Doug Dillon's Blog, page 157

Chapter 21 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

21
Doppelgangers

Lobo, his double I mean, stood next to me near a low wall, part of a grassy courtyard along both Cathedral Place and St. George Street. Above us, the cathedral’s huge bell tower stood out against the night sky bathed in floodlights.

I breathed in the cold night air and caught a brief scent of pizza. On the other side of the courtyard, nightlife in the city went along as usual. People on the sidewalk to our left strolled past slow moving cars, and shoppers wandered back and forth across traffic-free St. George Street in front of us. For a split second, everything all around me seemed almost like a dream world—unreal compared to the startlingly weird experiences I’d had that day.

 

“From here,” Lobo’s double said, “you can see between the trees and parked cars to the crosswalk and Flagler College.” He pointed up Cathedral Place on our left to where it dead-ended a short block away at Cordova Street with Flagler College on the other side.

I heard him, and I looked where he directed me to, but my mind was a jumble, still trying to understand the idea of human beings producing temporary duplicates of themselves—doppelgangers, Lobo’s double had called them—called himself. I wondered if the Lobo next to me would just disintegrate in a burst of little bubbles like the officer in the cathedral had? I thought my head would explode trying to figure all that out.

I even had this wild urge to yell at all the people walking around outside of the courtyard, “Do you have any idea what’s happening in my life?” but I didn’t. Instead, I kept listening to the man’s explanation.

“I’m showing you this because I have a very simple task I want you to perform. All you need to do is to exit through the gate here in the wall, go down the sidewalk to the right all the way to Cordova and cross it. Once you’re there, turn around so you can look back in this direction. I’ll be standing here so that you can see me at any time during your journey.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Just do it,” he growled, “and I assure you it will become clear very soon.”

One thing about doubles I discovered. They have the same personalities as the originals.

Breathing a sigh of exasperation and confusion, I did as he asked and walked the short distance down the street past a bank building on the right and Government House on the other side of the road to my left. On the way, I turned around a couple of times and there was Lobo, I mean his double, still standing in the cathedral courtyard.

I ran across Cordova Street avoiding traffic and onto the sidewalk in front of Flagler College. For whatever reason, that old, familiar building seemed alive, like it wanted to tell me something. With its big chains containing spiky iron balls, the place always seemed more like a castle to me than a college. The thing had been built sometime in the 1800’s as a hotel or something.

As instructed, I turned around and looked back down Cathedral Place. In the glare of oncoming one-way traffic, I saw that Lobo’s double still hadn’t moved. What I was doing standing there looking at him, I had no idea.

“What do you know, you can follow orders.” The all too familiar voice came from behind me. As I whirled around, Lobo stepped off a walkway leading to the college. I stared at him in disbelief, and without speaking, turned my head so I could look back up Cathedral Place. There was Lobo’s double right where I had left him.

“Having fun are you?” the Lobo coming from the college asked. Before I could say anything, he walked up to me, looked up Cathedral Place himself and waved. The Lobo in the courtyard did the same.

“Good God.” I kept looking back and forth between the two identical men.

“Oh, I’m another duplicate all right,” the Lobo next to me said, answering the question that had just started to form in my mind. “Want to call Carla and talk to the original to confirm it?”

Three Lobos? I couldn’t fully get my head around the idea, but I didn’t doubt its reality. “Ah … no,” I replied. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Mm. Good. Progress. This little demonstration was a wake-up call for you—a way to get you to accept the infinite possibilities possessed by the human mind, body and spirit. It looks as though we’re getting somewhere.”

“Oh, believe me, you made your point.”

A group of Spanish speaking tourists swept past us on the sidewalk all bundled up in coats and jackets. As they went by, a couple of them stared at Lobo and shook their heads, looking I’m sure, at his bare arms.

“All of the people here tonight,” the Flagler College Lobo said, pointing at the group once they were out of hearing range, “and all of the people on earth have within them wonderful abilities, paranormal and otherwise. The problem is, most of them never recognize that until they die, and even then, many of them don’t figure it out. In life, or after death, many stay stuck in their own little mental prisons, exactly like the officer who won’t let you alone did to himself after he died so long ago. They each have a key to their cell door, but they don’t realize it.

“Like all those people, you have lived in your own mental prison your whole life. Now, however, you have experienced so many unusual events you find yourself continually overwhelmed. As understandable as that is, you don’t have the time to nurse your confusion and fear. You can no longer afford to let strange occurrences like more than one Lobo throw you off track. It’s time for you to expect the unexpected, and it’s time for you to stop fighting the problems that arrive on your doorstep.

“I assure you, more are on the way and time is short. December 28 is almost here, and you, sir, will be facing the crisis of your life.”

When he finished speaking, those dark eyes of his flashed in my direction. I felt little pinpricks inside my head as if he had somehow penetrated deep into my brain—not painful but like when your arm falls asleep and you try to wake it up again. My mouth went dry and the palms of my hands started sweating, even in the cold.

“Up here,” the Lobo next to me said,” tapping me between the eyes with a big forefinger, “is where your answer lies. You have the ability to create your own reality and help that poor soldier change his. Otherwise … ” Instead of finishing what he had to say, he shrugged.

I nodded instead of saying anything. His words made sense, but I didn’t quite know how to respond. As I struggled to think of a reply, I again glanced at the other Lobo still standing by the cathedral. He waved, walked across the courtyard and entered St. George Street where I lost sight of him as he merged with all the people. When I brought my gaze back up to look at the Lobo next me, he was gone, just flat gone. He couldn’t possibly have walked off and there was no place for him to hide.

Even with noisy traffic rumbling past and tourists walking by, I stood there feeling very much alone.

###

For a brief description of The St. Augustine Trilogy, click here.

For Sliding Beneath the Surface on Amazon.com, click here

For reviews of this book, author interviews and blog tours, click here.

For the Official St. Augustine Trilogy Facebook Page, click here.

 

© 2011 by Doug Dillon. All rights reserved.

Ghost Hunt-Cassadaga Hotel, # 2

Paranormal Cassadaga, Florida: A Spiritualist Community

A guest post by Mary Jo Fister and Greg Bush from Offthetrails Paranormal investigations.

We were so thrilled with our experience at Cassadaga Hotel that we returned for a second venture.

We had many experiences! We were in rooms 1,2, 6 and 10. We also spent some time in the dining room. We had our best results with the ovilus (ghost box recorder), thermal camera, still camera, flashlight, and video camera.

In Room 1, we connected, via the flashlight method, with a spirit who said she was a two year old girl. We asked her to turn on the flashlight if her answer was yes, and to leave it off if her answer was no.

Mary Jo Fister

She told us she liked candy. The word “rabbit” came through on the ovilus several times, so we thought she may have had a pet rabbit. However, as we asked questions, we discovered that she had a stuffed, toy rabbit. She seemed to be a very smart two year old!

In Room 2, we again contacted “Mr. E” who we had spoken with before. Again, we used the flashlight method. The first time, we understood him to say he was French, but this time, he told us he was from Africa.

In Room 6, a smoking man is often seen. While we didn’t see him, we did capture an image with the thermal camera that is clearly three dimensional. There was no one that we could see.

Rob stretched out on the bed, and then took a photo of where he had been laying. It’s not three dimensional! You can clearly see the difference!

In Room 10, we met someone who told us he/she was in the military, and nothing else. The flashlight was our communicator. We spent some time trying to get more information to no avail.

In the dining room, our video picked up the sound of young children playing, although there are no children in the hotel, nor were any outside. One of our static night vision cameras picked up what appears to be intelligent energy orbs on three separate occasions.

Greg Bush

The ovilus spoke many words, including “Africa, medal, and green.” These words complement what we learned. Other words, such as “Pluto” left us perplexed. I thought maybe the little girl named her toy rabbit Pluto, but she said not. We also noticed that while communicating with the flashlight, the ovilus was quiet.

We are hoping to return again to the hotel to learn more about their “guests.”

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 1

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 2

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 3

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 4

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 5

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel website

Click here to visit Offthetrails Paranormal Investigations

 

Chapter 20 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

20
Solidity

Prayer? I’m going to need all the help I can get? Lobo sure had a way of making a bad situation worse. Not what I needed to hear. Was my situation really that hopeless, I wondered, or was Lobo just being Lobo and trying to keep my attention highly focused? Or, maybe, I thought, the guy might simply be very religious and believe in the power of prayer. No wonder he and Carla got along so well together.

Carla! I wasn’t sure if she would ever speak to me again after our argument in the plaza. “Uh, Lobo, how’s Carla?”

“She hasn’t edited you out of her life yet, if that’s what you mean.” Lobo sat down on the pew and looked up at me. “Miss Carla came back to my place mighty unhappy. However, I explained to her the depth of your emotional distress. As a result, her own anger, shall we say, no longer consumes her as it did.”

The breath I held as Lobo talked came out in a big whoosh. “Oh man, Lobo, thanks. You saved my life.”

“Not yet I haven’t.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean that literally.” Still those chilling words jerked me back to the long dead military officer who had just tried to touch me. I still couldn’t get over how real he looked. “You said the officer we saw was … solid, right?”

Lobo nodded.

“And my double, he was solid too, wasn’t he? Because I saw people walking around him.”

“And you want to know how a separate part of you and the spirit of a dead person can become as solid as this?” When he said the word ‘this,’ he reached over, grabbed my shoulder hard, and held his hand there with the same amount of pressure. The muscles in his bare arm stood out in clear definition.

That hurt. Believe me, the guy is strong.

“You would do well to simply accept the solidity you speak of as one of those little mysteries of life. Like right now. At this juncture in time, you feel my hand on your shoulder and we have been talking for a long time. You see me, you hear me, and you even hear my voice echo around this cathedral. You would never suspect I am a double of the original Lobo, would you?” He removed his hand from my shoulder, held it up, and wiggled his fingers.

“Oh come on.” I laughed, but it came out like a ragged burst of nervousness. “You telling me you’re not … what? the, uh, the real Lobo?”

Instead of a response, I got one of his penetrating stares as he folded his arms.

“No way. No … freakin’ … way!”

“You have a cell phone and Carla has a cell phone. Call her and ask her where I am.”

His challenge to prove him wrong gave me an intense sinking feeling in my stomach. On top of that, my brain seemed to twist in on itself trying to absorb what the man was telling me.

“Go ahead,” Lobo prompted. “You’re wasting time.”

Don’t’ fight the problem, I said to myself. After taking a few deep breaths, I dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone. It hadn’t worked on that stinking road, with all the bodies, but it worked right there in the cathedral. I punched Carla’s speed dial number. In seconds, she answered

“Hi Jeff. You calling to apologize?” She didn’t sound too angry.

“Hey, Carla. Ah, yeah. I really am sorry about how I acted in the Plaza.”

“Um hm. Well, Lobo helped me understand the pressure you’re under, but why are you calling. Just come on back here to his place and we’ll all have dinner, O.K?”

“Ah, right. OK. I’ll be there … soon, but—”

“Are you still in the plaza?”

“Wellll, right now, I’m, ah, in your cathedral.”

“What?” Carla yelled into my ear. Then in a calmer voice, she said, “What are you doing there and how did you get in? The cathedral should be closed.”

“I’ll explain later. But listen, do you know where Lobo is right now?”

“Lobo? Sure. He’s sitting with me in front of the fireplace. You need to talk to him?”

That’s when my stomach really started turning in knots. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“Do you believe me now?” Lobo’s voiced boomed out of the phone, making me jump.

Sitting next to me, Lobo said nothing. He didn’t need to. Two Lobo’s. Not possible, I kept saying to myself. Or was it? After all, I had seen my own double.

“By the way,” Lobo said on the phone, “a person’s double is called a doppelganger in German.” I slapped my phone shut like it was a rattlesnake trying to bite me.

“Convinced?” the Lobo next to me asked. He unfolded his arms, made a fist with his right hand and pounded the back of the pew. “Solid, but temporary I am.”

What do you say to something like that? I didn’t know. That’s why I kept quiet. Stunned. Yeah that’s the word. It about sums up what I felt, even after all the totally crazy things I had experienced that day.

“Oh please,” Lobo said. “You saw your own double. How is communicating with a Lobo double any different?”

When I still didn’t say anything, he got up, walked back into the darkness of the room to our left and yelled, “Come with me.” His voiced bounced and echoed throughout the cathedral one final time. At first, all I could see back there was the red glowing letters of an exit sign, and then a door opened to the outside with a bang. Light from downtown St. Augustine showed Lobo waiting for me.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my jacket and walked back to the exit.

###

For a brief description of The St. Augustine Trilogy, click here.

For Sliding Beneath the Surface on Amazon.com, click here

For reviews of this book, author interviews and blog tours, click here.

For the Official St. Augustine Trilogy Facebook Page, click here.

 

© 2011 by Doug Dillon. All rights reserved.

Ghost Hunt – Cassadaga Hotel # 1

Paranormal Cassadaga, Florida: A Spiritualist Community

A guest post by Mary Jo Fister and Greg Bush from Offthetrails Paranormal investigations.

Cassadaga is a spiritualist camp near Deland, Fl. Founded by George Colby in 1894, Cassadaga is rich in psychic medium history. The original hotel burned down in 1926, and the present hotel was built in 1927. Many, many people have stayed through the years, and some have returned to stay forever.

We did a joint investigation with American Ghost Adventures. This trip the team consisted of Greg, MaryJo, and our two new members Angel and Rob.

Mary Jo Fister

During the early part, we had some activity, but very little. We initially contacted the ghost of a little boy, but then lost the connection. It was disappointing.

We made some other attempts in other rooms, and then went to where Angel and Rob were staying. With us were Brian and Chris. This was a remarkable session!

We gleaned much information. By positioning three flashlights on the bed, we were able to communicate with the spirit of a Mr. E! The lights are turned on by twisting the top. We twisted almost to the point of turning them on, but not quite.

As we took a moment to chat, Greg commented that the hallway was noisy. The light went on, alerting us that the spirit agreed!

We asked it to turn the light off now and the light went off. We asked that if the answer to the question was “yes,’ “Would you turn on the flashlight?” We then asked many questions. “Are you a man?” The light went on. Chris called him “buddy” and the light went off.

We sensed that the spirit wasn’t pleased with the term. We asked, “Should we call you sir?” and the light went back on.

We proceeded to the alphabet game. Does your last name begin with an A? B? C? When we got to E the light went on. We continued in this vein, discovering that he stayed at the hotel in 1929 while in his 50s.

He told us he had a wife, a son, and a daughter. He was vague about his reason for being there. This made us wonder! When we asked about prohibition, he let us know he didn’t like it.

However, he didn’t seem to be a drinker, allowing the flashlight to stay dark while we asked, “Do you like wine? Brandy? Beer, Cognac? And so on. When we mentioned WWII, all 3 flashlights were turned on! That seemed to make an impression on him, and his response impressed us?

As we continued with our conversation, we asked him what kind of car he drove. We mentioned many American makes but had no light. Then Angel said that she didn’t think he was American. Are you English? German? French?” The light went on! “Where in France? Paris? Normandy?” It was Normandy.

He died in his 70s. Eventually the light stopped turning on, and we realized we had probably exhausted Mr. E. On a future visit, we hope to discover his name and more about him.

We decided to check out our room next. We used the same method to converse.

Greg Bush

The entity in our room was a girl or woman named Agatha. She is there looking for her sweetheart. Her father worked in town in the 1940’s as medium, and her sweetheart lived in Cassadaga.

When we questioned her further about her love, and how she died, she became quiet. More noise in the hall seemed to upset her, as she wouldn’t communicate until it was quiet.

When asked how she died, sickness, accident, murder or suicide, she didn’t answer. Finally we realized that she didn’t like our questions and had left. Again, we hope to find out more about her on another visit. This was a very exciting experience, and a wonderful introduction for our new team members, Angel and Rob!

None of the spirits at the Cassadaga Hotel are thought to be unfriendly or demonic. At no time did we feel threatened or in danger. Spirit activity is unusual. The hotel is listed in the National Register of Historic Places.

The hotel offers a restaurant, bar, and readings. Offthetrails visited the camp sometime ago, and has it on our travel website under East Central Florida. http://www.offthetrails.com/the-backr...

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 1

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 2

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 4

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel video # 5

Click here for the Cassadaga Hotel website

Click here to visit Offthetrails Paranormal Investigations

 

Chapter 19 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

 19
The Officer

Hearing Lobo’s words and seeing his big old finger showing me where to look gave me a very tight feeling in my chest, like a giant hand squeezing my heart. When I breathed, the air came and went in little bumpy chunks. I knew without a doubt somewhere behind me sat the officer from the Dade battle, and I flat did not want to turn around.

“Looking at him won’t be easy for you,” Lobo said quietly, but it is necessary. Your soldier has materialized back there in order to solidify his contact with you. If you don’t acknowledge him, he could get even more agitated than he has been up to this point. That, you do not want, so—and hear me on this one more time—do not fight the problem!”

“Right.” My voice came out as a shaky whisper. “Easy for you to say.”

“It’s all in the mind.” Pointing to his temple, Lobo nodded ever so slightly. “Besides, if you recall, the energy boost I gave you a short time ago, just like the previous one you received, also protects you to a great degree.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said when I went to the cemetery and look what happened.”

“See how you fight the problem? Blaming me isn’t going to help. It’s time for you to breathe deeply and slowly. Focus on five of those breaths. For right now, ignore the past and the future. If you stay with the present moment, you can deal with anything.”

“OK, OK. I’ll try.” And I did. Closing my eyes for about ten seconds, I followed his instructions. After finishing the fifth breath, I felt a little more relaxed, and not quite as afraid to look behind me. That small success gave me just enough courage to open my eyes and turn around. When I did, I found myself staring into the face of the man I had seen Lyle become sitting two rows directly behind me, looking as real as Lobo. No blood, no gore. Thank God!

Even so, I could not get my mind around the idea he no longer actually lived. I wondered if other people could see him if they happened to walk into the cathedral—like how people saw my double out on the sidewalk.

It was so strange, because for whatever reason, I felt more recognition than fear—probably, I figured, because Lobo stood fairly close to me. I mean, it went beyond seeing him in the plaza dressed as he was then with his dark blue coat and gold buttons. Why? I had no idea, but he looked … like an ordinary guy with long sideburns. I tried, but in that dimly lighted place, I couldn’t see the color of his eyes.

As we stared at each other, those shadowed eyes widened, and he tilted his head to the side as if studying me. He stayed that way for probably half a minute, opening and closing his mouth. It looked like he might be trying to say something, but no words came out. In response, I shook my head to help him understand I couldn’t hear his words. When I did that, he got this very frustrated look on his face. The next thing I know, he lifted a hand and extended it in my direction as far as his arm will go. Scared me a little, but he sat two rows back. I knew he couldn’t reach me. Or so I thought. Two seconds later, his arm shot out twice its normal length or more, putting the tips of his fingers only inches from my chest.

Tell you what, I shoved myself out of that seat backwards so hard I fell on the floor beyond where Lobo stood, close to the railing in front of the altar. Hurt my butt something terrible, but I got away from that hand.

Almost at the same time, he … the officer … well, he, uh … popped. That’s the only word I can use to describe what happened. His body sort of … well, divided into a bunch of big circular pieces bunched all together. Within each of those clear circles, I could still see the guy, the ghost or whatever you want to call him—his entire body from head to toe. Those individual circular images looked like bubbles floating there for a few seconds before they popped again into even smaller bubbles—with the officer inside. All the popping happened simultaneously, and when it did, it sounded like a giant ripping noise, so loud it hurt not only my ears, but I somehow felt it deep inside my head.

The popping happened again and again, each time the bubbles got smaller and smaller until there was absolutely nothing left. It reminded me of watching foam disappear after you’ve poured a Coke into a glass. The officer went from looking perfectly solid to nothing in a matter of seconds as if he had never been there.

That’s when I looked at Lobo. He was about to say something, but I interrupted from my seat on the floor. “I know, I know. Don’t fight the problem.” He nodded his agreement and helped me up.

“Was he as real as he looked?”

“If you had reached out and tried touch him,” Lobo replied, “you would have felt solidity, but that would not have been a safe thing for you to do in this circumstance. You were wise to react as you did and get away from his extended reach. I still don’t sense he intends you any harm, but his aroused need for your help is where the danger lies.

“I always thought ghosts were supposed to be filmy things you could see through.”

“They are at times. The solidity you witnessed, and its disintegration, are most unusual. This all speaks to the intensity of what’s developing here. His appearance moments ago, your being lost in the fog, and your experience at the pyramids all show how strong the connection between you both is getting the closer we move towards December 28. If you aren’t exceptionally careful, you could find yourself permanently sucked into this officer’s world.”

“Twice now, once on my porch and once at the cemetery, a part of you stepped into his living memories of the Dade battlefield once the fighting was finished. Evidently, after he died, the man’s spirit also stayed for some time with the bodies and the vultures you saw. I sense he has been clinging to those terrible memories ever since, and for him, they’re like a bad dream from which he can’t fully awaken. For all practical purposes, where his spirit exists is a physical parallel world to the one in which he died, battle and all.”

“What I experienced both those times was definitely real, Lobo, not just some kind of memory.” I surprised myself when I said those words, but I believed them to be absolutely true.

“Worlds-within-worlds-within-worlds. You have heard it from me before, and you will hear it from me again, and again until the concept truly penetrates your mind. Thoughts and memories have realities all their own. To that officer, his dream of the battle and after would no doubt seem as real as me standing here in this cathedral now seems to you. Your own experience in his reality proves my point. It is indeed so real that if you go there a third time, you might not return. That’s what I mean by ‘permanently sucked into his world.’ ”

“Oh man, this all gets worse and worse,” I moaned.

“The good news is what I already told you. I still don’t sense this man actually intends you any harm.”

Thoughts of catching a bus to Orlando tiptoed back into my mind. Lobo’s words about severe danger lurking everywhere impressed me a lot more than his good news.

“You can’t outrun this,” he said, once again picking up on my thoughts in his irritating way. “Taking a bus to Orlando will do you no good. Wherever you go on this earth, that officer will still be with you, and the danger will still stay the same. The thinness of the barriers in St. Augustine between worlds has already allowed him to attach himself to you, at least through tomorrow.”

“What can I do?” I asked slumped in my seat feeling doomed.

“Do you pray?” He replied, looking up at the lighted altar.

“Who me?” I snorted. “No.”

“Too bad. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

###

For a brief description of The St. Augustine Trilogy, click here.

For Sliding Beneath the Surface on Amazon.com, click here

For reviews of this book, author interviews and blog tours, click here.

For the Official St. Augustine Trilogy Facebook Page, click here.

 

© 2011 by Doug Dillon. All rights reserved.

Ghost Hunt – The Greenwood Cemetery

Paranormal Orlando, Florida

A guest post by Mary Jo Fister and Greg Bush from Offthetrails Paranormal investigations.

Greenwood Cemetery is one of the oldest in Orlando, dating to 1880.

Many of the city’s most prominent citizens are buried here: Joseph Bumby, Mayor Mahlon Gore, Cassius Boone, Mayor Capt. James Parramore, Mayor Bob Carr, Mayor William Beardall, T. G. Lee, David Lockhart, Samuel Robinson, Mayor Braxton Beacham, Elijah Hand, Carey Hand, Joe Tinker are some you might find.

Greg Bush

There is a Confederate area and a Union one. There is also a part just for infants.

The cemetery is about 100 acres, and had over 60,000 sites. It is a peaceful area of small, rolling knolls and countless old trees. It is also considered one of the most haunted places in Orlando.

In May, 2012, Off the Trails Paranormal Investigations, as guests of American Ghosts Adventurers, did investigate the cemetery.

We employed full spectrum video camera, still camera, EVP Recorders, K2 meters, MEL Meters, flashlights, and Ovilus. I saw someone walking along the crest of a hill after dark, but no one in the groups was there.

Whoever it was disappeared in the shadows. Angel, at about the same time, saw someone walking along and then disappear.

Walking through the military region, the Ovilus (A Ghost Box recorder) said the words “France, killed, stomach, and Rhonda”. Perhaps someone was trying to tell us something.

Often we heard the words “bury” and “Bible”.

We encountered some little children spirits who played with a flashlight. It was very sad to see so many babies’ final resting places. Some had only one date, meaning that the baby died the day he or she was born.

It was uplifting, however, to see the lights go on and off, and we could imagine the fun these little spirits were having!

Mary Jo Fister

Further on, we conversed with two Confederates (soldier spirits), via the flashlights. Often this method works extremely well for yes/no questions. For example, we ask if the answer to the question is yes, turn on the light. Or, when we come to the state you are from, turn on the light. We learned that one came from Georgia, and one from Tennessee. One had been in the infantry. Another was a lieutenant.

While we were talking to these soldiers, some in our group saw a few people walk by. However, no one else was in the cemetery! We confirmed that no one else was nearby!

Were the people walking by a column of Confederates? I asked the ones who we were talking with that question, and the answer was “yes.” It was a most interesting exploration!

While we would like to have stayed all night, we had to leave at midnight. Another time, perhaps! There is still much to learn from those at Greenwood.

Click here to see video # 1 in Greenwood Cemetery

Click here to see video # 2 in Greenwood Cemetery

Click here for the Greenwood Cemetery website.

Click here for Offthetrails Paranormal Investigations

Click here for American Ghost Adventures

 

Chapter 18 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

 18
Fighting the Problem

Without saying anything else, Lobo emerged into the dim light from the darkness to the left of the altar, walked briskly in front of the left-hand row of pews, and stood there with his bare arms crossed. He was dressed just as he was when I last saw him. Evidently he didn’t wear a jacket or coat no matter what the outside temperature might be.

I stared at him in amazement while taking deep breaths, trying to calm my pounding heart. Even though I suspected him of somehow being behind the appearance of that other Jeff, I never expected to see him there in the cathedral.

“You going to stand there all night?” he asked, breaking the silence of the place. “Or, are you going to come over here and talk to me?” The man’s deep voice again echoed throughout the cathedral as if he was using a microphone. For whatever reason, the chanting had stopped. Somehow, even in that low light level, the man’s eyes still glittered, but, it seemed, not quite as much as they had at his house.

The palms of my hands were so damp by that time I wiped them on my jeans. I looked all around, expecting someone from the church to come see who was making so much noise.

“Nobody here but us right now.” After speaking, Lobo sat down in the first pew closest to him and waved me over.

“Wait one freakin’ minute!” I yelled back at him, surprising myself. The shock of seeing the man there had worn off enough for me to challenge him. Sick and tired of whatever games he was playing, I yelled once more. “What about the kid who came in here a couple of minutes ago?”

“Oh him. Your twin’s not here anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I fired back at the guy. “How convenient.” I walked quickly to where he sat and stared down at him waiting for an answer.

“Don’t get mad at me because you can’t accept the fact you encountered your double.”

“And of course you had nothing to do with it, right? You magically appear where I last saw him? Give me a break. How would you know about his appearance if you didn’t set this whole thing up somehow?”

“Do you really think,” he replied shaking his head slowly, “that in the short time I’ve known you I somehow found a young man who looks exactly like you, dressed him the way you’re dressed, and had him intercept you at precisely the right minute? Besides, tell me how I somehow created your experience of flying over yourself riding your bike this evening?”

“How did you know about that? I didn’t even tell Carla?”

“You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours,” he replied.

Of course, I didn’t have any good answers to what he had asked me—especially ones that fit my little conspiracy theory. What really made me wonder was how he could be at that very spot right after I entered the cathedral looking for my double. Did I ask him? No. In complete frustration, I took off my jacket, balled it up, threw the thing on the pew a few feet from Lobo, and slumped down next to it. As good as it felt to sit down again, that wood seat had a real hardness to it.

“I don’t know what to think any more,” I said. Instead of looking at him, I rested my neck and aching head against the back of the pew, and stared up at the gloom far above. “So much has happened ever since I met you, you can’t blame me for being suspicious.”

“You’ve had a rough day,” he replied, “no question about that. Carla told me what happened at the cemetery. That’s partly why I’m here. I owe you another apology. I should have foreseen the possibility of my energy protection wearing off so soon, but I didn’t.

“Now, as to the escalation of events in your life since you came to my home, that is simply because of your connection to Carla and me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What you’ve experienced today occurred sooner than it would have otherwise. The collective energy the three of us emit into other worlds is very strong and it attracted this spirit somewhat more quickly and forcibly than would have happened if you were alone. Make no mistake, however, and think you might have escaped all this if you had never met me. Rest assured that you would have experienced similar events but later in the evening, and you would have been unprotected.

“Unfortunately, the link between you and this soldier’s spirit is much stronger than I suspected. That connection eroded the barrier I put around you at an exceedingly high rate. Very unusual.”

“Soldier’s spirit?”

“Surely you understand by now how correct Carla was in suggesting that possibility to you.”

After what, or who, I had seen Lyle become, I didn’t argue with the man. Lobo’s words made me think he somehow knew about my experience in the plaza. He couldn’t have learned about it from Carla though, because she left before it happened. My head throbbed as I tried to sort everything out.

Eying me carefully, Lobo said, “If you wish, I’ll transfer some more of my energy to you. Besides helping with your headache and clearing out some of the cobwebs in your mind, it will protect you for another short span of time.”

I didn’t understand that energy thing of his, but I did know it could make me feel better. Besides, any protection from bloody soldiers sounded pretty good right about then. “Yeah … sure,” I told him, “but where does this energy of yours come from anyway?”

“Long ago, I was the shaman for my people. In those days, I picked up a lot of tricks by working with various sources of power.”

“Shaman? Like in medicine man?”

“Something along those lines.” He shifted close to me on the pew, and, as he did before, placed one hand on my chest and the other on my head. Instantly the same soothing warmth I had experienced at his house swam throughout my body. In no time, I felt like I had been washed clean of all pain and tiredness. Even my anger, doubt and fear lost some of their grip on my mind.

“Better?”

“A lot, thanks.” Amazing how he does that, I thought, but the question of the other Jeff hadn’t gone away. “As much as I appreciate your help, I gotta know about that other kid? Who was he? Where did he go?”

“Simple, although you might not think so. That other young man was an exact, but temporary, physical copy of you and produced by you.”

“You’re out of your freakin’ mind. I didn’t produce any such thing.”

“Not consciously, no, but a wiser and more powerful portion of who you are did. What occurred is an extremely rare event. Very few people in the world possess that talent.”

“Oh, so, you’re telling me I … created this … this other me, clothes and all, but I just wasn’t aware of doing it, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes flashing, “clothes and all. Can I explain the exact process to you so you would understand it? No, but I will tell you this. You most likely produced a second Jeff more than once because of all the shocks you had today. That and you were also badly in need of help. You forget our conversation about the natural human capacity to produce duplicates after Carla crushed your Coke can.”

“No, I didn’t forget but—”

“But you don’t believe it. That’s your problem. Now listen to me. I came here only after talking to Carla and also sensing the presence of another Jeff Golden. I not only perceived his presence, I also communicated with him in ways you could never comprehend. To put it simply, he asked me to meet you here so we could talk in peace. He is a part of you, which means you set this whole thing up yourself even though you have no memory of doing such a thing.”

“Wait a minute, how could you—”

“Forget how I do things. It’s a shaman thing. Leave it at that. All you need to do is to stop fighting the problem.”

“Fighting the problem? What the hell are you talking about?” Only after that one little word left my mouth did I think about my surroundings. Lobo didn’t bat an eye, but I was glad Carla didn’t hear what I said inside her church.

Lobo stood up, walked a few steps towards the altar as if he was thinking and then turned back around.“Take a deep breath,” he said, “and listen very carefully. When you hear or see something you don’t believe, don’t like or don’t understand, you tend to jump on it like you are trying to wrestle an alligator, or you run away from it, or you do both—wrestle first, then run away. What that does is to erect within you a wall against your ability to deal with the issue effectively. Instead, you get yourself all tied up into emotional knots. It’s like quicksand. The more you resist, the deeper you go.”

“But that’s who I am, Lobo. I can’t change that.”

“Not true. Nobody is stuck in such emotional cement. You can restructure your mind if you really want to, but you have to work hard to make it happen—especially with that hair trigger anger of yours. You must start making that change now, and as fast as you can. If you can’t, with what you are now facing, you could end up dead. Did you hear that? Dead.

“You’ve heard me warn you about the danger you’re in before, but now is the time to start really believing what I’m telling you and taking corrective action.” As if to see the impact of his words, Lobo abruptly stopped talking, and gave me one of his hard stares.

The sudden silence around me made the air feel thick, as if I could reach out and touch it. Memories of the day’s events flooded my mind and my hands began to shake again.

“Trust yourself,” Lobo said, breaking into that dense quiet. “Your inner self that produced another Jeff Golden is showing you the power you have to do whatever it takes.”

He made it sound so easy, but I knew it couldn’t be. Oh, believe me, I wanted him to be right, but I had no idea where to begin. “So what do I do exactly?”

“Excellent question. First of all don’t resist whatever problem or negativity life presents to you. Accept it for what it is and work through it. Simple as it sounds, tell yourself repeatedly to, not fight the problem, so that you get the concept through your head. I know you’ve heard people say, ‘Count to ten when you’re angry or upset before you react.’ It’s good advice. In your case, you might want to try breathing slowly and deeply while concentrating on each breath you take as you count just to five.

If you can start doing those few things now, you’ll discover within yourself a wealth of strength. You truly have the choice of making your life a heaven or a hell.”

“Now,” he said, changing the subject, “Carla told me about your experience with the pyramids. Even so, I want to hear it from you directly. Tell me everything that happened from the time you touched the pyramid until you came here to the cathedral.”

I really didn’t want to go through all that, but his words echoed in my mind, “Don’t fight the problem.” Instead of making his request into a problem, I did as he asked.

We talked for about fifteen minutes as I explained everything the best I could with Lobo asking questions. When I was done, his wild eyes flickered all around me as they had done many times before. I wondered how those eyes could still flash so much when there wasn’t much light in the cathedral for them to reflect.

“What?” I asked.

After a long pause, he stood up and finally gave me an answer.“First of all, the nearness of the Dade battle anniversary tomorrow, December 28, at least points to why all this is occurring now. Second, you and Carla guessed correctly when you concluded the man pursuing you might be from Major Dade’s command. In life, he was one of Dade’s officers.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s no longer rushing all around you at a blinding speed like before. This change allows me to perceive him more clearly now. He has slowed down because he senses he has your attention and he even wants you to see him.”

“So that was him I saw Lyle turn into.” As I said those words, I felt that same slithery sensation in my stomach I noticed at the cemetery with Carla.

“Your friend Lyle didn’t actually change. What probably happened is this officer projected an image into your mind. From what you said, I think he was trying to show you how he died, bullet wounds in the chest, and finally having his head split open.”

I shuddered with the memory of what I had seen in the plaza. “Well, he did a good job of it. Wait a minute. You said officer. How do you know that’s what he was?”

“Officer’s wore dark blue coats, over sky blue pants,” Lobo replied in a lowered voice as he pointed to the pew behind me, “just like what he has on right now.”

###

For a brief description of The St. Augustine Trilogy, click here.

For Sliding Beneath the Surface on Amazon.com, click here

For reviews of this book, author interviews and blog tours, click here.

For the Official St. Augustine Trilogy Facebook Page, click here.

 

© 2011 by Doug Dillon. All rights reserved.

Chapter 17 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

17
The Chase

Inhaling hot coffee when you’ve just been startled out your mind is definitely not a good idea. Guess I made so much noise, even people on the other side of the restaurant kept looking in my direction, probably wondering if they needed to do something to keep me from choking to death. Embarrassing? Yeah, but all that time I was so frustrated because I couldn’t do anything about the other, well, the other Jeff, until I stopped coughing.

Seeing my double was a helluva shock, but it didn’t scare me down deep like some of the other things I experienced after meeting Lobo. No, totally weird as it was, that situation showed a hard reality connected to everyday life even though I didn’t understand it. What I mean is, people out there on the sidewalk actually walked around that kid who looked like me, so they wouldn’t bump into him. Without a doubt, he physically existed, yet I didn’t feel threatened. Maybe it was also because of my flying experience on the way to the cemetery.

Yeah, now that I think about it, looking down on myself riding my bike definitely set the stage for at least a partial acceptance of seeing that other Jeff in the Athena’s window. In fact, I felt energized and ready for action. Up until encountering that other me while eating, my fried brain had left me with a sense of hopelessness. Not anymore.

When I finally caught my breath, I slapped money on the table, grabbed my jacket and rushed out of the Athena’s front door. By then, I had this wild idea maybe somebody was impersonating me, and I needed to catch the kid to find the truth. As I thought about it, I figured Lobo had something to do with that other Jeff. Don’t ask me why, I just did, even though I had the distinct memory of flying over myself as I rode my bike to the cemetery. Confused thinking? Absolutely, but hopeless? No way. I now had a goal to find that other kid and maybe start making sense out of all the craziness.

In front of the Athena, I looked to the right, the direction my double had gone. At first, I couldn’t see him because there were so many people. When I looked again, there he was, facing me, standing in the middle of the sidewalk—down near the end of the block in front of the Catholic Cathedral. People there walked around him even more than before, because this time he blocked their way quite a bit. Damn, he’s waiting for me. God what a weird sensation to stare at myself again.

The instant I saw the guy, I ran towards him. It wasn’t easy because of all the people, so I trotted, really, and danced around those who were in my way. I had no intention of losing that kid, but when I got about half way there, he turned and slowly walked up the cathedral steps and went inside.

“Gotcha!” I whispered to myself. I figured finding the guy in the cathedral would be a lot easier than chasing him all over town at night, right? He had to be boxed in. When I got to the cathedral, I hesitated for a few seconds before opening the large, brick red door in front of me.

This was Carla’s church, the oldest in St. Augustine. So many times she and her grandma tried to get me to join them there for Sunday services, but I refused. Now I was going to roar into the place of worship on my own, searching for someone who looked like me.

To be honest, my reluctance didn’t last very long. I had to find out what connection that kid had to all of my experiences that day, so I grabbed the door’s cold metal handle and pulled. Tell you what, that thing didn’t open easily—very heavy wood, probably oak. Seconds later, I was inside in the warmth, listening to the door click shut behind me.

I expected a big, open church, but instead, found myself in a much smaller, semi-dark, rectangular room. What little light there was in there came from the main part of the cathedral through glass panels set into curling wrought iron in front of me. Peeking through those panes of glass, I saw how freakin’ huge the place actually was. On either side of a wide central isle, long rows of pews stopped just in front of a brilliantly spotlighted white altar decorated with gold angels and other religious figures.

Surprisingly, there didn’t seem to be any people around, including my double. I thought sure there would be at least a few tourists in there, or maybe people praying. Music echoed softly all around me—men chanting, to be specific. With no one around, it had to be a recording, I figured, set up in case people wandered inside—very eerie sounding, no matter what. The only movement in the place came from lighted candles, lots of them, sitting on tables in a large niche set into the thick walls on either side of the pews halfway to the altar. They explained the slight burning smell I detected as soon as I came in from outside.

Anxious to find that other Jeff, I chose the door on my right, one of four leading from that little room out into the main part of the cathedral. As I opened it, a figure standing there in the shadows made me freeze in mid step. At first, I thought it might really be that other kid, and then I definitely knew it was the bloody solider from the plaza. Man, fear can really play tricks with your mind. It turned out I was looking at a statue of a monk. That’s when I discovered another aisle going down to the altar next to the right hand wall.

Once I walked by the fake monk and entered the cathedral itself, the place looked even bigger than before. Have you ever been in a cathedral? I mean, those ceilings had to be at least fifty feet up there or more. Big ceiling lights hung from high rafters, set into each wall all the way to the front of the place. For whatever reason, only a few of them were turned on, making most of the cathedral, except for the altar, pretty gloomy. Large stained glass windows set high into both walls let a little of St. Augustine’s Nights of Lights brightness shine through, but not much. Nighttime had settled in across the city.

Heading down the right hand aisle as quickly as I could, I looked in all the pews for my double, thinking he might be lying down, trying to hide. As I searched, the gentle chanting continued, making the place seem more and more spooky. I kept wondering if a priest or somebody might come running up and ask what I was doing. “Where are you?” I whispered to that other Jeff ever so slightly, knowing the music would drown out my voice.

When I got about three quarters of the way down the aisle, I noticed two huge dark areas on either side of the altar were actually other big rooms with their own pews and dimly lighted stained glass in those walls as well. In the back of the darkened room to the left, candlelight flickered beyond what looked like a large arch showing there was even another room beyond. The place appeared to go on forever.

“Oh man,” I whispered with a little more volume than I intended, “that guy could be anywhere.” Are you lost, Mr. Golden?” Lobo’s voice boomed and echoed through the cathedral so loudly I thought I had been shot or something. My heart raced as it had done so many times that day and my headache increased its throbbing. I swear, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

###

For a brief description of The St. Augustine Trilogy, click here.

For Sliding Beneath the Surface on Amazon.com, click here

For reviews of this book, author interviews and blog tours, click here.

For the Official St. Augustine Trilogy Facebook Page, click here.

 

© 2011 by Doug Dillon. All rights reserved.

“A Review By a High School Reading Teacher”

Young adult, paranormal & historical

Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

A review placed on Amazon by Jessica.

“I will recommend this book to my 10th and 11th grade students, especially the boys who don’t find much use for history (much like the main character). It only took me a couple days to read because it is full of surprising turns and plot twists. My students generally dislike reading unless they can relate to the events and characters in the story, and in this first book of a new trilogy, I firmly believe my students will enjoy the adventure that Jeff Golden and his friend Carla take!”

To see this review on Amazon, click here.

 

“A Must Read for All:” Young Adult, Paranormal & Historical

Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

A review placed on Amazon by CuAnam.

“This book was amazing! I can’t wait to read the next one! The author has an epic way with words that keeps you turning pages well after you know you should have gone to sleep!”

To see this review on Amazon, click here.