Paranormal 16+

Spirits Who Needed Help!



AT ONE POINT, they were in the night. Moreover, at the beginning… I would hear whispers as songs, broken words when strung together formed a phrase, a sentence, a message, a revelation of things to come…


I considered this – my conscience – speaking to me, guiding me through life – as I was alone. When Papa was there or Grand-Papa, things were so much different. All went quiet. All was replaced by loving, soothing words.


“You are loved…”


“You are wanted…”


“My bestest grand-daughter, a man such as myself, could ever asked for… The things in-store for you. I just cannot wait to tell you all, as soon as you know a wee bit more how to communicate with the world…” The three women that formed these people surrounding me. Things were so different… It is too painful to repeat.


Growing up – these whispers continued – usually when alone and when the world was quiet all around. A year before the bleeds arrive, the visions began. A whole new ball game. The nastiness of so-called friends: “You're crazy, you are…”


Then another… “They’ll come and take you away, once I tell Mother… or the police, or someone who’ll believe me that you’re completely bonkers, you!!!!”


… and another… “Stop scaring me that way, not funny…” to which I would reply: “Yo! You're the one who wanted to come here in the first place – I mean honestly, the cemetery at this time of night – aye right! I’m doing this. Gee thanks a bunch… you’re on your own – well not really (muttered under my breath) – I’m out of here. You can find your way home yourself.”


On a regular basis… “Freak!” More often than not… However, it helped an old man to be put to rest – finally, after spending 15 years entombed in concrete. I had to go through interrogations over and again. Background checks, blood tests – Goddess, I hated those – blood is precious and should not be spilled nor wasted.


Four funerals and a wedding – the living disappeared and the dearly-departed took solid shape and form and spoke – just as I spoke to the living on a daily basis. The same happened with the dead…


Forbidden to take part in the joyous rounds on Halloween – making fun of the dead was awful – so they said… I enjoyed it to the maximum – the veil, so fragile any other time of year – however, it just vanished that night and I could find a quiet spot anywhere I chose and talk with whoever I wanted to – as it’s in my nature – the first ones to arrive on the scene, were the protectors – four corners full protection.


Then missing pets arrived – there were so many that they formed an extra layer of protection – followed by all the people that had left – the farthest was 600 years ago. Yes! This far behind.


The one who explained the funny story of his wife hiding from her past – just wanting to protect her new husband – keep him safe and peaceful – saved him from a horrible war – she had seen all the visions.


They left, following her instincts and the rest became history. Between you and me, it was a good thing that this spirit came down at a time I knew how to write, and write I did… Every words… It was simple then – a visit to the library – a search into the archives and my genealogy line was done in a pinch…


Others had no names – they said they were with me to help, learn, listen, act and live. It went on for years – until it went quiet… no visions, no voices – just a feeling that something terrible was going to happen – you know the feelings you get sometimes where you just have an idea – you just cannot put your finger on it but you know something is going to go bump in the night.


That one night, where Papa left, the realisation of the foretelling that came for three nights and on the last night – scared the bejeezus out of Mother. I was not scared as I knew Papa would come – Mother finally realised that I was afflicted – her words – with dark gifts.


It took another four years to be given a reading by a wonderful Gypsy woman who completed the puzzle – giving me the missing pieces all of these years – I was a sensitive as well as an old soul – around 875 AD she mentioned.


Another few years past – all in my life was quiet and beautiful and one glorious warm day by the beach, a woman approached me – took my hand and spoke in Latin – somehow, I understood every word she said. It was magical and I felt better than I had in so many days.


A darkness came – however, it was only to tell me that someone was leaving and that it would bring years of trouble. Troubles with a Capital T, until I would find the Magic to quiet it all.


These days, the surrounding is peaceful – a part of my soul is in the beyond but it is safe and the voices in the night are back through a wonderful piece of technology called the Spirit Box – all the loved ones, known and unknown are back – assured that the protections are much stronger than ever and things will only get better.


The last message came two nights ago – stronger always on the 13th day of any month – “These two are smiling from ear to ear as they are happy as can be to have brought you together and glad to see you’re still together and for more years to come. Blessed be!”


Voices in the night… when you discover that you’re Magical and that you’re in touch with the beyond… the invisible world – just there beyond the veil… You might even recognise yourselves – yes, it has happened to me before – now, you know… Something is worth investigating – ask the questions and get answers – who are you? Then why? Go into the world and find your answers…. Yes! Blessed be indeed.


♫ T H E ♫ E N D ♫


♫ ♫ ♫



CeDany Indie Author

For Your Reading Pleasure ONLY!






Horror 16+


ONCE THERE WAS a beautiful building that was the envy and prestige of the street it stood on… It had been built by Thomas Muir and once completed, the keys were handed to the newly created Inn Keeper Ian Witcomb.


The year was 1794, Ian and his family had arrived four years earlier on the Ty Jacobs, the transport ship had left Portsmouth for the new world. Along with many others who had chosen to emigrate away from Olde Blighty.


First of October saw the beginning of business for Ian. Acquiring staff was easy-peasy and his two sons had ran around the villages and spread the word that the Inn was now opened for travellers to whet their whistles, have a good meal, a comfortable rest for horses and themselves before carrying on their merry ways.


Three months at the end of 1794. Christmas and the Holidays were upon them. It brought quite so many travellers due to the blizzard that the wee Inn was full to capacity. It also brought some louche characters who would bring it down into the pits of darkness for years to come…


Gambling and prostitution took hold as no one could leave – unfortunately, no one ever left as three months into the New Year of 1795, it all went up in flames. Many died that day in March – an omen many said amongst the whispers of the town folks as the date of the disaster was 15 March 1795. “Beware the Ides of March” the villagers would say and cross themselves as they passed the spot where the Inn had stood.


Witcomb and his family had escaped and were living with the builder, Thomas Muir. Once summer returned, they planned to rebuild the Inn just as it had been. Neither men believed in bad omens or anything paranormal.


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For the next 20 years, things went smoothly for the family, the Inn found itself with permanent residents such as two doctors originally from Wales… In 1805, the local constables would frequent the Inn often as many a young girl went missing in the surrounding area and parents became concerned.


When they checked the premises, they found a lot of unexplained stains on the highly polished wooden floors. Ian himself wondered why he had to pay someone on a regular basis to redo the floors so often on the third floor…


Two of the rooms on that floor belonged to these Welsh doctors. They were secretive of what services they offered, but as they paid their bills weekly without fail, Ian never asked what was going on…


Till one day, a prominent member of the town across the waters came calling with both the constable force and a lawyer in tow, searching for his missing daughter Rosemary. Rose, as she was nicknamed had left her oppressive parents and followed Andrew Johns to the Inn.


She had a passionate affair with him and he promised marriage and wealth. Sadly, upon telling Andrew that she had become pregnant, he took her to Levin Ambers, one of the doctors, who took care of Rose’s problem…


Somehow Rose’s father, Jay Knapp, held Ian Witcomb responsible for his daughter’s disappearance and everything fell apart. The law had left Ian out on bail while an investigation of the Inn would take place. He had been told that if anything bad was found at his establishment, he would be found guilty and sentenced to death.


Ian was scared as he had been an outstanding citizen all his life. He had no debts, every bit of business he did with his suppliers and staff were always remarked as exemplary conduct. The town’s folks were in shock…


While his business was closed for nearly 5 years, he moved his family to the next biggest town and when allowed to return to his Inn, he made his decision there and then to bring it all to the ground. He never told his wife nor his two sons of what he intended to do.


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15 March 1815, the case had grown against him as bones had been found in the basement furnace – both full grown and baby size bones as well as skulls and various amount of clothing that had not completely burned down.


Meanwhile, the doctors had skipped town – disappeared into the night. The remaining staff moved out of the area too, they had no chance of getting employment as their names were associated with the tragedies… Ian made his move…


He cleared out everything as best he could, piled all the wooden furniture on the third floor dance hall and set it alight. He then went down to the main stair entrance and at the bottom of it, he hanged himself.


Unfortunately for him, the rope did not break his neck instantly, as he had expected, but cut deep into his throat. He slowly suffocated and bled to death, while the Inn around him burned through the night.


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By morning, a strange sight met the town’s folks. Even though there was a smell of a building fire, no damage was found on the property. With the exception that the windows were blackened and the outside walls had turned green from the original brown that had been applied. No businesses or residents ever settle down again in the abandoned Inn, until a 100 years later…


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In 1915, Frank Connor bought the place and turned it into two houses. He renovated it all and offered the two semis as rent income for his olden days. In 1924, a wee girl and her family moved in.


They wanted a year lease but Connor declined and said he could only offer 6 months. When the girl’s father enquired as to why? Frank did not explain, he just said: “It’s good business, that way…”


Unfortunately, the family would flee sooner, rather than later… They moved into the place just after the King’s Day – 7 January and were to remain until 6 July of that year.


Winter was difficult, the wee girl and her mother were alone in this huge house – 12 feet high floors, spread over 4 levels altogether plus a huge storage basement. The main floor had the parlour, dining room and kitchen. The second floor had three small rooms that opened onto a beautiful day room with fireplace. The third floor is where the 4 bedrooms were found and where the family spend most of their time.


Fireplaces were keeping everyone toasty warm in each bedrooms. The fourth floor was just one large unoccupied room. After the father left on his work of deliveries, he would not be back until mid-April, the girls began cleaning work and settling in their new abode.


Things went quickly from bad to worse… Buckets after buckets of clean water, turns to blood after floors are washed. Every Thursdays’ nights moans are heard throughout the house.


Fireplaces either see their fires extinguishing for no reasons or reignite on their own accord. Dark shadows are running rampant on the third floor – even after Mother and Daughter move in together, no silence nor rest are to be found.


They finally give up trying to clean their surroundings and sleep in the parlour on the main floor – however, nothing is quiet there as feet shuffling go on and on from sun-down to sun-up as noises of piano, signing, shouting and the smells of food and spirits permeate this floor as well as tobacco smoke…


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Early March and the weather has melted most of the snow and the girls are finally able to get out of the house and reach the corner store to make a phone call. The only place in town to do so.


The Mother reaches her husband and tell him of the strange goings-on in the house. As well as having discovered that their neighbours had moved out without ever letting them know what was going on in their own semi… He tells them that he will be there within a fortnight… He arrives on the 13th having driven his horse team to exhaustion.


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Finally, the morning of the 15 March arrives and all Hell’s break loose. Shortly after midnight all that had taken place in 1795 as well as 1815 replays as a time-loop. Ghosts come crawling from the walls, full size ones, babies disfigured appeared from mid-air and lands with resounding thuds in pool of bloods just to disappear as suddenly again and again. Cries of women in pain, gun shooting from nowhere with real bullets embedding themselves in the walls.


The family trio who had dared sleeping on the third floor when the husband had returned, flee down the stairs at top speed, hoping to seek refuge in the parlour, but as they get to the bottom of the stairs, their paths are blocked by the original owner of the Inn… The bleeding, ghostly white figure of Ian Witcomb… and just as he surges towards them, the whole place finally goes up in flames… The family escapes by the skin of their teeth with only the clothes on their backs. Loosing everything…


Ian had never told the truth, the whole truth so help him… He had helped the doctors time and again to dispose the bodies of the girls and their babies… He hung himself for his sins – the doctors who had fled, never made it back to Wales… their ship perished with all souls on board…


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Present day… A petrol station stands where this house of ill-repute once stood… The fourth garage bay sports a mysterious stain – the garage workers always dismiss it as oil, diesel, petrol and the likes. However, when cleaned up – the water in the bucket is always blood…



ⱷ T H E ⱷ E N D ⱷ


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CeDany Indie Author

For Your Reading Pleasure ONLY!






Talking about scary stuff –

here’s short one about Halloween.

Based on a true story.



HALLOWEEN NIGHT SEVERAL decades ago a girl of 16 was asked by neighbours to babysit while they went out to a costumed party – the girl was told that around 7pm she could call the local pizzeria and get the usual family order for the kids and herself.


She did and waited for it to come – which had been promised for about 30 minutes. By 9:30pm and following the parents schedule – she gave the kids their baths after making soup and sandwiches for them, the pizza hadn’t showed up. Then, she put them to bed.


One minute to midnight, the doorbell finally rang – the girl went to the door and using the Intercom – yes? She asked and the reply came – Pizza delivery sorry we’re so late – OK! She said and pressed the button to release the front door system – the delivery boy profusely apologised and said it was free.


She thanked him, said bye, closed the door and threw the pizza box onto the dinning room table. Strangely enough, at that precise moment the clock rang for midnight… However, it rang 13 times – and the power went out – she screamed and fainted.


Three hours later the parents returned to find the girl sitting at the table – her hair turned a shocking white – inside the pizza box on top of the pepperoni/extra cheese was a severed hand… The last we heard of her – 5 years after this incident took place – she still had not recovered and was still in the sanatorium for the insane…








CeDany Indie Author

For Your Ready Pleasure ONLY!