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

They were calming, benevolent presences and I closed my eyes

again and fell deeper into trance.

It wasn’t long before I felt my right hand being grasped, at

first lightly and then more firmly. My hand began to tingle. I then felt as though there was energy wrapping itself around

it. It was hard to work out whether my hand had found itself

in a spiralling energy vortex, or whether something was being

wound around the hand itself. It was like a buzzing sensation

systematically wrapping itself around my hand, increasing in

intensity with every revolution.

Of course I had to open my eyes again to look. Who was

touching my hand? Seeing no one, I stole a quick glance across the room, my eyes drawn to the inanimate bust of Mrs Perkins. A

pale green glow emanated from her likeness, until there beside the bust floated the form of Mrs Perkins herself!

Any doubts as to the identity of the floating spirit were dis-

sipated when one of the sitters later began conveying mes-

sages from Mrs Perkins, and I wondered whether the woman

194Austin

had also seen the greenish mist materialise into the form of

the church’s long-dead mentor. But still lacking confidence in sharing my visions I just sat listening to the experiences of others, silently comparing them to my own.

I did however mention the winding, buzzing sensation

which was still affecting my right hand, hopeful that someone

could possibly shed some light on the strange phenomena that

I was at a loss to understand.

Anita also experienced a strange sensation, as what felt like

a strong hand pressed firmly on her right shoulder.

At the conclusion of the meditation, Austin asked if any-

one had any messages they would like to share. I was singled

out several times, and received a mosaic of descriptions which fit the profile of my late grandmother. She was described as a homebody; someone who would regale us with witty one-lin-ers which often seemed at odds with her old-school traditions.

Her love of cooking defined her, as did her talent for crochet and needlework, all of which were mentioned on the night.

Since I had often felt the presence of Baka ( especially when I’m cooking or listening to Croatian Folk music) I wasn’t at all surprised to hear she was around me.

I was however delighted when Austin offered further con-

firmation of Baka’s presence, by telling Anita that the spirit in between us was her grandmother too. Anita didn’t doubt him

for a second, knowing that the protective hand on her shoul-

der could belong to none other than her beloved grandmother.

I wondered if it had been Baka who had been holding and

radiating energy into my right hand.

By the time we got home Anita and I felt exhausted but

happy. Nothing particularly earth-shattering had occurred

(and indeed the validations of Baka’s presence may well have

Austin 195

been little more than lucky guesses) but the physical sensa-

tions we experienced reminded us that something inexplica-

ble had transpired. We would be doing ourselves an injustice

to dismiss them without investigating further. So with that,

we decided to attend the circle at least one more time, to give Baka the opportunity to convince us all the more.

As we sat reminiscing about our late grandmother, Anita

reminded me of something I had completely forgotten about

(or perhaps I never knew at all.)

“You know Baka was absolutely obsessed with boxing and

wrestling, don’t you?” she said.

“Really? “I laughed.

“Oh yeah,” said Anita. “She’d be glued to it for hours!”

I suddenly thought of the large flashing light which unwav-

eringly appears in our TV room whenever Stu and our friend,

Dean watch the Ultimate Fighter Competition. As soon as I thought of it, I was flushed with the unmistakable conviction that the light is connected to Baka.

I’ve often commented on the bright flashes which appear

on fight night. Since they are usually positioned beside Dean, I had always thought that the spirit lights must have belonged to his guide. But now I think otherwise, and the next time UFC

screens, I’ll be ready with my camera, asking if Baka would

like to appear in my photo!

hapter twenty-two

G h o s t l y G u a r d i a n s

When I reflect on my most frightening paranormal encoun-

ters, I wonder if I’ve misconstrued the attentions of some

ghosts as sinister, when in fact, there was a more benevolent

motivation at play.

I have come across numerous accounts whereby peo-

ple have imagined themselves to be victimised by unwanted

ghostly attention, when in reality, the spirit was trying to protect or warn them.

This was certainly the case with a lady named Tracey,

whose unsettling visitations were a concerned ghost’s way of

delivering a timely warning.

Tracey works as a critic for a local newspaper, and we

became acquainted through my publicity campaign for my

first book, In the Presence of Spirits. What began as a professional relationship quickly progressed to a friendship, as

Tracey and I discovered we were kindred souls with a predi-

lection for the paranormal. It wasn’t long before Tracey told

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198Ghostly Guardians

me about some of her own encounters with spirits, the most

memorable of which happened when she was just fourteen

years old.

Together with her mother and younger sister, Tracey

moved into a gracious, two-storey Queenslander, just a twenty

minute drive from Brisbane. Although there was a palpable

presence in their new home, the family did not find the energy threatening. In fact, the house felt welcoming and somehow

familiar, to the point where the two girls made instant bee-

lines for the bedrooms they would occupy. There was no

hesitation and no arguments, it was as though there was no

question as to where the girls belonged.

Another advantage of the Woodridge home was that it

housed a granny flat. This was the perfect arrangement for

Tracey’s single mother, who happily ensconced her mother in

the downstairs apartment.

Tracey tells me that it wasn’t long before she suspected

that the house was haunted, and was particularly sensitive to

a wandering presence at night. Her bedroom sat right beside

the staircase, and she repetitively heard footsteps marching up and