Tag Archives: Death

Amy Tan Thinks About #Death . . . Daily ~ Do You??

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And my ghost stories at  . . .  The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter 

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In a recently broadcast public television production titled, “Boomers” celebrity novelist Amy Tan revealed that she thinks about Death “daily”.

Having lost her heroic father during WWII, Tan was raised by an overly stern mother with whom, as she tells it, “she had a close but volatile relationship  . . .  When Tan was 16, [her mother] held a meat cleaver to Amy’s throat and threatened to kill her in an argument over Tan’s new boyfriend.  Following this dose of ‘Mommy Dearest’, the pair did not speak for a year.

And you?  Answer the poll and then, please Dear Reader, tell us what brings the thought of Death a’clawing to your sweet conscience?

“Ghost Chaser’s Daughter” where Coyotes Bay At a Blood Red Moon

~ Halloween 2014 ~

USA: http://dld.bz/dxAxK
UK: http://dld.bz/dxAxY


Filed under Books by Emily Hill, emily hill, ghost adventures, ghost hunter, ghost stories, ghosts, Ghosts' Experienced, Halloween, paranormal, Reincarnation, supernatural, the unexplained, Unexplained Phenomenon

#Free Read for #Halloween Season ~ The Red-Eyed Beast of Bodie

On Amazon in the "Ghost Chaser's Daughter" collection.

On Amazon in the “Ghost Chaser’s Daughter” collection.


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And my ghost stories at  . . .  The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter 

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Ghost Stories And Tales of Terror

By Emily Hill ~ The Red-Eyed Beast of Bodie.

Bodie, California is a ramshackle ghost town of wooden buildings that lean toward each other; and dusty roads that warble into the unknown – the unknown world of tales of terror. The sparsely populated moonscape that is Bodie is replete with wide expanses of sagebrush-dotted land, coyotes that howl at a garish moon and disgruntled spirits that roam the night desert in search of a portal to the world of The Living.

I was wandering through an antique shop near Bodie a year ago, edging my way around and over, stacks of vintage magazines and equipment used for panning gold, Victorian style bassinettes, and over-sized pictures framed in ornate gold frames, heavy and overdone. A musky smell of objects long stored in the attics of the elderly hung in the air. Dust particles sparkled as they floated down shafts of bright sunlight coming through the stained glass windows of the shop. I found myself staring at a faded painting in a roughhewn frame – the type of painting that might fill the wall of a dining room of a turn-of-the century home. The subject of the painting was as interesting as it was disturbing. Cherubs dancing, as they curled lengths of ribbon around the ankles of devils – classic red devils with horns and hooved feet, waxed mustaches and tails. The scene took on an air of Spanish surrealism. And the story I was to hear was as bizarre as the painting that caught my attention.

The shopkeeper stood at my elbow, eager – it turned out – to share the tarnished history of the painting.

“Odd subject matter, isn’t it?” I solicited her opinion, curious about what she would offer.

“Yes, as odd as the story of how it came to be here.”

Are all writers naturally curious? I bit. “Really? Do tell!”

And she began. “Well, this is what I was told by Malika Browning’s granddaughter last year when she brought it in. Evidently it had been stored in the crawl space of her grandmother’s home for many years.”

Bodie had been a gold mining town during the California Gold Rush. The saloons were full, the dancing girls were generous with their charms, and the whiskey bit the lips of anyone who sampled. The cacophony of rinky dink player-pianos drifted out over the wooden buildings on Saturday nights and toward the home of Douglas and ­Ruth Browning. Mr. Browning was in the newspaper business. He and his wife settled in Bodie in 1859. It was back in 1919 when he lay dying that this incident occurred.

Douglas and Ruth’s son, Michael, was married to a Hungarian girl, Malika. Malika was superstitious and frequently sought out the advice of a Hungarian Shaman who lived on the other side of the rail tracks. She visited him against her husband’s wishes. That her father-in-law lay dying, rasping out his last breath, propped up on pillows on the day bed in the parlor was extremely upsetting to her. As her husband stroked his father’s silver hair and her mother-in-law cooed at the dying man, Malika decided that something must be done. So, she tiptoed around the house gathering candles and divining a plan.

That late afternoon as the sun fell toward the horizon, and the desert cooled, Malika’s brothers-in-law arrived – Andrew from Prescott, and Mathew from Phoenix. Andrew was an accountant – Mathew a Sheriff. Ruth and her sons took turns comforting each other and soothing Mr. Browning. He didn’t look good; his white hair matted, his skin molted. Mr. Browning’s eyes darted from one family member to the next, his eyes wide with the terror of knowing he was about to enter another realm. At each breath, the four family members braced themselves, waiting. But, Mr. Browning continued to breath

By early evening Malika began setting the dining room table. Surely they would all sit down and eat a proper meal, even if Douglas could not join them. But, what would compel her mother-in-law, husband, and the two brothers to leave the patriarch and have a meal together? Malika possibly recalled her own grandfather’s death and the rituals the shaman performed during the old man’s last days. And then, she knew what she must do.

She went into the big 1890s era kitchen and got out pots and pans. She stacked the china, and set the table with Mrs. Browning’s fine china. Malika also set out three white tapers, arranging the candles in a triangular pattern in the middle of the table. As she worked she cast worried looks over her shoulder, knew that death was creeping closer. Over the next hour, Malika hurried from kitchen to dining room, back and forth, busying herself setting out a very special meal.

It was a meal intended to fortify her in-laws for the days ahead. And, to whet Mr. Browning’s appetite, she encouraged the aroma of simmering bay leaves, onions, and veal. Malika chopped the veal and built a thick lamb stew one layer of fragrant ingredient at a time. Chop! Chop! Chop! Everyone in the house was taking notice, everyone.

Nightfall approached slowly and with it the unsettling rasp of Mr. Browning’s breathing. He remained alive – on this side of the living.

“Please, won’t you come to dinner?” Malika asked standing in the archway leading to the parlor. “We can gather as is the custom in my family,” she pleaded.

Ruth Browning patted her husband’s hand and placed it gently on his chest. The matriarch then led the way to the dining room. Her sons undoubtedly took turns to looking back, and cast furtive glances around the table. She sunk into her chair, facing Mr. Browning’s cot. She looked into the faces of each of her sons, before smiling at Malika. They began to pass around a basket of warm, yeast-fragrant bread.

Malika ladled the lamb stew, stirring up the onions and bay leaves, causing the paprika to swirl through the thick mixture. She handed the first serving to her mother-in-law.

“Thank you, dear. You’ve done a nice job. Even the candles are a nice touch.”

“Andrew, would you please light the candles?” And the youngest member of the family leaned over and held a match to each wick. The candles flared, and each flame burned strong and bright. Ruth watched in fascination as Malika bowed her head and began an incantation.

“What was that, Malika?” she asked.

“A prayer, taught to me by the Taltos. I prayed that the portal of the Upper World would open and Douglas’s journey would be made easier.”

“Oh, Malika…how sweet.”

Just then a bolt of lightning lit the desert floor creating an instant of daylight. Ruth yelped, and Mathew half-rose, reaching for his holster.

“It’s alright, Ma,” he said.

But it wasn’t. The fuses blew as a roll of thunder crept along the desert floor and approached the house. Then, the mourners were cast into sudden darkness – except for the illumination from three candles.

Ruth looked around the table at her family. How macabre. Her children’s profiles appeared grotesque to her. Each face was half lit by candle light and half cast in darkness – a contrast of good and evil – of heaven and hell – and so on.

Ruth Browning stood up, scraping her chair across the plank flooring, the leg of the chair caught in a groove. Then the chair clattered to the floor and the bereaved woman, soon to be widow, stumbled backward.


But for the quick action of Mathew, she knew she would have taken a bad fall. Her oldest son had saved her.

“Thank you, Mathew. Michael, the fuse box. . .”

“Andrew, check on your father. It’s too dark. . .” Ruth peered at her husband who lay in the darkness of the parlor. Just beyond the glow of the three candles.

As the Sheriff moved to upright his mother’s dining room chair, Ruth let out a piercing scream.

She tasted blood as she bit down on her fist. Did they see it? She pointed and Mathew gaped. She realized that Andrew was staring at her instead of in the direction of her husband. She raised her arm, pointing to the threshold of the parlor – turned infirmary. There, pacing back and forth, between her and her husband, was a foul-smelling animal.

“Jesus Christ! What is that?” screamed Michael as he scrambled to scoot his chair backwards.

It hissed at Michael, and then turned its red eyes on Ruth.

“What the F**k!”

“Andrew!” Mathew admonished, as he rose very slowly, gauging the . . . the. . .

“Is it a black raccoon? The stench is killing me.”

It hissed again, and opened its mouth exposing razor sharp teeth. Glistening spittle hung from its jaw.

“It’s a wolf. . .or rather a coyote!” Whatever it was it paced a line between them and the nearly departed. It lowered its head sniffing the ground and seemed to be daring someone to challenge it.

Ruth wailed, “It’s drawing a line between me and my own husband.” Her breath came now in short, sudden gasps. But if that wild animal turned on Douglas. . .Is it a black raccoon?

“Mathew, dear God! How did it get in here?” It was a raccoon, wasn’t it? The creature turned a belligerent stare at Mathew. Then, it moved its head in a circular motion, gnashing sharp fangs before it hissed at the Sheriff staining the polished floor with snot. Its red eyes flashed in the candle light.

“No, it’s not a raccoon! It’s a God-damned reptile! Look at its tail!” Andrew screamed shrilly as he picked up his dinner knife – and held it as though ready to make a stab at the wolf-like beast.

“For F**k’s sake, Andrew. Pardon me, again, Ma. It’s got a wiry black coat!”

Eyeing the diners, whose meal it was interrupting, the beast turned in a circle. If it were a Collie, or a Labrador, one might imagine it was about to bed down. But it wasn’t – and – it didn’t.

“Mathew, please! Do something! It’s right next to your father!” Ruth pleaded with her son who responded by unclipping the strap of his holster.

“I’ll take care of it, Mother. You and Malika get into the kitchen! Just back away slowly!”

At that instant, the beast began to bay loudly. Of course it would disturb Douglas. It was obvious its intention was to upset everyone – including Mathew.

Ruth noticed Michael and Andrew trade looks.

“Mathew, I’m saying it’s not a reptile, in spite of its tail. Look down! It’s got hooves, for Christ’s sake,” observed Michael.

“Michael, be calm. Everybody be calm while I get it out of here or blow it away!”

As the beast continued patrolling, its hooves clattered on the bare wood floor. Once again it hissed at the family, this time causing venom to spray toward Michael, who held his hands up to protect his face. It seemed to be claiming the territory between Ruth and her husband. The fiend was winning. One of the candles sparked, flared, and went out, catching everyone’s attention. Darkness loomed closer.

Mr. Browning continued to take tiny breaths, the shallowest breathing possible for a living soul. Ruth wiped her nose on an apron in the kitchen and clutched at Malika, “What is it? Get it out of my house before it hurts Douglas,” she begged Mathew.

Malika cried out, “Ördög!” “Édes Istenem” Dear God, indeed! The evil Ördög is causing a visitation on my husband’s father who was suffering so much – but why?

Everyone turned. They stared at Malika.

The creature bayed, answering Malika’s prayer.

“Malika! What in hell are you God-damned chanting?” Michael demanded.

“Please, let’s not be cross with each other, children,” Ruth pleaded afraid of anything that would distract them from the stench-laden creature that was taunting them.

“It’s evil, from the Under World,” Malika was sobbing, her face contorted.

“It’s a god-damned racoon and I’m going to shoot it!” answered the Sheriff.

“Mathew! Are you nuts? You’re going to shoot that thing in mom’s house with dad laying there on his death bed?” Mr. Browning stirred.

The beast snarled, and the Sheriff backed away. As it became more excited, the devil-being emitted the smell of rotting meat. Andrew gagged and backed into the kitchen away from the sickening odor.. Then, a second candle flickered, no flare this time, it simply fizzled out. One candle remained as the family’s sole beacon. Mr. Browning now lay in complete darkness. The only indication of his waning life was the rasp of shallow breathing, somewhere beyond the meager light.

“Mother, where are the fuses? Michael asked. “This candle won’t last long and then we’ll be in the dark with this thing!”

Ruth began sobbing as the reality sunk in. Malika stood to the side biting her nails.

“I don’t know, for God’s sake. Your father would. . .know. . .” her voice trailing.

“Michael! Move to the kitchen with the rest! I’ll hold off this thing while you fix the fuse box,” instructed the Sheriff. Michael moved away from the dining room table and skittered into the kitchen.

Ruth shifted from watching Michael rummage frantically through drawers and cabinets to hoping that Mathew would not be forced fire the gun so close to her husband.

“I trust your judgment, Mathew,” she whispered as she coaxed Andrew away from the sink where he had just finished vomiting. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

“The fuses have to be somewhere close. . .logical,” Michael offered weakly looking over his shoulder toward the thing. It wasn’t coming closer, was it?

The Sheriff put his hand on his gun, but kept the weapon holstered.

“Michael, I’m sorry. I was praying, but I don’t know. . .” Malika offered.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The shaman, the prayers we would recite…in. . .my father’s country.”

The last candle sputtered, as if joining in the conversation. And, then, it slowly dimmed, and went out. The family was left in total darkness with the Sheriff stumbling around the dining room table in the direction of the pacing beast.

“Son of a bitch!” he tripped on an over turned chair. The rest of the family cowered in the kitchen. No one rushed to his rescue. He, after all, was the one in possession of the gun.

In the absolute pitch black, the only illumination came from the angry, possessive red eyes of the monster. No one dared let it out of their sight. Then, in the pitch black, the eyes began to rise. The beast was levitating.

“Douglas!” Mrs. Browning screamed for her husband’s safety. Malika wailed.

“Jesus Christ!” It was too dark to determine who had uttered the epitaph.

“Please, pray everyone. Please,” Malika begged her relatives.

The creature’s eyes glowed like embers, hot, angry, coal-burning eyes, wanting to claim its prize. The Sheriff fumbled for the serrated bread knife and swiped the air toward the foul monstrous being. Nothing. He hadn’t stuck a blow at all. It was too dark – his depth perception was non-existent in the blackness. Something slapped against his face – in the dark. Bristles. His face stung, blood was drawn. The Sheriff turned to his right. Two angry red eyes floated directly in front of his face, he stumbled backward away from the rotting stink of death. He swiped the air again. The creature moved back, drawing the Sheriff further into the living room.

Moving around his father’s sick bed, the loyal son stabbed the air, again hitting nothing. The ferocious red-eyed beast swirled in front of him, emitting a piercing, mocking squeal.

Ruth screamed, and Malika cried even harder, covering her ears. The Sheriff imagined Andrew untangling from his mother’s grasp and sinking into a chair at the kitchen dinette.

“Andrew, where are you?” he hissed, impatiently.

“Over here! Just kill it, or something!”

There was frantic shuffling in the kitchen, drawers opening and shutting. The Sheriff couldn’t really concentrate on that now. He couldn’t take his eyes off of this, this – no longer did anyone believe that it was a raccoon. Something stepped on his foot, something possessing the weight of a horse, crushing it painfully. But it seemed that the beast was across the room. What pit full of imps had invaded the sanctity of his parents’ home?

Not sure whether he was backing this evil into the corner or being led to its lair, the Sheriff hoped for the former. And hope caught up with him just as the fuse box door slammed shut, and that tinny metallic sound reverberated through the house. Suddenly the lights came back on.

The Sheriff was blinded by the sudden glare and stumbled backward. There were no glowering red eyes floating before him. He spun around full circle just to make sure. His eyes passed over his father who lay perfectly still; his mouth gaping open, his wide eyes blind to the deep crevasse of death he had fallen into.

“Is it gone, Mathew?” Ruth whimpered.

“I don’t know.”

Her nerves shredded, she leaned on Michael and made her way back toward the brightly lit parlor to stand beside Mathew. There was a rustling sound from under the coffee table. She grabbed Mathew’s arm, and flinched.

The mother and her two older sons stared in disbelief as the bristled beast skittered across the parlor, suddenly on the move. It began dodging furniture and scattering the throw rugs. They trembled in horror as the shadowy creature scampered over the back of the sofa, clawing its way forward. It vanished into the landscape of the painting that I was now standing in front of.

Unless the shopkeeper has sold the painting that was removed from the home of Ruth and Douglas Browning I’m sure that it remains right where I saw it; in the antique store to the east of Bodie, California – a virtual ghost town. # # #

Want more Ghost Stories by Emily Hill? They are available on Amazon

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Why Do Creepy Dolls Scare Us So Much? A Reunion (with Death) Maybe??


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And my ghost stories at  . . .  The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter 

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As All Hallow’s Eve creeps closer, and the winds begin to howl, whistle, and moan we look at the traditions of Halloween with a shudder – but still fascinated, all the same.


My short, sinister story, “Dolls Watching” tells a tale of reunion – between college girlfriends, the present  and the past — and destiny.

Antique dolls arranged on the guest bed of protagonist, Cassandra, bear witness to the horrors of daily life in a desert ranch house that had been deserted after the tragedy of death.

Clocks tick, tock – tick tock – away the time waiting for the one person who has lived close enough to the other side of the grave to still have the ability to see . . . into the past.

And isn’t that what we expect of those creepy dolls that claw at our attention this time of year? Don’t they speak to us from their cracked porcelain faces and stained couture that spell out the ravages of time?

Wiki explains that, “Dolls have traditionally been used in magic and religious rituals throughout the world, and traditional dolls made of materials like clay and wood are found in the Americas, Asia, Africa and Europe.” Indeed! Some sources even go on to explain that dolls were originally used as Spirit Containers for the deceased. You’re an Egyptian maiden who wants her mother around for all eternity? Have your artisans fashion a clay likeness, conjure her spirit – and Voila! (well, maybe “Voila!” is not the appropriate Egyptian exclamation – but you get my drift.)

Have YOU been stricken, smitten, or out-smarted by a creepy doll? Oh, do tell!! We’ve circled our chairs and are waiting for you to tell us ALL about it.

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My Blog: RIP #RobinWilliams

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And my ghost stories at  . . .  The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter 

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In 2007, I was working as a movie set Extra for the talent agency “Foreground/Background”. As I watched the job postings that summer one came in for a movie being shot in Seattle starring Robin Williams.

Of course I wanted to be in that movie and excitedly let the agency know that I was available that afternoon to work as an Extra for “World’s Greatest Dad,” directed by Bobcat Goldthwait.

I was not only hired for the gig – as an extra in a restaurant scene — but had the wild good fortune of being placed at the table right next to Williams as he romanced his co-star, Alexie Gilmore.

I remember reporting to the cast pen with my head shot and particulars, including a wardrobe change. The casting director’s assistant decided I should wear a tan suit and my make up was toned down for the shoot. After trading movie set war stories with the other foreground actors on a particularly hot summer evening, 30 of us were called to march single file from about a block away into the restaurant. I was giddy!

Most of the movie was shot in Seattle’s Wallingford neighborhood and this particular scene took place at the Rusty Pelican on 45th Street  (same owners as the Edmonds restaurant). At 3 p.m, after the set crew totally transformed the restaurant from a family-friendly dining destination into a chic, hip date-night place, the set was ready! Somehow, (no wise cracks, please!) I landed first in line as we were counted off for restaurant seating and directed to a particular table in the restaurant. My new BFF – Stephanie – pinched me and nodded her head toward the next table. We had been instructed to not stare, ask for autographs, or otherwise engage Williams — a subtle nod was all it took . . .

Robin Williams’ DOUBLE was seated NEXT to us! Which meant that Robin Williams would be sitting next to us! OMG!

My full role was to walk across the restaurant with my dining partners to our table as two little siblings (seated with their parents at another table) fought and made a scene to which the director would “let” Williams ad lib about what little monsters they were. “Let” is the operative word here because Williams stole the whole evening — much to Goldthwait’s seeming delight.

In this movie trailer I am being seated in the restaurant at 1:41 (for three seconds!).

For the first 45 minutes after being seated, I was simply smitten over Robin Williams. He was pleasant and friendly to everyone seated at adjoining tables and easily put everyone at ease. As we relaxed, I looked forward to a full evening with one of Hollywood’s greatest stars.


Death waits for no man. My photo from a cathedral in Barcelona.

Death waits for no man. My photo from a cathedral in Barcelona.

On the nine-hour shoot there were several pages of dialogue between Williams and Gilmore that had to do with Williams making cracks about what was going on in the restaurant; also, they shot the “panty picture” scene, and Williams’ flirted with Gilmore, making lewd night club act comments (in his typical shtick format). When the movie came out I was shocked over how much of what was actually shot was left on the “cutting room floor.”

“Quiet on the set!” was a joke as Williams’ called out one-liners one after another the entire evening during the otherwise silent sound-checks. After three hours I was growing apprehensive by the maniac-tension that was growing on the set, and amazed by the tornado of energy that Robin Williams was able to conjure.

Ultimately Williams said he needed a “break” and decided to greet the huge crowd gathering outside the restaurant. That resulted in a whole nightclub act, which the cast and director Goldthwait sat through. Williams delighted the folks outside by becoming a ventriloquist talking to a little purse-sized dog that someone in the neighborhood had been walking when they discovered that a movie was being shot in their neighborhood.

When Williams tried to end his street performance and slip back into the restaurant, the crowd rushed the Rusty Pelican and police had to be called because the crowd turned into a mob. Those outside began banging on the windows to get Robin to come back out to the street and there was fear that the plate glass would shatter.

Williams double lamented out loud, “Oh no! Why does he always have to do this?” After the police came, things settled back down and the filming continued. It was 9 p.m. and I was growing concerned about how excitable Williams was becoming – he seemed unstoppable as his patter continued at almost everyone’s urging.

Several times at that point his assistant came over to brush his hair, sit on the chair adjoining his, and talk to him. Finally about 11:30 p.m. she announced that the limousine was at the back door of the restaurant to take Williams back to the Four Seasons where he was staying.

The most interesting part of the whole evening was Robin Williams’ ability to “grow” his energy as the crowd, crew and cast egged on his antics.

I hoped that he was enjoying his own celebrity, but felt he was being used for the amusement of others.

I never stepped onto another movie set as I found the atmosphere of that evening disturbing. On the other hand, Goldthwait didn’t seem to mind the manic intrusions to his directing — at all; he rather seemed to enjoy letting Robin be Robin.

I hope that Robin Williams was OK with that.


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My Blog: Why *DO* I write about the Supernatural?

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And my ghost stories at  . . .  The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter 

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I am a member of Werner’s “Supernatural Fiction Readers” group and group members were recently invited to introduce themselves. The following is what I wrote.  If YOU are a Goodreads member, please come find me, and let’s be friends and trade book suggestions!

My post on “Supernatural Fiction Readers”:
“Thank you for the invitation to introduce ourselves. I am an author who writes under the moniker “The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter” because, well. . . err. . . my mother WAS a ghost chaser! And I, of course, I am her daughter.

The Ghost Chaser's Daughter -- available everywhere books are sold!!

The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter — available everywhere books are sold!!

My mother should have been born during the Spiritualist Movement of the 1880s because there was little she would NOT do to attempt to commune with the spirits.

It seems this was all brought on by a brush with Death during a bout with malaria. She saw “the light” and heard the voices of her ancestors calling to her. But in the farmhouse parlor where she lay with chilled packs on her head (her grandmother’s attempts to break her fever) she also heard the voices of her grandparents as they fretted over losing her. She remained on THIS side of the grave for sixty-two years beyond that moment — always fascinated about what lay beyond the grave.

My own polio crisis (with last rites administered at Mercy Hospital in Springfield, Ohio) provided me a similar experience; and not surprisingly — a similar outcome. Over the years my mother and I were simpatico in our collection of Katrina dolls, Ouija board sessions, and Tarot card readings.

I came to writing by way of genealogy.  In 2009 I wrote a novel about the day-to-day life of my father’s ancestors as I heard the voices of my ancestral aunts telling me the story during midnight writing furies. I felt that I could actually HEAR their voices, and typed out the dialogue as they spoke. The result, published by A.V. Harrison Publishing,  is “Jenkins: A Family Saga” about the life of an 1830s Baltimore household during the long trudge toward Civil War.

After “Jenkins” was published I felt it only fair to write SOMETHING about my mother’s family, thus beginning my odyssey as “The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter“.

Several years later I entered “NaNoWriMo” a global author’s challenge to write one novel — in one month. A year of polishing, editor’s help, and book design efforts resulted in “Voodoo Vision” which was re-named to “Ghosts of White Raven Estate“.

Reading is the primary joyful pastime of my life — I would love receiving the comments of my blog visitors on why THEY came to a love of reading and/or the supernatural. Please let me know!


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My Blog: #Star Children ~ Indigo Child


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GIFTED SOULS are reborn to Earth every day – as Star Children.

These “gifted souls” – hyper-aware and independent to an adult level – were first noticed in mass in the 1970s and 1980s. It is theorized that their arrival to Earth was spawned by the Harmonic Convergence of 1978. Arriving in three waves the Indigo Children of the 1970s were followed by Crystal Children (first noted in 1990s) and Rainbow Children (who began arriving on Earth in 2000).

A Star Child Arrives on Earth

A Star Child Arrives on Earth


In 1982 leading researcher and parapsychologist, Nancy Ann Tappe, developed a classification for personalities based on auras and devised a label for the first wave of Star Children — “Indigo Children” based on the predominant aura-hue of these little beings who possess incredible psychic abilities and past-life knowledge.

According to Doreen Virtue, PhD these Indigo Children are humans with, “a warrior personality. Someone who is “here” [on Earth] to lead.” Neale Donald Walsch describes Indigos as, “Children with an extraordinary sense of self; and a dramatically expanded awareness of things around them.”

For the past forty-some years legions of extra-ordinary children have made their mark on society, globally, according to Rev. Sally Kirkland who says, “What’s happening now, is that there are masses of children being born who are, in fact, already spiritually enlightened.”

What are the traits of an Indigo Child?

Simply . . . children who are gifted, hyper-intuitive and speak frequently – and in verifiable detail – about incidents that took place before their birth to the family units to which they were born. Like the child who informed her mother –at three years old – that she was in fact her own predeceased grandmother, and went on to describe intricately the moment-by-moment events of her (own) death (i.e., being chilled [placed on ice to preserve the body for her own wake], cremated) and then waiting for her reincarnated mother to be born so that she could return to the family. All of this from a three year old!

A frequent topic associated with Indigo Children is reincarnation, documented here about a child in the UK in the YouTube video titled, “The Boy Who Lived Before”.

“My daughter tells me that she waited a long time for me to have her, so that she could come to Earth,”  says a mother who describes her Indigo daughter as “an old soul.”

One mother describes the phenomenon this way: My daughter says that “before she was born, she used to watch me from the heavens.” And as soon as she could talk she began describing incidents that took place in our family before her birth.”

Quite often references to incidents in past lives are detailed and vivid (and brought up spontaneously, not in context to the setting the child is in with the parent). A child may casually and quite suddenly, while baking cookies, describe the attributes of the daily life of Michelangelo for instance.

There have been incidents of children begging their parents to drive past the child’s “old house” – the one from a past life (which they describe in minute detail). Some Indigo Children draw maps to get back to their “old house” in order to ultimately show their parents to a house that exactly matches (architecturally) a house in a terrain that has been pre-described. These are Indigo Children.

Often Star Children are lumped in with, and labeled as: disruptive, dyslexic, ADHD and autistic. In fact the converse is more accurate. These behaviors can be a part of a Star Child’s composite; but not every disruptive (etc.) child is a Star Child.

Not since the age of the Gnostics have “we” seen such a abundance of Star Children arriving back to Earth. Why are they here now, in this day and age? According to songwriter, rapper, Elijah+ “We are here to bring the new language [of light and sound].”

Alexa Falk, singer, advises Indigo Children, “Live your gift.”

Self-aware Indigo Natalee Falk explains Indigos as “someone who comes into the world with a “knowing” a gift”.   Mine’s music.”

What to watch for if you suspect you may have an Indigo Child to guide to adulthood? Indigo Children are gifted. They are often musically inclined and disciplined on an adult professional level. More difficult traits include that they often hear voices “around them” – from outside their head. They frequently have nervous tics, are fidgety.


But what caught my attention when researching this topic is that Indigo Children frequently describe communication with grandparents whom they seemingly have not had the benefit of meeting – and/or other proxy spirits who bring messages of reassurance from their grandparents.

Once more the link between the just-arrived soul –and the just-departed soul secures itself – like the clasp of a well-worn bracelet.

~ ~ ~ ~

Emily Hill is the author of many ghost stories. Her latest novel is based in New Orleans, during the “Voodoo Years”

#Ghosts of White Raven Estate.
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Numerical #Intuition: Our Brain “Knows” More Than We Think

11:11 – Hey! There it is again! Whether it’s coming up on noon; or I wake up “in the middle of the night” the digital clock is taunting eerily, 11:11. For a friend of mine, in the waning months of 2001, it was 9:11 – a significant number of times she would glance at the clock, whiling away the hours that seemed to stand still after September 11th and her digital clock would read 9:11. She was stuck in the realm of reliving the terrorist attack on the United States by receiving signals-from-the-Universe that reinforced her thought/worry pattern.

I am a devotee of Kelly Howell who promotes the concept, “The Universal Mind”. That is, that the mind has the natural intuitive power to draw on universal forces [e.g. influences, trends, intuition] to assist us in the pursuit of our goals if we will only recognize and act on the intuitive messages that we receive.

The Universal Mind concept came to me originally while I was studying Kubler-Ross research in the 1970s. Dr. Kubler-Ross’ research centers on the spiritual and biological transitions of death. Her research was dependent (obviously) on individuals who died – clinically – and then came back to tell about their “returning to life” experience. She noted in her book, On Death and Dying, that upon death, “return-to-life” individuals experienced a floating above themselves’ phenomenon that allowed them to visually view and process ‘the setting and circumstance’ of their own death – floating above the scene as a clinical observer. (See the article referenced, “Out of Body” at the end of this blog entry.)

As these individuals progressed toward the finality of death they observed things about them from a telescoping-type process. First they noticed the immediate scene; then the roof of the house/hospital/street at which their death had taken place; some progressed all the way to a celestial night sky from which they observed Earth before being called back to resume their Earthly lives.

Kubler-Ross, and scientists who ask questions related to, “What is death?” began to interview these “return-to-life” individuals and learned that – when quizzed about their surroundings – a death-victim’s (mind’s eye) was able to pinpoint certain incident landmarks such as the exact physical characteristics of late-to-the-scene highway clean up crews, if the person had died in a traffic accident.

Kelly Howell, my new meditation guru, would call this ability/phenom, drawing on “universal knowledge”. So back to the thesis of this week’s blog: Can our brain draw on “universal knowledge”, and how would that work?

To test this question (after it dawned on me that I was repeatedly looking at the clock at the moment of 11:11) I decided to silently, but wildly, congratulate myself if I looked at the clock and the numbers were arranged in sequential order. So – 4:56 worked; as did 1:23; and 12:34 – I even gave myself a spirited high-five if the numbers could be re-arranged into a sequential pattern: like, 3:42; but I was really looking for the “universe” to tell me to look at the clock in an ordered sequence.

What are the results after two months? A full eighty percent of the time when I impulsively look at the clock to check the time now — the numbers read sequentially. Does my brain “know” it’s time to look at the clock, and therefore gives me a signal? I believe so.

To push the envelope into full intuition I began paying close attention to all numbers that came at me during each day’s activities. Whether they came at me as grocery store prices, or telepathic signals. I began to only notice license plates numbered 987, and such. One day I looked at license plates with only THAT number sequence (frankly, that disturbed me.)

Then, an incident happened that prompted me to write this blog: Last week as I was climbing the stairs to bed the number “235” popped into my head – VERY, VERY prominently. At first I thought “2+3=5”. Then, I called out to my husband who was brushing his teeth, “Remember when there were 235 houses for sale all over California in the Sixties?” (because THAT was the only other connection to “235” that I could reference; and the signal “235” had grown so strong.

My husband’s mother, who had been ailing, died at 2:35 a.m. that next morning at the age of 88. She had a city-farm, with chickens, in “Pinko-Commie” Berkeley, California. In fact, her nickname was, “Pinkie”. She died on Earth Day. The importance of the ‘signal’ 2-3-5 came to me the next morning; but I had been unable to attach the appropriate significance when The Universe sent me the warning-message of her impending death.

~ ~ ~


“Out of Body” University of Oxford Students: http://www.spiritscienceandmetaphysics.com/out-of-body-experiences-validated-by-scientific-study/

Scroll to: “Dictionary of Repeating Number Sequences” http://www.sacredscribes.net/angelnumbersequences.htm


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Emily Hill’s ghost stories and novels are available at the following websites:

Ghosts of White Raven Estate.

iBooks: http://dld.bz/cSu8G
USA/Kindle: http://dld.bz/djc7P
UK/Kindle: http://dld.bz/djc7Q
USA/Paperback: http://dld.bz/djc7K

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The ‘Why’ of Why Children See #Ghosts ~ a Blog quoting Shirley MacLaine

╰☆╮☆♥*¨*• 💕💕 •*¨* ♥ ☆╰☆╮💕💕 •*¨* ♥ ☆╰☆╮


And my ghost stories at  . . .  The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter 

╰☆╮☆♥*¨*• 💕💕 •*¨* ♥ ☆╰☆╮💕💕 •*¨* ♥ ☆╰☆╮

In my last several blog entries I have focused on children who see ghosts – particularly on the ghosts of Grandparents’. The relationship between infants who stare intently at ‘something’ while laying in cribs; toddlers who speak of imaginary friends; and even the eerie experiences of three-to-six year olds who speak in reference to relatives they have never met is fascinating to me because the first apparition I ever saw was that of my grandfather who died on Christmas Day, 1956; six months before his ghost floated through our home checking into bedrooms and peeking into nooks.

I am currently reading ‘Going Within’ by Shirley MacLaine and could not have chosen a book more tailored to my current journey into topics of metaphysics, quantum mechanics, and spiritualism. So I was struck with electrifying excitement when I read the following passage from Shirley MacLaine’s book which buoys the research of Nicole Leader regarding ghosts and children:

Shirley MacLaine. Going Within:  “Most children have a balance of their left and right brain hemispheres and are basically psychic until they begin to learn conditioned techniques of thinking, and to accept  limitations. The reason most children are psychic is because a child’s pineal gland, which according to Eastern esoteric teachings is the organ of telepathy, is highly developed from birth. This gland gradually shrinks from lack of stimulation or use as the child grows older and begins to use left-brain logic more than right brain intuition and feelings.

“The psychic child sees what is hidden from ordinary left-brain mortals in a dimension known as the fourth-dimension, beyond those dimensions we perceive in ‘reality’.

“The fourth-dimension is the realm of the super-conscience. It is the dimension that Einstein addressed as having no time or space. . . .” From here MacLaine goes on to topics dealing with the super-conscience.


The first question I asked myself regarding this short excerpt on why children see into The Other dimensions is whether or not there is such a thing as the pineal gland. Click on these links to see what I discovered. Physiologically the pineal gland is the endocrine gland that secretes melatonin. But on a spiritual level it is referred by Rene Descartes as the ‘principal seat to the soul.’  More science-based websites than Wiki say this about the pineal gland.

The website ‘International Ghost Hunter’s Society’ takes an in-depth look at how the pineal gland figures into the ghost-sighting lives of youngsters in this blog by Dave Oester.

These links provide in-depth physiological, scientific and metaphysic explanations as to why (1) children see ‘imaginary’ friends; (2) children seem to ‘see’ what’s beyond our own scope; (3) children are more likely to see grandparents and ancestors; (4) and — I might add — why children become afraid of the dark!

Have you, or maybe your children reported seeing ‘imaginary friends’ that seem oh! So! real?  What are your family’s experiences with ghost sightings? Please leave A Reply message here, and we will continue discussing the topic of ‘Why Children See Ghosts’.


Emily Hill writes under the flag, ‘The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter’ and has recently published ‘Ghosts of White Raven Estate’ which is available on #Kindle, and Smashwords’ iBooks.

Ghosts of White Raven Estate ~ Available where eBooks are Sold!

Ghosts of White Raven Estate ~ Available where eBooks are Sold!

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How #Science Explains #Paranormal, Parallel Universe, Predestination

FOLLOW THIS BLOG!And my ghost stories at  . . .  The Ghost Chaser’s Daughter 

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It is Quantum Physics that explains ‘The How’ of the Paranormal World, and Quantum Mechanics that applies the Holographic Universe [the ‘We’re actors in The Movie of Life’] of Quantum Physics to our everyday existence.

~~~~~~~~~~~ ☆☆☆☆☆~~~~~~~~~~~

For the past fifty years the Scientific community has been moving toward — and flirting with — the Paranormal community.  Didn’t know that? Neither did I until I met Seattle psychic Neil McNeill at a writer’s conference last summer.

McNeill was leading the workshop ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ [how authors should write paranormal into their ghost stories without making mis-steps]. I so enjoyed his workshop that last month I took his class, ‘Psychic Sampler: How Psychic Are You?’

McNeill opened his class by asking the nine participants what super-power they would like to possess in their idealized world. When my turn came I chose ‘Time Travel’ to which Neil offered this:

“If the scientific community is correct, Time Travel is actually possible – just look to Quantum Mechanics!”  Show. Stopper.  The seed was planted.

I would never have inched within a football field length of Quantum Mechanics – and Quantum Physics – without Neil’s insight.  However, I did not reflexively begin exploring the Quantum world until two weeks ago when I read ‘Going Within’ by Shirley MacLaine. It was one-thing-leads-to-another which started me on a journey through New Age thought, past Quantum Physics, and onto Quantum Mechanics.

It is Quantum Physics that explains ‘The How’ of the Paranormal World, and Quantum Mechanics that applies the Holographic Universe of Quantum Physics to our everyday life.

I’m not going to try to unravel – in this blog post – a course on a topic I only have a fingernail grip on, My Dear Readers. But, THIS is what I think I understand so far:

A ~ Scientists were baffled by the fact that in Newton’s Law of gravity an apple falls to the Earth; but stars stay in the Heavens.  That not everything crashes toward the molten core of our planet. And also: Why Einstein’s theory of relativity does not seem to apply to black holes and the pre-Big Bang universe. Scientists began to seek a ‘unifying theory’ that explained the WHOLE Universe; past, present, and future – without the contradictions they were bumping into;

B ~ Analysis of the atom revealed the electrical pulses of neurons and protons and their electricity-producing ORBITS around the atom: Orbits that are wildly similar to the orbits of planets around suns! [Hair on Fire!]

C ~ Affirmation that there is MUCH space [lots of room] between atoms, neurons and protons –
But why then do ‘things’ look solid?? [Aha! Now we are getting somewhere!]

D ~ By 1970 scientists were abuzz over Quantum Physics and the matrix of the Holographic Universe  ☆

E ~ ☆☆ The Holographic Universe introduces the concept of the Parallel Universe  — yes! Parallel Realities — and therein the appearance/cross-over of Spirits and other entities into our conscience state! Parallel Universe concepts are introduced on YouTube by Michio Kaku, and Max Tegmark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Here’s Where Things Get Interesting ~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have discovered, while plodding into the world of Quantum, that Quantum Physics and Quantum Mechanics ACTUALLY explains, on a scientific level, the following:

#1 ~ The Kubler-Ross After-Death Phenomenon: An overwhelming number of Dr. Kubler-Ross’ interviews of people who have died and then ‘come back’ talk of ‘hovering’ out-of-body and painlessly being an observer of their own death experience. This phenomenon is explained via Quantum Mechanics.

#2 ~ The ‘Your Life Flashes Before You’ at the moment of death: In the Quantum world a human being, and its world, is presented to be merely a projection of electrical impulses translated to a ‘movie’ that has been pre-programmed.

#3 ~ Explaining Déjà vu, All Over Again:  In Quantum, it has been postulated that an experience happens INSIDE the brain BEFORE it occurs in your reality (the six-second delay between mind experience and body reaction discovered by Dr. Libet).  Once one accepts point #2 ~ then the movie-projector simplification of reality – and my wish for Time Travel – becomes a distinct possibility! More on Deja Vu? Meet Michio Kaku.

#4 ~ Pre-Destination: Explained! But I won’t go into HOW pre-destination is explained until a later blog post.

A Story:  I had a lover at one point of my life whom I found consuming-ly fascinating. It was destined that we would part company and continue our separate journeys in THIS life; but I said to him when it was obvious that we would break off our affair, “Our conversation is not over – we’ll be talking to each other, at least telepathically, even after death”. That is, death as I understood it at that point.  I’m beginning to realize how possible this scenario is.

The movie versions of the theories of Quantum Physics:

Total Recall

The Truman Show

The Matrix

The Purple Rose of Cairo

The 13th Floor

The Spider Web, Johnny Houser on ‘Repeating-Coincidences’

Blog on Parallel Universe and Vardogers

You’re Invited! If you’ve come to this point in the blog I know that you can correct, or collaborate on what I have learned about how Quantum crosses into Paranormal ~ Please share  Your thoughts on this topic as a Reply!


Emily Hill has just published her second novel, and newest title, “Ghosts of White Raven Estate

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GUEST BLOG: Seer and Popular Author ~ Rick Waid ~

My Paranormal Journey: One Man's Obsession

My Paranormal Journey: One Man’s Obsession

This week I have the tremendous pleasure of interviewing Rick Waid, well-known in paranormal circles, and the author of the very popular new book, ‘My Paranormal Journey: One Man’s Obsession’.  Rick’s book is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, as well as through his website (listed at the end of this blog).

Rick Waid is a seer, remote viewer, and past life reader. Rick realized his gifts during his late-30s; his mother was also a reader. As Rick began to connect with the Other Side through Electronic Voice Phenomena (also known as EVP), he began having visions and hearing his spirit guide. As his gifts developed, he learned how to remote view and was able to psychically see places he had never actually visited. As Rick’s gifts continued to evolve, he began seeing the past lives of other’s. He now connects with the Other Side frequently, and receives messages from loved ones Beyond The Veil.

A sought-after radio guest, Rick has been interviewed on numerous on-line radio programs. His candor and sincere approach, make him a popular choice among paranormal-radio hosts including Kurt Logsdon, Todd Bates, Diana Stack, and Evan Jensen of ‘Beyond the Edge of Reality/Australia‘.
I found Rick’s responses to my questions fascinating, and informative. They provide the perfect backdrop for getting to know the author of ‘My Paranormal Journey: One Man’s Obsession’:

1)  What message, or lesson, do you want the paranormal community to take away from reading your new book, ‘My Paranormal Journey: One Man’s Obsession’?
Answer:  You should never give up on something you believe in. No matter how many people you encounter who are against [it].  Always get permission of the owner to research any place.

2)  How has your life changed for the better – and also – what challenges do you now face, since entering (nearly full-time) into the paranormal realm?
Answer:  I have made so many new friends and have opened more paths toward my destiny. There are still so many people that do not believe in the paranormal. My biggest challenge will be convincing people that they are around us daily.

3)  Now that you are a successful author; which compels you more – your journey as an author, or your journey in the paranormal world? What similarities do your find in each?
Answer:  They both compel me, because I want to write [a] second book that continues from ‘My Paranormal Journey: One Man’s Obsession’; and I want to be very active in the paranormal world where I can help so many with my gifts.

4)  You describe in your book feelings of invalidation, and non-caring, as you began realizing that you were experiencing paranormal activity. Will you describe the break-through of overcoming the feelings that those closest to you may not have believed in your psychic abilities at first?
Answer:  Many people turned away from me and never wanted to talk to me again. I knew I could never give this up because of how many people I was helping with my insights into their situations. This is what [compelled] me to stick with it; because I saw it in their face and felt it in my heart.

5)  You did readings on GhostPlace.com as you began developing your psychic abilities; are you staying active in that on-line community?
Answer:  They were there for me when I started and I will be going back there for them.

6)  Please introduce us to your Guide; a description of how you perceive this entity, would be helpful.
Answer:  I have never met my guide. I ask for their guidance and I can feel I am receiving it. I believe my guide is the same as other people’s guides. I saw a man with a white beard in many of my reads and I saw him in a dream. This could be my guide but I have not had a one on one with him.

7)  What do you feel emotionally, and physically, in your psychic state?
Answer:  I feel at times like I am the person I am reading. I see through their eyes and I feel their sickness and pain and see things in their past present and future.

8)  Describe how you differentiate yourself between a medium, a psychic, a channeler?
Answer:  I am a seer and I see objects that are connected with passed loved ones. I am able to pick up injuries by scanning the body. I am able to hear spirits talk to me and offer information about the sitter. I am not like a normal psychic or medium. I offer direct connects to people which holds meaning to them. This is the difference between me and most because I remote view a lot.

9)  Do your visions or messages, come in interpretative symbolism, or are the messages you receive more than distinct?
Answer:  They come in both ways. When I see stuff I try to figure out why and offer the information. Usually the sitter knows exactly what I am offering them.

10)  “Come find me . . .” This would be an interesting case to describe to those who have not yet read your book. How did that case resolve itself?
This case is still on going. There are so many [examples of how] the police have gone [above] and beyond to find this young lady. They have put so many [resources into leads that come to dead-ends. They will not do any more [investigating] unless they [find someone who] was involved with the disappearance.

11)   It’s said that people with physical challenges/sickness live close-to-the-line of the other side – does that describe you?
Answer:  I am in great health and this does not fit me. I have talked to many people with serious illnesses, and I have seen them being watched by the other side. People are really there waiting.
12)  Reading people, how did you transition to that service?  Answer:  I was an EVP specialist and I was getting into trouble for recording [at locations] I was not supposed to . One day a man gave me a bible brochure and I started seeing small green bibles everywhere. That is when I felt the recordings were not what I was supposed to do anymore. So I [used] the recorder [to describe] what I perceived I would see on my next job site. I realized this was my new path because the [information I was receiving] was more accurate.
13. What elements of your upbringing and family life hindered –or facilitated — the development of your psychic gifts?
Answer:  There was none. My mom was a reader, as were my siblings. This fact was hidden from me for my protection until I was ready to accept it.

~*~  ~*~

Rick Waid ~ Seer and Author.

Rick Waid ~ Seer and Author.

I know that you will want to follow Rick Waid and his wildly popular, ‘My Paranormal Journey: One Man’s Obsession’; here’s how:

On Kindle

Amazon Paperback

Barnes & Noble

Rick Waid on Facebook

Rick Waid’s blog ‘My Paranormal Journey: One Man’s Obsession

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