Embracing the Spirits: True Stories of My Encounters With the Other Side by Barbara Parks (best ereader for graphic novels txt) 📗

We met up later that day, and Katinka told me what she

knew about the hotel. From breaking glass, disembodied foot-

steps and life-like apparitions, it was obvious that she had no doubt that the hotel was haunted. The fax machine would

mysteriously turn itself on, buzzing and carrying on despite

there being no fax. Doors would mysteriously open and close,

the till would fly open by itself. The Kalamunda Hotel even

has an invisible toilet flusher!

One particularly solid apparition made an appearance in

the hotel bottle shop, prompting Katinka’s husband (who was

on duty at the time) to try and serve the strange woman he

believed to be a customer. The elderly woman was dressed in

period clothing, her grey hair pulled back into a severe bun.

She disappeared as soon as she was approached.

The old woman is widely believed to be the ghost of Miss

Jarrett, the daughter of the Irish Stockman who built the original hotel. It is reported that she lived in the attic until her death and refuses to move on. Others still report the ghost of an Irishman, so perhaps Miss Jarrett and her father are haunting the hotel together.

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Katinka also told me about a sad case involving a suicide in

the 1970’s. A young woman came to the hotel to see her boy-

friend, who was working his shift at the bar. Their relation-

ship was on the rocks, and she was hoping to speak to him and

patch things up. Contrary to salvaging the relationship as she had expected, her boyfriend informed her that it was all over, and that he was in fact seeing somebody else.

The distraught young woman made her way upstairs and

into the first room she could access. Consumed by heartbreak,

she impulsively took her own life. She was found hanging in

Room 1 the next day, a spur of the moment decision which

has kept her imprisoned in the hotel’s hallways ever since.

A day after hearing Katinka’s story, I received an email

which stopped me in my tracks. A lady named Jacqui wanted

to show me a photo she had taken a couple of years ago at the

Kalamunda Hotel. The photo was of a ghostly apparition; it

was the image of a young woman with long, blond hair. I was

sure it was the woman I had just been hearing about. Jacqui

also told me that her stay at the hotel had yielded some com-

pelling EVP’s. I was excited and intrigued.

We arranged to meet at the hotel the following week.

Although we were just meeting for a casual lunch, I knew it

would turn into so much more.

The photo was amazing. If it wasn’t for the fact that the

apparition didn’t have a lower half to her body (and the fact that Jacqui had assured me no other person was present at the

time) I would have thought that the photograph was of a liv-

ing person. Another giveaway was the ghost’s confused and

pained expression. Zooming in on her face was heart-break-

ing, it was obvious that the woman had been thrust into a

tragic situation by her angst-ridden impulsiveness. Her suicide 70The Kalamunda Hotel

was a knee jerk reaction which has now left her trapped in the lower-vibratory realms.

Jacqui handed me a thumb drive which I would listen to

later, but first it was time to introduce ourselves to the hotel’s resident ghosts.

We made our way up the wide, wooden stair case, snap-

ping away as we went. Although we managed to capture

numerous orbs in our photos, we were both in the mindset

that we wanted a more concrete connection with the hotel’s

ghosts. We didn’t need proof of their presence, we knew they

were there and we wanted to help.

Perhaps fortuitously, a smallish round table sat off to one

side of the upstairs bar area.

“That table would be perfect for a session of table tipping,”

I said. “Do you think we should see if anyone wants to make

contact?”

Jacqui smiled as she pushed away the surrounding chairs.

“Absolutely!” she said.

A moment later, we were carrying the table into the Dome

Room; the room in which we felt the ghosts most strongly.

“Right!” I said as we placed our hands on the table. “Let’s

see if anyone wants to come through …”

Jacqui and I spent the next half hour chatting to the young

girl in the photo, and to Mr Paddy Connelly himself. Although

Paddy was initially reluctant to communicate, he soon

warmed to us and was happy to join in. We ended up using an

upturned glass with a hastily scribbled Ouija board, through

which Paddy was able to identify himself and make contact.

His energy first came across as unwelcoming and angry, but

we soon reassured him that we were here to help and meant

him no harm. I feel confident that we eventually won him

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over, especially since we shared an amusing exchange at the

end of the afternoon.

“Paddy,” I said. “We are definitely coming back next week.

We’re going to help you and all the souls who are trapped here move on. Are you happy about that?”

YES he slowly responded.

“I know you don’t have a great history with women, but

may I ask if there’s any chance you like me?”

Again, the glass dragged itself to YES.

“What about Jacqui?” I asked. “Do you like her?”

YES!

“Wonderful!” I said. “We feel the same about you. And I

know you won the Ugliest Man competition, but let me just say that I’ve seen your photo and I don’t think you’re ugly at all!”

The light-hearted banter seemed to affect the atmosphere

in the room. The heaviness seemed to clear, and was replaced

by a sense of excitement and anticipation.

I asked Paddy if we could have a farewell photo before we

left, suggesting that he posed with Jacqui. At first glance, there was nothing to hint at Paddy’s presence, and it wasn’t until I downloaded the photo that afternoon that I began to laugh.

A radiant little orb had positioned itself right in the mid-

dle of Jacqui’s lips, prompting me to think that our new friend was giving her a farewell kiss. I couldn’t wait to get back to the