “off” (because I learned from experience that it might not “stay off”). I’d leave the house for the evening, either visiting or driving ‘home home” to see family, and pull up late at night to put the ar in the garage . . Look up to the attic window and see the light was on. Whoa! Now that meant I’d have to go up there and turn it off . . . Walking through that spooked and spooky stairs and room and passageway and all the way over to pull that string to shut it off (and make my way back out and down in the dark). Often, the light would be back on again anyway. Then I’d just leave it on. (funny, whatever it was that turned it on never ever turned it off. ha!)

I can say that that side of the house (the front end where the stairs led to that attic) always had an eerie feel about it. It always had an uncomfortable feel about it. I avoided being on that end of the house whenever I could and even slept in back bedroom on the other end of the house because of that. I dreaded even looking down the hallway toward that end of the house.

I never heard any voices . . . I never saw any apparitions . . . But I do believe that like that old Disney move title so aptly phrased it: “something wicked this way comes”. There was something present there . .. and whatever it was, it wasn’t anything “good”.

I’ve not experienced any strange phenomena of the sort before nor since I experience that old house. I’ve certainly not experienced any with that sense of “evil” about them.

Michael Batcho

Summertime Boos – By Michael Batcho

Sep 1st, 10 / 0 Comments

Michael Batcho

SUMMERTIME “BOO’S”

Deep into the boredom that, at times, as anywhere, comprises northeast Pennsylvania coal-region life, especially during the summers when life itself takes a vacation, Jack and Naomi sat and merely stared at each other in mutual un-fascination. They had known each other for years but on many occasions had found themselves in these exact same circumstances: sitting and wondering what they could do to break the monotony/atrophy that characterized their lives.

“A little bit of Metamucil might liven this place up a bit.” — This happy suggestion was the end result of five minutes of deep meditation on Naomi’s part. (Jack, never much of an original mind nor a connoisseur of true art, ignored her attempt at sarcasm and merely cursed at his cup of coffee because it didn’t “taste like a cigarette should” or whatever that old tv commercial jingle used to say.)

However, it was only after the cat, which had for some unknown (or at least unspeakable) reason, jumped on the table and upset that same miserable cup of coffee, landing the mess right on jack’s lap, that we find Jack and Naomi out for a ride. As we enter this scene, however, they’ve been driving for about half an hour and things have settled somewhat after those thirty earth shaking minutes of debate about whose cat it was and whose lousy coffee it was and all the normal battle scars that come with day-to-day lover’s quarrels and spats. And now, with the smoke clearing, we, or better still, Jack and Naomi, find themselves speechless once again; only now they are cramped into the front seat of Jack’s car instead of Naomi’s kitchen with its cats and lousy coffee. (At least the kitchen didn’t have carburetor trouble.)

Naomi turned to the driver of the car (whom you remember to be jack) and shouted rather than asked: “what’s that sound?” . . . “nothing, nothing. You’re just imagining things.” . . .and with that, the car sputtered to a complete halt and jack began pounding his fists into the dashboard while yelling something about it being “Naomi’s fault” and epithets to that effect while Naomi chimed in with her harmonizing “I told you so’s”. . . always a pleasant addition to the silences that normally marked their banter and conversations.

After only a few moments, Naomi came to the realization that She and Jack seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere with only each other, a broken down car, and about two dollars and six cents between them. And Naomi, not much of an advantage to the women’s lib cause, came extremely close to being scared. Jack, not much help to “any’ liberation got scared also and told Naomi to ‘not go anywhere”. Naomi began thinking that it was like being an old time pioneer out on a Conestoga wagon heading across the plains but simply said aloud: “I won’t go anywhere if you don’t.” Jack just looked at her. Somebody HAD to go somewhere if they were to ever get out of there.

Soon it became apparent that the area wasn’t totally devoid of life-signs. There were several buildings visible off in the distance. They weren’t lit but possibly people were inside. “Maybe we can get hold of a phone there and make a call for a ride back or get somebody to fix whatever it is that’s wrong with the car.” — Jack wasn’t too original, remember? , , ,so Naomi agreed to wait in the car while “brave” Jack made his way down the road toward those houses.

At the car, Naomi fumbled with a pack of cigarettes, removed the last one and lit it. She merely glanced at the warning message on the side of the wrapper; something about the Surgeon General being determined hazardous to your health, before tossing it aside. “I’m supposed to worry about a rotten cigarette while I’m out here in the middle of some ghoul’s gulch coal hole and probably something terrifying is likely to happen any minute.” She was conjuring up images of all sorts of eerie occurrences and possibilities when finally among the collage of thoughts she pictured Jack returning from his walk looking pale as a ghost. She laughed and thought what a fool she was to think that anything sp really weird could happen in this time and this palce and to HER. “I’ll just wait for jack to get back” – she scarcely had time to appreciate that slightly poetic enunciation before it dawned on her that what she had last imagined , that bit about Jack returning pale and shocked, she had not imagined at all – she had actually just witnessed it!

It didn’t take long for a thoroughly shaken Jack to revive Naomi from her faint. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here . . .fast” was all she heard before she fainted again.

“What was it that you saw? What was it that made you so scared,’ she asked. Jack replied in a somewhat anxious voice: “there was a giant watermelon down by those buildings!” . . . Naomi’s face fell into disbelief (and relief) — “Do you mean to tell me that you came running back pale as a ghost because you went by somebody’s house and saw a large watermelon?! . . . And you expect me to believe that?” . . .

“Well,” countered our hero, “the thing was “KONG sized” and was rolling towards me . . . And spitting out seeds at me . . . The white seeds didn’t bother me as much as the black seeds — they’re a lot harder and really hurt!”

“Alright, fool, did you at least make that phone call that you went out there to make?” “No, there wasn’t a phone to be found. It’s really deserted over there . . .except for that watermelon!”

And so, the duo did the only thing that could be expected in such a situation – they waited along the road for someone . . . anyone . . . to drive by so they could hitch a ride to some more hospitable environment, like the nearest town for example.

It wasn’t too long a wait before a truck came down the road and glared its headlights into the expectant faces of the distraught pair . . . And slowed to a stop some ten yards or so past them . . . Jack mumbled something about his lucky thumb and Naomi mumbled back to him what he could do with that same thumb . . . But both ran towards the truck where an elderly man wearing an old farmer’s hat welcomed them aboard. “Hop up inside . . . Plenty of room inside for strangers on a hot night —Not so much room on a cool night though — expansion and contraction — them’s physical principles, learned them from m’boy who’s away to college.” Jack, who knew well the differences between a hot and cool night (and obviously this was not one of Jack’s hotter nights) merely asked the driver whether he would mind driving Naomi and himself to the nearest town or phone, to which the driver replied: “just you shut that door good and tight and don’t roll that window down all the way ‘cause it’ll fall out.” . . . and then he started moving down the road without making the slightest effort at making small talk. Jack had to pump the old man for every bit of information. “Where you coming from?” - “oh, just a run down south.” – “where are you headed?” — “north” — “sure is a nice little truck you have here’ – “I like it, serves me well” . . .

Naomi, irked but curious, popped her first (and last) question: “say, what are you hauling in the back of the truck?”, she flipped this question out with a sly giggle . . . But the laughter stopped when the farmer simply replied: “watermelons” . . . and it was his turn to laugh and giggle. (smiley face)

Michael Batcho

Lily Moon – By The Moon Writer

Aug 30th, 10 / 1 Comment

The Moon Writer

The house was empty and dark, filled with the aroma of moth balls from the downstairs storage area. A pack of stolen Marlboro Lights, a journal and a pen were secured in her hands as she opened the glass sliding door stepping barefoot onto her wooden balcony. She had a thin red satin robe on and nothing else. It covered her body but she had a plan on how she could go about feeling something tonight, anything. Her emotions were dead inside, she was alone and stranded in a musty house with no company. She was another lost teenager every one seemed to have forgotten about. Her father was an alcoholic on a mission to regain his lost party years and a mother on her own journey searching for a life she had lost by getting married too young. Lily was the victim of abandonment.

She closed the door behind her dropping the precious items from her grip to the balcony floor, started crying, opened her robe exposing her naked body to the freezing air and the numbness turned into physical agony. It felt good. The tears nearly froze to her cheek before she decided to wrap her body up inside her robe and sat down on the cold brown balcony floor. She put a lit cigarette in her mouth, took a deep puff, opened her journal and began to write. She wrote a few lines but her fingers became so frozen that the pen was hard to move. After ashing, she put the butt out on the ice and flicked it out into the snow. She watched the last of the smoke billow out of her mouth into the moonlit darkness. Lily’s fingers were stiff but they managed to scribble down their last two words of the night, “Dear Moon.”

“Shit, it’s way to cold to write anything. I better get some sleep.” Her teeth chattered.

Although the pain of freezing was morbidly comforting, she wrapped up tight, put the cigs in her robe pocket and went inside. “See you tomorrow, moon,” She thought. Sleep was something that would eventually happen but she was scared of the dark. Lily would jump under her blankets to hide from whatever ghosts she imagined were going to jump out to get her in the middle of the night. There were never any signs of paranormal activity going on and she figured it was only in her mind but it didn’t stop her from being scared. Going to the bathroom was even torture for her at night because she passed the staircase into the basement which was always creepy and then once she got to the bathroom could see another staircase going upstairs to more dark space. Why she lived in a house with so many stairs when she was afraid of the dark was definitely not her idea, that’s for sure.

Covered up in the blankets having left the bedroom light on, she listened to the wind whistling through the tall pines and felt the chilly air drifting through the old windows. Lilly cranked up the mattress cover heater and fell asleep. Sleep was beautiful because it took her away from real life. She thought of suicide every day and the few times she did try, failed in her attempts to do it. Well, all but once which did take her through the tunnel but we’ll get to that story later. Truth is she never really wanted to die but rather just wanted someone to miss her. She figured things would get better if she just hung on because her instincts kept telling her that God had a special plan for her.

A note from the editor:

The Moon Writer chooses to remain anonymous. Please check back for updates.

Fiction

Imagination – By Ronnie Lees

Aug 30th, 10 / 0 Comments

Ronnie Lees - Author of 'Sins of the Mind'

Imagination.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to inspire millions of people with your words, thoughts, music, ideas, and actions? To take your creative side and create something that only your imagination can imagine. Art is a beautiful creation from within coming from old drawings on cave walls, to great novels and inspirational music.

In the past few weeks I have written about politics, love, life, and even death. This week I will only write about a subject that I know about very well. Imagination which has been a huge part of my life has brought great things my way and has become a heavy burden as well.

From an early age I remember lying in my bed at night dreaming of worlds that only existed in my mind. I dreamt of places far away and I wondered what they looked like and what the people lived there were like. I stared at the stars dreaming of other planets just like mankind has been doing for millions of years and wondered if something else was there staring back at me. I felt like I was different then most of the other people around me and I wondered if they dreamed as detailed as I did? I wondered if they could look at each other and see the world as clearly as I did?

As I grew up my imagination got in my way for the most part but I was smart enough at a young age to find a way to live in both worlds. Like I have written in the past, fitting in wasn’t something I wanted to do yet I knew that I needed to be able to live in reality and not always in my dream worlds.

When I was twelve years old, I wrote my first story on my mother’s old type writer with old paper and poor English but I still have that story saved. I can’t remember what inspired me to write it but it is my first memory of writing and remains very important to me. As the years past, I found myself writing more and more to vent and it worked very well. The more I wrote, the more I was able to clear my mind of thousands of adventures manifesting inside my head. Once on paper, I was free to move on even if it was only to the next story. At least I was moving forward.

Writing helped me communicate better with other people, focus more and not stand there lost in other worlds. My English was never that polished but I had this gift to create art, fictional characters and new worlds. It was a wonderful outlet and unlike anything I had ever known. Writing made me feel, dream, and simply get lost within my own worlds. As the worlds fly off my fingers, I am not longer here where we are now but rather within my own story. Similar to those who watch a movie is exactly how I see my worlds. Everything is so visual to me and it makes me feel. With words I can express myself with the hopes that it inspires the reader. Lots of people have asked me why I wasn’t a big reader and my answer to that has always been the same, “I have too many stories I have not read yet in my mind.”

To this day I find myself daydreaming a lot and have very vivid dreams at night. Every little thing escalates my imagination which then get stored in my thoughts to be placed on paper later.

An ability I have always had was creating worlds which I know nothing about. Lots of people seem to attempt to relate the story to the writer and that method of writing does not apply to me. I have always seemed to enjoy writing on any genre ranging from romance to horror and more. To make people feel, allowing them a moment to step away from their lives for just a little while, is an incredible gift to have. Even as I sit here writing about these worlds my mind begins to drift to a novel I was working on named, Storm of Corrections, which is a story about a scary old prison in Boston Harbor and the souls that haunt it.

“The man turned around looking out into the dark stormy night. Looking down into the storm he could see nothing, except the large waves crashing against the rocks below. Sometimes the wind sounds like screams.”

Yet nothing makes me feel passion as the family who stands by each others sides in, Smokey Legends of the Hills.

“Back behind them smoke rose into the clear sky from the exploding barrel. Some of the guards lay dead, never knowing what hit them. The Connolly family rode into the mountains and was never seen again. Warrants were posted for their arrest, and to the locals they became hero’s, almost legends, legends which some considered only a myth.”

And my latest seller, Sins of the Mind…

“As I sat there on the warm couch, out of nowhere in the silence of the night, I heard a faint sound from the backyard. It sounded like someone was screaming. I turned towards the television and hit the mute button. All I could hear now was silence and my own breathing. The screaming sound stopped!

I thought. Then it started again. After a few minutes, I knew for sure what the sound was and where it was coming from. It was a woman screaming from one of my motel rooms out back! Knowing that the man from the night before was the only one staying with me, I called the police. I told them that I could hear screams coming from motel room number thirty, and it sounded like the screams of a woman. I also told the police officer that a man, whose name was Carl, was renting that particular room from me, but I thought he was alone.”

From the characters that I have created, people who are fictional in the sense of the word are real to me, like Hannah Snow, a strong woman who faces pure evil, not because she wants to, but because it is her destiny. Then my poems, that reaches the hearts of many…

“Surrounded by reality lost within my own words, confused, seeing clearly, contradictions of thoughts. Understanding everything, not believing what I know or have been told, hurts so much. Standing on the edge of time, looking at a pond of the unknown, fearing not like most, existing like few, lost like a ghost. Breathless, loving, torching, holding so close, her eyes cut through me, we are not like most. To understand a feeling, a life, the world, can make me sad, to see these people so lost, so mad. Imagine a passion that lasts for time, no stress, no pain, not from your world, where all the answers you seek began with a girl.”

No my words about life, loving and breathing…

“People come and go all the time, most can even be replaced, but few will be remembered for many years. Trusting someone is very hard when you are trying to protect yourself from hurt. When you give someone this control you are opening yourself to the risk of pain. Life can be a game played by few, yet in the end if you can’t be trusted outside of this, the game was played on you.”

It seems most of my life has been about living in my dreams, occasionally being pulled into reality here and there. I referred to myself as an artist once and someone laughed. If writing is not an art then I guess I do not know what is. I can only hope that people can grow through their own personal experiences with their imaginations and learn from it. Maybe your art is painting, drawing, playing music or writing songs. Maybe you are like most people and more interested in enjoying the art instead of creating it.

Either way, we are all blessed with gifts. It is up to us to find out what they are because in the end, wouldn’t it be nice if you were all able to inspire millions of people with your words, thoughts, music, ideas, and actions.

From the Author, Ronnie Lees

Paranormal Loomis: The 2nd Time Around – By Paul Dale Roberts

Aug 30th, 10 / 0 Comments

Paranormal Loomis: The 2nd Time Around
By Paul Dale Roberts, HPI General Manager
www.hpiparanormal.net

HPI LOOMIS FOLLOW-UP TASK FORCE

I wasn’t going to write an article about the August 28, 2010, Saturday Scouting Mission to Loomis, because I already wrote an article about our investigation in Loomis, you can see that article here:
http://www.chatterbrew.com/2010/06/27/spine-tingling-hauntng-in-loomis-by-paul-dale-roberts/

But, as it turns out, there was all kinds of activity in Loomis. I felt like I was hit with a shotgun of paranormal projectiles! In fact the theme song of this article is going to be Shotgun by Junior Walker and the All Stars and you can hear that song here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WNDt-_9zXE

To see pictures of this Scouting Mission, go here:
http://s970.photobucket.com/albums/ae185/PaulDaleRoberts55/8282010LoomisScoutingMission/
Note: We were 75 people strong!

This is truly the Disneyland of the Paranormal and the activity we gather this night needs to be recorded.

But, let’s first take a roll call!

East Bay Paranormal) Investigators present: Kyle Humburg; Jamie McDonald; Kristi Mero; Chris Pulido; Steven Hedrick; Ashley Johnson; Jeff Clyde; Dyani Dominguez.

HPI LOOMIS FOLLOW-UP TASK FORCE (2ND PICTURE)

Guest: Niesha Lofing – Sacramento Bee.

(Lincoln Paranormal) Investigators present: Deborah and James Baughman; Kathy and Steve Foulk. Note: Deborah and James Baughman are the occupants of this Loomis home.

HPI Paranormal Investigating Scouts present: Shannon Leischner; Jeremie Leischner; Chuck Flores, Jacob Beaver; Karie Silko; Katrina LaGrande; Rachel Youngblood; Sean Carter; Shelley Daniels; Cheryl Barwick; Connie Marshall; Brenda Cowan; Janci Biggs; Hunter Biggs Morfin; Katie Hopkins – Keith & Travers; Frank Pesco; Theresa Pesco; Penny Green; Brandon Varanai; Rhonda Hall; Ben Hall; Drew Tadlock; Sandra Brandenburg; Francine Ures; Rose Cooper; Brenda Cowan; Rob Patton; Staci Anderson; Ingrid Jimenez; Gordon Dorff; Gabe and Candy Castillo; Brandon Thomason; Pam Wilson – Empath from Yosemite; Andi Whalen.

HPI Paranormal Investigators present: Angel Kesti; John Shue; Shannon McCabe/HPI Owner; Carol Gillis; Jennifer Newell – Psychic/Senior Lead Investigator; Tiffany Ensign Gonzales – Senior Lead Investigator; Steve and Jennifer Roland/Sensitives; Stephanie Belson/Psychic; Belinda Bentley – Celebrity Psychic/Senior Lead Investigator; Sherry Andersen (CVParanormal); Paul Dale Roberts/HPI General Manager/Scout Coordinator. Steve Roland tonight was promoted to Senior Lead Investigator.

HPI Paranormal Investigators/Scouts absent: Marlena Capistran/Scout; Lindsey Nielsen/Scout; Dale Heer/Scout; Tammy Tash/Scout; Judy Raderchak/Scout; Kathy Logan/Scout; Chantal Apodaca – Personal Assistant to Shannon and Paul/Senior Lead Investigator; Rita Reyes/Investigator.

Waterline Entertainment/Project Paranormal/CSI/PIP: Geoff Foley; Matt Clark; Kris Ragasa; Mel Dye.

The Four Leads Identified for Tonight’s Investigation are: Kyle Humburg; Sherry Andersen; Staci Butler; Belinda Bentley. Note: Kyle Humburg and East Bay Paranormal had to leave, because of an incident and Senior Lead Investigator Tiffany Ensign Gonzales took over his group. Note: HPI Senior Lead Investigators identified for this Scouting Mission are: Jennifer Newell, Steve Roland, Tiffany Ensign Gonzales, Staci Butler, Belinda Bentley, Sherry Andersen.

FIRST INVESTIGATIVE SESSION EVIDENCE BRIEFING:
I am going to keep things on a generic level, there is too much going on this night. One EVP captured says ‘no’. EMF spikes hit hard when specific questions are placed to the entity or entities. Scouts are having personal experiences, being touched. Many orbs are captured in photographs. Disclaimer: Orbs are not an indication of paranormal activity, unless you can prove the orb has intelligent movement. Scouts feel whirlwind of energy, possibly a vortex. Batteries are being drained on cameras, video cameras, etc. One investigator starts to cry profusely, she has no explanation of why she is crying, she feels sadness. One scout falls on the driveway and hits her forehead, she was taken to the hospital. Video captures a chair moving on its own accord in the barn. 4 EVPs captured by one group. One EVP says Amber and another EVP says disrespect. What is unusual is that on the first investigation here, Angel Kesti captured an EVP that says Amber, so this is the 2nd EVP that says Amber on two separate occasions. Some psychics are feeling heavy presence in the 1st barn and started feeling sick to their stomach, depressed and some started crying. Special Note: To the scout that fell and injured herself. HPI supports you and we wish you a speedy recovery.

SECOND INVESTIGATIVE SESSION EVIDENCE BRIEFING:
Belinda Bentley felt something rubbing her back and when a picture was taken, there was a strange light anomaly on her back. EVP was captured that says ‘just to leave’. Deborah Baughman was with some scouts and they audibly heard with their ears a long ‘nooooooo’ (male voice) and captured the EVP on their recorder and played it back for the group. This EVP was a Class A EVP and was actually chilling to hear. Francine Ures felt her neck being choked. Scouts are capturing designer orbs with faces inside the orbs, you can see the faces when the orbs are enhanced/enlarged. Photographs are being taken with strange white mist. Drumming has been heard in the background. 5 scouts saw Shadow People moving around in the field. Pam Wilson feels she was touched and she has a red welt mark on her arm, could be a spider bite, because another scout gets the same type of mark on his back.

THIRD INVESTIGATIVE SESSION EVIDENCE BRIEFING:
Wow! All kinds of things happened during this session. Angel Kesti was in the first barn with Steve Roland and Steve got the entity to communicate with him by flicking on the light switch off and on and Angel captured it on video and showed everyone on her monitor. Shannon Leischner heard with her ears the words: Halu Ja Bu Mi. Belinda’s group had an unusual experience, the videographer John Shue loses 30 minutes of filming and has no explanation for it, then his video camera shuts off. Belinda and Jeremy see a full body apparition of a lady sitting on the bed. With Staci’s group, one of the scouts felt a presence behind her. Staci’s group captures an orb that is solid white and looks like a bowling ball, they also capture a pink orb. Tiffany’s group, one of the scouts felt something behind her. Sherry’s group, one of the scouts, an empath feels the emotions and feelings of the entity. Sherry’s group received great results with the Frank Box in which the entity says one of the scout’s name and answers with intelligence to the questions being asked. One of the scouts feels a tug on their shirt when the Frank Box answers intelligently to a question being asked. Another scout felt like something was following her. Some scouts heard drumming and distant chanting. Rob Patton and Staci Anderson capture unique designer orb.

FOURTH INVESTIGATIVE SESSION EVIDENCE BRIEFING:
A scout named Rhonda felt a hot wet breath on her ear. Scout Gabe picks up EVP that says ‘Becktal’, it was a male whisper. Belinda feels animal spirits roaming the land, one of her scouts gets pinched. Some of her scouts see entities moving back and forth. Belinda gets a tapping on her recorder that responds intelligently to her questions. Staci’s group uses Ghost Radar and picks up on words that make sense to why this place is haunted. One of Tiffany’s scouts uses a Frank Box and the Frank Box says a scout’s name, the Frank Box tells the scouts to leave 5 times and confirms it with a yes. Frank Box locks in on news broadcast about some NC ghosthunters investigating a ghost train and one of the ghosthunters is killed. Was an entity trying to warn us with that broadcast? See the report of the incident here:
http://www.wistv.com/global/story.asp?s=13055036

Frank Box keeps saying Gordon, when scout asks the entity what his name is. Frank Box is asked to say Tiffany and it says ‘Tiff’. Frank Box when asked where they are investigating and it says Loomis twice. Belinda says that her spirit guide told her 2 weeks ago that she will learn about the death of a ghosthunter and on this night we hear the broadcast of the ghosthunter ran over by a train. Sherry’s group communicates with entity in the barn and the flashlight started flashing, one time for yes and 2 times for no. The answers they got was that a little girl age 7 or 10 years old, died in the barn, she says she harmed herself and that no family member was responsible for her death.

Areas that were investigated: Loft End Barn, Cow Barn, Baughman Home and Well’s Fargo Stop. The investigation sessions are for 45 minutes each. There were 4 investigative sessions in 4 locations of the property. After each investigative session there was an evidence briefing in which we present the evidence captured. To bring the investigators back to the meeting area, I blew the whistle to herd them in. All leads were equipped with walkie talkies. Scouts and investigators pitched up tents, so they could spend the night. My temporary office with my Toshiba laptop was set in a nice trailer, thank you James Baughman for my nice set-up, the trailer made a nice HPI headquarters.

FINAL CONCLUSION:
Personal experiences cannot be proved as paranormal. Orbs on still photos cannot be proved as paranormal. Many EVPs were captured and will be further analyzed. The EVP that responded with the name Amber was unique, because we got this same name on another night. The flickering of lights to communicate to the investigators was unexplainable, this happened with two groups and they were getting intelligent responses back by the flickering of the lights, this was captured on video and will soon be displayed at the HPI website. With all of the activity that we gathered during the first investigation and all of the activity that we captured on the second investigation, I would have to deem this property in Loomis as truly haunted.

BELOW IS AN HPI UPDATE!
Elk Grove Citizen:
A reporter and his photographer recently interviewed me in regard to the October 9, 2010 Psychics to Help Solve Cold Case Murder in Elk Grove – Victim: Robert Maisonet.

UPDATE FROM RHONDA HALL/HPI SCOUT!
Hi Paul,

You asked me to write down my experiences from last night and send them to you. There were lots of interesting findings in our group – we were Sherry’s group. Ten of us had come together-friends and family-and my cousin Tracey is a psychic. I don’t think any of us left without a personal experience.

The 2 big experiences that happened to me were as follows…

We went to the Wells Fargo stop. Everyone was doing a shack-hack (frank box) and getting good results by the rocks. I felt somewhat drawn to the pasture beyond so I walked out that way a bit on my own. I was just standing there taking it all in and then I could tell something was running towards me. I could even hear it in the grass. I couldn’t see anything though so I ran back up to the group and told them what I had felt. A few of us walked down again together and I felt someone run up next to me. No one was on that side of me. So, it seemed like something was being drawn to me. Whether it was an animal spirit or a person I don’t know.

Our last stop was the barn up by the house. Our group went in and we all went up to the loft. There was a woman and some people up there from the group before us. Now this was a weird thing—she pretty much kicked all of Sherry’s group out because she wanted to talk to whatever was up there. We all said we had waited all night for our turn at the barn and we would all go downstairs but we would like a turn up there eventually. Strange. And even stranger-it made me very mad. I’m not a very angry person but it really made me mad. I think it was the energy in the room more than my actual feelings. I think whatever was up there was angry and it was making me feel that way too. Anyway, we went downstairs and about 6 or 7 of us went into the small room off the main floor of the barn. Several of us had felt dizzy when we initially walked in so we decided to turn off the flashlights, shut the door and do some EVP. I was standing in the corner nearest the door. We were asking questions with the recorder going. Tracey, our psychic was with us and asking the questions. When she asked for someone to make contact by touching one of us I felt a very hot, moist breathe of air in my right ear. I immediately jumped and turned on the flashlight but I was literally in the corner and there was no way a person could have been in the corner next to me even if they tried. It wasn’t a breeze or a gust of wind nearby it was literally right in my ear like someone was trying to whisper in my ear.

We also did finally get allowed to go upstairs in the barn and our group got some good video of a conversation with spirits using the flashlight.

The whole night was amazing and we really cant wait to join you again for another investigation. My immediate family that was with me was my husband Ben Hall, my daughter Allesandra Brandenburg and me-Rhonda Hall. Please add us to your mailing/emailing list. We live in Carmichael and would love to do this again anytime! We also had some friends and family with us and I think we all felt the same way.

Thank you for an amazing evening!!!

Rhonda adds more:

So some of you have been asking how our paranormal investigation went last night. I am not sure why (maybe it was getting home at 4am?) but I cant seem to talk about it today so I thought I’d write it down. The night started out with us arriving at the location in Loomis at 8pm last night. We were on a 22 acre property in Loomis. There is an old house undergoing renovations on the property, 2 barns, and an area that was a Wells Fargo stop a long time ago. The house is apparently built on an Indian burial ground. The Wells Fargo area was a place where the Indians gathered to do laundry and when Wells Fargo came in and didn’t want the Indians there they would shoot them on sight and leave them there. The family that lives in the house was there and they’ve had a ton of activity so we were there to investigate. There were about 60 people there and they split us into 4 groups and we each investigated all 4 areas separately. Our group consisted of 14 people. 10 of us had gone together—me and my husband Ben, my daughter Sandra, her friends Erica, Drew, Amy and Andi, my Uncle Lou and my cousin Tracey and my cousin Kevin. My cousin Tracey is a psychic and we were hopeful that would give us an advantage. These are my experiences. Just about everyone in our group had experiences, but these are just the ones that stand out in my mind.

First up for our group was investigating the small barn down the drive from the house. I was actually parked by this barn. As we walked down the driveway towards the barn, there was an old woman in front of me who was really walking fast. The driveway was paved but the side of the road was gravel. She was walking too fast. All of a sudden in slow motion she twisted her ankle, fell downhill with all the momentum of her fast walk and slid all the way down and landed on her face with her head underneath the back of my car! Her whole face and forehead were torn up so her investigation ended there with a trip to the hospital. What a way to start the night! I hope she is ok after all of that. After the commotion our group continued on to our investigation in the first barn. Before we even entered the barn I had gone through 2 sets of batteries in my flashlight. While we were inside the batteries in my husband’s GPS also went dead. We went into the barn. Tracey said she felt a vortex of energy. There were 2 cows in the barn so they were making some noise. There was one spot in the barn where I felt dizzy. As soon as I moved out of that spot I was fine. We had some equipment with our group. One man had a pendulum but we didn’t seem to have a lot of success with that. We also had a franks box which is a radio that just keeps scanning channels. You ask questions and the spirits can somehow us the static and whatever is in the radiowaves to pull out words and answer. Its pretty neat to watch. We then did some EVP recording. When we listened back where we asked what the spirits name was you could distinctly hear “Megan”.

Our second location was the house. The family is living there but remodeling so really the only rooms that seemed to be in use were the bedrooms, the bathroom and the kitchen. The rest of the house was semi completed rooms with a lot of open areas to the outside. I personally didn’t feel like there was much going on inside of the house. I did hear clicking and feel drawn to the mound of dirt in the backyard. It’s t dirt that was moved out of the way to do the remodel. My husband thought he saw a shadow move from this mound over to the fence. We did some evp and used the K2 box but with no results. There was one area in the back corner of the new section of the house that had a lot of cold spots and a few people felt odd when they were in there. Part of our group did some investigating inside the bedrooms and saw shadow people.

The third location we went to was the Wells Fargo stop. We walked into the cow pasture and up by these 2 big rocks which were where the Indians gathered. The Wells Fargo people would lie in wait and shoot the Indians there when they wanted to take over the area as their stop. Our whole group participated in an EVP, franks box experiment there. The teenage girl who lives in the house and her friend from next door joined our group this time. We got a lot of answers with the box this time. When asked what is your name, we got the answer “Ian” many times. Also the conversation seemed to lead towards the neighbor boy Robert a lot. While this was going on, I felt drawn further down the pasture. I got up and walked down a ways on my own. I was away from the group and just watching and listening. All of a sudden I heard and felt like someone or something was running towards me. I turned my flashlight on and there was nothing there, but I could hear it running towards me in the grass. I ran back up to the group. My daughter and her friends just loved watching me run back up the hill to them. Then I walked back down the hill with several others in my group. Again I felt something run towards me and it ran right up next to me. I could actually hear it running on the grass. Nothing was there again.

Our last investigation was in the old barn and loft near the house. All night we were hearing from other groups about all of the activity going on in there. Chairs moving, flashlights going on and off, something on someone’s back while they were in there. We were anxious to go inside. When we first went in me and my cousin Kevin walked into the small room on the ground floor of the barn. It is probably about 10×10 with a low ceiling. We both felt really dizzy when we went in there. We all headed up to the loft as that is where all the activity from the night seemed to be. There was a woman up there and a few people from the last group. They were trying to get a spirit to turn on the flashlight. Then the woman told us all to go back downstairs because there were too many people there. As the whole evening had been split up into groups with appointed times to be in each area we were a bit put out that she was using our time and asking us to leave. The strange thing here is I felt really angry about this. I think the energy in the room was just angry. I don’t think it would really have been a big deal to me, but at that moment it just made me really really angry. However, we went downstairs and let her have the time, but told her on our way out that we had been waiting all night for our chance here and we’d really like to have that time. Downstairs about 7 or 8 of us crowded into the small room that had made us dizzy earlier. We turned off our flashlights and turned on the EVP and the K2. I was standing all the way in the corner hanging onto Drew’s arm because it was a little scary. We were doing an EVP session. Tracey was asking the questions. At one point, she asked that if there was a spirit in the room with us to please try to make contact or touch one of us. Immediately I had a very hot breathe of air blow into my right ear. I jumped, turned on my flashlight and turned around. I was literally in the corner, there’s no way anyone could be there. It wasn’t a draft, but a hot breathe right into my ear. After that we finally got a chance to go back up into the loft. I was getting tired, so I just listened to most of the events from outside. The group that went up was able to have a full conversation with a spirit by having it turn my husband’s flashlight on and off. Im looking forward to seeing Kevin’s video to see what really went on up there.

So those are my memories of last night. Thanks to H.P.I International for the whole experience. We all enjoyed it and it opened our minds up to new ideas. Looking forward to the next trip!

Rhonda Hall

WATERLINE ENTERTAINMENT: LINCOLN INVESTIGATION ON VIDEO:
http://paranormal.waterline-ent.com/episodes/august-7th-lincoln/

Paul Dale Roberts, HPI General Manager
aka The Demon Warrior
Shannon McCabe’s HPI (Haunted and Paranormal Investigations International)
www.hpiparanormal.net
HPI Halloween Vampire Ball, info found below:
http://www.shannonmccabe.com/2010_Vampire_Ball.html
Darkview Videos of HPI Investigations, seen at the link below:
http://darkviewparanormal.phanfare.com/
http://www.chatterbrew.com/
Chatterbrew!
Email: pauld5606@comcast.net
Cellular Paranormal Hotline: 916 203 7503
If you have a possible investigation call: 1-888-709-4HPI

Ghost Hunting, paul dale roberts

GREENIE DAM “DAZE” – By Michael G. Batcho

Aug 30th, 10 / 0 Comments

Michael Batcho

Growing up through the 1950’s created some of the most memorable memories a kid could hope to have. Kids were allowed to “be kids”.

We had a sand pile way in the back of our backyard close to a wooden fence and gate along a clay/stone alleyway. Toy trucks found their way there for hours of imaginary projects. In the late summer days of 1953 I can clearly, even now, remember a neighbor named “Bud” who was a teacher in our local school smiling and saying to me as he passed by that alley one day: “well . . . your sand pile days are over.” He was right too! I would be beginning “first grade” that fall.

There we were, mom and me, walking to Saint Cunegunda’s Parochial School and through the big front doors, up the stairs and into an almost empty classroom to “register”. I can vividly remember the nun sitting behind the desk taking all the required information and making some friendly comments to me (and me being too nervous to notice anything except the black religious habit and veil she wore – you could only see her face and wire rimmed glasses). Sand pile days were ending . . . School days were about to begin. And they would be eight years in school which, looking back, were perhaps the happiest years ever in so many many ways. You didn’t realize or know at the time that they would become “memories”; they were just life in a small northeast Pennsylvania town.

But “sand pile days” led to “school days’ which overlapped with a unique time I call, “The Greenie Dam Daze (Days).”

There actually WAS a “Greenie Dam” although it wasn’t a dam at all. It was a small spring fed pond located way down at the end of what was the local school Junior High and football field. You had to climb down a bank of rocks and stones to get there into the clearing and the “Greenie Dam” would be waiting like some hidden pirate’s cove. There were some catfish and other fish swimming about it clay bottomed pool with a sort of small earth/stone walk across the center part. Pollywogs abounded along with blankets of floating pollywog eggs. and “greenie” frogs (and so the name “Greenie Dam“) — eyes just above water surface watching for flying insects.
-2-

. . . And there were flying insects abounding: wasps and hornets, yellow-jackets, bees and bumble bees, the ominous helicopter-like buzzing dragonflies and the water bugs that alternately skitted and lit upon and floated on the water surface. And the various butterflies that flitted about the blossoms of various plants and myriad bunches of cattails.

The good thing about “the greenie dam” was that it was located down across the football field behind the junior high school building which was just across the street from our house. (The Junior High burned down around 1956 or so, but it’s exterior structure stood until the mid 60’s.)Sooner or later just about every kid one knew or palled around with found his way down there to just “hang out”.

Depending upon one’s imagination, this was a pirate’s cove . . . a cowboy hide-out . . . a fishing hole . . . a jungle safari expedition . . . Or just a quiet place to get-a-way and slim flat stones across the water. Every so often, one of the older kids would somehow weave a magical story telling. There was a small grove of trees that circled a small open area where there were some circled rocks where a small camp-fire could be made and as a group of kids wold sit on fallen tree logs or larger rocks, “Gabe” would tell his tales: “Allegheny Monongahela Number 8 Don’t Wait by Graveyard Wille”. It was a sort of free rambling scary set of stories about a scary ghost named “Red Eye”. Probably most or all of those stories are forgotten, even by the guy who told them, but at the time, one could hardly wait to run down at the circulated by word-of-mouth time to sit and listen to the next exciting adventure – and that memory alone makes it special. J

The “greenie dam’ itself was surrounded by a series of small hills or piles of dirt/clay and stone all sort of orange-ish red in color. And it was a challenge to ride your bicycle up and over them bank by bank without falling or simply not having the pedal power to make it to the top. And there were the trees: so many “brezhinny” trees (white birch). There was one spot in particular up over the top of one of those clay banks where there was a tall birch that became a sort of human catapult ride. It required several kids to grab hold of higher branches and bend the tree over and down lower. Then, someone would grab onto the tree and hold on for dear life while the others released their grasp on the branches allowing the springy tree to fling back up . . . And then weave back and forth until it regained its stature. If you were blessed, you were able to hold on and not fall or be hurled off.
-3-

As an alternative to the greenie dam was still another wooded location called “The Hollow”. The Hollow was a longer walk to reach. First one crossed the main highway and crossed the railroad tracks climbed up a bank to a road and walked to a location where a dirt overgrown road/path guided you through the woods to a stream. A single log laid across the stream and you had to walk balancing yourself across that log to cross the stream and then there was “The Hollow”. It was an picturesque grove of trees and glen where a kid might wile away an entire day exploring the stream, cooking hot dogs over a small campfire, fishing or just “doing nothing much” but enjoying being out of the house and out in nature.

The greenie dam and the hollow were like two sides of the same coin but since the greenie was closer and easier to get to, probably it was the more frequented but the hollow held more mystery even just in the long trek through the woods to get there.

Just as “Bud’s” words informed when he smilingly said; “your sand pile days are over”, so too with the end of grade school were “the greenie dam days”. High School scattered the old gang and old pals and probably for some years new kids discovered the mystique and adventures of the old haunts. In time, the greenie was plowed over and leveled for the construction of a public grade school with it’s parking lots and now so many kids gather in that same location unaware of the existence of that “old pirate cove“. I can still walk down the now paved walkways and sidewalks and envision where it was and how it looked (at least how it looked to the eyes of a small boy, reality can be a bit different, but why ruin a great memory?).

The Hollow is still there, I suppose. But the dirt road that led down long and winding through the woods to get there is mostly overgrown now with shrubs and bushes and even trees. I imagine I could still find my way down through it all to re-visit, but again, why ruin an old great memory? It exists in my thoughts and imagination far more idealized anyway . . . And that’s where all the fun is.

-4

And so, ended the greenie dam days, like Brigadoon, sinking and vanishing into the swirling mists of time and the past. And, like Brigadoon, resurfacing from time to time from out of those mists in nostalgic reminiscences and ruminations and smiles at how great those days were. Those “were the days” . . . and those days can leave one in a daze . . . a daze of thankfulness for having been blessed with growing up in great times, in a great little town, with great friends and the best family. No one could ask for more . . .or better. (smiley face)

Childhood Memories, Michael Batcho

Human Consciousness – By Qamrul Khanson

Aug 29th, 10 / 0 Comments

Human consciousness to its indispensable necessities make him physically and mentally busy leaving no opportunity to depression, boredom and dejection. In order to remain conscious to indispensable matters, a medically disabled must seek medical treatments, dietary management and physical exercise concurrently according to the need. These three aspects of an adult are indispensable to make him physically and mentally busy which will keep him healthy and productive. One must seek to be productive for others until death catches.

The human mind keeps reminding and prioritising the commitments self proposes to execute. For a human to continually be conscious of such arrangements within, explores the success in life. Such a process is called Pondering, which implies to one’s thoughts on something to understand it deeply. By doing so, one gets motivated to act upon a decision self-makes. Motivation is the set of reasons that determines one to engage in a particular action. When an action is taken, it must be taken under the consciousness of mind where rush, hesitation, aloofness, ignorance and shilly-shallying are avoided.

Monika And Her “Pink Puppy” – By Michael G. Batcho

Aug 28th, 10 / 2 Comments

Michael Batcho

In a far-a-way village in a far-a-way country lived a young girl named Monika . . . that’s “Monika with a K”, as the little girl was always fast to point out.

Monika was a lot like most other little girls her age, she liked to play and be with her friends. Laughter and giggling was always a sure sign that Monika was somewhere to be found in a circle of gathered children. Her personality just attracted the others to her and they just hung on her every word and she made the others smile and laugh as she herself smiled and laughed.

Whenever Monika walked through the town she made everyone smile. The baker would come out of his shop and give her a doughnut and say, “that’s to say thank you Monika for bringing me a ray of sunshine”, and Monika would smile back a thank you in return. The postman would whistle as he walked by and stoop down and smile a greeting to “his little princess” . . . even the policeman on the corner would tip his cap and smilingly say, “watch crossing the street now, we don’t want to lose our little girl in the traffic”. Everybody smiled in the town . . even the grumpy mayor would smile whenever he happened upon the little girl on her errands.

One spring day as Monika was with her family shopping she saw a sight that just made her eyes light-up and sparkle. In a shop on a shelf sitting alone she spied a small “stuffed toy” – a puppy – a “pink” puppy! And the puppy’s eyes peeked over its nose to look at little Monika and they became instant “friends” – Monika and “Pink Puppy”. “That’s what I’m going to name you, Pink Puppy!” she said out loud . . . and she giggled and smiled as big as an ocean.

Monika’s mom was busy looking at other items and noticed her little girl looking up at the tiny stuffed toy. She walked over and picked up the puppy and took it from the shelf and handed it to Monika. “he’s yours,” she told her. Monika’s eyes lit up like fireworks exploding and her face beamed with joyful thankfulness: “thank you momma . . . puppy and I will be the best of friends . . . forever!” And little Monika held the “pink puppy” close to her even as they paid the clerk and walked out from the store. Nothing would ever come between her and puppy . . . nothing!

The trip back home was indeed a happy one. There were smiles and there was singing all along the way to make the journey pleasant. And of course, everyone had to include the newest member of the family into the conversation.

That night when everyone prepared for bed and sleep, “Pink Puppy” was given a place of honor on the pillow right next to little Monika’s head. When Monika knelt down to say her prayers before sleep, she even place Puppy right next to her so that he too could be included in her words to God.

What a day this had been. Happiness grew into even more happiness. Monika thought she would never ever be happier than this ever! (and maybe she was right . . . happy childhood memories are the happiest moments in our lives.)

The light was put out and the room grew dark and all was quiet . . . all except for some whispering by Monika to her new friend. Then there were a few more giggles . . . then all was silent. All were sound asleep . . . even “Pink Puppy” must have fallen asleep after the busy day because he didn’t make a noise . . . but he couldn’t make a noise . . . Monika was holding him so close and so tightly to her that all Puppy could do was sleep and wait for morning. . . and dream of sugar-plums and butterflies and fields of summer sunshine.

School was the next big adventure for the little pink toy. This would be something new and different for the happy puppy. It was a long walk for a small dog to take but there was no separating this pet from Monika; not even the sound of the school bell ringing could make him leave her side.

The other children all looked on at Monika and her pink companion and began to whisper to one another and cast glances of envy. Their thoughts might have been, “if we can’t have a pink puppy why should SHE?”. And so they acted very unimpressed when little Monika would try to show them her friend. Soon, the work of the classroom would demand attention and “Pink Puppy” would have to just sit quietly while the teacher explained the lessons to the class.

Monika too had to pay attention to the lessons and so had to try to both listen to the teacher and keep one eye on puppy.

One of the students in the class had a thought to make some trouble for Monika. He planned to sneak the stuffed toy dog away while Monika was busy writing in her copy-book. And so he did just that! With a fast move of his hand he grabbed the pink dog and hid it behind his back and walked to a closet and hid the pup behind some piles of books.

When Monika finished her writing she looked down to see her friend . . . and he wasn’t there! She looked all around her to see if maybe she had accidentally pushed him aside but he just wasn’t there. She began to feel so sad and afraid at the same time. Looking everywhere and asking all the other students if they had seen her pink friend. They each pretended that they didn’t know anything (but they ALL did) and they smiled at Monika’s pain and concern. Sometmes some people can be so cruel . . . even as children.

After school ended for the day, Monika walked home very slowly and downcast. She had come to school earlier that morning all smiles and happy and was returning home so sad. What would she tell her mom? And what was her “Pink Puppy” thinking? Did he think that little Monika had just deserted and abandoned him? Was he scared?

Little Monika stopped smiling her smile . . . the baker came out and noticed and tried to cheer her with a cookie . . . but even he stopped smiling when he saw how sad she was. The postman also and the policeman also stopped smiling . . . and the mayor? . . . he went back to being just grumpy again. Everyone became sad along with Monika. And so she continued her sad walk home from school without the sunshine of happy people around her.

Walking into the kitchen Monika’s mother asked “so, how was my Monika’s day in school? And did your new friend fit in well with the class?” . . . and Monika just broke out in tears trying to tell about the loss of “Pink Puppy.” Even the comforting words of her mother could not help her to feel any better.

All through dinner she just picked at the food on her plate and pretended to eat. She had no appetite for food when her friend might be hungry and lonely. Her homework had to be done, but her mind was not in it now.

Monika got ready for sleep again just as she had the night before but tonight was different. She said her prayers “alone” and climbed under the covers and looked at the spot on her pillow where “Pinky” had been just the night before. And she began to cry.

The light of the moon streamed in through her window and showed the shadows of the tree branches waving in the night air. Monika jumped out of bed and ran to the window and peered out. Maybe “Pink Puppy” was out there alone and scared? The small patch of clouds drifted across the brightness of the moon and little Monika gazed up at it and prayed. “Oh God, take care of “Pink Puppy” and let him find his way home.” But Monika knew that stuffed toys really couldn’t find their way anywhere . . . she would have to find “him”.

In the morning the family awoke and began getting ready for the new day’s activities. This meant that Monika would also have to go through the same routine as usual and get ready for her walk to school. What was fun yesterday was lonely today. But what had to be HAD to be and so she ate her breakfast and said goodbye to her mom and headed for the door.

As Monika opened the door she stood still for just a split second . . .and then she smiled as big a smile as the moon she looked at the night before! There at the step of her door stood a little pink puppy looking up at her! It WAS “Pink Puppy”! The happiness she felt overshadowed even the question, “how”?

“Momma, momma!” Monika ran back into the house beaming. “Look momma! He’s come home . . . he’s come back to me! I KNEW he would find me . . . I just knew it!” And he did too.

But how?

Monika wondered about that . . . how did Pink Puppy find his way home to her? Did he walk home? A stuffed toy puppy can’t walk . . . not really! But yet, there he is! Monika ran about the house yelling, “he found me! . . he found me! I knew he would . . . I just knew he would”, as she hugged her pink friend.

Then She thought . . “no never again . . . I will just let “Pink Puppy” here at home in my room while I go to school from now on. I will never lose him again”. And it seemed to Monika that Pink Puppy smiled at this and was happier staying home and waiting for her there.

She ran from the house on her way to school, a little bit late today, but she didn’t even care that the teacher would ask her why she was tardy. That didn’t matter to her because what was lost was now found!

And on her way her face beamed with happiness again . . and the baker smiled at her . . . and the postman . . . and the policeman with his whistle . . . and even the grouchy mayor smiled again. Everyone smiled because the sunshine had returned to little Monika’s face. Her joy became everyone’s joy just as it should have.

But how DID “pink Puppy” find his way home? . . . well, Monika never knew that her teacher had seen the student hiding the toy in the closet. And so the teacher after classes ended took the puppy out from the closet and placed it at Monika’s door. And so today when he saw Monika smiling, the teacher smiled an even bigger smile.

God works in mysterious ways. (smiley face)

Michael Batcho

chatterbrew.com

ChatterBrew’s Baroque and Bookstore

Recommended Reading

Buy Nancy Barr’s Trilogy and Follow her personal blog here on ChatterBrew

Read Martin Higgins and his wonderful articles and stories on ChatterBrew

Read Shannon’s Articles Here On ChatterBrew

Follow Lisa Hill’s Short Stories here on ChatterBrew

Read Sandra Carrington Smith’s Articles Here On ChatterBrew

Buy His Novel and Read His Thoughts On Life Here On ChatterBrew

Follow Robin’s Backstory Here On ChatterBrew

How to Outsmart the Freshman 15 – By Shannon Hammer

Vampires Do Exist! – By Staci B. Aka Tiger Lilly

Things That Go Bump – By Michael G. Batcho

Summertime Boos – By Michael Batcho

Lily Moon – By The Moon Writer

Imagination – By Ronnie Lees

Paranormal Loomis: The 2nd Time Around – By Paul Dale Roberts

GREENIE DAM “DAZE” – By Michael G. Batcho

Human Consciousness – By Qamrul Khanson

Monika And Her “Pink Puppy” – By Michael G. Batcho

Log In

Categories

Sinlou.com

Psychic Readings by Phone – SinLou Ingraffia