Artillery personnel are almost always accompanied by the smell of black powder. Firefighters are accompanied by the smell of smoke from the fire they died in. One would think that smoke is smoke and there wouldn't be much difference, but I can detect the subtle differences between a forest fire and, say, a chemical fire. On more than one occasion, I have had a severe reaction to my eyes from someone having died in a chemical fire. I mean to the point that I had to stop and go into the kitchen to wash my eye out with cold water.
     Needless to say, angels and spirits will choose any number of conventional ways to get my attention. Banging the locker door over the closet clothes seems to be great fun, especially in the early hours of the morning when I am sound asleep. Turning the TV on is another one. For the longest time, Ralph turned on the bedroom TV at 9:00 every evening to get started on the evening session of crossing spirits over. I got a new TV for the bedroom and, now, he no longer turns it on. When I asked him why, he said he doesn't like the new TV. Angela still turns it on occasionally, but only just before I'm going to bed.
     The occasional orb or flash of light will catch my eye and, every once in a while, a dark shadow will cross my line of  sight to get my attention. For years they would send the cat in to interrupt whatever I was doing. He died a short time ago and none of the other cats have taken up the task so far, so I no longer have Dude stepping on the keyboard and screwing up the computer. One time it was so bad, I had to have the computer guy come out to fix it.
     This crossing over of spirits is a 24/7/365 thing, and they show up whenever they can get to me. The time of day is of no importance to them. They just want to get to the other side ASAP, so if it's three or four o'clock in the morning and I'm fast asleep, that's the way it goes. Nudge, nudge, nudge - get up and get the dowse. I want to go!
     I hope these little incites into the ongoing process of crossing over is of some interest and that you will all take note of the fact that you should always wash your stinky smelly because you never know when you may be crossing over.

Read Baron Del Monte's previous article about "Angel Dowsing" HERE. Baron can be contacted through his website HERE

CRYPTID - A NOVEL

The Lost Legacy of Lewis & Clark

By Eric Penz

To find out more about this book, read the excerpt below, then go HERE to listen to the author speak about his book and to learn where it can be purchased.

BOOK EXCERPT FROM "CRYPTID"

Placating Annie, he told her to get back into bed and try to sleep. He was not going to show her that he too felt uneasy. It would only make her worse and she needed her rest. He listened, eventually, to Annie's breathing. Not a sound could be heard from the cottage. No floorboards settling for the night, no sound from the old lady. Silence. Only silence. This, in itself, was strange. All old cottages had wooden floorboards that made some sort of settling down noise. Not this one. Joe was mulling all this over in his mind till he fell into a sound sleep.
     Annie woke first in the morning to see the sun streaming through the window. She got out of bed and looked out onto fields which had not been visible the night before due to the mist and darkness. She decided it was time to find the 'bathroom' and, putting on her slippers, she opened the door quietly. No sign of the ghostly cat or, for that fact, the old lady. "Hmmm, must be still sleeping," mused Annie. She found the back door was open so went into the yard. It was never pleasant to use an outside convenience, but this one was clean enough. She walked back into the cottage, but there was no sign of life.
     Joe was walking quietly down the stairs as she entered the kitchen and Annie told him where the 'little room' was situated. He came back and realized that a pan was bubbling on the stove. Such an old fashioned stove, Joe mused. It was porridge. They were so hungry that they decided to help themselves. It was delicious and if there was one thing about the old lady, she could cook!
     After breakfast, there was still no sign of their hostess which was very strange. Annie decided to go and look for her and started upstairs. She knocked on the other bedroom door, but there was no answer. She turned the knob and walked quietly in so as not to disturb the lady. She gasped. There was an empty room. Nothing in it whatsoever! Bare of any furniture, bare of any sign that the lady was ever there.
     "Joe?" she shouted. "Come here quickly!" Joe dashed up the stairs and when she pointed to the empty room, he did not know what to say. If they had one room, where did the old lady sleep? And, more to the point, where did she disappear to? Annie dashed into their room and started packing their things. She did not know what was happening and was very frightened. How could porridge be ready, kettle boiled, yet no hostess? They realized they were all alone in the cottage.
     Packing their belongings into the car, they felt very bad about not thanking the lady, but where was she? As they drove down the now sunny road, they looked back at the cottage. Something made Joe stop the car. He noticed that although there was a fire burning merrily in the fireplace, there was no smoke coming out of the chimney. The whole place looked deserted.

Debating whether to drive back there, they decided to carry on. Suddenly, they came up to a crossroads and, to their dismay, they realized they were right on top of the Inn after all. If they had driven another mile, they would have found it.
     Joe walked into the Inn and was greeted by a rather portly gentleman who looked like he could be the landlord. Explaining what had happened the night before, and apologizing for not finding the Inn, the landlord look perplexed. "Where did you say the cottage was?"
     Joe explained it was a mile down the road and then told the whole story.
     "But that is impossible," mine host exclaimed. "There has not been a cottage there for over one hundred years. Oh, I was always told, and I don't know if it's true, but an old lady owned it. She and her black cat, so the legend goes, died in a fire there. The thatch caught fire and she perished together with the cat. In fact, sir, down in the village lives some of the old lady's descendants and if you go to the post office cottage and see Mr. and Mrs. Jessop, they will tell you the sad tale. The old lady was very sweet, so the story goes, and was the g.g. grandmother of Mrs. Jessop's mother."
     "But, we stayed there. We ate there. We spoke to the old lady."
     "Well, sir," said the landlord, "Go and see Mrs. Jessop."
     Joe and Annie signed the book for that night and drove down to the village. They easily found the little Post Office cottage. Mrs. Jessop was in the garden weeding. They both explained about their ordeal and the cottage.
     "Bless you, my dears," she said. "Tis true. My g.g.g. grandmother lived there, but died in a terrible fire there with her cat. And, if my memory serves me right, it happened on 31st October, exactly one hundred years yesterday."
     Joe and Annie did not know what to say to Mrs. Jessop. How do you go and tell someone that they stayed in a cottage that had burnt down one hundred years previously and also that they were taken in by somebody who died so long ago?
     On the Sunday after spending a wonderfully peaceful time at the Inn, they said farewell to the genial landlord and drove back the way they had come. No cottage was to be seen, but they stopped anyway. Annie was shivering with fright just thinking about it. A few old bricks that were charred they saw where the lovely little cottage had stood.
     "I think," said Joe, "next Halloween we will stay at home in our own little cottage and not venture out till 1st November."
     Annie nodded. "Joe? Who will believe our story? I will never forget that dear old lady and the black cat as long as I live!"

Angie Christie is The Night Watchman Chronicles site Spiritualist Medium doing readings both in her home and online.