CREATURE CONTEST WINNER and so much more!

Hello everyone, HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
And this is the day where I announce the CREATURE CONTEST WINNER! I have to admit, I was rather disappointed at the amount of contest entries. I think I will wait till I have more followers before I run another contest but from what entries I DID get I have to say I was NOT disappointed!

The reason I came up with this idea is I am frustrated with the old recycled same old-same old supernatural beings these days. I have been saying for a few years now, why can't we come up with more original supernatural creatures??

So I said, let's see what a contest turns up and like I said, I was not disappointed!
I knew that we writers when given a challenge could and would rise to the occasion.
SO without further ado, but much debate since as is always the way these things go, it came down to TWO entries and it was very very hard to decide, and honestly I went over everyone a few times which is why no one heard from me at all. I am not good at giving critique without giving my self away as to who I was thinking it would be.
AND THE WINNER IS-(drum roll please!) NICOLE GRUBEL!! And here is her creature.
The Itaranga, most commonly known as the Shadow.
The truth about their origin is still hidden in their midnight minds and as unfathomable as their uncanny abilities. Some people believe they are just tales to scare little children, others call them nightmares and then there are those who claim to have seen one, have been touched by one or even work for them. For a while there has been the rumour that only one Itaranga is left in the world, but nobody knows how this idea came up. After all, aren't there countless shadows all around us?
Fact is that at least one Itaranga is out there and it has at least one agent who does his bidding. An Itaranga can be regarded as a living shadow, but it also uses the regular shadows to travel, gain strength and hide. It is weakest in the brightest midday sun and in places that are completely dark so that no shadow can be cast at all. However, it would not cease to exist in such places, for there are shadows in people minds, too. If you wanted to get rid of an Itaranga completely, you might have to starve it with a pure soul that is kept in a shadow-free place long enough, but there is no proof this will work or that it would prevent another Shadow to come alive.
As already mentioned, and Itaranga can reach into the minds of people. It uses this ability to communicate with an agent, too, and to control him. It is said that a Shadow's voice sounds, or rather feels, like a booming noise and a whisper at the same time and that it's rather painful to listen to it. You can't shut it out, but you can learn to hide some thought from it and talk back to it with your mind, although both is rather difficult and needs a strong (or stubborn?) character.
However, an Itaranga can understand spoken words, too, just as it can take a solid form for a while. If it chooses to do so, there usually is a good reason for it, which it most likely won't share even with its agent. Since it is still basically a shadow, it tends to appear as something common that won't draw unnecessary attention to it. However, an Itaranga also longs to be able to move freely, which is said to be the main reason why a shadow can gain a life of its own at all. So, among a herd of wild horses it would be a horse - not the stallion who leads it and not a foal that is watched over by its mother, but most likely the horse with the darkest shadow. On a marketplace full of people it would take the shape of a man - not one who sells his goods or a pickpocket or a rich customer, just someone who vanishes in the crowd and moves among it, his face usually hidden in the shadows of a hooded cape.
So far, it neither can be proven that Itaranga want to harm nor that they are full of good intentions. They move and act almost without a trace and so do their agents. One should not forget that a shadow can mean protection and spend necessary relief from the burning sun. There are poems and old stories that seem to bear witness about gentle voices and comforting touches from creatures that are living darkness. Many cultures know of a knight that appears where he is needed the most, often travelling on a midnight horse or engulfed in a mantle that appears like shadow-wings. This is indeed the only hint on how an Itaranga and its agent my get from one point to another. Aside from this, there either once were indeed more of them around or they are able to travel by means no mortal man can understand or copy.
There are no such things as Itaranga shrines or talismans. People do tell tales, the comforting and the frightening ones. People silently ask for their help and blame them for misfortune. However, it is said that it brings even more ill-luck if you curse an Itaranga. Not everybody will admit that he believes in them when you ask him, but that doesn't make them less real.
Finally, the name of these shadow-creatures itself is a mystery. Some say it means "shadow" in an old language. Other cultures apparently have derived words from it, for anything from "saviour" to "devil", and of course "shadow", too.
*************

And you wanted to get convinced in the creatures own voice that it was worth of your challenge. So, here we go:

**I know you. You wonder how? Look around you, Samantha Stacia. I am everywhere. See the dark gap under that furniture over there? It's a good place to rest while you are sleeping. Are you aware of the oddly shaped shadow in that corner? Did you ever feel like something was watching you while you sit and write your stories?
But don't get excited. I'm not there all the time, although you might not notice the difference. You are not mine, not yet anyway. I have others to do my bidding for now, and other places I want or need to be. One day, however, I might have a task for you, too.
I also know what is in your mind. Don't even try to find out how, you should know better. Just as you are aware that your secrets are safe with me – unless you tempt me to change my mind, of course.
Besides, you can stop looking for a new paranormal creature, as you call it. I admit, I'm not new to this world, for I am as old as the light. But we both know that's not what you meant, right? I am new in your mind now, because I choose to make myself known to you.**

I appreciate how many of you chose to have your creatures talk directly to me when I said to have some dialog, I was surprised and thought it was pretty cool!

Now The honorable mention is-(another drum roll) LYNNE FAVREAU!
I loved her creature, "Leandro Mairo Nazaire" came in at a close second!
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO TOOK THE TIME AND EFFORT TO ENTER THIS CONTEST! I enjoyed reading them immensely and they were all really good!

NOW to the second order of business- Valerie Brooks mentioned my blog in her blog awards last week. Her site is http://gobsmackedwriter.blogspot.com/   Her blog is VERY unique in that she "talks" in "pirate-ease" and her muse is none other than the suave Jack Sparrow! (Whom I adore too btw.)
As per the usual I am supposed to mention things no one knows about me, I don't know about you all but I am pretty tired of talking about myself already and I can only imagine what it must be like to read, so I'll spare you that bit and simply move ahead to the other blogs I think you should check out and are definitely worthy of awards of their own! No particular order-

1)Debra Eve's Blog Later Bloomer is an elegant site and a perfect fit with my writers group for women over 40. She is constantly digging out facts and tidbits about people who accomplished great things in their later years and proving that the second half of life could very well be the best half.

2)Jennie Kohl Austin's blog Jennie Of Course is a highly creative blog. She is a diversified gal that can provide inspiration for all your writing needs. Its a fun site.

3)Cat von Hassles-Davies's blog Cat Rambles is one of my personal inspirers. She's down to earth and draws you right in with her easy writing style and lets you see what the writing life is all about and makes us all feel that we can all be winners at writing.

4)Candice W. Coghills Blog Thus Spake The Hermudgeon is a unique and pretty blog written  from her alter ego. She just won a flash fiction contest after submitting by the seat of her pants as I did a few months ago. I got a mention toward being a finalist but she actually won!

5)JoAnn Murphey's blog The Murphey Saga is a very diverse blog that offers many things. JoAnn wears many hats and has a cool straightforward style that doesn't mince words and is always worth checking out for what shes got going next.

6) I don't think we are supposed to have 6, but I had to include Debra Gray-Elliott's blog High Heels And Hot Flashes she keeps you informed,updated and interested in all kinds of things we should all know about and get into like cancer awareness, different kinds of days etc. And I wouldn't know what to do without her always letting us know about these very important dates, functions and groups out there.

So ladies here are your awards  and you each are certainly well deserving of them!

Thanks for reading!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Samantha Stacia

Samantha Stacia 

Guestblogger Wednesday Welcomes- OLGA LIVSHIN!

Why fantasy? Because it wasn’t there.

By Olga Godim

Thank you, Samantha, for inviting me to be a guest on your blog. You asked me what or who was the one thing or person that led me to be the writer I am today? The more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that it wasn’t something or someone that was there, but rather something that was not.

I’m a fantasy writer. I write about smart magicians, daring swordsmen, and cranky witch familiars. But fantasy wasn’t there when I grew up. During my childhood and adolescence, fantasy was mostly absent, and perhaps its very absence drove me into creating it: for myself and for my readers.  

I’ve always liked fantasy—swords, princesses, and magic—but except for fairy tales, it was hard to find such books when I was a child. I grew up in Soviet Russia, a totalitarian state where fantasy as a genre didn’t exist. Literature, as all arts, had been subverted to the need of the Communist Party, and a magician could hardly sprout communist propaganda. So fantasy was censored out. With rare exceptions, no censor would open the gates of the Soviet literature to a magician, even in translation. But a contrary woman that I am, I always disliked censor-sanctioned literature. I wanted magic and beauty instead.

To slacken my cravings for fantasy, I read Eastern legends, Greek myths, and Arthurian romances. Any story with magic and swords in it was a treat. Sadly, I couldn’t find enough of those stories. I had no choice but to make them up.

Since I remember, I’ve always made up fantastic stories. Many of my heroes existed in the imaginary realms. I was a dreamer, but it was a secret. I never told anyone about my stories. I was ashamed to let anyone know that I spent half my life in the alternative world of my daydreams. And those daydreams had nothing to do with the Soviet reality.

I thought I was a freak and I desperately wanted to be like everybody else, to fit in. I tried to shuck my stories, but they wouldn’t let me. Despite my resistance, they continued to appear and develop, almost like living creatures. Afraid of ridicule, I never shared my stories; I hoarded them in my head and enjoyed them in solitude. Strangely, I never thought about writing them down.

When I immigrated to Canada, I started ESL classes, like every other immigrant. And because I liked to read, I thought I’d learn the language faster if I read in it. I spent a year reading my first unabridged novel in English, some silly western. I had to look up words in a dictionary approximately a hundred times a page. My second novel, an Agatha Christie mystery, took only three months. Proud of my new-found proficiency in English, I began looking for something fresh to read, something that had never been translated into Russian.

One day, I was passing a second-hand bookstore, and a book in the window display caught my attention. A white horse reared on the cover, and a young man with tragic eyes clutched a sword in his hand. I still wasn’t aware of the fantasy genre or its popularity, so I didn’t buy the book then. Being a professional woman, raised in Russia, I felt foolish buying a book with a sword on the cover. Still, the memory bugged me. I really wanted to read about that young man with a sword. After a couple of weeks, I mastered my embarrassment and sought out the book at the local library.

I didn’t remember the last name of the writer, but I remembered the first name, uncommon for North America, Mercedes. Armed with it, and with the image on the cover, which suggested a medieval adventure story, I approached the librarian. I cringe now when I recall the ignorant me all those years ago. The kind librarian took pity on an immigrant. Her fingers danced over a

 keyboard, and she offered me The Magic Pawn, a fantasy novel by Mercedes Lackey.

It was love at first sight. I began devouring one fantasy book after another, as if they were a banquet, and I had been starved forever. Finally, I discovered the universe I had been searching for my entire life. It was like a second childhood, a feast of literary discovery.

Fantasy novels also spurred my creativity. My fantastic stories exploded but… they were still hiding in the safety of my mind. That’s when I started thinking, tentatively, about writing them down. Could I become a fiction writer in a foreign language? Could I dare bringing my stories out into the open? Would native speakers laugh at me?

My characters were bolder than I was. Impertinent like proper fantasy heroes, they began thinking and speaking in my head exclusively in English. They wanted out, into the world. So I gathered my courage, bought a laptop, and followed my sword-wielding heroes into fantasy. In English. Many great writers and teachers served as my craft guides, but I will always feel a special gratitude towards my first cicerones into fantasy—Mercedes Lackey and her heroes.

Olga is a Canadian writer and a single mother. She lives in Vancouver,
in the beautiful province of British Columbia on the West Coast. She
belongs to the generation of empty nesters. Both her wonderful son and
daughter are grownups by now and live independently. Their teenage
years are finally behind her (Hooray!!!) Mostly, Olga writes fantasy,
but she also freelances as a journalist for a local newspaper, has
been writing for them for the past 4 years. Her reporter's beat is the
city's artistic and cultural scene: artists, actors, sculptors,
potters, publishers, teachers, etc. Her first novel is going to be
published by Crescent Moon Press next year

The girl who took pictures of rainbows...

My friend Juliet Greenwood posted this lovely picture earlier this week on her Face Book wall. You can view her lovely post on last Wednesdays posting on this blog as well.

But this picture made me think about what I have been learning and practicing these past two years and I wanted to share it with you.

For years I have studied theology and metaphysics as well as parapsychology and the paranormal.

I was a student of Norman Vincent Peale when I was a teen. I was always fascinated at the hints he made at there being more to our universe than the obvious around us or the God we only learned about from the pews. I always halfheartedly approached these ideas with a bit of scepticism since I was always afraid of failing in trying these theories out for myself and looking like an idiot.

It was only this last year that through the help in finding an old friend have seen my childhood in a different light that the solid nightmare I had considered it to be. In a way she gave me part of my childhood that was gone. In fact I thought she hated me which was partly why the rest of my childhood that wasn't exactly a nightmare was put away since it had only been she who I shared it with and really no one else.

Since she came back into my life, I have been able to go back there and see that there were the times where both she and I had really made the best of things, as bad as both of our lives really were.

She reminded me that I loved to take pictures and write plays for us to act in and all kinds of little things.

But tonight I was reminded of something else through seeing the rainbow pictures in Nancy Mueller's blog,  http://wanderlustandlipstick.com/ . I was reminded that before my friend had even come into my life, I had very intense interests and they amazingly were good and healthy, actually "normal" interests.

I was the girl who took pictures of rainbows.

I loved looking at rainbows, not just because of the myth of the gold that I had not indulged in even then for a long time at 8 years old due to my intellect but because they were lovely and a promise from God. At a time where all the tacit promises of a playful childhood with parents who would love me and tickle me and tuck me in at night were gone, I held on to that promise.

Nature for me was Gods love letter and I indulged in "reading" it as much as I could and tried to capture much of it on film. I realised that I was more of a positive kid than I had remembered being.

Yes, by the time I was 16, I had lost the ability to laugh or even cry. But the literature I was reading must have been my psyche sort of trying to recapture the positive part of me that was lost. That also explained why I was so afraid of it, when you crush a child's spirit the way mine had been, the biggest fear is indulging in the thing that had once been whole.

I have an old friend who has been abused and has a really hard time with God as a result with the normal questions, "Why wasn't He there? Why didn't He rescue me?" For some reason I never had those questions, the evil in my life I knew was a result of someone decoding to go against God and was never His will. I also didn't let Satan off the hook, I am always amazed at how He never gets blames for anything and gets of scott free.

I also knew the few people that had been allowed in my life were in a way the mini-lifeboats I needed to get through the rough seas. Once I was out on my own it was up to me to get back to living the right way, which I struggled and clawed my way back to a couple of times with three steps forward and two steps back to a semblance of a good self esteem.

But then I had some very odd things happen to me that for quite a few years dared to make a very bitter person.

When I was seriously hurting and needed someone to talk to, I called a councilor and would have them literally tell me there was nothing that could be done for me. I would try to confide in several friends and twice in my life had these so-called friends leave me for doing so after being there for them.

I had deathly illnesses and found myself entirely alone when I had saved more than one persons life and was devastated that in my time of crisis that no one was there for me when I had had this belief system that since I gave up MY OWN personal time and energy in the service of my fellow human beings that when it was my turn it would be there for me as well in some capacity.

That didn't happen.

I was more than confused, my question was much like my friend wonders about God, had I been lied to?

Well, these last two years were when I found the answers to all these years where the promises of the Bible went seemingly unfulfilled. Once again I wasn't lied to by God or the Bible but lied to by religion.

My interpretation about how these things worked wasn't my own, it was one that had been implanted. That you were to give up your wants and desires in service to God and your fellow human being and not only will you reap great benefits in this life and be taken care of, you will in the next too.

I found myself  once again a very sick and below poverty stricken with man who expected me to take care of his every need, everything stolen by the one family member you are supposed to be able to trust, ending up in a room with a bed and my books and that was about it to live in as result of my "service to my fellow human beings."

THAT made me rebel terribly. I was angry beyond belief and once divorced spent many years in  sort of ignoring my past and alternately pursuing my own interests for the first time in my life. Although I went about it rather hedonistically sometimes,it was a time of great discovery and one of meeting my own needs for the first time ever. 

Once I did settle down again and got remarried and had a child of my own I often vacillated between being who the one who railed in the darkness or the one who believed in being positive. There was a big war in my soul.

The first real unconditional love that I knew in my life since my grandmother is from my son which I can say kept me from being one of those poor burdened, hardened bitter souls that walk around in our world, quite justified, today.

It wasn't until I had my Near Death Experience that really made me see that God was never my adversary but wanted all along what I wanted and people like Norman Vincent Peale were right all along. I wanted to be a writer and everyone in my life reasoned in one way or another that it wasn't feasible, everyone but God. That burning desire to do the thing I loved was written on my heart when I entered this world and that writing came from the hand of God. After that, slowly things started to make sense.

One of the biggest things was admittedly I replaced what I wanted to do in life with the service to my fellow man being a result of not knowing what else to do and while I didn't resent taking care of people or even saving their lives I did resent not being able to do what I really wanted to do. AND THAT WAS THE reason I never reaped one good thing from it.

God doesn't want sacrifice, he wants love and for us to be happy. Jesus did all the sacrificing and I didn't see that part of things. And of course even though when I had boldly asked from God what he thought I should sacrifice to him in tithing when I was my poorest, and got the immediate response in that way I have come to know as His voice said. "I don't take bribes!" I STILL din't realise that the days of tithing and sacrifice are over, now we are to learn how to use and explore the freedom and gifts He has given, but don't ask your local preacher about that, he wants those tithes and sacrifices. But God doesn't.

It took awhile before I was really able to begin to apply this to my life. It started after my husband got sick with stage 4 cancer.



"A non-writing writer is a monster
 courting insanity."
Franz Kafka



After the business of dealing with treatment, retirement and moving and all that entails in our lives and things settled down a bit, I finally began to write seriously. But I had no real commitment. I wrote when I felt like it, when I had "time" etc.

BUT I did notice a very important correlation. I noticed that I went a few days after I had finished a decent amount of writing without any stress or mini-meltdowns as a result of all that is going on in our lives, no matter how bad it got.

I began to experience happiness as a result of the writing I was doing for myself, I was feeling a fulfillment that I had always asked for God to give me when He had programmed it into me all along.

Incredibly good things slowly seemed to start coming into my life.

It sounds ridiculous but we had just adopted a kitten last summer and he was like an angel kitten the way he came into our lives in an answer to prayer, but he gave me something I had never had in my life-concern for my well being.

Last Thanksgiving I came home after a tumultuous time with my husband and my husbands family. I was sick as a dog and alone as my husband was on a hunt and our son went with him.

That night I found myself on the bathroom floor at one point and I remember passing out from the complete combination of pain and illness. I kept waking up on the floor to weak to get up and had with a little kitten sleeping by me, purring whenever I moved and generally kept watch over me. I hadn't anything or anyone look after me like that since I left my grandmothers home when I was 8.

And our cat, Oscar, to this day is very empathetic and will curl up with anyone of us when we are ill.

But ever since that day he won't allow me specifically to go into the bathroom alone. I know that sounds strange that it would mean so much but when you have not been cared about by anything or anyone since you were 8 years old it means quite a lot!

Then. I found a friend who said she had been looking for me all along when I found her on Face book. I cried for days because she had told me she wanted to talk to me and see me and was so happy to hear from me. She wasn't just curious about what had happened in my life which I had people do to me before and once their curiousity was fulfilled forgot I existed. I never felt since my grandmother and now my son that I had meant anything to anyone and believed that I never would. She challenged that very firm belief and proved to me that she really wanted to be my friend again.

I had a really hard few months actually waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wouldn't call her for awhile and she would call because she was "just thinking about me" NO ONE had ever done that before. NO ONE ever thought about me, not unless they wanted something from me. I cried a lot those first few months of knowing her again.  I was letting good into my life when before I had pursued it and never found it.

Fast forward to now.

I have written everyday committed now for about 6 months and have had no meltdowns or even bouts with depression. I guess Kafka was right!

I have also had the friend I shared my childhood with come into my life in a positive way, as I mentioned at the beginning. I have a writers group that I created that is flourishing and growing and not only is that the very first time I have ever done anything that came to any success, I have made very real friends through that. Genuine people who have shown the first honest compassion I have ever had in my life. The writing community turns out to be the "type" of people I understand, I gel with, I just fit in with and have found a genuine home with.

So going back to that picture above with the saying "Everything around us is made up of energy. To attract positive things in your life start by giving off positive energy."

That's exactly what happened when I FINALLY started to live the thing I was meant to be all along, A writer.

I am forming a theory now that there is no way you can put out positive energy unless you fill yourself up with that energy to begin with. Just like Jesus EXPECTS us to love ourselves and take care of our needs BEFORE our neighbors, we need to live in such a way that we are happiest in life and then the positive energy can flow.

When I was doing all that care giving in the past, I was not happy and there was no way I was going to attract positive things or people into my life. I see now that there really HAS to be that base of loving yourself first, God really doesn't want sacrifice and He doesn't take bribes.

For years I was always caught between being the loving caring person I wanted to be but was always screwed over for being that way or turning cold and hard so I would no longer be hurt. I realise now that if you follow your heart for yourself that you don't have to choose.

I can be the girl who takes pictures of rainbows again.

Thanks for reading!
Samantha Stacia

The NOW Foundation's Love Your Body Day blog carnival post

This post is part of the "2011 Love Your Body Day Blog Carnival."

The blog carnival gives you a list of topics to choose from and I picked the obvious one for me. "Loving your body and disability."

I definitely have a love/hate relationship with my body. When I was a child in school, I needed at least twelve hours sleep to survive, however the school system doesn't obviously want kids healthy or they would work with them. I found out rather young that eating gave me the energy to get through the day. So to replace the energy I was losing by not getting enough sleep, I ate.

Eating to replace sleep worked pretty well through grade school. I was an obese straight A honor student. However, I also practically lived on antibiotics. I kept getting really ill over and over again. The doctors would tell me to stay home but back then the school system said you had better "suck it up" and go anyway or you would be in detention no matter what your grades were. In 8th grade I had so many hours of detention that I lived at the school practically the last month in order to graduate. All because I kept getting sick and the doctors couldn't figure out why, nor why I was so exhausted all the time.

By the time I was a Sophomore in high school my body was so depleted and sick my doctor ordered a month of bed rest and called the school personally to report that I HAD to do it. It helped a lot, I practically slept the whole month. I made up all my work in a week once I was back and maintained my perfect grade point average.

However a month before graduating that year my mom and I were hauled into the principals office and told that I would be repeating the entire year as a result of having missed that one month of school. My mom taken aback while I sat there stunned and disillusioned that grades meant anything, spoke up without consulting me-"Then she won't be back next year! " she said sternly "and you will lose ALL the money you would have made with her in one of your chairs." I was even more stunned now from her statement than learning that in the school system all you are is a head of cattle with a dollar sign on your forehead and nothing more, I felt myself rise from the chair and out the office little realising that my mom had probably saved my life.

I thrived after that because I kept my own hours, which yes, meant 12-14 hours of sleep. I began working out because I had the energy and realised I wasn't eating for energy anymore. I was able to simply eat when I was truly hungry.

After two years of this, I moved to where I would go to collage a lean mean running machine size 6 with an 18 inch waist.
I finally knew what healthy felt like.

 Later I found out in a routine chest x-ray because I had torn a peck muscle, the doctor told me my lungs were severely scarred from what's commonly called "Valley Fever." The Coccidiodomomycosis spore that lives in the desert dust of Arizona and a small part of the adjascent states which gets into every ones lungs who are stay around it for a month or more, but for the average person does really no harm. However for a select few, it can cause severe reactions, fatigue,fever and even death if not given antibiotics in time. The doctor asked rather innocently, "Were you sick a lot as a child?" I just shook my head yes. 


valley fever spore



Not too long after that my cousin John who may as well have been my brother as I had no other sibs, died as a result of losing his own battle with "Valley Fever" at the age of 33 leaving me pretty much all alone in the world at the age of 28.

Fast forward to age 39. I got the flu and had been working ten hour shifts all summer of 06 while raising our son pretty much singlehandedly. I finally was able to quit when my husbands shifts wouldn't allow us both to work since even though he had family there was no one willing to watch our son just for the hour overlap that our jobs conflicted as well as my husband his own father had also never watched him for any length of time. So even though I had the flu after I had already quit my job, my body like back in high school was already depleted but this time after a cruel comment by my husband that I was sick all the time and needed to "tough it out" I decided to try it his way and fight it on my own without the usual antibiotic run.

That one decision not only changed my life but ended it. Figuratively because I became permanently disabled from the auto-immune disease Guillain-Barre Syndrome but also literally because when I finally did go repeatedly to the E.R, just like back when I was a child the doctors didn't know what was wrong with me and kept sending me home full of narcotics that didn't work for the pain that was wracking my body worse than the full back labor I had for 2 days birthing my son.

So one day as all GBS that is left untreated will do, my body began to systematically shut down, slowly enough to know I was dying and have a few words with God about it. Then I did die, but I came back pretty quickly-it wasn't my time and I had the one thing I refused to live without, my hands- undamaged unlike the nerve damage throughout my body from the attack. I was given the A-OK to be the writer I always wanted to be but it left me permanently disabled. There was always a trade-off with this body.

So my body and I are always at odds in one way or another. NOW I want to run again-that will never be. I will never have the athletic body again I earned through knowing my bodies peculiar habits. And I will always walk a little funny or sometimes not at all since my feet are the most damaged. However I have my hands so I can write this, for that I am grateful.

I have learned that my body is something that doesn't need to be a sexual thing, it doesnt need to be a perfect thing and it doesn't need to be skinny thing, but it does need to be taken care of.

This country and maybe this world doesn't have room for bodies like mine that STILL need at least 10-12 hours of sleep in certain hours. That when it is hungry needs to eat and when it is tired needs to stop since everyone is constantly burning the candle at both ends to make those ends meet and dieting till they are starved. But for me there would be no body to live in if I kept that up like my beloved cousin John.

My body has taught me that I am not always going to fit in no matter what I may do, that I am not always going to be fit no matter what I may do and I may not always have pain free days no matter what I may do, but it has taught me that my body isn't me. I realise that my body is my house right now and it needs maintaining and cared for like a beloved pet or like an abused pet it can also turn and bite me right in the ass!

SO I respect my body, and take care of my body, and am grateful to my body for what I have learned through the disability of my body, but I think I am still a bit away from actually loving my body-but don't tell it that, it may turn on me! lol

Thanks for reading!
Samantha Stacia

Guestblogger Wednesday Welcomes JULIET GREENWOOD!

First of all, a big thank you to Samantha Stacia for inviting me to be her guest blogger. I’ve had so much fun answering the questions! And many thanks for setting up the amazing ‘Blooming Late’ group on She Writes, which is wonderfully supportive and friendly and a great cyberspace meeting place for writers.

So what was the first thing I ever wrote? Well, it was a rip-roaring romantic novel. I can’t remember the story, or even how long it was, as I was only about ten at the time. My dad disapproved. He thought I should be writing War and Peace. Hey ho. It was years before I worked out that War and Peace is actually a rip-roaring romantic novel, and if it had been written by a woman it would probably have been classed as a romance rather than A Classic Piece of Literature. So I’m sticking with the rip-roaring romantic novel.
The first thing I ever wrote that was actually published was a Christmas short story for ‘The People’s Friend’ magazine, here in the UK. It was based on the time when I was about three and my brother still a baby, when my family were completely snowed up in a tiny cottage in the mountains that had no electricity and no phone. We were down to our last tin of beans and last shovelful of coal by the time we were rescued on Christmas Day. I can just about remember walking through huge drifts of snow, my dolls in my arms. So that was the story. My dad, I should add, was much older and very proud.
How have I improved as a writer in the past year? Now that is a question! The answer is: in every single way possible. And then some. In a word: professional. For those who don’t know, this time last year I was given the incredible opportunity of working with an editor with Honno, the Welsh Women’s Press, which aims to develop and promote women’s writing in Wales. It has been the best learning experience I’ve ever had, and one I would recommend to anyone who wants seriously to be a writer.
I was mulling this over with some of my writer friends a few days ago, and we all agreed that with writing the first thing you learn is to be a writer. The second – and even more important – is to be an editor. Your own editor. It was something I saw mentioned once in the front of one of Adele Geras’ books. Now I know exactly what she means. I will always need an editor, I believe every writer does, but there are many mistakes that I have learnt to correct before it gets to that stage.
This is not a restriction on my writing, far from it: it’s actually learning to have the mechanics at your fingertips so you no longer notice them, and which gives the most extraordinary freedom. It’s like years of playing scales and the same pieces over and over again, so that one day it can appear effortless and it’s the music that’s heard.
So what exactly have I learnt? Number one: not to be precious about my writing. That it’s the story and the characters that matter. That’s what readers are looking for. And it’s the reader that counts. I know that sounds obvious, but the process of writing a 120,000 word book – or any book – is so hard, so completely absorbing, it’s really easy to forget just how the reader is going to see this.
I have learnt to let slip little pieces of the story, bit by bit, to tantalise the reader and keep them intrigued. I’ve learnt to think about my characters and make sure they are consistent and the reader can follow their emotions and motives right the way through. Things that are obvious to me, are not going to be obvious to my reader. It’s no good being artistically subtle: that’s just avoiding the issue. It’s emotions that really get the reader drawn in. And if there are bits that don’t add to the characters and the story – well, however good they might be as writing, they are not good for the book, and out they have to go.
I can honestly say that I will never read a book or write a book in quite the same way ever again. All those different threads will be there in my mind, even if I don’t get them right in the first draft. Then there are all those little habits and ticks and favourite words that drive me spare in anyone else, but which I never noticed in myself at all. Already I’m thinking of creative ways around them, which is stretching my vocabulary.
This year has been one truly exciting year of learning. And now I’m looking forward to an even more exciting year of seeing my book finally published. I can’t wait!

Juliet Greenwood is the author of 'Eden's Garden', to be published by Honno Press in spring 2012. ‘Eden’s Garden’ is a modern love story intertwined with one from the Victorian era. It follows the Meredith family of Plas Eden, a dilapidated mansion with a collection of mysterious statues in its overgrown garden, and the servants who once served there.
Sometimes you have to run away
Sometimes you have to come home …
If you love Kate Morton’s novels and ‘Downton Abbey’, this is the book for you!

Juliet lives in Wales in the UK, in a traditional cottage halfway between the romantic Isle of Anglesey and the beautiful mountains and ruined castles of Snowdonia. Juliet began writing seriously after a severe viral illness left her with debilitating ME/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for years. She is now well and back to dog walking and working on her beloved garden. She writes stories and serials for magazines under the name ‘Heather Pardoe’ and works part-time for Tape Community Music and Film, a vibrant social enterprise that helps local people tell their own stories through film and online TV.

She’s still working on her website, but you follow her blog at:
http://julietgreenwoodauthor.wordpress.com/

You can also follow Juliet on Facebook and on Twitter @julietgreenwood 

My Paranormal Pens Alternate Dimension

I've been thinking about Alternate Dimensions.

My first exposure to the idea was of course was from shows like Twilight Zone as a child-(the reruns of course, I am not quite that old yet!) The episode called "Little Girl Lost " where the little girl fell through an alternate dimension hole that has formed under her bed was something that I would think about often.

Then later I began reading about strange, true happenings and wondered if the idea of alternate dimensions could be based in fact. Specifically the man in the 40s who was walking through his yard and didn't return, then a bit later his wife could hear him calling for someone. Eventually other people could hear him too in a specific are of ground in his yard. After a few months he could no longer be heard. This story can be found in many strange but true books and has been thoroughly authenticated.

And now of course Physics teaches us that it is not merely an idea but that alternate dimensions exist and there are at least 26 if not more of them.

Of course I have wondered about possible brushes with the supernatural like whether we have inadvertently entered another dimension where everything was the same except maybe one small, seemingly insignificant fact such as someones name. Have you ever believed completely that someone was called by a certain name and then one day found out you were wrong? Was it your memory or had something actually changed?

Coast to Coast AM, the radio show I listen to frequently had a listener call in once with this type of thing and he called in to find out whether or not a certain older movie star had died, he had clearly remembered that this person had died but then later found out he was alive and was so confused he wanted others to tell him if maybe they had thought he was dead too. Amazingly people did call in and actually said where they had heard he had died but this star at that time was very much alive. Mass phenomena or something else? Makes you think, doesn't it?

As a writer I would like to imagine an alternate dimension where words that I thought I had written in a sentence and are not there were actually stolen and that words like "their" were spelled "thier".

And in what dimension is it OK to say "pleaded" instead of "pled" or "dreamed" instead of "dreamt"? Because it isn't in the dimension I was raised in!

And what about the "alternate dimension, infinite universe" theory? Apparently for every thought I have ever had to do something else with my life, I actually created a universe where I became that person. Therefore I could be a photographer, first woman coach of an MLB team, psychologist, social worker,volleyball player,international spy,jewelry designer,professional psychic,world traveler,money manager,brunette,college professor, painter, parapsychologist, and of course NOT disabled and an already several times over New York Times Best selling author somewhere out there.

There are now metaphysics theories that say IF such multi-universes exist out there of our own making then in some way we ourselves are still connected to them. And it goes if we are connected then we should be able to tap into those alternate selves and draw upon them whenever we need to take on a new skill or something. The idea had become a free for all for names but it is one I wonder about the most since as a child I had the idea out of nowhere that if I simply believed for real that I could do something I could do it.

I had actually achieved many things as a child putting that into practice.

I went from a permanent failure and obese in grade school to entering college svelte and with recommendations that I go into professional athletics in some capacity.

In art when we were learning calligraphy, instead of learning the difficult moves of the pen I decided that I would just look at it and believe I already knew how to do it. I received accolades from not only my art teacher but was asked by the school to do some calligraphy work for them.

When my Mother and grandparents bought me the first home computer offered in the US by Texas instruments I once again used the same technique to learn BASIC and understand binary and programming and made my own video games.

As an adult when I was up against the wall in certain things I have used this technique with amazing success. Had I accomplished this tapping into random universal lives? Are infinite dimensions what Jung had actually come across when he made up the ideas of the collective unconscious and archetypes to explain it? Could it be the explaination for past lives?

So now I have signed up for NaNoWriMo and last year I really wanted to join, in keeping with these theories, somewhere I ACTUALLY did join and even won, right? Therefore, if I can simply get into my "other" selves frame of mind, then I can win again, this time in MY dimension. It's an idea anyway!

What kind of alternate dimensions have you created? Have you had your own brush with something that might be a result of alternate dimensions?

And I will leave you with one last thought that is creepiest of all. What if YOU WERE one of the many alternate lives someone else created? hhmmm?

Thanks for reading!

Samantha Stacia

To Say or Not To Say

Well we had a unique experience over at my group Blooming Late this week.

One of our members dared to write her own personal experience with the Occupy Wall Street protest while she was in New York. It spurred a whirlwind of commentary that had pretty well gotten out of hand when I got in there and my moderate comments did nothing to help.

SO, on my OWN blog I have decided in my late Friday post to express my own opinion on what is going on in my country. Really don't plan on getting into any conversations about it because my thoughts are not going to change. But I would like to state somewhere unequivocally where I stand on everything, ONCE.

I like to get across that my grandmother who basically raised me was an Adams. Yes, THE Adams as in John and John Quincy. Its a funny thing genetics because before I knew anything about them I had already grown fond of learning about them in school. My grandmother saw me reading an biography of Abigail Adams and said offhandedly that we were directly related to John Quincy Adams.

Later I would get into introspective examinations of how I worked and what made me tick and realised that my personal belief system was something that seemed a part of me and not something that I simply figured out. One of which I happen to think that everything-I mean absolutely everything has a sort of formula in life, everything from how to speak to your Mother-in law to how the universe works. Then I saw a movie where John Adams was portrayed and found out he also was a deep believer in that exact same idea. I do believe there is something to genetic memory and that things are passed down.

That being said maybe it will be more understood when I am coming from with the things I say. More than anything I feel as if I inherited a very down to earth philosophy when it comes to our country and not one prone to patriotic fanaticism.

What I WANT to see is the country that John Adams so badly worked to have but kept getting thwarted in some way. He vehemently DID NOT believe in a party system for voting and neither do I. We do not need it and never did, it was a way to manipulate the masses into agreeing on things from the point of view of "your team," "my team," and not actually from the viewpoint plainly of who is the best person for the job. We need to do away with it.

I have wondered since the second election of Reagan how in the world this country has kept the voting system the way we have it. Reagan was not voted in by popular vote the second time, but he was by electoral vote. THAT was a crime and that was when I actually started seeing the corruption of our country and my faith in it was gone. I realised then that "We the people" had no say over who was in power.

Electoral vote was invented because back in the old days when all there was was mail delivered by horse, the states got their voted together a bit at a time in order to be able to send ONE person to Washington with the results. That person then would simply vote for his state. The electoral voting was SUPPOSED to be ONLY what the popular vote was. However someone somewhere, and I don't know when, realised that there was NO LAW that he had to actually vote what the people had told him to, he could vote however he wanted. Hence, no more say for the people. The electoral voting process should be ruled illegal and from now on a complete popular vote should be the ONLY vote that gets heard.

Also we need to decide, are we a Democracy or a Republic? These are systems that are in some contradiction which is why things don't work as well as they should. I think the popular consensus would be that we want to be a democracy. OK. then-throw anything else out that is NOT democratic. WE VOTE on everything and the peoples vote is what goes. If the government wants to go to war, then they should have to convince US of it and WE should have the say-that's real democracy and that's real freedom and that's NOT what we have now.

All this is so simple it drives me crazy!

Another thing is Lobbyism.  John Adams also spoke out against lobbyism constantly, trying not to allow it in to our budding system. He lost but again he was right. THIS ONE thing has become our countries downfall. This has been how corporations and big business got their greedy hands all over our system and corrupted the hell out of it. All we have to do is make lobbying illegal and get it out of our system for good.

Now move over to taxes, there is a simple answer to taxing. In fact I truly believe that there are simple answers to everything that is wrong with our country and I don't think the reason I see this is because I have a high I.Q. What I think is the problem is those in power over the years in order to make sure that the average person won't get into Washington, makes things SEEM hard, they complicate it on purpose to be able to hide things from us and to cheat and steal. And the people fall for it. Nothing is HARD about running this country IF you want to run it fairly and correctly. It only becomes complicated if you are trying to do something in your own interest or make deals you aren't supposed to, etc.

All we have to do about taxes is make a flat tax, period. A flat tax is the most equal and fair thing that could be done with taxation because if you make 500 dollars and the tax rate is 10 percent, you pay 50 dollars. If you make 5 million dollars then you pay 500,000 dollars. No shelters, no games of monopoly, no cheating, no "outs" for anyone and it is as fair and equal as you could ever have.

The next thing would be to stop all private funding of projects of the government. No more black ops and hiding funds to pay for something else. It ALL stops, if we were to do this, we would be the most prosperous country in the world because we HAVE PLENTY of money, it is just being stolen by the guys in power for their pet projects and black ops crap. If you can't do it above board then you shouldn't be able to do it.

Also we need to STOP with all the stupid wars. We have no business anywhere where the people of that country do not want us-period. Now if the people are being oppressed and WANT our help then of course we need to do so. However we have fought enough wars where the people were as much our enemies as the Government we were supposed to be fighting because they did not WANT our help. Korea and Viet-Nam are GREAT past examples. Neither of those wars should have been fought-period. And now we are telling people around the world how they should act and who they should be. Freedom means to act and be whatever you want to be, period. We do not belong in countries around the world the way we are, we fought our asses off in the Revolutionary war for that freedom, we hated the tyranny of England trying to take over the whole world and telling them what to do, then we go and do the VERY same thing!?? We need to get all occupation out of countries that are no threat to us at all. WE are STILL occupying Japan and Germany. C'mon, REALLY?? And those are the places I can just think of off the top of my head. ALL that is money we do not need to be spending!

Next, the president, whoever it is should have the highest security clearance that exists in the government and have unrestricted access to absolutely everything. When they decided that the president had a security clearance that could restrict him from things is when we stole power form the man who is SUPPOSED to know what is going on. We have had 2 presidents thus far that I know of who has requested the information about what this country knows about the UFO phenomena(and we DO know quite a lot) and were denied access because their clearance wasn't high enough!

This country has the potential to ACTUALLY BE the greatest country in the world and we can do it VERY simply. We find what the BEST system is in another country and adopt it for ourselves. We absolutely MUST have a national free health care system no matter what any stupid people say. The ONLY people who think it is not a good idea are the ones making the bucks off our system of thievery we have now with the 600 percent markup on all meds, etc. And any regular people who think that are simply falling for the backtalk lies that they have been feeding us for years so they don't have to serve the people. And I feel sorry for those people, I really do.

All we have to do for things like adopting a health care system if find the best one that works elsewhere, in this instance according to world statistics, it happens to be France. OK so we adopt that system to our country and wa-la. DONE!

We can do this for anything that isn't working here and honestly we have a system that actually makes it easy. MOST of our power is still here to use, we just haven't been using it. We can still get all these things I have mentioned and more by non-violent regular means.

Which brings me to the last thing I am going to say on the subject. After the Reagan getting voted in AGAINST the people's vote, I started getting really angry. And the more I found out about how things were going I got angrier. I lost all sense of patriotism and couldn't stand living here. BUT it was last year I realised that I had been angry this whole time at the government, the ones in power when I had no right to be. See, it was "we the people" who had the foxes in the hen house and it is "we the people" who can get them out! I am disillusioned with people who are corrupt, they are just following their natures. I am disillusioned with the good regular everyday people of this country being so self centered that they have had no interest in making things better and getting their rights back.

The government now is simply doing what "we the people" have ALLOWED them to do. And it is "we the people" who can STOP them.

SO I am no longer angry at our Government. I am angry at us and when I realised that all the things that are going on are things we have simply ALLOWED and I don't happen to be in the apparent senseless majority who have been sleeping while they have been stealing our freedom and future. I have had no reason to stay a citizen and have been not angry anymore but so so ashamed of being an American. The entire world have been amazed and sometimes laughing at us because from out there we have looked completely stupid and I don't want to be counted among that number anymore.

However, hope springs eternal as they say. And now seeing this protest getting bigger along the country makes me have hope again. I hate have hope because I think maybe people have actually realised that there is no collapse of our system, there is no lack of money, it is all lies. There has been and always been PLENTY of money for Social Security,Welfare and Health care and always will be, but not if people are stealing from it the way they have been. These people have been taking our money through loopholes and lies and WE have let them.

I would like to be proud of this country and for it to actually BE the country that my ancestor John Adams envisioned. And a country that I won't be ashamed to live in anymore.

These are my opinions and I really don't want anyone else to come on here and try to sway me from them because I arrived at them through years of disappointed learning and know what I am saying is right. I have no problem with people having differing opinions however when I get upset is when someone SAYS it's their opinion when all the are doing is spouting their party line or Government lies or saying what the bought off news agencies tell them to say. I respect pure thinking and pure opinion, not regurgitated talk.

These are my beliefs and I am sticking to them, till I either see the people take back this country or until I leave for a much more civilised one than this one is now, of which I assure everyone there are many, despite what this Governments propaganda would have you believe. I only wish I could be a real part of DOING something instead of just talking about it. BUT I am a product of our Government, sick most of my life from living in a town where the copper mine poisoned it's people and even though the EPA knew all about it, let it go on because it the copper mine was a BIG Corporation in it's day and no one wants to piss off the big Copper Companies- until finally my body through repeated illnesses, age and stress got so sick I became disabled for life at the age of 39.

Viva la America.

Samantha Stacia

Aluminum Oval Keychain Blooming Late Boutique

Aluminum Oval Keychain Blooming Late Boutique

Guestblogger Wednesday Welcomes Author SHAWN LAMB!

What was the biggest adjustment your family had to make with you being a writer and why? 

First I want to thank Samantha for having me as a guest. It’s been enjoyable getting to know her - even through social media. J

As far as my family goes, I guess we’re unique in the fact that all of us are creative and that my daughter, Briana, asked me to write her a fantasy when she was in high school. She didn’t like anything too dark rather loves the good, old fashion fantasies like Tolkien and Lewis. Her simple request launched the series of Allon, which has grown into a family enterprise.

My husband, Rob, and I used to write for children’s animated series He-Man, She-Ra, Fat Albert & The Cosby Kids and BraveStarr. Rob is also a storyboard artist, taking scripts and translating it into drawings for the animators and directors.  He has become my go-to guy for media production of videos, website assembly and maintenance.

Taking the writing skills and storytelling for kids I learned in L.A., I was able to craft Allon. But it grew more personal when Briana’s school friends became interested in the initial story. They began asking questions, first about the book then real life questions. The rest of the series came in answer to those questions, but the most important need all of them expressed was a deep desire for hope. Thus I include hope in each book.

From the beginning, Briana envisioned the mortal and immortal Guardian characters comprising ALLON from what I wrote. She honed her art skills through high school and college, even studying for a year in New Zealand and landing 3 interviews with WETA Workshop, the company responsible for the special effects and costume on Lord of The Rings.  All the characters on the videos, website and promotional material for ALLON, she drew.

When my traditional publisher passed on the remainder of the series, I went the self-publishing route, thus Allon Books was born, with a staff of three. This keeps the expenses low since my staff works for room and board. All kidding aside, our relationship has deepened and strengthened as the result of being a family working together for common goal. Their love, help and support allows me the freedom to write and expand beyond YA fantasy to my first love, historical fiction for adults. The Huguenot Sword will be the first in the new line to be released November 2011.

For further information about Shawn Lamb, her family, books and where to purchase copies, visit the website http://www.allonbooks.com. Shawn blogs about writing and the publishing industry at http://allonbooks-thekingdomofallon.blogspot.com. You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.

Paranormal Pen-Monster Monday

My original thought for todays blog didn't pan out like I wanted so I thought I would once again revert to my favorite subject the paranormal.

There are a plethora of subjects I could discuss but the true stories are the ones that people love the most.

I could ask, "How many people have seen a ghost?" Quite a few hands would go up these days. I could even ask, "How many people have seen an angel?" And a few hands would go up.

But what if I said, "How many people have seen a demon?" My sons hand could go up on that one!

We had just moved into my husbands Fathers house for a bit until a job was found in the area. My son had just turned 3.

Usually I can "feel" a house. What kind of energy is in it, what if any ghosts, etc. But I honestly felt nothing when we moved in there, in fact I felt it was one of the "cleanest" homes I had been in, which is why what happened really caught me off guard.

It was too long before we had everything we needed for a short stay and had our rooms set up accordingly. My son slept on a short couch in our room.

One day when we were alone in the house, I told my son to go get some water out of the water dispenser. It wasn't very far from our room in the dining area.
He started to go but came right back after barely going out the doorway. He had a nervous look. I asked what was wrong but he wouldn't tell me at first. But he also wouldn't go into the dining area without me.

Finally after a few weeks of this behavior I finally asked if there was something in the dining room? He shook his head yes with big green saucer eyes.

You have to inch kids along with things and so I waited another day to ask him if he saw someone there? He said no which I wasn't expecting. I thought maybe there could have been a ghost.

Finally I asked if he could tell Mommy exactly what was over there so that I could get it out. My son responded that there were monkeys in this one specific spot. But he wouldn't let me go over there as we were alone in the house that night. So I waited till the next day.

I went over to that spot with the Holy water (just in case)and told him I was going to get rid of the monkeys. I squirted at the one spot where they were supposed to be with the Holy Water and acted like I was stomping them into the floor at the same time. Finally he told me they were gone. This whole time I really never believed he saw anything but was just letting his imagination run wild from being in a new place.

One day I was watching one of those Discovery shows on angels and demons on T.V. There was a picture of several imp-like demons on this one picture they were showing, my son happened to look up and said, "Monkeys Mama-Monkeys!"

I asked him specifically if these were the "monkeys" he saw in the Dining room? He hadn't seen a whole lot of monkey pictures before that admittedly since I don't like them, so he called these creatures the closest thing he could think of. He said yes and started stomping like I had when I was "pretending" to stomp them out of the house. I had retroactive goosebumps!

Let's just say I have a whole new respect for what kids say they see.

Seen any monkeys, er I mean demons lately?

Thanks for reading!

Samantha Stacia

My Paranormal Pen-Freaky Friday post

                                               The Room

When my parents divorced in Texas my mom moved back into her parents tiny two bedroom home in Arizona, she and I had to live in her old room.

The small room, not much bigger than a walk-in closet that would only accommodate a double bed,dresser and a desk at the end. My makeshift cardboard toy box was under the desk by the doorway. The door opening was so small that my grandparents had put a folding shutter type door on it.

My mother landed an overnight police dispatcher job. Which meant she had to sleep days and my grandma basically took over raising me. My mother covered all the windows with foil and then the entire wall with fabric, the room looked like it never had any windows. The room, already several degrees cooler than the rest of the house was now turned into a tomb.

I  hated that room. When I went in I immediately felt watched. I always closed my eyes hard-so I couldn't see them, So they couldn't see me. Going to bed was a nightmare all by itself, I fought going in there till 10 until finally my grandma and mom forced me to go. Every night was a struggle to breathe with the covers pulled tightly over my head and the sounds of "The Johnny Carson Show" softly playing in the living room. Finally, I would pass out from mere exhaustion. My terror was played off as childhood imagination.

One day in an unusual act of kindness my mother hung some shelves all along the walls head high to accommodate all of my stuffed animals. Now I had actual eyes looking down on me, fake, dead eyes.

From now on to my grandma, "they" meant my stuffed animals were watching me, I couldn't explain further, I was barely 3. But the room knew what I meant.

The room with the far wall that the head of the bed was against would never allow a clock to work. The room where the air seemed thicker and the darkness was sinister. No one would believe my stories about the room.

In the summers, grandma would watch my uncles kids Lynne and Jim. Jim was as close as a big brother I would ever have being 4 years my elder. Lynne was 2 years older than that. Often my intellect would challenge Jim's which even at 7 he knew was wrong somehow, after all wasn't he supposed to know more than me? The inevitable squabbles would follow.

When Jim and I got to be too much trouble, we were banished to take naps. Jim in my grandparents bedroom and me in the room.

One of these times, I decided that once everyone thought I was asleep, I would get away from the room, just sit outside the doorway and quietly play with a toy. The toy I grabbed was one I grabbed just laying on top of the toy box as I quietly closed the folding doors behind me, happy to have beat the system.

Sitting against the doors I was playing quietly with my toy whistle snake.  The "body" of it was like a bendy straw all along it and it ended in a plastic kind of arrow point that resembled a snakes head. The sound that came from it was a distinctive warbling whistle.

Bending the toy every which way and getting tired of it I decided to sneak in a whistle. I would blow into it very quietly so no one would hear. I put the whistle snake to my lips when suddenly between my fingers I felt it move. Then the toy sprang to life! The head of the snake while toothless turned back on me and began to nip at me with plastic Parana-like behavior.

I was suddenly amidst unwanted activity of simply trying to stave off an incredible attack by my toy whistle snake! My hands would try to grab it and it would quickly twist and turn out of my childlike grasp only to turn back on me to nip at me, my arms, my face. There was no time for even one scream.

All of the sudden the back door swung open and my cousin Lynne came from the backyard into the kitchen directly across from where I sat. She came upon the freaky scene. Her nine year old mind not comprehending the terrifying idea that her baby cousin was being attacked by a toy snake whistle. Lynne stood there in fright and then let out a horrific scream and ran towards the living room to tell what was happening.

But the room knew Lynne was going to tell and the snake fell. Once again lifeless, leaving me in a breathless state of fear. I finally started to cry.

My mom gathered me up and took me to the living room. It wasn't until years later my mother confirmed that Lynne had indeed saw something. But she would never talk about it after that.

Somehow I knew it wasn't my toy that really attacked me but the room warning me, it didn't like me telling it's stories.

Excerpt from "Memoirs of a paranormal life" by Samantha Stacia