Honestly, builders will be lucky to make the thing roll – we doubt that any of the great works at this year’s Old Town Scrapfest will be creating something that flies, however, one never knows, does one. Recycling metal is one of the things that keeps Detroit, the motor city innovative, right?

Supposedly, we here in the United States of America are leaders in technology, staying ahead of the game, so that we can turn our used cars into housing for third-worlders or something along those lines. Those SUVs are large enough for entire home-based businesses here, so why not export them?

The truth being that, we are still working on teaching the mechanics at the repair shops how to repair the new vehicles with the better technology, and some of the ideas were a genuine steal, such as the car rooftop solar cell. We are living in a nation where people need to lock up their $200 car stereos in the trunk, having a $3000 solar panel on the roof turned out not to be such a good idea.

Pictures of last year’s winning sculptures reveal that they were not solar-powered experiments, just things that rebuild ideas created from concepts that were mass-produced ideas generated from last century’s winners at some contest or another. These are all UFO’s, as in Unidentified Free Objects – acronyms can mean different things to different people. These very same folks will build totally unique creations from similar objects for the fourth year in a row Lansing.

We might not have the Michigan State Fair, however, we have Frankenmuth, Holland, and Scrapfest.

Or so they think. Anon they acquisition themselves beneath advance by some briefly concealed force. They don’t apperceive if it’s agrarian animals or something abroad at first, but anon abundant they acquisition out that the boondocks isn’t alone at all, and bodies still residethere. Of advance back this is a radioactive town, these bodies accept to be crazy, claret thirsty, irrational, beastly mutants, who both act like agrarian animals butaswell assume to apperceive someof the bigger aspects of espionageand alarm stalking. So the endurehour or so of the cine isthe accumulation getting best off oneby one by these mutants, who arekept in the caliginosity a lot of of the time, and whose kills we never in fact get to see. Kind of like Alien , except stupid. The characters accept yet to be mentioned in any array of detail because they aren’t account gettinginto to, as they are the prototypal bland, abandoned characters that accept now becomea basic of Oren Peli’s blurprojects, which includes the Paranormal Activity movies.

While Peli seems appealing acceptable at advancing up with interesting, abstruse premises, the beheading consistently avalanche collapsed becausehe has yet to ample any of these abundant bounds with acceptable characters or acceptable stories. Chernobyl Affidavit almost even qualifies as astory. The tourists appearance up to Chernobyl, bad getting happens, the end. The batty abridgement of appearance development and adventure makes all of the atmosphere and “scares” actually pointless. The bromidic “menace” of the movie, the radiation-inflicted bodies of the town, doesn’t helpmatters abundant at all.

The filmmakers did adjudge to bandy insome animals as a threat, including packs of agrarian dogs, adrift amber bears, and mutated piranhas of some sort, and this makes me ambition that they just went that route. Screw the brainless aberrant bodies bend whichid impaired and has been bigger in added movies anyway, and go withstupid aberrant animals. Just go all out and accord us two-headed bears and behemothic dogs and wolves and getting like that. Because aboriginal of all, that would accept in fact been somewhat absorbing and different, and secondly it could accept played into some beyond capacity about animal advance against attributes and how mankind’shubris could abnormally aftereffect the ambiance which in about-face abnormally affects the flesh in a abandoned ouroboros. But instead of putting adroitness and anticipation into this movie, they just crapped out this garbage. And why is this alleged ChernobylAffidavit ? There are no affidavit anywhere and this isn’t a “found footage” cine so it’s not like themovie itself is declared to be some video begin in Chernobyl that acts as a “diary” of the absent bout group. It’s a impairedappellation that agency actually annihilation if itcomes to the movie, and it is a absolute attribute of what is amiss with thecine as a accomplished – the complete abridgement of anticipation and planning on any array of conceptual akin makes for a absolutely abortive blur thathas no acumen to exist.

Bland and arid characters getting chased about in the aphotic by banal and arid bad guys for no acumen whatsoever – that’s the absoluteness of Chernobyl Affidavit and acceptable aristocratis it an abominable hunkof crap.

Jacob Downing sat at his desk by the glow of his computer reviewing the footage of his last paranormal investigation. He hoped that after the umpteenth time of watching it, he just might see a faint apparition, a cup move of its own accord, hear a bang from nowhere or something that could possibly be evidence of the paranormal!

Jacob’s thoughts were clear: Let’s face it; there has never been any evidence!

He held his head in his hands and rubbed his face from tiredness and exacerbation; running his hands over late night stubble reminding him he had been at this pointless task all night. Jacob had sent his two assistants home – glancing at his watch – five or six hours ago; he couldn’t remember. The task of reviewing the videotaped footage was beginning to become tedious, and all cases started to merge into one big waste of time. He was just too hopeful to find something ghostly to acknowledge it.

Hitting stop on the media player, Jacob watched the time slider move back to the start of the footage. He pressed play.

‘Here we go again!’ he mumbled to himself.

Running his fingers through his short brown hair, leaning his head into his palm, he stared beyond the computer monitor knowing there was nothing to find. He lit another cigarette, inhaling a longer than usual, allowing a sigh to follow his exhale. Coffee would taste good about now, too.

Jacob watched the smoke from his cigarette drift slowly upwards, and flicked the ash into the ashtray. He didn’t really want it now. It tasted of defeat.

He stubbed it out half-way down.

He looked at his watch. The hands read 11.32p.m.

There were still two of the five digital recorders to go through – a couple of nights worth of white noise to listen to.

He could not wait for that!

The thermograph had captured nothing. Only the everyday lives of the family that reported the “haunting”. There was a bit of excitement when Day Two was played back, but it turned out to be the twelve year old son getting a glass of water in the middle of the night.

Yawn.

Sleep was catching up as much as Jacob fought it.

A few more minutes passed on the video, and Jacob decided it was enough for tonight. He closed the media player and shut down the computer. He unplugged the Digital Video Recorder from the USB port, switching that off too.

Turning the lights back on in his office, Jacob grabbed his coat, pack of Lambert & Butler cigarettes, and his car keys. He opened the office door, flicking the light switch off. As the door closed he remembered his lighter. On with the lights again, he saw it lying on the desk near the keyboard. Jacob shoved the lighter and his cigarettes in his left trouser pocket, flung his black coat on, and turned the lights back off.

Wearily, he exited his office. He fumbled with the key in the lock, making him threaten it if it did not go in. It just fuelled his irritability.

Finally the door was locked.

He walked across the main room where his assistants worked in darkness, almost bumping into the television. The main table where they discussed their work was still slightly visible given its size. He opened the main door and headed for the university foyer down three flights of stairs.

Outside the building it was fairly quiet. No surprise really for the time of night. It was just like the tapes – video and audio – nothing.

Jacob approached his car – a black Ford Fiesta – pressed the button on his remote. The locks click open, and he climbed in. Before he even got his car keys ready to start the car, Jacob took out his cigarettes, lit one, actually enjoying it this time.

Ah, sweet nicotine!

He clamped the cigarette between his lips and turned the key in the ignition. The car came to life. Home was only a few short miles, a small flat in a block called Riverside, aptly named being next to a river – if you could call it that.

Entering his flat – all he could afford after that bitch took him for everything in the divorce – Jacob headed straight for the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

Chapter 2

The alarm screeched in Jacob’s ears. He reached over and pressed the button to cease the infernal machine’s noise. The digital display, as always, read 07.00. Boy, he felt rough. He didn’t remember drinking alcohol last night, but his tiredness made him feel like he may as well have.

He went into the cupboard that want supposedly a bathroom, peed and flushed, showered quickly.

While drying off, Jacob hoped that he might get a phone call today with some real potential; a haunting worth investigating. Not another episode of Most Haunted where someone gets touched and it must be a ghost! A genuine, honest to God, ghost. Just one would be fine, thanks.

He brushed his teeth.

Finding a fresh shirt and trousers from the wardrobe, Jacob got dressed. He had considered just putting on yesterday’s clothes, but that would have been a bad idea after wearing them for fifteen hours.

Arriving at his offices in the university, the two assistants were already there going through some notes while they waited for him.

‘Mornin’ Boss-man!’ Steve said jovially. Far too happy for the early morning Jacob was experiencing. Steve sat at the large table wearing his usual black jeans and whatever metal band printed on his faded t-shirt.

Jessica turned and smiled her greeting, quickly turning back to her work, making her blonde pony- tail sway. Her attire was more comforting: a purple blouse that hugged her curves, and tight blue jeans that really showed how long her legs were. Quite why she was here was a mystery to Jacob. He saw her doing fashion or at least art. Not hanging around with a forty-two year old ghost hunter and a twenty-something who could not stop eye-balling her. Although Jacob had had his fair share of glances when she leaned over a desk or, the pattern of her bra showed through her blouse.

‘Shall we get finished on the Hutton’s case, Boss?’

Shut up, Steve!!! ‘We can, but I don’t think there’s anything there. I think that’s another dead end. Pardon the pun.’

Steve laughed trying to assure everyone he got the joke.

Who was he fooling?

Jacob laughed at him in his mind; smiled in reality to agree it was as funny as Steve thought.

Jessica was writing up her notes still, oblivious to the conversation. She was a hard worker and natural photographer. She’d learnt the video and camera equipment well. If Steve wasn’t such a dork, he would still be doing it, but his angles were crap, and batteries wouldn’t be charged, and DVR not backed up so the device could be used for the next case, and so on. Jacob gladly let him handle the digital audio recorders.

Jacob thought he would probably have different people working with him – maybe Jessica would still be here – but when he put the notice up for paranormal studies these were the only two that showed up. Unless he counted the girl who did one night of investigated and freaked out because she was petrified about seeing something “unnatural”. Students could come and help his research when they had free time or whenever they wanted, but no one was interested except Christina Aguilera and one third of the Three Stooges; possibly Larry – Curly on worse days.

‘Jessica?’ She looked around to face Jacob. ‘When you’re finished, could you make sure everything is backed up to the USB dongles, and to tape?’

‘Yeah, I sure will, Doctor Downing.’

‘Jacob is fine, please.’

‘OK.’

 ‘What shall I do?’ Steve piped.

Jacob frowned. ‘Help Jessica. Use your initiative.’

Jessica raised the corner of her mouth for a brief moment while she wrote her case notes.

Steve seemed disappointed, but Jacob was not about to let him at footage unsupervised.

Jacob unlocked his office and slumped into his chair.

A few moments later, Jessica knocked gently on the door. ‘Can I just get a laptop and the footage from the Hutton’s case?’

‘Yeah, help yourself. The DVR’s are here; the thermograph and recorders are in the cabinet.’

‘Forgot to lock it last night, again?’ she asked, looking at the padlock dangling freely from its hoop.

‘Must have. It was late when I left.’

Twitching her nose, Jacob realised she could smell the smoke in the air. Jacob knew one day he’d set the smoke alarms off, but wasn’t bothered too much. He ignored the thought while he watched Jessica retrieve the equipment, pretending to look over some files. It was only once in a blue moon he did it.

At one o’clock Jacob leaned back in his chair, his comfy leather chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ he whispered.

How much longer was he to wait for a true case to come his way? If there was nothing found soon the grant would be revoked. Hard as he tried there was just nothing to be found. He saw television programme after television programme finding some sort of evidence – even if it was a whisper on tape. Electronic Voice Phenomenon was everywhere, but the one’s Jacob and his team had heard could be considered background noise. The word futile sprang to mind.

Jacob was snapped out of his daydream by the telephone ringing. He tried hard not to get too excited at the claims someone was about to tell him. After all, it was going to be another set-up; another dead end.

He picked up the receiver.

‘Good afternoon, Doctor Downing speaking.’ He attempting friendly, but it still sounded like sarcasm.

‘He – Hello? Are you the paranormal investigator?’ asked a nervous woman.

‘Yes.’

‘A friend of mine said you could help me. I really hope you can, we’re at my wits end here.’

‘What appears to be the problem, Missis . . ?’

Jacob sounded bored already, knowing what was about to be said.

‘Parker. Patricia Parker. I can’t be certain, but I’m sure my family is being haunted by a poltergeist.’

‘OK, can you give me some details about the events that have transpired?’

‘I’m sorry?’

Jacob sighed.

‘Can you tell me what’s been happening?’

‘Oh . . . oh, things have been difficult in our family for a while now and  . . . ‘

‘I meant with regards to the poltergeist, Missis Parker,’ he interrupted.

‘But it’s all connected. We found another expert before you. He told us he could not help as it would endanger his life.’

‘Who was this other “expert”?’

Jacob expected to hear the name, Peter Waters or even the Most Haunted crew – neither being “experts” in the field in his opinion – they both play along with the homeowners fears, then claim to clear the property of any spirit activity with use of a medium. Peter was the worst, someone Jacob had run into several times, and almost resulted in throwing a punch or two at him. He was the only one Jacob knew of to send a bill to the people he had so-called “helped”.

‘He was a very odd man, said he was from some spiritual group. I can’t remember the name of it.’

‘Did he not leave a card or some means to contact him?’

‘No.’

‘How did you get in touch with him in the first place?’

‘We didn’t. He came to us.’

Jacob began to lose interest now; yet another crack-pot on the line.

‘How did he know you had a poltergeist?’

‘He said that he had “sensed the presence” or something. He had come to warn us to move house.’

‘Move house? Why didn’t he help you?’ Jacob asked curiously.

‘He told me he couldn’t. If he tried to send the poltergeist away, it would endanger his home by draining his energy or something or other.’

‘Right,’ he said thinking it was a psychic trying to get paid more likely. Jacob attempted to hold back the smile on his face, but it was too late.

There was a moment of silence.

‘Can you help us, Doctor?’ Patricia pleaded.

‘My team and I can come and investigate your home; see what is actually causing the disturbance, yes.’

‘If that’s all you can do . . .’ she said sounding disappointed.

‘That is what we do, Missis Parker.’

‘How soon can you come?’

‘We can be there tomorrow, if that suits you?’

‘Yes please,’ she replied with relief in her voice.

‘Say . . . about this time?’

‘Yes, that’ll be ok.’

‘Ok then, see you tomorrow afternoon, Missis Parker.’

‘See you then. Thank you.’

‘Goodbye, Mrs Parker until tomorrow.’

‘Yes, and thank you again.’

Jacob heard the phone hang up on her end, placing the receiver back on his phone.

He went out to Jessica and Steve.

‘Get all the equipment ready for tomorrow, please.’

‘We got another case, Boss?’

‘Yep. Bit of an odd one, so be ready for another disappointment.’

‘I’ll pack up the equipment then and . . .’

‘No, Jessica will do that, Steve. I do not want a repeat of the Child’s case. You can get the audio recorders ready. Jessica, can you make sure we have everything, please?’

‘Trust me, mate, I can do it. I have learned a lot since then,’ Steve stated eagerly.

‘No! And that’s final!’

Steve sulked sneering at Jessica.

Chapter 3

Some of the stories that I enjoyed the most included Drawer 14″ – where an elderly which reaches out from beyond the grave to save lives with the help of the bored morgue attendant, Poor Little Saturday by Madeleine L’Engle, about a witch who befriends a young boy, 1 Foot in the Grave, about a man with a severed foot that has a strange life of its own, The Soul of Rose DEDE, the story of a collection of ghosts that are tied to a graveyard, and Ride the Thunder, the story of truck drivers and a haunted road. There was also the story of a murder victim who exacts revenge from the grave, a bizarre court with the jury comprised of dead hit-and-run victims,and haunted plantation house in the deep South.

Some of these stories depended on the southern location, but most could have taken place anywhere. This diminished somewhat the point of the book, which was supposed to be southern ghost stories. However, this didn’t diminish the enjoyment of the book in my mind, the stories were very good and stood alone as effective

                  In the past there have been many stories of disappearing of ships,planes and people around the Bermuda Triangle.All these disappearances are still a mystery.Unusual events around the Bermuda Triangle date back to the voyages of Christopher Columbus.He sometimes reported that compass readings were wrong.Many people have tried to prove the strange happenings and incidents that happened in the region.Some cases show that there are no rational explanations to them.                                                                               One of the most popular incident is the disappearance of Flight 19 during a training course of the US Navy.In December 1945 five American bombers left Fort Lauderdale.Florida on a route mission.14 Crew members disappeared after sending several radio messages.When a rescue plane went to search for the Navy bombers it also vanished.What went wrong during the mission is not known.                                                                   What caused the air crafts or ships vanish mysteriously?There have been much research and inspections done to unveil this mystery but none of the theories were able to explain all the incidents.Some suggest that there are special magnetic fields that cause strong physical forces.Others say that the lost continent of Atlantis sank in the region causing serious events.There are also theories about the presence of some chemicals in the waters of Atlantic.                                                                                                                             Some experts point out that the north region of the Caribbean is not safe.It is one of two places on earth where the compass points to the geographic North Pole.It is also the region where weather is unpredictable and where storms can arise very quickly.There are strong currents because of shallow places and deep trenches in the ocean.These factors can even perplex an experienced sailors.                                                   Over 1,000 people are killed in the Bermuda Triangle during the 20th century.Scientists say that there are logical explanations for these incidents but the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle remains.                                                                                                                                                                          

The Pennsylvania State Police were already searching the area when Murphy got there.  The State Police stated that they were calling in the military even though they could find nothing.  Murphy overheard a State Policeman mention a pulsating blue light.

Murphy witnessed the area being sealed off.  UFO researcher interviewed some witnesses a few years later.  They described the object as being bronze in color and acorn-shaped.  It was about 9-12 feet in length.  After their investigation was complete, the official conclusion of the US Air Force was that a meteorite caused the fiery crash.

The military seized the picture that John Murphy had taken of the UFO.  Murphy later died of strange circumstances. 

To this day, nobody outside the military knows what the object was in Kecksburg.

     “Canon Alberic’s Scrapbook” appeared in “Ghost Stories of an Antiquary,” a collection of supernatural tales written by M. R. James. I shall give you a brief summary of this tale.

     In 1883, an Englishman named Dennistoun was traveling on the continent with two companions. When they came to Toulouse, France, he decided to travel alone to St. Bertrand de Comminges, a small town in the foothills of the Pyrenees. His friends were to follow him the next day.

     In former days, this small town had been the seat of a bishopric. It was interest in its old cathedral that had brought Dennistoun to town. He wished to photograph every corner of the wonderful building and take ample notes on everything that he saw.

     He enlisted the help of the verger. The verger was a sort of caretaker of the cathedral. Dennistoun noticed that the verger seemed nervous and kept glancing behind himself in fear.

     Sometimes there were strange noises. Once Dennistoun thought he had heard a high metallic voice laughing in the tower. When he questioned the verger, he noticed that his host was deathly afraid.

     In his investigations, Dennistoun came across a blurred painting with a Latin inscription. In English, this inscription read: “How St. Bertrand delivered a man whom the Devil had long sought to strangle.” Dennistoun was amused and was about to joke about it. However, he did not make the intended remark when he saw the terror of the verger.

    Dennistoun finished his investigations as daylight began to fade. He asked the verger if there was a library in town. He hoped to run across some valuable old books.

     The verger said that there used to be a library, but it no longer existed. He told Dennistoun that he had an old book at home in which he might be interested.

     The verger had a daughter. She also seemed to be afraid of something, but she seemed to be concerned about the safety of someone else rather than herself.

     The book proved to be quite valuable. It was a seventeenth century scrapbook that bore the arms of Canon Alberic de Mauléon. Most of its contents were pages of illuminated manuscripts written long before Alberic lived. Alberic had stolen them from the Chapter Library of St. Bertrand and had pasted put them into his scrapbook. There was even a fragment from “On the Words of Our Lord” by Papias. When Dennistoun saw this, he was determined to buy the book, no matter what it cost.

     The last two pages of the scrapbook were of later date. They were undoubtedly written by Canon Alberic himself. They featured a picture of King Solomon. His face was filled with horror and disgust but it had a determined look of confident command. He was looking at a horrible beast guarded by four terrified soldiers. A fifth soldier lay on the pavement. He had apparently suffered a terrible death.

     The monster, crouching before the soldiers, was covered by course, matted black hair. He was almost as thin as a skeleton, but had muscles that stood out like wires. His hands were hideously taloned. His eyes, directed at King Solomon, were filled with beast-like hatred.

     Dennistoun was shocked when he saw this picture, but he still wanted to buy the scrapbook. The verger said that he would sell it for 250 francs. Dennistoun honestly explained that it was worth a lot more, but the verger insisted that he would take no more than two hundred fifty francs.

     After the scrapbook was sold, the verger no longer showed the anxious fearfulness that he had formerly displayed. The verger seemed to be concerned for the safety of Dennistoun. He offered to accompany Dennistoun to his hotel. When Dennistoun refused the offer, the verger told him to avoid the sides of the road and walk right in the middle.

     As Dennistoun was leaving, the daughter of the verger approached him. He briefly harbored the uncharitable thought that she was about to act like Gehazi, who asked Naaman for a gift after Elisha had spared him. He proved to be mistaken. The daughter gave him a silver crucifix and fastened it around his neck.

     Dennistoun dined and went to his hotel room. He thought that he had heard the verger conversing with his landlady. He had heard them say that Pierre and Bertrand would be sleeping in the house.

     Dennistoun had an uncomfortable feeling that someone was behind him. For this reason, he sat on a chair with his back to the wall.

     The crucifix was rather heavy, so he took it off his neck and laid it on the table. Then the demon whose picture he had seen in the scrapbook appeared before him. Dennistoun reached for the crucifix as the demon lunged at him. He screamed like an animal in hideous pain.

     Two serving boys named Pierre and Bertrand came in. Although they could not see the demon, they were pushed aside as the monster rushed out. Dennistoun had swooned.

     Pierre and Bertram stayed with Dennistoun the rest of the night. The next day his two friends came. They did not believe Dennistoun’s story until they themselves saw the picture in Canon Alberic’s scrapbook and talked with the verger.

     Dennistoun burned the drawing of the demon, but not before he had taken a photograph of it.

Reference:

“Ghost Stories of an Antiquary” by M. R. James; Illustrations by James McBryde; Introduction by E. F. Bleiler

As someone who worked in the funeral industry for just under fifteen years both as an embalmer and a funeral arranger, I saw this dilemma constantly in grieving people.The battle between wanting to see their loved one again, but not wanting to see them dead. The conflict of wanting to say their final goodbye, but not wanting to have to say it at all. Will it help me heal or will it leave me with a memory I don’t want? I guess in the end it’s a very personal matter and only you can decide at the time. I can say this though, I rarely saw a person come out of a viewing room after seeing their grandparent, father, mother, husband, wife, partner, sibling, child, or baby to say, “I wish I hadn’t done that.”

There was the occasional comment about the person looking different, but overall I found people couldn’t thank you enough. The visible difference to their face and body language once they had seen their loved one was clearly apparent. There was relief, there was peace, and a new calm. Even those who were totally bereft and way beyond consoling, there was still that moment when they stopped to say how glad they were they decided to see them again … to say goodbye, to tell them they love them.

We all know memories stay with us for years and indeed for ever. It’s this thought that can really concern people. No one wants a ghastly lasting impression of someone they love when they could remember them the way they were at their last family function, before they got sick, before the drastic weight loss, before the accident and so on. Inevitably some choose to do exactly that … remember them in better times and fair enough I say. However the importance of having the opportunity to see. touch, talk to and spend time with the dead should never be underestimated. I’ve seen some real emotional torment result from not being allowed to, able to, or at the time decide not to view the person. Feelings of unresolved business … things they should have said … a hand they should have held … a last word … a final goodbye.

So for me, although I understand both sides, I am inclined to believe a viewing is beneficial for the living family members and friends. In fact in many cultures they couldn’t even imagine not spending time with the deceased.

Where do you stand on it if you were faced with the opportunity to see them one last time … would you want to?

annaglomesh

Driving home, David heard on the radio about a low-flying unidentified flying object that listeners had reported to the station.  He stopped his car and soon he saw the UFO.  It  had five or six lights which made a boomerang shape.

The UFO mesmerized him so much that he had trouble concentrating on the experience itself.  David felt a total blackness move over him as the object moved slightly north.  With him as the focal point on the ground,  the UFO blacked out about 90 degrees of sky.

There was much talk the next day about the sightings.  Some people theorized that the UFO was an experimental plane from Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.  Dave knew that there must have hundreds of witnesses to the silent black object.

Ghostly lovers have been recorded for a while, even in films such as the movie The Entity with Barbara Hershey. Whether they are real or the fantasy of lonely women, you may never know. Unless you have one visits you some dark, cold night!

Mrs. June of Marke-by-Sea, (near Redcar, Yorkshire England), a mature woman with a 10 year old son, became obsessed with her Ouija board. This lead, in turn, to automatic writing, the entity she had contacted being a long dead spirit called “Leonardo”. He may be dead, but he still knew how to write a good love letter, Mrs. June claimed. He even claimed to have wanted a child with her. A few weeks after the automatic writing had started, Mrs. June saw a floating shadow above her bed and felt her bed clothes move. Leonardo had arrived, and was, it seemed, furious over her use of birth control pills. This doesn’t seem to have dampened Leonardo’s lust much, claims Mrs. June. She was quoted as saying” I would feel his presence, even his strength of feeling when he wanted to make love. He was a competent lover and must have been on earth as well. But human love is more satisfying. With spiritual love, there is no warmth of flesh.”
Reville, March 24, 1978

Jenny Price, 20, of Shebley Lane, Wedley Castle, Birmingham UK, claimed complete satisfaction with her ghostly lover. Her family had known that the house they lived in was haunted but had never told Jenny about it. The first approach was to the elder daughter, Lorraine, but it merely touched her shoulder. Then, one night while Jenny was sitting up in bed she felt invisible hands around her neck. With great strength the hands pushed her down onto the bed. So frightened was Jenny that she couldn’t scream. She thought the ghost was going to strangle her but suddenly realized that it had other intentions. After that, she was afraid to go to bed in case the attack was repeated, and a week later, it was.  She soon realized that the ghost meant her no harm, however, and soon she started looking forward to its visits. They soon started taking place as often as three times week. Three years past and the ghost still visited. The biggest problem was how to get Jenny out of bed since she stayed there constantly, waiting for her ghostly lover. Her mother, Olive, tried to get in on the action by sleeping in Jenny’s bed for a week but the ghost never showed up for her.   Olive had asked the local vicar what he thought about the visits, if they were immoral. The vicar replied that ghosts probably weren’t bothered with morals so it was alright.

Cover of The Entity