Magic Thursday: A Lindisfarne Psychic Experience with Cathleen Ross!

 

The psychic gene has long been in my family. When I was young, I used to see ghosts. I was surprised but not scared. My mother used to entertain us with family stories such as her uncle as a child told his mother that he had seen an angel come down and take the baby away. When my great grandmother looked in the cot, the baby was dead.

I found as I grew older, the psychic thing became intrusive, so I joined a circle in order to learn how to protect myself and the steps on how to shut it down. This has proven very effective for me. I tend only to open up in class or when I’m in England in the Cathedrals. 

Linedesfarme Priory St Cuthbert statue.

So, with that introduction, this year I went to Lindisfarne, Holy Island in Northumberland on the Alison Weir tour. It’s important to give a little bit of history in order for you to understand the vision I had while I was there. In 684, St Cuthbert was the bishop at Holy Island until the Viking raids over the years drove him and his brethren off. When he passed away in 687, he was buried in Lindisfarne, the place becoming a site for pilgrims. 

So I sat in peace meditating and a small voice said to me, “We tried.” I knew it was one of the monks. It was a timid voice, so I spoke to him calmly about how it wasn’t their fault. No one could withstand the Viking raids. To give an indication of what it was like for these poor peaceful men see below:

 

Alcuin, a Northumbrian scholar in Charlemaine’s court at the time, wrote: "Never before has such terror appeared in Britain as we have now suffered from a pagan race ... The heathens poured out the blood of saints around the altar, and trampled on the bodies of saints in the temple of God, like dung in the streets." During the attack many of the monks were killed, or captured and enslaved. (Source: Wikipedia)  

 

It’s not usual for me to have these sorts of communications in Holy places as the psychic channel is very clear. For those who don’t have this gift, I can only describe it as being in a channel of white light where I can see and hear things clearly.

 

Later that morning, I went and sat on the seat next to the giant sculpture of St Cuthbert. Then a vision opened up. I saw lots of monks standing closely together facing the statue. Their cloaks were long and their hoods were up. They were a near black colour and very stiff as if impregnated with wax. I couldn’t see the face, not a nose, not anything. Just black dressed monks all facing the same way. I knew I had stepped back into the past when the monks worshipped in Lindisfarne.

Later that day, I went to one of the three pubs to have a coffee, and I ran into our tour leader, eminent historian, Alison Weir. She’s used to me telling her the odd things I see and always gives me a logical historical interpretation. I was explaining that the robes were close to black but not perfectly black and of course, Alison gave the historical perspective that the monks didn’t have dyes like we do. Also, the hoods were fashioned that way, so they could have privacy in prayer.

Wiki commons photo of monks in prayer.

History tells us in 793, the monks fled, digging up and carrying St. Cuthbert’s incorrupt remains away to eventually be buried in Durham Cathedral.

St Cuthbert carving at Durham Castle.

 So while Lindisfarne remains a beautiful ruin, I think some of the monks have remained, which from my experience is not unusual. When you die you have choice. You don’t have to cross over if you don’t want to. These men choose to stay.

Check out Cathleen's release, which came up runner up in the ARR Awards for best historical fiction:

An Unsuitable Bride

It’s 1918, the war’s nearly over and people are looking for fun. Anna Hall is delighted when her wealthy, older fiancé, Max Elliot invites her on a holiday to the Hunting Lodge in the beautiful Megalong Valley, Blue Mountains. But once there, she finds everything is not as it seems. Everyone has secrets and she soon finds herself entangled in a dangerous web of lies and deception.

Anna has a secret too but she cannot admit it for fear of vilification.

Max has a secret that will destroy Anna’s life, only he’s not prepared to tell her until he’s had his fun with her.

Jack-of-all-trades at the Hunting Lodge, Thomas Rutherford, has three secrets. He’s fallen for Anna, knows the real story as to why her fiancé, Max can’t marry her; he also doesn’t wish to admit he has shellshock and can no longer work as a doctor.

But the worst secret of all is how did Max’s last fiancée, Cora Hanson die?

Will Anna be next?

Buy

Cathleen Ross

Cathleen Ross likes to write about the quirky side of life. Her characters often have psychic abilities because she comes from a family of psychics. She thought she was a "Sweet" writer until she was asked to write her first erotic story, sold it immediately and never looked back. Her first novel, Man Hunt sold to Black Lace/Random House. Man Hunt became the number one best selling erotic novel on the Publisher's website in 2006 and has been translated into German. She also loves writing historical stories. Highlander is the first in her Highlander Forbidden Fantasy series. When she is not self publishing she writes for Entangled Publishing. 

You can find Cathleen at cathleenross.com/CR/.

 

Magic Thursday: Happiness with Cathleen Ross!

 

I go weekly to a meditation class where my teacher, Michelle, trains people who are psychic to hone their skills. It’s a wonderful, safe class where Michelle has always been able to guide us and give advice to the big questions as to what happens on the other side. 

When I turned up to class a few weeks ago, Michelle’s chair was empty. I asked where she was only to discover our beautiful and wise teacher had passed away. I can hear you all thinking that I should have known that but what I do after class is close myself right down, so that I can’t receive anything. 

When people die, they don’t always pass straight over. Usually, they attend their own funeral before they go to the other side. At my teacher’s funeral, my body filled with pride as Michelle’s daughters’ spoke about how special their mother was and how they had to share her with the community because of her special gifts. My throat felt full. I knew it wasn’t my own pride. Everyone’s energy signature feels different just as people are different. Michelle was like a wise woman, a good friend, and a mother at the same time. 

Once some of our shock and grief at Michelle’s loss had passed, it was wonderful to learn that our class was strong enough to continue with our meditation practice without Michelle being present. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. It never is. We were doing an exercise where we had to pick a flower, put it in a paper bag and then put the bag in a pile at the front of the room. Then we had to pick up the bag and do a reading off the flower. In the past, I’ve been able to read for people when holding a piece of their jewellery, not by holding a flower. I was a bit worried about doing this because when I’m reading for people, it’s like my body is a vessel and I have no filter. I can say anything.

Just a short segue to explain what this is like. I was once in a pub with a group of friends. My male friend who is very scientific, who was sitting on my right, asked me to read for him. I’d done it in the past and he’d always asked me about his business interests. I had always been right even though I know nothing about his business. I would just say what I could foresee. This time however, a scene opened up in front of me. I was in a brothel in the Middle East. A prostitute was putting on her makeup preparing for her client, who was my friend. His wife was sitting oblivious on my left and side. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Since then, I’ve always been careful to read for friends in a private space.

The flower reading for class opened up a question for me. What if I saw something private and it came out with no filter in front of everyone? The class members told me to get up anyway and do the flower reading. There’s no mercy from this seasoned lot. 

Could energy be transmitted by a flower? I’d never done it that way. So, with some trepidation, I took one of the bags and a flower. The energy from the flower travelled up my right arm and into my heart. I was immediately in a scene of love with young children looking at up me with adoration. The message was that the person had such a loving heart that this was the reason so many children loved her in return. That this woman would never have a lonely day in her life and she would always be remembered for her kindness. I also recognised the energy signature out of the twenty people sitting in the class. This lady is a devoted grandmother. One of the little grandsons has the gift of genius which will reveal itself in time. The lady in question said it was her when I held up the flower she has chosen and I was grateful to sit, glad my message had been an easy one to pass on.

But the loveliest thing was I felt Michelle’s energy signature too in my throat, guiding me. She was saying how proud she was of our group, and I realised that even though our teacher had crossed over, she was happy to still guide us as she had in life. That to her, we were like her children and she was committed to developing us.

Cathleen Ross’s latest release is An Unsuitable Bride, a historical novel set in the Blue Mountains in 1918.

It’s 1918, the war’s nearly over and people are looking for fun. Anna Hall is delighted when her wealthy, older fiancé, Max Elliot invites her on a holiday to the Hunting Lodge in the beautiful Megalong Valley, Blue Mountains. But once there, she finds everything is not as it seems. Everyone has secrets and she soon finds herself entangled in a dangerous web of lies and deception.

Anna has a secret too but she cannot admit it for fear of vilification.

Max has a secret that will destroy Anna’s life, only he’s not prepared to tell her until he’s had his fun with her.

Jack-of-all-trades at the Hunting Lodge, Thomas Rutherford, has three secrets. He’s fallen for Anna, knows the real story as to why her fiancé, Max can’t marry her; he also doesn’t wish to admit he has shellshock and can no longer work as a doctor.

But the worst secret of all is how did Max’s last fiancée, Cora Hanson die?

Will Anna be next?

Buy

She also has The Count’s Amnesiac Wife on sale for .99 cents.

Count Lorenzo di Fontini doesn't want his ex-wife back. After all, he's been separated from her for a year, but he vows to her ailing father he will take her in after she collapses, and look after her until she is better. The trouble is Sophia has developed amnesia. Imagine Lorenzo's surprise when he finds out she thinks she's eighteen and she adores him. Although she can't recall getting married, she claims marrying him is all she's ever dreamed of.

Sophia Carino has never wanted anyone else except for Lorenzo di Fontini but fresh out of hospital, she certainly doesn't expect to find out that she's married to him. After all, she's only just left school and is still a virgin, isn't she?

When Lorenzo confesses they are separated, he won't tell her why she left him. What secret is he hiding from her?

And if he's so keen to accept their marriage is a failure why is the sex the best she's ever had?

Buy

Cathleen Ross

Cathleen Ross likes to write about the quirky side of life. Her characters often have psychic abilities because she comes from a family of psychics. She thought she was a "Sweet" writer until she was asked to write her first erotic story, sold it immediately and never looked back. Her first novel, Man Hunt sold to Black Lace/Random House. Man Hunt became the number one best selling erotic novel on the Publisher's website in 2006 and has been translated into German. She also loves writing historical stories. Highlander is the first in her Highlander Forbidden Fantasy series. When she is not self publishing she writes for Entangled Publishing. 

You can find Cathleen at her website.

Magic Thursday: The Ghosts of Hever Castle with Cathleen Ross!

I recently returned from staying at Hever Castle for nine days in May 2023. For those of you who are interested in the history of the Boleyn family, Hever Castle was the seat of Anne Boleyn, Queen of England from 28 May 1533 – 17 May 1536. Her husband, King Henry VIII, was in desperate need of a male heir but unfortunately for Anne, her biology let her down when she produced a daughter who ironically became Queen Elizabeth I, one of England’s greatest queens. Anne’s end was tragic when she was beheaded on 19 May 1536. On that day, Henry’s diary showed he was having lunch with Jane Seymour. Although she was charged with treason and accused of taking five lovers, one of them her brother, it is widely believed that she was innocent. Henry had tired of her and had already decided to marry again.

So knowing this history, I was interested to stay at Hever Castle, some of it was built by my 16th great grandfather, Geoffrey Boleyn, Anne Boleyn’s, great grandfather.

Hever Castle. Credit: Cathleen Ross

I had newly refurbished rooms in the Astor wing which I shared with a roomie. My bedroom was gorgeous and the castle had a happy feel to it. It would be the least ghostly castle I’ve been in and I’ve been in a lot. However, the staff, some of whom live in the adjoining apartments, say differently, telling of strange happenings, of hearing noises and incidences they couldn’t explain.

The one thing all the staff I talked to agreed that the ghosts were seen in the Tulip room most. As it turned out my friend, Anne was assigned that room. I gleefully told her she had pulled the short straw and the poor woman slept with the light on for two nights. But Karma had a reckoning.

One day when I returned to my bedroom, my roomie mentioned in a small voice that something strange had happened. She had hung her tour pass on the back of my bedroom door. It had lifted itself up and turned itself around before floating back into position.

Catherine of Aragon. 
Credit: Cathleen Ross

Now most people would be scared at that but my roomie had just flown from America to London, taxidermied a guinea pig, named Winifred - yes you read that right - and agreed to share castle accomodation with me, even though we’d never met. We both liked each other on sight.

So after this strange event we sat on the sofa and I decided to tune in to see if I could sense anything unusual in the castle. I am psychic and have been in training for many years with a spiritual teacher who is a medium, so I know how to do this. I closed my eyes and meditated and saw in my mind’s eye saw an elderly man. I questioned him as to who he was and what he did. This communication is always telepathic. He told me he had worked as a gardener for Lord Astor in the 1920s, that he decided to stay on after he died to become a custodian of the castle because he loved the place so much but he wasn’t the only one. I could see there were several spirits dotted around the castle, all were custodians. Something you, gentle readers, may not know is that churches, castles and the like have custodian spirits who look after these precious places.  Sometimes I can communicate with them, sometimes not, at other times I know they are aware of me but I make sure that I am very respectful.

Credit: Cathleen Ross

Later that day I went downstairs to reception to tell the man who works there that I had seen one of the ghosts. I described the elderly man. He said, “You’ve met Tom. Others have seen him too. He worked on the land here and we’re trying to work out who he was in real life.”

Tom-the-ghost seemed to settle down after that. When my bedroom door opened by itself one more time, I said, “Welcome Tom.” I think he was pleased that I could communicate with him. I told him what a great job he was doing at Hever and that I was a descendant of one of the owners.

The next day, I went to see the latest exhibition at Hever. They had Catherine of Aragon’s Book of Hours and Anne Boleyn’s. I placed my hand near Catherine’s and felt nothing. This isn’t unusual when the person had been dead a long time. I expected to feel nothing when I placed my hand near Anne Boleyn’s Book of Hours. The roiling energy that came off the book made me snatch my hand away. 

Anne Boleyn's Book of Hours
Credit: Cathleen Ross

I wasn’t ready to deal with the ghost of Anne Boleyn. All I can say is that her spirit isn’t in a restful state, the way many others are when I tune into them. There was boiling anger there still even after six hundred years. 

~~~

Cathleen's latest book is The Count’s Amnesiac Wife.

Count Lorenzo di Fontini doesn't want his ex-wife back. After all, he's been separated from her for a year, but he vows to her ailing father he will take her in after she collapses, and look after her until she is better. The trouble is Sophia has developed amnesia. Imagine Lorenzo's surprise when he finds out she thinks she's eighteen and she adores him. Although she can't recall getting married, she claims marrying him is all she's ever dreamed of.

Sophia Carino has never wanted anyone else except for Lorenzo di Fontini but fresh out of hospital, she certainly doesn't expect to find out that she's married to him. After all, she's only just left school and is still a virgin, isn't she?

When Lorenzo confesses they are separated, he won't tell her why she left him. What secret is he hiding from her?

And if he's so keen to accept their marriage is a failure why is the sex the best she's ever had?

She's not letting that go or him either.

Buy

Cathleen Ross

Cathleen writes romantic fiction. 

She likes to write about the quirky side of life. Her characters often have psychic abilities because she comes from a family of psychics. She thought she was a "Sweet" writer until she was asked to write her first erotic story, sold it immediately and never looked back. Her first novel, Man Hunt sold to Black Lace/Random House. Man Hunt became the number one best selling erotic novel on the Publisher's website in 2006 and has been translated into German. She's been published with Harlequin Spice, Harlequin's Escape Publishing, Entangled Publishing and is indie-published.

You can find Cathleen at her website: cathleenross.com.

Magic Thursday: The Devil Worshipper

with Cathleen Ross

It seems somehow fitting that as I drive up today to Blackheath in the Blue Mountains that the area is on fire because that is the place where I first met the devil worshipper. 

So let me take you back a few steps so you can see how it came about.

Next to Blackheath train station lies a sweet little shop where a lovely blond woman made beautiful medieval outfits. I liked to potter there, dreaming about medieval creations, except when I went in this time the energy had changed. My psychic side recognised it before I did. It didn’t feel right. Amongst the medieval gown were small, dark, Gothic gargoyle and dragon statues, and then I saw him. Radiating demonic energy, the man was over six foot, with a huge beard and large belly. Something about our energy recognised each other. He turned to face me.

Now I know another psychic when I see one but in those days, I hadn’t been trained to put up my psychic shield. Instead, I pretended not to see him, turned my back and left, my head full of images of a giant slab, a naked woman lying on it and people dressed in hoods. It was sexual and sadistic and the devil worshipper was looking for another victim.

I returned to Sydney, keen to put distance between us, but we all know that physical distance is not the same as psychic distance, right?

Source: Deposit Photos

That night in deep sleep, he came again, looking for me. He had the ability to scry and he had found me safely tucked up in my bed. I shut him out immediately, roared at him, swore at him for invading my privacy and closed down his energy. I can be quite fierce in my mind.

A couple of weeks later in Blackheath, I noticed the shop had closed but the lovely woman who ran it had opened up on the other side of the road. However, the door was locked. I had to buzz to get in. Gone were the statues, but the energy had turned to one of terror. I asked the woman what had happened and she told me a man had come in with a knife and had robbed her. I knew he was connected to the devil worshipper. I also knew the devil worshipper had seduced her in order to get his pamphlets and statues into her shop but of course, I couldn’t say that.

When I asked her about the devil worshipper, she admitted to the affair but she was terrified of him.  All she would say was, “I’m only interested in the costumes.”

She was too frightened to speak, but I knew so much more lurked beneath the surface.

~~~~

Cathleen's latest release is Rough and Ready (Book 2, Outlaw Warriors)

Before special ops soldier Hugo Boudreaux can move on, he has one last thing to do–fulfill a wartime debt to the friend who saved his life. He must infiltrate a vicious Louisiana MC club to stop their next illegal weapons shipment and send the president to jail. What he didn’t plan on was ending up an unwilling bodyguard to the man’s daughter–innocent and attractive nurse Alice Kaintuck.

Alice wants a normal life with a nice guy. But her rough-edged bodyguard is the sexiest man she's ever met. Suddenly she can’t stop thinking about just how hot he makes her. Before she knows it, she’s tumbling into his muscular arms…though she'll be damned if she'll fall in love with a man as dangerous as her father. Only Hugo doesn’t make love, he consumes her and turns her life upside down with his carnal, erotic sex. Dreams of nice guys vanish when her enemy becomes her obsession…

Cathleen Ross likes to write about the quirky side of life. Her characters often have psychic abilities because she comes from a family of psychics. She thought she was a "Sweet" writer until she was asked to write her first erotic story, sold it immediately and never looked back. Her first novel, Man Hunt sold to Black Lace/Random House. Man Hunt became the number one best selling erotic novel on the Publisher's website in 2006 and has been translated into German. She is published with Harlequin Spice and Harlequin’s Escape publishing line as well as Entangled Publishing.

You can find Cathleen at her website: cathleenross.com 

Magic Thursday - Imagination or real-life paranormal?

by Kim Cleary

I'm often asked, how much of myself is in my writing? The truth is, I can’t keep myself out, I’ve never tried and I don’t want to.

Like all fiction authors, everything I write comes from my imagination, which has been fed by books and stories ever since I could carry books home from the library. But it also comes from my own experiences and the emotional roller-coaster of my life.

I write urban fantasy and romantic suspense with a paranormal element. Readers often ask me where I get my ideas from. How do you know about necromancy, ghosts, and witchcraft they ask – often with a head tilt and lifted brow. We thought you were kinda normal (insert nervous laugh here). "Have you seen a ghost" is often the next question.

I’m mostly a sceptic … but I’ve experienced a few ghostly experiences so my mind is open about the supernatural.

Was it my imagination, or did we experience a real-life paranormal event at our cheap digs in London? You be the judge.

My husband and I lived in London while he researched his doctorate paper at the houses of parliament library. We couldn’t afford to live near the Houses of Parliament so we had to find somewhere cheap and cheerful near a Tube-line to easily travel into the Houses of Parliament.

After several days in a ghastly cheap boarding house, we despaired of ever finding a cheap or cheerful place anywhere near the city of London. It’s so expensive to live there!

On the same day we’d given up and decided to fly home, we came across an affordable furnished flat, empty and available for immediate rent. Within walking distance of archway station, it was the middle floor in a three-storey terrace home that had been converted into three flats by a cockney accented character who could have appeared in the long running TV show Eastenders!

A lovely Canadian couple already occupied the ground floor. The top floor was empty, but the middle floor was perfect. It had lounge room, small kitchen, tiny bathroom, and a bedroom that was just big enough to fit a double bed and a large wardrobe. The whole space was decorated in the strangest assortment of old mismatched furniture, it could’ve been collected over decades of living in the old house. Or perhaps collected for cheap at the local secondhand shop.

The top floor was identical to our own, except with the tiniest galley kitchen I’ve ever seen. And it was cold. So very cold up there. It was as if the heat from the ground floor and the middle floor rose to our ceiling, but then somehow didn’t climb into the top floor at all.

Naturally we shared a staircase with the ground floor and the top floor.

My husband, normally completely immune to any location feelings, refused to go up to the top floor. He just shuddered and said, "it’s weird up there". He was a keen photographer back then however and despite the weirdness he wanted me to hang out of the top story window so he could get a photo from the street!

The floor felt wrong to me. Wrong in ways I couldn’t explain. But I wasn’t afraid, so I agreed to the impromptu photo shoot.
At the top of the stairs the cold engulfed me like it always did. But this time, as I walked towards the window the coldness pushed against my back.

The wrongness I sensed became a suffocating misery.

Something was in the room with me, and it wanted me to open the window.

I jolted to a stop in the middle of the floor. The coldness pushed harder. Had someone fallen out of it once in the buildings history? I called out to my husband, that I felt something in the room with me. He was silent for several seconds. Then he yelled out, “come back down, don’t worry about the photo.”
I ran back down the stairs, he was waiting at the bottom, his Nikon camera and long lens around his neck. His face wore the rigid expression it always did whenever I mentioned my “feelings”.

After coffee and whispered debate, I did end up donning a knitted beanie and scarf, running back upstairs, opening the window and posing for a few photographs. The second time, it was still icy cold upstairs, but nothing pushed me to the window.  It would’ve been easy to discount it as my imagination. But I know what I felt.

It was the days before digital photography and I’ve searched the old photos from that trip. Strangely I can’t find the photo of me gazing down at Stephen from the third storey window anywhere. Maybe I looked cross eyed in the photo, destroyed the negative, and I’ve hidden the memory away in my brain’s vaults!

Or maybe the photo doesn’t want to be found…

~~~~

KIM is a USA Today Bestselling Author who writes urban fantasy and paranormal mystery for anyone who longs to discover they are extraordinary. She writes about hopefulness and determination, and about heroes who push through extraordinary situations and obstacles, one step at a time. Magical friends and gorgeous guys help (and often hinder) in one adventure after another.

When not writing, or researching, Kim enjoys paper-crafting, gardening, plays with her dogs, chats on social media, catches up with friends or cooks an Indian feast. She is a certified chocoholic.
Kim grew up in Birmingham, UK. She studied medieval history and psychology at Adelaide University in South Australia. She now lives with her husband and a mischievous Moodle in Melbourne, Australia.

Link to Daughters of Ravenswood series

My social media details: Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Website | 
Or by e-mail at: Info @ kimcleary.com (no spaces)

Real Life Paranormal with Kim Cleary

Guided Home?

When I'm looking for something new to read, I often seem to gravitate to stories with ghosts, or at least something supernatural, in them. This post could be subtitled "Do you really need a ghost in every story you write?"And the answer is, of course, the same one I give when asked if every good story needs a dragon ... possibly not. But aren't stories with ghosts and dragons often more fun!

Have you lain awake at night and felt someone or something watching you? Walked into an empty room and seen flickers of black spots at the corners of your eyes? Felt an unexplained coldness cut to your core? There could be a perfectly sane scientific explanation. In fact various friends give me scientific explanations constantly! But could you have experienced something we don't really understand? Could something supernatural be stretching out to reach you?

Do ghosts really exist?

I think they might.

My grandfather died when I was four years old. My parents thought me too young to go to his funeral and he was whisked away by adults who spoke in whispers and pushed me out of the bedroom in which he died. But I never forgot him, he taught me to read and cuddled me while I read haltingly from my Children's Bible almost every evening.

Shortly after I started proper school, I must have been six or seven years old, I fought with my mother and ran away from home. It wasn't a well-planned escape, I had no money and only the shorts and T-shirt I was wearing.

At dusk I became disoriented and realised I was lost. I pressed myself into a smelly doorway and slumped to my knees. How would I ever get home? And what would my mother do to me when I did?

It felt hopeless. I had no idea which way to walk. Adults sped by, several older ladies tutted at me, as if unaccompanied children had no place in the street under the setting sun. But as I sat in that doorway I heard my grandfather's voice calling me.

 I followed the sound to the end of the alleyway, then along the street and across the road. At the busy intersection I didn't know what to do, until an elderly man crossed the road and turned into another street. As he disappeared around the corner, he lifted his cap and turned to smile at me. I sped after my grandfather; of course he wasn't at the corner when I got there. But the road to my house was.

Had Grandpa come to help me get home? My mother didn't believe me, and boy was I in trouble for both running away and lying.

I remember her anger.

"How can you have seen him," she said.

I'll never forget her flushed face just inches from mine.

"I've never seen him. Not once. And God knows I've begged to hear from him." Tears welled in her eyes.

I didn't know what to do. It was a relief when I was sent to my room without any dinner.

At the time, I was so sure Grandpa had helped me. I don't know how I would have got home otherwise. I didn't realise until I was much older that my mom wasn't angry with me. She was desperately upset that she'd not seen her dad, and I thought I had.

I wish I'd been old enough to share the experience with her rather than flee from her distress.

How about you? Do you believe in ghosts?

~ ~ ~

 You can find and follow Kim Cleary on these sites:

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Kim Cleary is the award-winning author of Path Unchosen, the first title in the Daughter of Ravenswood series, which earned a bronze IPPY award in 2015. She grew up in Birmingham, United Kingdom, studied medieval history and psychology at Adelaide University in Southern Australia, and has worked all over Australia and in London.

Forced to leave a successful career in marketing after multiple sclerosis damaged her hands and prevented her from typing, Kim learned how to write using voice software.

A self-described chocoholic, Kim loves writing, gardening, cooking, playing with her dogs, and spending time with friends. She lives with her husband and two dogs, an adorable Cocker Spaniel and a mischievous Moodle, in Melbourne, Australia.