THE NIGHT WATCHMAN CHRONICLES - NIGHT WHISPERS AUGUST ISSUE PAGE SIX

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Night Whispers

The Bi-Monthly Online Newspaper of Paranormal Mix

Brought to You By The Night Watchman Chronicles

Issue No. 10

June 2009 Issue

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A GIFT GIVEN TO ME BY CAMERON
By Carolann Crowley

     I have been interested in doing Electronic Voice Phenomena (EVP) for quite awhile. In fact, ever since I realized the home I had moved into came with a suicide spirit named Mary who liked to make her presence known to me and me alone, I've been interested. I did some checking on how to record spirit voices by way of tape recorder and also joined an EVP Research Group to learn to do this correctly.
     In one session, I asked Mary if she was with me and, if so, to say her name into the tape. This she did. At first, I was picking up many names, then sentences. Not all of them made sense, though. Some were funny, some were scary, and others welcomed me.
     The story I am going to relate to you began with a visit to a psychic event that I attended with my cousin, Sabina. It concerns a little boy in the Spirit World by the name of Cameron. Cameron was only ten years of age when he took his own life.
     I first heard of Cameron whilst playing online Bingo with a lady by the name of Sierra who was a cousin of the little boy. While we played online, she happened to mention how upset his death had made her. She told me that he, in life, had a bi-polar disorder and depression.
     I love writing poetry and was so upset by the story of little Cameron that I wrote a poem for him. After I had written the poem, I sent it to Sierra. She thanked me and that was that... or so I thought!
     Around Christmas time, my cousin Sabina and myself attended the aforementioned psychic event. There were at least one hundred people in the audience. The medium's name was Kim who, I must add here, I had never met before. I call her "Kim, the happy medium".
     Sabina and I sat at the back of the room and loaded our tape recorders. Kim encouraged taping her readings. She, then, introduced herself and spoke of her gifts, proceeding to read for people in the front row. Suddenly, in the middle of speaking and mentioning to the audience that this had never happened before, she realized she was being interrupted by a Spirit. These were her words.
     "I am going to ask some questions and if anyone identifies with these questions, please speak up."
     As Kim spoke these words, she started to walk toward the back of the room toward me, saying, "He is saying thank you. Thank you for the poem. You wrote a poem for him."
     I was in shock at this point and found I could not speak up. Kim pointed and said, "I am looking for Carol. He is saying Carol."
     My cousin, Sabina, spoke for me and said, "Here is Carol."
     Kim asked me, "Did you write a poem for him?"
     "Yes," I answered.
     "Well, he said to tell you that you were not alone when you wrote it and that you will write another one on the anniversary of his death. He will be with you then. Please make sure you are recording this message as he wants you to let his mom know he is okay."
     As we were leaving, Kim asked me again if I had recorded the message from the little boy. I affirmed this.
     "Please see that his family gets this message. It is important for his mom to hear the tape," Kim said.
     I got in touch with his cousin, Sierra, and sent her the tape. She felt that Cameron's mom was not ready to be able to listen to it just yet, but called a few people over to listen. She called me from Canada saying they had heard something on the tape that "I bet you did not hear".
     "Carolann, we heard bagpipe music. Cameron loved listening to the bagpipes every night before going to bed."
     Sierra was correct. There had been no bagpipe music on my recording. Only they could hear them.
     Cameron still says "hi" to me every now and then on my EVP tapes. Since that day, I have written more poems about him.

Guiding Hands

The Life Experiences of a Medium

By Angie Christie

To find out more about this book, read the excerpt below, then go HERE to read back cover info and find out where to purchase this book.

An Excerpt from the Ebook "Guiding Hands - The Life Experiences of a Medium"

HOW IT ALL BEGAN

I first saw the light of day three days after the Christmas of 1942, weighing in at seven pounds five ounces, at the Warley Nursing Home in Wimbledon, London. According to the nursing staff, or so I was told, I looked like Bud Abbott. For young readers who have never heard of Bud Abbott, he was part of an American duo called Abbott and Costello who were very popular comedians on screen in the 1940’s.

Continued in Next Column

A doctor’s daughter from Birkdale, Southport, Lancashire, my mother, Olive, was new to London. Birkdale is a part of Southport and is up in the north of England about 250 miles away from London. My dad, Ken, was in the Auxiliary Fire Service during this dreadful time and I was told that Mum was often alone with me, caring for me either under the stairs or under the table as the bombs fell on London.

Circumstances changed one day for us when Mum was wheeling me out in my pram and began talking to a neighbor who lived nearby and had also just given birth to a baby boy. From that time on, we were invited to join these kind people in their Anderson Shelter.

Anderson Shelters were in gardens, often dug into the Earth with corrugated iron, and were to be life saving for many, many people whilst the bombs dropped. These were my first months on Earth – in my carrycot with the noise of the bombers disgorging their bombs over London. I, of course, do not remember this time as I was so young, but years later in the 1950’s, Mum often said that the nerves I sometimes suffered were the cause of the bombings during our time in London.

I have vague memories that come and go in my mind from about the age of ten months. One of these was during this time in London when my parents were invited to tea by an elderly couple who lived in the same road. Of course, I went too and while the adults chatted over tea, I disappeared. When they realized I had crawled out of the room, they came looking for me and found me peeling the very drab brown wallpaper off the wall of the couple’s home. Mum told me that she and Dad were extremely embarrassed! Strangely, all my life I have loved ‘peeling paper’.

Once the war was over, Dad joined the Royal Air Force and was sent to Germany being given accommodation with several other Airmen in Bookeburg Castle. As an interesting side note, my youngest daughter, Adele, was born in 1968 only ten kilometers from Bookeburg while my husband, Wally, was himself, posted in Germany.

In 1945, whilst Dad was away in Germany, I was taken up North to Lancashire to Mum’s family home where we resided with my grandparents. Although very small, I have quite a good memory of that time. They lived in a huge house which was very exciting to a small child. I remember running around huge rooms on three stories and the massive cellars and attics appearing to me like a rabbit warren. My nursery had large windows covered with blackout curtains during the war.

Other memories include my Grandfather Alfred having surgery in the home as this was the time before the National Health Service was introduced in Great Britain. Living with Granny, Granddad, my Aunt Laura, Uncle Edward, and my dear cousin, Anthony, we made up one big happy home. One very clear memory in this home was being taken in my grandfather’s big black car to the hospital to bring my Mum and my new brother home. He was born on March 17^th, weighed in at ten pounds and was named Patrick William.

William is a famous name in my Mum’s family. My grandfather’s second name was William and there was also William John Wills, an explorer, who walked from Melbourne to Carpenteria, losing his life on the journey.

Last year, I was asked by my editor, Chris, if the name William meant anything to me as she had received this name for me from her guide, Sakeina. This name was also picked up on an Electronic Voice Phenomenon (EVP) by a friend, Carolann Crowley, from New York.

Since my grandfather was Alfred William and my brother, Patrick, was also called William, I made inquiries of Mum’s brother, David. He told me that William was certainly a name in the family and a famous one. Writing to the Burke and Wills Society in Australia, they told me I was the Great Grand Niece of William John Wills. This thrilled me so much! My grandfather, Alfred William Hare, was born fourteen years after the death of Wills. He was William’s nephew.

A really good friend of mine, John Myers (known by me as JJ), spent some years in Melbourne, Australia. He told me that almost all Australians knew of the legendary pair from the 19^th century. Last year, JJ went back to Melbourne and brought me back a newspaper informing that more artifacts had been found of my great grand uncle. Both Burke and Wills have a statue in Melbourne and it’s massive. I would love to, one day, be able to go myself and see all the monuments that are in Australia for these men. I feel immensely proud to know the family is associated with him. It was also wonderful to see John Wills’ name in the family tree of my mother, Olive’s, side.

My daughter, Adele, bought me a book called “The Dig Tree” by Sarah Murgartroyd. It’s a wonderful book full of the expedition and very exciting reading. This book told me so much about my famous ancestor and is a very easy read. William was only 26 years old when he died on the journey.

Continuing on now with my immediate family…

After Dad came out of the Air Force, he went to The Atomic Energy Establishment at Harwell, Oxfordshire where we lived in a pre-fabricated home, commonly known as a Prefab. My mind goes back to that time in 1947 as I became very ill with a Tuberculosis germ. The snow was so heavy that the ambulance could not get through so I turned up at Oxford’s Radcliffe Hospital in a taxi. My entire body became covered in blotches and I was in the hospital for six weeks. My father was not as lucky and ended up in Peppard Sanatorium in Berkshire County with full Tuberculosis. He was away for six months, but made a complete recovery. Strangely, Dad and I often came down with the same illnesses.

Years later, a medium told me that I had ‘died’ at one point, but had been sent back as Spirit told her I had much to do and it was not my time. She also mentioned that this type of experience, known as a near death experience or NDE, often causes a person ‘sent back’ to develop mediumistic ways.