Doug Dillon's Blog, page 159

Ghost Hunt-Ancient City Inn

Paranormal St. Augustine, Florida

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

Offthetrails Paranormal Investigations traveled to America’s oldest European city, St. Augustine. Nicknamed, “The Ancient City,” St. Augustine reportedly has many haunted sites. Some are The Ancient City Inn, Tolomato Cemetery, the Old Jail, and the lighthouse of St. Augustine.

Greg Bush

We did investigations of each! During our investigations, we used the full spectrum light only, and the flash from the still camera. Our team stayed at The Ancient City Inn. TAPS was here! Spirits there, according to owners Carri and Will, are Martha Lee, her cat Toby, and Father Charlie. Martha Lee has a very sad and romantic tale.

While there, Greg felt a brush on his leg. Toby? Will felt someone dry his back in the shower. Charlie trying to keep Martha Lee away from the young man? We did have an

Mary Jo Fister

intriguing spot on the wall in a photograph. The inn itself is very comfortable and charming. A tasty continental breakfast is served in the morning, left in a basket on the porch.

Click here to visit the Ancient City Inn video

Click here to visit the Ancient City Inn

Click here to visit Offthetrails Paranormal Investigations

Click here to see information on one of my upcoming events where Mary Jo and Greg will be co-presenters with me at the Orlando Public Library.

Chapter 10 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

10
Pine Sap

 

Someone called my name as if from very far away. It sounded like Carla, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I kept staring at the stained glass window with its surrounding mirrors and the clear glass oval as it hung there in the fog all by itself.

“Jeff?” It was Carla’s voice. Carla and Lobo somehow appeared directly in front of me with the stained glass window behind them set in its door as it should be. How that all happened so quickly I had no idea. The fog was gone and Lobo’s house looked like it did when I first saw it. Once again, I stood on the porch.

“Are you OK?” Carla asked in a worried voice. “What is it? What’s going on?

I didn’t say anything at first. Guess I was just too stunned. The change out of that horrible, dark fog had been so quick I found it hard to believe I had come back to Carla and Lobo. Where I had gone, I didn’t know, but Lobo’s words leaped into my mind. “Worlds-within-worlds-within worlds.”

Instead of saying anything to either of them, I turned around to look behind me. When I saw Lobo’s dock and Matanzas Bay, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. No fog out there either, not even way out on Anastasia Island or Villano Beach.

“Come on,” Carla said, gently taking me by the arm. “Come back inside and sit down.” She told me later how I stared out at across the bay for so long without saying anything that Lobo finally motioned for her to take me into the house.

She walked me all the way, holding my arm like I was a hundred years old or something. I didn’t mind, really, because it was so good to be back with her and actually inside Lobo’s place. I think after what happened on the porch, she could have probably led me anywhere, and it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Lobo,” she said, holding up a moist hand, “his jacket is damp.”

“I can see that.”

After I sat back down in the same recliner as before, Carla got me a fresh can of Coke.

I chugged a couple of cold, sweet swallows and blinked a few times, still not quite believing I had escaped that nasty, wet darkness. While I drank, Carla stood there next to me looking very worried. “I’m OK, really.” I said the words, but I wasn’t too sure they were the truth. In my mind, the only certainty right then, was how glad I felt to be back with her and even old Lobo. What a contrast to the way I left the house, so tough sounding and angry, right?

“He’ll be all right.” Lobo spoke from the opposite recliner, looking at me intently. It felt like his weird old eyes were boring into me somehow, touching places I didn’t know existed. Strange sensation, one I can’t begin to describe fully.

Assured by Lobo that I wouldn’t die at any moment, Carla sat down on the couch. Even so, I could see the worry still in her eyes. She had left a replacement caretaker in her place though. Sitting on the floor next to me, Spock licked my hand. Since he wasn’t growling and barking any more, I hoped maybe that meant he no longer sensed the ghostly presence Lobo kept talking about. I scratched him behind his ears, something he really likes.

For whatever reason, it took me until that point to fully realize I still wore my jacket. When I touched the zipper, I felt the moisture Carla had mentioned. Confirmation of my terrifying little trip outside Lobo’s house covered my fingertips and seeped into my brain.

“What happened to you out there on the porch?” Lobo asked, his voice a distant rumble of thunder. Between us on the coffee table sat the Ball of Realities and my crushed Coke can like silent witnesses waiting to testify. Behind Lobo, his coins still lay in a big pile on the dining room table, and to my embarrassment, I saw a few of them scattered on the floor.

I tried to answer the man about what I experienced, but the words came out all garbled at first. My mind still wasn’t working very well. Questioning by both Carla and Lobo over the next few minutes helped my brain get back on track, allowing me to tell my story about the fog. “I see,” Lobo said when I finished, and Carla looked even more worried than before.

“I’ve never been that scared in my life,” I said, meaning every word of it.

“No doubt,” Lobo replied. “You were in a very dangerous situation. You, or part of you at least, went somewhere other than here, that’s for sure.”

“I know his clothes are a little wet, but he actually went somewhere?” Carla asked. “How could that be? He wasn’t out the door for more than thirty seconds before he called to us?”

“Thirty seconds?” I yelped. “No way. I was … I was out there for at least five or ten minutes trying to get back to the house.”

“Forty seconds tops,” Lobo said, shaking his head. “Right after you left and closed the front door, you called our names as if you were in trouble. We both jumped up and found you staring at the door, but you didn’t seem to be able to see us at first.

“Look at his knees,” Lobo said, switching the conversation back to Carla. “He has sand and dirt on them as well as stains he didn’t have before he went out the door.”

As I looked down at my pants, I saw he was right.

“Show us your hands.” To clarify what he meant, Lobo flashed the palms of his hands in my direction.

I put my Coke on the coffee table and held out my hands like he said. Up until then, I hadn’t noticed there was some sort of discoloration and stickiness on both palms and most of my fingers.

Like a bullet fired from a gun, Lobo jumped up, rushed over to me and smelled one of my palms. “Pine sap,” he said and returned to his seat.

“That’s impossible.” Carla sounded very certain. “You don’t have pine trees on your property. And even if you did, Jeff didn’t have time to run off somewhere and get it all over his hands.”

“Nevertheless, your friend has pine sap on his hands. I don’t have any palmettos around here either and he says he encountered those as well.”

That’s all it took for both Carla and me to start bombarding Lobo with questions. Instead of trying to answer, he put a hand up in my direction and one facing Carla, like a traffic cop trying to stop two lanes of traffic. Finally, we shut up.

“That’s better,” he grumbled. “Now listen, there are times, when a person becomes two people in a way. You, Carla already know this. It’s what happens when you reach out and crush Coke cans without physically touching them. You also have seen this phenomenon in other ways, if you recall.”

“Oh,” she replied, making me wonder exactly what she knew.

“I’m sure you’ve read, Mr. Golden, or seen on TV, accounts of people who nearly died and came back to tell stories similar to what you told us about your bike accident and floating above your body.”

“Yeah, sure, but I wasn’t close to dying,” I argued. “You’re talking about what some people believe is the soul leaving the body at the point of death, right?”

“That final spirit separation from the body is similar,” Lobo replied. “In your case, however, what you were dealing with after your accident is very much like when people have a near death event. In such a situation, one person becomes two people in a way. You have a duplication process where there is an original and a copy. Some people call it an out-of-body experience, but those words don’t tell the full story.

“A double?” That really confused me, but not Carla. I saw her nodding ever so slightly as if she understood.

“Yes, in a way,” Lobo said. “This happens naturally at times to everyone during dreaming, especially here in St. Augustine. Your physical being is asleep, but the consciousness wanders in a spirit body somewhere in the physical universe, into other realities, or even into the past or future.”

“That’s just too much for me to absorb,” I said. “I mean, I can’t even get my mind around people splitting into two parts.”

“Two parts or more,” Lobo elaborated.

I didn’t say anything to that. The idea of human division, duplication or whatever, traveling to such crazy destinations, boggled my mind. All I could think of was a copy machine cranking out paper duplicates of people that somehow magically disappeared.

“In our world, the copy is usually invisible,” Lobo instructed. “However, under very unusual circumstances, a physical duplicate develops that you can definitely see and at times, even touch. If such a thing occurs and the individual doesn’t understand what’s going on, it can cause severe mental trauma.

“This splitting or duplication is what you went through out on my porch. Your consciousness did indeed go somewhere else. I don’t know where you went exactly, but since there was such a great time difference between what you remember and the actual time that passed, the probability is you traveled into a different reality instead of another place on earth.”

“Uh, OK,” I said, holding my sticky hands out in front of me. “But if I was traveling in this spirit body, duplicate or whatever, how could my clothes and hands bring back physical things like pine sap?”

“Excellent question,” Lobo replied. “I have never seen such a thing happen. I suspect, your emotional outburst while working with the coins somehow helped to connect you with the spirit who hovers near you. The reality you visited must have a very strong link to that individual for you to bring physical evidence back from your journey. Beyond such speculation, I have no other answers for you.

Hearing Lobo say he didn’t know something really startled me. The guy always seemed so self-assured. Thinking about that made me remember why I ran out of the old guy’s house in the first place, and a twinge of anger shot through me. “Why did you grab my arm,” I asked, “after I picked out a coin from that big stack on your table?”

Lobo’s usual frown deepened and he said, “I grabbed you in an attempt to get the coin out of your hand as quickly as possible. The hot coin, even more than the heat in the bayonet, showed a direct spirit contact that could have overwhelmed you. You were in danger and there wasn’t time to explain. Whenever you are in close contact with this being, you are at risk. His spiritual essence is extremely intense and you haven’t had any training in dealing with such things. I apologize for scaring you. Instead of helping, I brought about what I intended to prevent.”

An apology from Lobo? Man, what a surprise. “Oh, OK. Now I understand.” The increasing pain in my left temple caused me to pause for a few seconds and massage it with the few fingertips that had no sap on them. “Thanks, for uh, well, for trying to … protect me.”

“You’re welcome. I see your headache is still there. If you don’t mind me touching you after our problem with the coin, I think I can help.”

“Help?”

“He can make it better, really,” Carla assured me.

“Um, I guess,” I said, looking at Lobo. I wasn’t too sure about my decision, but the intensity of the pain spoke louder than my uncertainty.

“Just stay seated where you are.” Lobo came over to where I sat, scooted Spock away from the side of my chair and got down on his knees. After having me close my eyes, he told me he was going to touch my head and my upper chest. That’s when I felt one big hand cover almost the entire upper half of my skull and the other one pressed gently against the area under my throat. That’s when it started, a little tingling in my head and chest. Slowly, the tingling built into soothing warmth.

Gradually, those two areas of warmth moved towards each other until they met right in the middle of my throat. In no time, the warmth spread over my entire body making me feel very relaxed. Even when Lobo took his hands away and went back to his chair, the feeling continued for a minute or so.

“The headache’s gone, it’s really … gone,” I said, grinning like a fool. “I feel great, like I had a good night’s sleep. Thanks, Lobo. Thanks a lot but how did you do that?”

“Too complex to explain,” he replied with his usual sour expression. I wondered if the guy ever smiled or laughed. “What I accomplished, in addition to relieving your pain, was to share with you enough of my energy that it should shield you against unwanted spirit contact for a short while. It won’t last long. For that very reason, we have to uncover as much information as quickly as we can about the deceased person who is putting you in danger. Make no mistake about it, he caused what happened to you out on my porch and interrupted your sleep with bad dreams. Understand?”

“I do.” I startled myself with that instant response. I guess for the first time, I fully recognized how badly I needed the man’s help.

“Good, but there’s a large missing piece to your puzzle. It’s something that you haven’t told us yet, maybe something you’ve forgotten.” Again, he did his little eye dance all around me and I wondered what he might be seeing. Instead of asking I waited for him to continue. “Your bike accident. Think about this carefully. When you felt yourself rise into the air and you looked out over Matanzas Bay and the city, did you see anything special or unusual?”

“Special or unusual? Oh … yeah, I did see something else but that part really had to have been my imagination or a dream.”

“Everything’s important in the limited time we have available. Now tell us.”

“Well, as I was floating over the city and facing the bay, I glanced down to see if I could find my house and noticed a flashing of some sort, way off to my right. As I looked in that direction, I saw tall, dark clouds going way up into the sky with lightning popping inside every once in a while. When I looked at them closer, I realized they actually covered the city south of downtown and even part of the river. It looked like a small thunderstorm with its base at street level. As I stared at it, the thing began to change and soon three glowing pyramids rose up out of the clouds. Weird, huh? Pyramids in St. Augustine? What a laugh.”

At the mention of pyramids, Lobo pointed a big finger at me and said, “Now we’re really getting somewhere.” To Carla he said, “You do know where your friend’s three pyramids are located?”

“Pyramids?” Carla asked with her faced scrunched up. “Oh, oh, of course,” she replied, seconds later. “I know what he’s talking about.”

That really surprised me. “Aw come on, y’all!” I laughed nervously. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. There really are pyramids around here?”

“Uh huh,” Carla replied. “You’ve really never seen them?”

“Nope. I haven’t even been in the part of town where I saw the storm.”

“Those pyramids appeared to you for a reason,” Lobo said, looking all around me again. “The spirit hovering around you is very agitated, and as we speak of the pyramids he becomes even more so. I get the impression he put that storm and pyramid image into your mind as he did the bayonet. It fits. The pyramids, the bayonet and the coin are all from the same general historical period. A definite pattern is emerging and you need to take immediate action as soon as you get yourself cleaned up.

“Carla,” he barked, turning to her. “Take him to the pyramids. See if either of you can get any useful impressions and then return quickly. We’ll need to take some time to process whatever you come up with there. It’ll be dark soon. I want you both back before that happens.

“Now?” she asked, looking at her watch.

“Now! I have a definite feeling tomorrow will be too late.”

###

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 Old Lighthouse

Paranormal St. Augustine, Florida

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

The lighthouse, on Anastasia Island, is haunted by two sisters, Mary and Eliza, who drowned in the 1870s; a young girl with the sisters; two lighthouse keepers, and the wife of a keeper who became a keeper after his death –Kate Harn, who wears a long, flowing white dress.

Greg Bush

We had several personal experiences there. When we were in the basement of the keeper’s house, Will said, “Will somebody do something?” I felt a finger run along my ankle. One of the keepers is a “ladies man” who likes to touch women.

Soon after, we have a photo of an energy source shooting out of Will’s head, and an elongated white apparition, who we think is Kate, standing nearby. On the staircase of the lighthouse – which has 219 steps- our K2 meter kept spiking as Will held it in his hand.

Mary Jo Fister

Pictures show a small orb on the stairway. Was it one of the girls being playful? Matt, who is one of the guides and caretakers, says Mary has a crush on him. Maybe she or her sister was interested in Will.

Click here to see the Lighthouse investigation video.

Click here to visit the St. Augustine Lighthouse website.

Click here to visit Offthetrails Paranormal Investigation

Click here to see information on one of my upcoming events where Mary Jo and Greg will be co-presenters with me at the Orlando Public Library.

 

Chapter 9 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

9
Fog

 

I shut Lobo’s door behind me without putting on my jacket and took a big breath of cold air. Standing there for a second, I felt like I had been running hard. God, my heart pounded so hard I thought it might split wide open, and that stupid headache throbbed even more. I hated leaving Carla like I did, but the time to get out of there had come. Being away from Lobo was such a relief.

With my eyes closed, I took another deep breath and let it out slowly. All that had gone on that afternoon rushed through my mind like a flooding river. Instantly, those panicky urges to turn around and run away while walking towards Lobo’s place with Carla popped up in my head. I opened my eyes again only to see that everything had gotten a lot darker than it was seconds before.

A massive fog bank had somehow moved in over Matanzas Bay and already covered most of Lobo’s dock. As I watched, the rest of the dock disappeared into all that gray stuff as if it had never been there. Rapidly, a smaller wave of fog rolled over the tip of the peninsula and headed right for me at a speed fog should never move. It all happened so fast, I had no time to think or act. Long fingers of mist reached for the porch, and before I knew it, a cold wetness surrounded me.

“What the hell?” I whispered to myself. Talk about freaky. Yeah, it scared me—so much that I even turned around to go back into the house. Believe it or not, right then, facing old Lobo seemed better than dealing with that awful, weird fog. When I turned around though, I couldn’t find the house. All I could see was fog in every direction. Even so, I knew the front door had to be there directly in front of me, right? I mean I hadn’t moved more than a couple of feet away from it, so I stretched my arms out and slowly stepped forward.

After walking maybe five or six steps, I still hadn’t found the door or any part of the house. I know what you’re thinking. You’re sure I must have been hallucinating all of that or something. I don’t blame you. To be perfectly honest, I thought the same thing at first, but that cold, wet fog was very, very real.

“Carla!” I shouted, but my voice sounded muffled. “Lobo?” I yelled. At any second, I expected one of them to open the door and answer me. No such luck. I kept shouting anyway.

When I finally gave up yelling my lungs out, the absolute silence startled me. Like a thick blanket of insulation, the fog no longer allowed any sound in from the outside world—no birds chirping, no noises from boats out on the bay or traffic in the neighborhood. Nothing but total silence. I swear, it was so quiet I actually heard my heart beating. As I listened though, I noticed a darkness creeping into the fog. I’m telling you, it just got darker and darker as I stood there frozen in fear, with my head still aching. In less than a minute, I was in total blackness with only the feel of cold, wet fog all over me. Strangely enough, I also smelled something like pine needles. Pine trees. Pine needles. Something like that.

I didn’t know what to do. Lobo’s words about spirits and danger still swirled through my weary brain, reviving the memory of that deep blackness I had seen at the bottom of his carved ivory ball. For a moment, I wondered if I was dreaming somehow, but the feel of that cold fog all over my body told a different story. I turned around several times, hoping to see or hear something, anything. When that got me nowhere, the panic really started to build. Even in the cold, I could feel sweat trickling down my back and under my arms. I had never felt so alone.

“Wait. Wait a minute,” I said out loud, closing my eyes even though there was nothing to see. “Take it easy and think.” After sucking in a couple of deep breaths of cold air, I put on my jacket. Funny how that helped. Doing that one little thing for myself also calmed me down a little. Even my headache eased up a bit.

No matter what, I said to myself, you still have to be on Lobo’s porch. All you have to do is get down on your hands and knees and feel your way across the wood floor until you find the door. Why didn’t you think of that before, idiot?

Listening to my own advice, I squatted on my heels and stretched out put my right hand. Instead of wood, I touched wet sand, dirt and what felt like a thick matting of pine needles. I pulled my hand back like it had been burned. As I thought about it, I didn’t remember seeing any pine trees on Lobo’s property.

“No way,” I said out loud in my muffled voice. “I’m on the porch. I have to be.” But the feeling of pine needles did match what I had been smelling and that gave me a tiny bit of hope, in a way. At least a couple of things connected in all that darkness.

An owl hooted loudly somewhere in the fog making me jump. Strange as it may sound, when I thought about the owl and the things I had touched, they all helped me feel better. I don’t know why exactly, except maybe those things were solid, real things in that total darkness my mind could hold onto.

The owl hooted again, but this time I didn’t jump. Instead, I wondered if maybe I had stepped off the porch into the fog and just got lost somehow. If that’s so, I thought, keep feeling around until you find the porch. Once more following my own logic, I got on my hands and knees. Wetness soaked through my jeans and grit stuck to my hands. Again, all I could feel was dirt, sand and pine needles until something brushed my face, scaring the crap out of me at first.

When I felt around some more and found the thing, it was nothing more than a palmetto frond, dripping wet from the fog. Following the frond all the way down to a palmetto bush, I found a shoe. The thing is, I hadn’t seen any trash like that at all anywhere around Lobo’s house except inside his truck.

Continuing to crawl around and feeling with my fingers, I found even more pine needles, then some pinecones, and what felt like rough slivers of wood. To my sensitive nose, the scent of pine there was really strong.

Seconds later, I found a tree about a foot and a half thick and grabbed it with both hands. Why? It almost felt like a friend there in the dark, at least something big I could hold onto, you know? It didn’t matter how rough the outside was. As my fingers explored the thing, I felt places that had no bark—spots of bare wood with splintery holes gouged out of it. Those holes oozed pine sap, and I wondered what had caused them. Yeah, my fingers got really sticky, but I could have cared less.

That’s when it happened. Slowly the fog all around me started to glow. At first there was enough brightness so I could at least see my hands, the tree, and a shadow of the tree in the fog in front of me. The source of that illumination had to be coming from behind.

I whipped around and there it was, Lobo’s front door not ten feet away. Light, wonderful light from inside Lobo’s house pushing its way through those glass ovals and making the fog glow. “Yesssss!” I shouted long and hard, and started walking towards the door. All that brightness from inside really made the wolf on his cliff, the moon and Orion stand out brilliantly as fog swirled in front of them.

When I got there, I looked through the mist and the clear glass portion of the door. The hallway and room with the fireplace and weapons were on the left, right where they should be. I didn’t see Carla or Lobo yet, but all I needed to do was open the door to safety. When I reached for the doorknob though, I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t even find the door itself—the wooden part. Reaching out with a shaking hand, I grasped one of the clear glass sections in my fingers, which should have been impossible

###

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.

“The Journey of a Lifetime and Beyond!

Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal & historical

A review placed on Amazon by Dawn.

“This book has it all, mystery and suspense, paranormal phenomena, history, and even a little bit of teenage romance!

“The story is set in St Augustine, Florida, a city rich in history! It starts out with a teenage boy named Jeff who starts having disturbing, paranormal dreams which he discusses with his friend Carla, a gutsy and courageous young girl. Carla knows why Jeff is having these dreams and brings him to see Lobo, a native American Shaman.

“Lobo helps Jeff to open his mind to paranormal activity. Jeff learns that his ancestor Walton, who died in the Battle of Wade, has not moved on. He comes to Jeff in spirit form. Jeff is forced to embark on a journey to another dimension (a world within a world) to help save his ancestor.

“This locations and characters in the book are so richly detailed it’s like you are right there in the middle of it all! I don’t want to give too much of it away so I am suggesting that you read it and find out for yourself what happens in the end! I would recommend to book to anyone who has a love of history and paranormal mystery!”

To see this review on Amazon, click here.

Ghost Hunt-The Old Jail

Paranormal St. Augustine, Florida

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

We stopped at the Tolamato cemetery, the site of many burials and a Native American village. Although brief, we did take photos showing orbs and mists.

Mary Jo Fister

We also visited the Old Jail, the site of many sightings. This was a fascinating stay!

Sheriff Perry lived there with his family, and has been seen along with his wife, Miss Lou. His deputy, Turner enjoyed tormenting the prisoners. He’s still there! On a previous visit, I toured the jail, and felt a force push me in the small of my back as I approached the stirs.

This time, I discovered that Deputy Turner likes to do that! He kneed prisoners to make them fall! Now I know!

Greg Bush

He thinks people in the jail are prisoners. During this visit, I smelt syrup and cigarette smoke. In the children’s room, the temperature began to drop, according to our Mel Meter.

We asked the spirit to drop the temperature to 57 degrees. It dropped, lifted, dropped, lifted. I then said, “Put your hand on my hand and drop the temperature to 57.” I felt my hand get very, very cold. The temperature steadily dropped until it reached 57, and there it stayed. We thanked the spirit, who we believe was one of the children, and left the room.

 

Click here to see the video investigation.

Click here to visit Offthetrails Paranormal Investigations

Click here to see information on one of my upcoming events where Mary Jo and Greg will be co-presenters with me at the Orlando Public Library.

 

“Parts of the Book Came Alive Like a Movie.”

Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

A review posted on Amazon & Goodreads by Alena from Nevada.

”Overall I found the book quite interesting with the paranormal aspect as well as the historical fiction. For me … the author notes in the back showed the research that was put into the book that made it partly what it became.

“I’m not usually particularly fond of first person books, which is a bit ironic since the majority of the books on my shelf are written in first person, I believe that Dillon did quite a good job at not only writing in first person, but capturing the voice of the character.

“In my creative writing class we talk a lot about characters and different point of view, and there are a few scenes in which Jeff will say that he doesn’t understand what’s happening, or how something is happening, but it is. Or he will have trouble explaining something that he is currently seeing, and since the story is told from his point of view, we understand that in our shoes, it would probably be just as bad. Along with that we also get a sense of his emotions, how he feels about Carla or his thoughts about Lobo. Something we don’t usually get with third person point of views (I’m saying usually because I know some people that can).

“The story of a teenage boy who all of a sudden gets thrown into the supernatural and it forced with unbelievable choices (trying not to spoil anything) over the course of a short amount of time is an interesting concept. The people that he encounters and the events that unfold before him create a nice image, and in parts of the book I could see the words form into pictures, and those parts of the book came alive like a movie.

“I like the switch between dialogue and summary (referring to what I’m learning in school and applying it to the real world). Since it is written in first person, Jeff and easily summarize what it happening instead of them all speaking about it, or Dillon having to describe the place. Hearing the thoughts of the character rather than reading the description, at least for this book (series?), was not only the smart move, but the right one. I don’t think I would have been able to read it in third person (even though it’s my preference).

“… it was very interesting and once I finished it I nodded my head thinking, “that was pretty good, Dillon.” The way time flowed was nicely done, the events that unfolded were described nicely, and the end matched with the middle very well.”

To see the full review on Amazon, click here.

Chapter 8 – Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

8

Conjuring

 

“No freakin’ way!” I said, shaking my head. “If Lobo’s cat died, then its twin was here, walked all over the couch, and even laid down next to you.

“Jeff, I told you, I didn’t see a thing.”

“So, I saw what? A ghost cat? Is that what you and Lobo are both trying to tell me by talking about different realities and all?”

Before she could answer, Lobo came back into the room carrying a bulging cloth sack about a foot long and six inches wide. After laying it on the dining room table, he looked right at Carla. “Answer his question.”

“No,” she replied. I guess she had had enough of Lobo telling her what to do. She folded her arms and arched an eyebrow as she looked at him very coolly. “Lobo, this is your show, not mine. I can’t tell him for sure what he saw, only you can.”

“You underestimate yourself,” he fired back at her and turned his attention to me.

“What Carla means to say is that, yes, indeed you saw the ghost, spirit, apparition, however you want to label it, of my long lost cat, Seloy.”

“You can’t be serious. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Worlds-within worlds-within-worlds,” he replied, pointing to his Chinese Puzzle Ball and the skinny letter opener sticking out of it. “Get this straight and get it straight now. When people and animals die on this planet, it’s only their bodies that are gone, not the deep essence of who or what they are. You saw Seloy because she still exists in a way only a few people like you can see. Like it or not, understand it or not, you are one of those people.

“Carla knows what I just told you is true because she was able to look into that world beyond death on one occasion. Now, Carla,” he said, rapidly shifting his focus to her. “If you would be so kind, I would like for you to tell this hard to convince young man about your experience relating to the topic at hand.”

“Me? Why me?” Carla asked with a sharp edge to her voice.

“Because he’s your friend,” Lobo barked, “remember? He needs your help. You’re the one who brought him here and now you don’t want to do everything you can to assist him?”

As soon as he finished talking, Carla’s face softened. The old guy had pushed her emotional buttons just right.

“That’s not fair,” she replied, but there was no punch to her words. Lobo had her boxed in and she knew it. “It’s just hard to talk about.” When she looked at me, her eyes held a deep sadness.

“Don’t say anything that gives you a problem,” I said to her. I felt bad about being the cause of her discomfort.

Carla sighed and said, “No, it’s OK, really. Maybe Lobo’s right. If what happened to me will smooth the way for your understanding of what might be going on here, then it’s well worth the effort.”

“First of all, from your description, it had to be Seloy, Lobo’s cat. I believe that’s possible because … well … I saw my mother at the moment she died with my dad in the Yucatan, even though I was here in St. Augustine. I actually spoke to her and felt her touch my hair. She also appeared to Lobo at the same moment. I’ll tell you the full story sometime, but what you need to know now is that such a thing is definitely possible.”

As her words faded away, a heavy silence filled the room.

“Wow!” I said softly. “That’s … amazing. Thanks for telling me.” In my mind, Lobo’s cat once again jumped down from the back of the couch and went to sleep next to Carla. Slowly, my mind began to accept that I had possibly seen something even more extraordinary than what Carla did to my Coke can. I wondered though, how Carla’s mother’s spirit could be in two places at exactly the same time.

“OK you two, join me at the dining room table and take a seat.” Lobo could change gears quicker than anyone I had ever met. It made my aching head spin. Even before we settled into our chairs, the man started talking again, to me this time. “Before we look at what’s in my little bag here, I need to explain a few more things to you.”

“I’m listening.”

Before speaking again, Lobo once more looked all around me, like he had been doing off and on since I met him. When he finished, he grimaced slightly and said, “My best guess is the knock on the head you got during your bike accident at the library made you sensitive to realities other than our own. It was an awakening of sorts. We’ll talk about that dream some more after we get done here.

“Now, you’ve never had any experiences like the ones we’ve been discussing today before the accident, have you?”

“No,” I replied, sure of my memory. I don’t forget much, especially things that are strange and unusual.

“Uh huh, that fits.” Lobo took a seat opposite me. “You and Carla both developed your abilities because of life events. You had your accident and Carla had her parents’ deaths. They were triggers that set things off. Other people like me have their abilities starting at the beginning of their existences. In my case, I’ve had a lifetime to learn how to control those unusual gifts and Carla has had several years with me to learn to do the same. With you, however, things are very different, and that brings me back to the danger issue.

“You’ve recently been having a lot of headaches haven’t you?” The man’s dark, deep-set eyes seemed even more penetrating than before.

“Yes,” I replied, not sure where this line of questioning was going.

“You also sense someone is either following you, or you think you see someone out of the side of your eye. When you look in that direction though, there is never anyone there. Am I right?”

“Uh, yeah, once in a while.” How could he know that? So?”

“Those two things,” Lobo replied, “like the bayonet in your bed and the number twenty-eight you see everywhere, are attempts by someone long gone from this world to contact you.”

“Wait, wait, you’re talking about somebody who died, and it’s this person’s spirit doing all this?”

“Of course! That’s one of the reasons I sometimes look in the air all around your body. Within your aura, I’ve been seeing a spiritual essence of a deceased person, a blur, actually, because he is moving so quickly. This rapid movement indicates he’s extremely agitated. Why I don’t know. I keep saying ‘he’ because I sense this person was an adult male during his lifetime.”

Auras? Seeing a blurry image of an agitated man? My mind stumbled over itself trying to make sense of it all. In the middle of my mental confusion, Spock let out a low growl and started barking at me.

“What did I do to him?” I asked Carla, but she looked as surprised as I felt.

“Your dog can see this person,” Lobo said to Carla before she could answer me, “and he doesn’t like it. Put him on the porch so he won’t disrupt things.”

She did as Lobo asked, but Spock continued his barking on the porch, making me really nervous. I could see the poor dog’s head from where I sat, moving on the other side of all that glass in the front door. When Carla came back, Lobo started talking again.

“I also get the sense that this spirit around you is desperate and blinded by fear. The bayonet heating up as it did was an indication of how intensely this man wants to reach you. However, such intensity also shows the potential for severe danger—danger to you, not us. From his viewpoint, it’s as if Carla and I aren’t even around. He is highly focused on you only. For whatever reason, he thinks you can solve his problem. Your headaches are the result of pressure from him trying to make contact.”

“Contact? With me?” I squawked, looking all around the room but seeing nothing unusual. “Solve his problem? How can I do that? I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Lobo, are you sure?” Carla asked.

“To answer both your questions, we need to do some research. We have to sort this thing out and soon. Otherwise, this person, this spirit,” Lobo said, staring directly at me, “may push you over the edge. The result for you could be destroyed health, insanity, death, or even worse. That’s the danger, the blackness you saw at the bottom of my Ball of Realities.”

“Come on, you’ve gotta be kidding.” I tried saying those words calmly, but they came out all nervous like. The guy was really starting to freak me out. “You’re telling me my life is in danger because of this, this ghost? Besides, what could be worse than death?”

“I hope you never discover that answer firsthand. Right now, however, you need to be aware that the paranormal sensitivities you have developed since your accident are very strong. To people and animals who have left this world, those abilities shine like a beacon. Seloy appeared to you for this reason, and it’s at least partly why this man is hounding you so much. The problem is you haven’t had time to develop defenses against unwanted contact. Once we gather more information, we can try to create a way to safely connect with this spiritual entity and convince him to leave you alone.”

“Wait a minute Lobo,” Carla said. What about Grandma’s rule about no conjuring of spirits? She’ll never let me come down here anymore if she finds out.”

“There won’t be any conjuring. This spirit is already here. Nobody is calling him. Besides, do you have another idea about how to help your friend here?”

Carla took a deep breath, then blew it out quickly, shook her head and said, “No, I guess not.” Outside, Spock still barked and whined.

I had no idea what they were talking about.

“Just so you understand,” Lobo said, sliding his eyes over to me, “conjuring, or the calling of spirits, can cause tremendous problems sometimes. Carla’s grandmother is correct. People can get in trouble doing it if they aren’t extremely knowledgeable and careful.”

“But what about your cat? What does this Seloy have to do with the person you say is trying to contact me?”

“Nothing directly. For a number of possible reasons, your natural sensitivities popped out this afternoon and Seloy just happened to respond. You meeting my cat simply shows how rapidly your connection with other worlds is increasing.”

“Where did you ever get a name like Seloy for a cat?” Why that question came out of my mouth at that particular moment, I couldn’t tell you.

Lobo got this disgusted look on his face, but to my surprise, he answered the question. “I named her after the original Indian village that existed here in St. Augustine when the Spanish first arrived. The important topic at this minute, however, is not my cat’s background. What you must know is that St. Augustine directly links to all the various realities in existence. Here in this old city, we live right on the edge of many worlds exactly like you see in my multiple balls of carved ivory sitting there on the coffee table. The barriers here between our existence and all the other unseen existences are very thin.

“The thinning between realities in our town heightens the abilities of some people, especially people like the three of us, to touch those other worlds. This is especially so in the dream state. At the same time, beings from other realities, like Seloy, find it easier to make themselves known to us. The ghost tours of St. Augustine you laugh at may be money making machines that stretch the truth of spirit presences in this city, but they also indicate how much paranormal activity really occurs here.”

Without saying another word, Lobo picked up the cloth bag lying on the table and turned it upside down. Out tumbled the most beautiful bunch of copper, silver, nickel and gold coins I had ever laid eyes on—a huge pile of them. From what I could see, the silver and copper coins that should have been tarnished sitting together in a bag like that weren’t at all. And I’m not talking about any twenty-first century coins here. Those things were old, but looked new, almost freshly minted. Amazing.

I used to have a good collection myself, but that was in the days when my parents and I had a nice home and no money problems. During the seventh grade, my dad pawned my coins to pay for gambling debts like he did with lots of other things in our house.

Lobo spread his collection out across the tabletop until they were maybe three or four deep. Out on the porch, Spock gave a huge whine, but finally stopped barking. “We are going to use these coins,” Lobo said, “to more precisely determine when the person who is trying to contact you lived. The bayonet you selected from all the other sharp edged weapons in my display case, came from a particular time in American history. The person trying to communicate with you created a copy of that weapon in your dream to get your attention, because he lived sometime during the era of its use. Now we need to determine the date a little more exactly.

“With your newly opened connections to other worlds, you should be able to sense enough from this person lurking nearby so that you can pick a coin out of that pile that will give us a more specific date of his existence. This collection is from the United States, and none of it was minted later than 1950.

“What you are going to do in a minute is to put one hand out over the coins about six inches high, palm down. Then without looking at them directly, or touching them, slowly move your fingers in the air over the collection until you sense something, anything unusual. That’s when you reach down and grab the first coin you touch. Is that clear?”

“Very clear.” I tried concentrating through my headache.

“When you pick up that one coin, look at it and tell us the date. Are you ready?”

“I guess so.”

“Good. Do it.”

Keeping my eyes locked with Lobo’s, I reached out my right hand and waved it over the coins. I did that for at least thirty seconds without feeling anything. I guess Lobo could see my frustration because he said, “It may take a little time so keep going.” About ten seconds later, I got this tingly feeling in my index finger. Man that was so weird it made me not want to handle any of the coins, but Lobo nodded as if he knew I had found something.

Taking a big breath, I pointed my finger down until I touched one particular coin that felt different somehow and picked it up. “It’s a U.S. dime, dated 1828,” I said looking at the thing, shaking my head in disbelief. “Another number twenty-eight. See what I mean about that number?”

Carla raised her eyebrows in surprise but said nothing.

“Now we’re getting close,” Lobo said. “Maybe not exact but close.”

“That’s great, but this coin is starting to get hot, real hot.” As soon as I said those words, Lobo reached over and grabbed the hand holding his dime. That sudden movement and the man’s strong grip scared me even more than I was already. I tried to pull loose, but he held tight, making me panic. The coin kept getting hotter, and at the same time, my head felt like it would explode any second

I just couldn’t take it any more. I yelled as loud as I could and wrenched my hand away from Lobo’s iron grip. Coins scattered everywhere as I did that. I tell you what, it wasn’t easy to break free from the old guy, but I did and quickly stood up. Carla screamed my name as my chair crashed to the floor, and Lobo shouted for me to sit back down.

The stupid dime was so hot, I threw it at the other coins on the table. It skipped off the surface of the coin collection, hit the picture window with a crack, and fell to the floor. “You go to hell you son-of-a-bitch,” I shouted at Lobo. “I’ve had enough of your crap. Nobody grabs me like that, nobody.”

OK, I realize I was out of control, but I couldn’t continue doing things Lobo’s way anymore. I was so bent out of shape, I didn’t even think about what how Carla might react to the words I used. I just wasn’t able to continue dealing with Lobo, his rules and all that ghost talk, you know? I mean you try handling all that when the top of your head feels like it is going to blow off.

Well, I tell you what. I backed away from the table as both Lobo and Carla tried to get me to calm down. “No way!” I shouted at both of them. I ran back to the recliner I had been sitting in and grabbed my jacket. All I knew was that I had to get out of there.

On the porch, Spock barked even more wildly than before. Lobo looked like he wanted to shoot me and Carla’s face had this pained expression on it I can’t even begin to describe. “Sorry, Carla,” I said heading out of the room. “I can’t take this anymore.”

In seconds, I got to the front door where I could see Spock looking at me through the clear part of all those glass ovals, still barking. Light from the outside made the stained glass wolf on his cliff, the moon and the stars stood out against the dark background. I could see my angry face in the mirror-like sections of the door as I turned the handle.

When I opened the door, Spock pushed his way into the house as I escaped to the front porch.

###

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.

“Wonderful Coming of Age Adventure with Paranormal Aspects”

Sliding Beneath the Surface

The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

A review placed on Amazon, Goodreads & her blog by Megan from Georgia.

“Sliding Beneath the Surface was a well written story about 15 year old, Jeff Golden. The story takes place within a 24 hour period as Jeff’s friend Carla takes him to visit a Native American man to help with some of his strange experiences.

“Jeff was experiencing paranormal phenomena that affected his dreams and was causing him headaches. The Native American, Lobo, though tough and firm, helped Jeff open his mind to the paranormal in order to understand and solve his problem.

“Sliding Beneath the Surface took place in the city of St. Augustine and was rich with history. The contact Jeff experienced was related to a historical battle and Carla’s knowledge of history was helpful to Jeff, along with her own connections to the people in the battle. I loved the bits of history intertwined within the story.

“I liked Jeff’s character. He was the kind of kid who got himself into trouble, had an attitude along with an overall distrust of adults, and yet he tended to be a good friend. I thought his character was well rounded and reflected what real teenagers can be like quite well in this aspect. He was a great narrator because his voice really inserted itself into the story, but he was able observant and skeptical.

“I also liked Carla because she wasn’t afraid to be smart and outspoken. Lobo fit into a stereotypical Native American shaman persona, but I loved how he was so knowledgeable and he didn’t take any excused from Jeff or Carla. He was set in his ways, but I felt like he offered valuable help and life lessons.

“The book followed Jeff’s 24 hour journey into understanding what was happening to him from a paranormal aspect. I don’t want to give any of the plot away, but it was interesting, detailed, and full of rich history. Because Jeff was a skeptical kid, his journey was of all sorts, spiritual, mental, and physical.

“Through understanding and opening his mind to extra possibilities, lots of other helpful lessons in life were learned. I loved the lessons about life in the book and I thought they were the kinds of things troubled kids should learn. This was one of my favorite aspects about the story, aside from the historical parts.

“A story this well written, detailed, and historical with a wonderful narrator… Overall, I enjoyed Sliding Beneath the Surface and I would recommend it to others. I loved the overall themes about life and thought it was a wonderful coming of age adventure.

To see Megan’s full review on Amazon, click here.

To see Megan’s full review on her blog, click here.

Ghost Hunt-Miss Caroline’s Guest House #2

Greg Bush

Paranormal St. Augustine, Florida

Second visit

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

In June 2012, Off the Trails Paranormal Investigations revisited Miss Caroline’s Guest House in St. Augustine. This is a lovely Victorian house that has been a veterinarian office, a TB hospital, and a private home. We had been there once before and had some activity. This time, we set up for three days, and were rewarded with some great video evidence!

Mary Jo Fister

We set up our static night vision cameras, did baseline readings with the meters, and made our headquarters the Colonel’s Room. There are three guest rooms, known as the Colonel’s Room, Miss Margaret’s, or Molly’s Room, and Rose’s room.

There are several spirits who inhabit the house, according to owner Tina Danielson, including Ulysses, Charlie, Miss Lucy (aka Rose), Colonel Kennedy, and little Molly. Colonel Ken was the father of Ulysses and Molly. The Colonel, a Union officer, and Molly are the most active.

Molly is believed to be 5. In the room given to her are some toys to encourage her to interact with guests. We played with Molly. She has a doll that is motion sensitive. The doll plays peek-a-boo and talks. We sat the doll on the big stuffed horse in the room. One night around 3:00 AM, while we were sleeping, Molly approached the doll and threw the doll backwards over the horse. We realized in the morning the doll was on the floor, but didn’t know how.

I picked her up, sat her securely on the horse’s back, and went to make coffee. When I came back in, the doll was again on the floor. Once more, I put the doll firmly in the saddle.

As Greg and I watched, the doll flew off the horse again! We were amazed and excited to see it! It was later, reviewing the film from our static night vision camera, that we caught the spirit of Molly playing with her doll. In addition, the REM Pod went off several times, as evidence that Molly, or some spirit, was there.

We also have photographic evidence in the upstairs sitting room of an energy ball, and spikes on the Mel Meter. Rob heard footsteps around 3:30 am, when we were the only ones in the house, and he was the only one awake.

Many people have experienced paranormal activity here, from hearing footsteps, to being touched, to smelling roses. Tina Danielson and Miss Caroline’s are featured on a “My Ghost Story” segment.

Click here to see the second investigation video of Miss Caroline’s.

Click here to visit Offthetrails Paranormal Investigations,

Notes:

1. See the following blog post on the second visit to Miss Caroline’s

2. Miss Caroline’s is no longer a guest house.

Click here to see information on one of my upcoming events where Mary Jo and Greg will be co-presenters with me at the Orlando Public Library.