Friday, November 7, 2014

Real Life Paranormal with Carolyn Wren



The Bosun's Whistle 


My Dad served in the British Navy for many years and had a fascination for all things nautical, especially historical nautical items.  When I saw an antique Bosun’s Whistle in a junk shop, I bought it for him as a birthday gift.  Dad always said he wondered about its history.

The cancer that took Mum in 2001 took her very quickly, leaving the entire family in shock.  Of course, it affected Dad more than anyone.  They’d been married for 53 years. In a moment of deep sorrow and depression the day after she passed, he decided to join her, laying out a pile of her painkillers and a glass of water on the dressing table next to where the whistle always sat.

What happened next is open to interpretation, but I can only tell the story as Dad told it to me.  One minute he was staring at the pills with the glass in his hand…the next moment he was on an 18th century war ship in a storm.  Everything was utterly real, from the sea spray hitting his face and burning his throat, to the rough rope grazing his hands as he battled with the riggings and the pounding elements. And through it all, a calm voice from behind him kept telling him to fight on, to weather the storm, to keep going.

Dad said he battled for hours, until he was exhausted and half drowned, every muscle screaming in pain.  Through it all, the Bosun’s voice kept urging him to keep going, to fight. 

Then, without warning, he was back in his bedroom, with the glass in his hand and the pills on the dresser.  Dad flushed them down the toilet.  

Dad lived for another eight years, before passing peacefully in an aged care home, and he always said it was because of the Bosun, the original owner of the whistle, who brought him back from the edge that sad day.

All I can tell you is, Dad took that whistle everywhere during those eight years, but the day after he passed I searched everything, all of his belongings, and asked everyone in the aged care home.  It was nowhere to be found. The Bosun’s whistle had completely disappeared.

Did a ghost visit Dad in his hour of need? We’ll never know.  I hope the whistle found another home, and the Bosum is watching over another sailor, waiting until he’s needed again.


~ ~ ~


 


Eloisa Waters is creating a new life for herself. After travelling for twelve months, she comes home at Christmas, purchasing a small country cottage in a sleepy English village, despite the fact its previous owner was a recluse, the original owner was supposedly a witch, and it’s now rumored to be haunted!

On the first night in her new home, sensual erotic dreams surprise and delight her. Only these aren’t dreams. The rumors are true. Two handsome Regency ghosts inhabit the cottage, becoming corporeal at night, trapped by a curse, compelled to satisfy every desire of the new owner.

Elly begins to fall in love with Anton and Phillipe, her charming ghostly lovers. But is there more? Can the curse be broken? Or does Elly risk her own soul. As Christmas approaches, and memories surface, how will Elly choose? How can she possibly leave behind the Ghosts of Grace Cottage?





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I was born in England. My parents loved to travel as my dad spent many years in the navy. By the time I reached the age of 12 we had traveled pretty much around the world on cruise ships.
This sounds fun and exciting unless like me you can get sea sick sitting in a bathtub. Lets just say boats do not feature highly in my books.
I still love to travel, but I use planes. All of my life I have written stories in my head. I would rewrite and add characters to TV shows, edit and change novels I was reading, invent scenarios and scenes to amuse myself on long journeys. But strangely I never wrote any of them down. About three years ago I woke up with a scene so clear in my head I knew I had to put it down on paper. Now, what should I do with this one page of prose? I know, I will email it to some friends. The friends approved, in fact they asked what book it was from. I shyly admitted it was my own work and the reaction was immediate...please write the next bit! I did and I have not stopped writing since.




5 comments:

  1. That's a beautiful story. I hope you find the Bosun's Whistle someday....

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    1. Thank you, Tabitha. Whatever happened that day, it gave me my dad for another eight wonderful years, and I'll always be grateful. Carolyn Wren

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  2. What an amazing and very personal story, Carolyn. Someone was definitely looking out for your dad! I certainly believe in ghosts. My 'ghost tale' isn't as special as yours, but here it is...I once stayed at a university friend's house - an old Queenslander that was a rental - and I got woken by some very strange, heavy masculine sounding footsteps in the hallway outside the guest room at 3 in the morning. Then I heard a door slam. Only my friend and I were staying there that night. When I eventually got up (because I was pretty freaked out) to see if there was an intruder, I woke my friend and she thought I was crazy - everything was locked up. But then a week later when she and her housemate came back from seeing a movie, they both independently heard the same clomping footsteps all the way down the long hall - my friend was in her room and her housemate was in the bathroom.They both rushed out to see who it was but there was no one there! To this day, my friend says she has no explanation for the footsteps she heard that night either. My friends didn't renew their lease on that place that was for sure! I've read 'Ghosts at Grace Cottage', Carolyn and really enjoyed it. Now Anton and Phillipe are the kinds of ghosts I'd prefer to have visit ;) !

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    Replies
    1. That's such a great story, Amy. I don't know what I would do if I moved into a house containing a presence...but if it was two gorgeous Regency Ghosts, I guess I might give it a chance. Carolyn Wren

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  3. I'm glad the whistle helped keep your dad around for another 8 years. So terribly sad when someone is in such pain they think of taking their own lives.

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