Showing posts with label psychic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychic. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Kobo Paranormal Mystery at it's best! $.99 for a limited time.

Love paranormal mysteries?  Catherine Mans takes you into the darker side of mind.



Current $.99 at KOBO

PROLOGUE


Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me…

But He wasn’t with her.

She leaned against the cold steel door, her eyes closed in prayer. “Father, why have you forsaken me? What sins have I committed that you would punish me this way?”

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood.

“Fiank-o!” she screamed.

Her eyes flew open, and she spread her hands in front of her. Blood rimmed her manicured nails. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the blood-soaked blouse plastered to her chest. So much blood for such a tiny body.

Ripping at her blouse, she mewed like a wounded animal. “Then take my eyes, so I no longer see the blood of my child on my hands. Take my ears, so I no longer hear the shrieks from below, the clanging of the chains.”

Silence met her cry. God was no longer listening. She sank to her knees and ripped at her hair, bordering on madness. How could they do this to her? Had she not served them well for more than ten years?

“You know what you must do, Aggie. I have seen the feux-folet. She is the child of Diablo, and she has cursed you.”

For a moment, rage blocked the pain squeezing her heart. “You!” Her eyes filled with hatred, fists clenched at her side. “You brought this upon us with your superstitions and your curses.”

“Mwen pòv zanj pèdi—you know I speak the truth. I was here when she was born without life, her body blue, her soul already beyond this world. Five years have come and gone. As she grows, so does the evil. They warned you this day would come.”

The old woman’s words washed over her like a river of ice, extinguishing the fire of her rage, leaving only a cold, still emptiness.

“I begged them, Mother. Begged for her life as her blood seeped through my fingers. I have served God, and I have served the spirits. But they have forsaken me.” She raised tortured eyes to beseech the old woman, her efforts met with stony silence and beady eyes filled with accusation. “I begged them!” Her voice tapered to a whimper. “She is only five. I have lost Catherine. Must I lose Mary also?”

The old woman knelt beside her. Taking her right hand, she pried open the fingers and closed them around the cold steel of the knife. “You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down. You disobeyed. You have been punished. Now pick up your cross, and carry it.”

The silence in the room was broken only by her whimpers; the old woman had left as quietly as she’d come. The knife lay heavy in her hand, just as the task before her lay heavy on her heart.

She rose and opened the door to the basement, ignoring the shrieks and clang of the chains. Her feet descended the steps slowly, the old woman’s words echoing inside her head: You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

A Glimpse Into A Twisted Mind

I'm not always sure where my characters originate, but Brightstone quickly became a loved/hated character for me.   Perhaps because I understood his pain.

Take a glimpse into a twisted mind.


There was nothing exceptional about my birth, except perhaps for the fact that my parents shared the biblical names of Joseph and Mary. They were a good, God-fearing couple.
Alas, they did not name me Jesus, but their hopes for me were not in vain. They soon realized I was not a normal child. Not like the other five-year-olds. I cared not for toys and storybooks. I spent my time developing healing antidotes from ordinary shrubs. I cared for animals, birds with broken wings. It was not unusual for me to come home carrying a poor dog that had been run over by some careless motorist. I would spend hours stitching up their wounds, applying homemade poultices, and nursing them back to health. I was indeed a savior of sorts.
School was my first experience of the cold reality of being different. Like my parents, my teachers discovered that my mind was much further advanced than they could deal with. How could you teach a child whose mind was a sponge and whose knowledge, within days, exceeded your own? I did not know then how to hide my intelligence and fit in with a crowd. I did not know how to play the games of life and lose occasionally.
Soon it became apparent that our small community was not the best place for a child of such brilliance. Or at least that was what the men in white coats convinced my parents of. So the men took me away for my own good.

I had no best friends, no first dates, no senior proms. Nothing but a cold grey building, lab coats, and books. Lots and lots of books. Not the fun, frivolous stories I should have enjoyed in my youth. Textbooks of knowledge that I absorbed and mastered within days, weeks, and months. I graduated with honors. My parents, whom I had not seen in ten years, were in the front row, beaming with pride. I smiled at them, but there was no feeling behind my smile. Any memory of the warmth of my mother’s touch or the gentle yet firm guidance of my father’s hands had long ago been lost. My father was a stranger, an old man, still handsome in some ways, but the luster was gone from his eyes. My mother, once a spirit of light and life, seemed cold with her sweater wrapped around her thin shoulders, her beauty faded by time. Had their lives grown cold and loveless like mine?



Love mysteries, page-turning suspense, prizes, fun, reviews and author interviews?  Sign up for my once a month newsletter.  $100.00 prize to one lucky winner on 12/15--just in time for Christmas.  Visit my website at www.lindasprather.com


Friday, May 17, 2013

Sneak Peek at upcoming New Release - Eternal Beauty

Looking for early August release (as it goes through content edit; first and second edits; and proof reads); but I'm so excited and wanted to share a sneak peek with those who loved Bet you can't...Find Me. Watch the blog as I actually have 2 covers I love and I'll be letting my readers pick the final choice--with one lucky entry receiving a nice gift card to Amazon and one to Barnes and Noble, as well as some autographed copies of the new book.







PROLOGUE

“One more, sweetheart, and we’ll be finished.” He folded her hands across her chest, prayer-like, delicately arranging them to hide the missing fingers. “That’s perfect.”

The camera flash lit up the darkness for a moment. He crouched beside her, gently brushing the blond hair away from her face. “You can rest now. Your memory is forever preserved.”

He placed the small digital camera in his pocket, stood, and reached for the tape recorder. A light breeze swept over the bow of the boat, and he closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of her screams as they rose and fell. Desire swelled deep in his groin, intensifying each time a scream would peak. He licked his lips, yet he denied himself the pleasure of touching, the sweet beauty of release. Later, he could watch the video, study the photos, and listen to the tape to relive the excitement. Perhaps then he would allow himself the ecstasy of release, but only if it didn’t cheapen her memory. At the moment, it was enough to just enjoy reliving the feel of the scalpel in his hand and the rush of pleasure as he severed the muscles one by one.

He glanced at her hands still delicately folded across her bosom. He’d had to discipline her. But she’d learned quickly, and only two fingers were missing, which did nothing to diminish her perfection. And she’d been so perfect—her beautiful eyes the perfect shade of blue. That was why he’d kept them. If the process worked, he would use them. If it didn’t, he knew where to find an identical pair.

A feeling of remorse washed over him as he reached for the Ziploc bag housing the remnants of his first experiments. Although each had been beautiful in her own way, there had been no ceremony, for them. A simple flip of a switch and the cargo hold had opened, expelling the cold, stiff bodies. They were not worthy of a starring role, but their lives had not been totally in vain, not as they would have been had he not taken them. Although they would hold no place of honor on his board, he had immortalized them. They would be remembered.

Holding the bag over the side of the boat, he whispered, “I cast your eyes to the ocean.”

He watched the white orbs as they flipped and floated on the waves. The screams began to taper off into whimpers as the sun crested the horizon. He rolled the body to the edge of the boat, wound the rope around it, then secured the massive stone to the corpse and lowered the special-made railing.

“You, my darling, have the starring role in Act One.” With a smile, he pushed the bundle overboard. “I cast your soul to the sea.”

He recited the verse he’d memorized for the occasion. Just for her. “Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”

She was the first worthy of holding a place of honor. Her fate was assured in the annals of time and history. She would always be remembered as the first Eternal Beauty.

Dawn was approaching quickly, but there was still time. Wiping his hands on his pants, he sat and reached for his journal.

My Darling Dakota:

How I wish you were here beside me now to share our moment of triumph. We have our first, and although her beauty mirrors your own, it will never surpass it. Act I is now complete, and soon, Act II will begin. I’m sorry I ever doubted you, my darling. You were right, of course. The true beauty of life is art. And art must be shared to be appreciated. I will blaze a path around this world, seeking only those worthy and preserving them for all time. Soon, the world will know your name, and all the world will know your beauty. You, my darling, shall be revered as the most beautiful of them all, and you will always be remembered.


Standing, he lingered at the rail, watching where the long blond hair had sunk beneath the water. The boat rocked slightly as his heartbeat quickened, his hands growing sweaty. The tension was nearly unbearable as he waited in anticipation. The recorder paused for a moment of silence before her voice filled the night.

“Please… remember me.”

Friday, March 15, 2013

$.99 Mystery/Suspense - Book 1 in series


“Imagine a killer who can kill at will from a distance. No gun, no weapon. Nothing more than a thought."
Catherine Mans has the ability to see and hear what others can’t. With the help of Homicide Sergeant Cody Allen, she’s turned that talent into a successful profession as a psychic consultant.
But Catherine’s past is coming back to haunt her. Someone is threatening the lives of everyone she loves.
Nine bodies have been discovered, and Catherine is the FBI’s prime suspect.
To prove her innocence, she must unravel the secrets of her past, and answer the challenge of a deranged psychic.
Bet you can’t…FIND ME!

"If you love the psychic suspense of Kay Hooper and the witty characters of Tammy Hoag, you'll love Find Me!"

Review by Jud:

Psychics. Not something I would believe in or indeed think that I could believe in so I was very surprised when I found myself not cynical about this story! Linda Prather really drew me in and had me 100% convinced, there was no 'like that would ever happen moments'. I don't quite understand how she did that, if someone was to tell me a first hand account of something like this happening I don't think I could be as riveted as I was to this story. However, I was hampered by the fact I kept reading psychic as physic but that is no reflection on the author although perhaps I should get my eyes tested...

The story starts with a psychic Catherine, who is helping the police with a missing person investigation. Suddenly, the FBI appear and it seems that Catherine is wanted for murder, but did she really do it? The reader is taken on a roller-coaster journey following Catherine and 3 other characters as they try to get to the bottom of the strange happenings. At times it is unclear even who can be trusted or indeed if any of the characters can be trusted. The case finally takes them to Louisiana and the Bayou where the story reaches it's climax and resolves.

The whole way through the story I couldn't wait to read what would happen next, there seemed to be so many twists and turns that I couldn't predict what was coming. I couldn't read the story fast enough, a brilliant read that I would recommend to anyone who enjoys a crime novel, especially if they enjoy something a little bit different to the norm.

Thanks Linda!

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Chapter One - Bet you can't...FIND ME




CHAPTER ONE

Please don’t leave me here.

Catherine Mans heard the whisper over the rustle of the leaves. He was here. She knew it, but her time to find him was running out. A heavy mist had begun to develop over the river, drifting up the ravine into the creek where she knelt beside the water. Her search for twenty-one-year-old Timothy Bond had led her to many ravines in the past two weeks. Her visions were confusing, pieces of jigsaw puzzles that seemed to fit—and not fit—every creek area surrounding the Kentucky River.

Letting the cool water flow over her hand, Catherine closed her eyes. She paid attention to the gentle force as it pressed against the barrier, allowing herself to connect with the emotions it contained. He’d been here. Walked this bank. Trudged through this water. And he’d never left.

“Catherine?”

She heard Cody’s unasked question and rose. “He’s here, Cody. I can feel it.”

“The fog is rising fast. I’m going to call off the search and bring everyone in.”
His voice held an edge of defeat bordering on disappointment. He’d followed her over snake-ridden banks, through shallow pools, and even into the river twice. She knew he ignored the ridicule of his fellow officers, but he couldn’t ignore the rising wind, misty rain, and fog swirling into ghostly clouds. Failure to call off the search would put everyone in danger.

Catherine turned back to the pool of water and stared into its murky depths. A vision of Mr. and Mrs. Bond appeared, arms wound around each other, eyes swollen and red, beseeching her. We know he’s dead, Ms. Mans, but we can’t sleep at night. Not until our boy comes home.

The not knowing was what aged you overnight, placing dark shadows beneath your eyes, deep-etched lines upon your face. The sorrow emanating from Mrs. Bond’s eyes had touched her in a way she hadn’t expected, opened the door to memories of things she’d worked hard to forget. Catherine touched the scar just above her right breast and wondered if her own mother had looked that way when Catherine had run away.

Catherine shook off the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about her mother. Or the past. Nor was it the time to allow the frustration in Cody’s voice to discourage her. She knew he respected her abilities and believed in her. A smile played around her lips. A lot had changed in the six years since he’d knocked on her door and asked for her help in finding three-year-old Danny Wells. Cody had worked hard to become the head of the homicide division, and through his efforts, a special fund had been established to pay for Catherine’s consulting fees. She also knew his efforts were the reason that other departments had begun to call upon her for help. But the non-believers, the ridiculers, would always persist. Her ninety-eight percent success rate didn’t matter. The two percent failure was what everyone remembered.

A steady rain began to fall as the whisper reached her ears again. Please don’t leave me here.

“I won’t, Timmy,” she murmured, kneeling by the creek and closing her eyes again. Reaching out with her mind, she searched for the small thread of energy she knew was there somewhere.

“Catherine, we’ve got to go.”

“Go ahead and call off the search, Cody,” she answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’m staying.”

A strange throbbing started deep inside her head, drowning out the words she knew Cody was saying. The scar on her chest burned, as if someone had suddenly poured gasoline on it and set her on fire. She stood up slowly, catching her breath against the fiery pain as her feet moved involuntarily, trudging into the cool water that swirled around her ankles. The pool deepened, reaching her waist. The swift current pushed her downstream on unsteady feet that no longer seemed to belong to her. A thick layer of fog surrounded her, until she could no longer see the opposite bank.

“Catherine, where the hell are you going?”

Cody’s voice sounded distant. She heard his radio crackle as he called out to the search team and his muffled oath as he splashed through the water, following her across the creek.

The throbbing subsided to a dull ache in the center of her forehead, but the scar continued to burn with fiery insistence, and her feet still moved against her will. The water became shallower, and her feet sank into mushy sand as she climbed the bank of the creek into an open field that led to a cliff overlooking the river.
The fog had dissipated here, and Catherine could see the edge of the cliff. A single oak tree stood outlined against the black clouds rolling across the sky. The jigsaw puzzle came together. The pieces started to fit. The pain subsided, but her feet continued to move, carrying her closer to the edge. She wanted to stop, but an unseen force kept her going until strong arms closed around her, jerking her backwards just as her feet slipped over the edge.

“Jesus, Catherine. What the hell are you doing?” Cody gasped between labored breaths.

“I don’t know. I was… I didn’t…” Catherine tried to clear the fog from her mind, grasping to explain what she didn’t understand herself. “Cody, the tree. It’s the same tree in my vision. He’s here. I know he’s here.”

“Okay. Okay. Give me a second.” Some of her excitement registered in his voice. The tree had been the one clue missing from all the other ravines.

The two crept slowly toward the edge of the cliff. A blanket of fog covered the earth thirty feet below, but they didn’t need to see through the fog. Less than five feet down, on a jutted outcropping, lay the remains of Timothy Bond.

Catherine stood near the edge, listening as Cody gave directions to the search team. A feeling of peace settled over her. She’d found him. “It’s time to go home, Timmy,” she whispered.

“Don’t get too close to the edge, Catherine.”

She didn’t bother to answer, as the wind chose that moment to switch direction and force her back from the edge. Catherine shivered as icy fingers raced down her spine. The sound of laughter echoed on the wind, followed by a whispered challenge: Find me.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

"Yea, though I walk through the Valley. . .Excerpt - Bet you can't...FIND ME




PROLOGUE

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me…

But He wasn’t with her.

She leaned against the cold steel door, her eyes closed in prayer. “Father, why have you forsaken me? What sins have I committed that you would punish me this way?”

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood.

“Fiank-o!” she screamed.

Her eyes flew open, and she spread her hands in front of her. Blood rimmed her manicured nails. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the blood-soaked blouse plastered to her chest. So much blood for such a tiny body.

Ripping at her blouse, she mewed like a wounded animal. “Then take my eyes, so I no longer see the blood of my child on my hands. Take my ears, so I no longer hear the shrieks from below, the clanging of the chains.”

Silence met her cry. God was no longer listening. She sank to her knees and ripped at her hair, bordering on madness. How could they do this to her? Had she not served them well for more than ten years?

“You know what you must do, Aggie. I have seen the feux-folet. She is the child of Diablo, and she has cursed you.”

For a moment, rage blocked the pain squeezing her heart. “You!” Her eyes filled with hatred, fists clenched at her side. “You brought this upon us with your superstitions and your curses.”

“Mwen pòv zanj pèdi—you know I speak the truth. I was here when she was born without life, her body blue, her soul already beyond this world. Five years have come and gone. As she grows, so does the evil. They warned you this day would come.”

The old woman’s words washed over her like a river of ice, extinguishing the fire of her rage, leaving only a cold, still emptiness.

“I begged them, Mother. Begged for her life as her blood seeped through my fingers. I have served God, and I have served the spirits. But they have forsaken me.” She raised tortured eyes to beseech the old woman, her efforts met with stony silence and beady eyes filled with accusation. “I begged them!” Her voice tapered to a whimper. “She is only five. I have lost Catherine. Must I lose Mary also?”

The old woman knelt beside her. Taking her right hand, she pried open the fingers and closed them around the cold steel of the knife. “You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down. You disobeyed. You have been punished. Now pick up your cross, and carry it.”

The silence in the room was broken only by her whimpers; the old woman had left as quietly as she’d come. The knife lay heavy in her hand, just as the task before her lay heavy on her heart.

She rose and opened the door to the basement, ignoring the shrieks and clang of the chains. Her feet descended the steps slowly, the old woman’s words echoing inside her head: You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

If you love The Mentalist - Check out - Bet you can't... FIND ME

Author of the DI Lorne Simpkins Thrillers - Mel Comley says: "One of the best paranormal mysteries I've read."

“Imagine a killer who can kill at will from a distance. No gun, no weapon. Nothing more than a thought."

Catherine Mans has the ability to see and hear what others can’t. With the help of Homicide Sergeant Cody Allen, she’s turned that talent into a successful profession as a psychic consultant.

But Catherine’s past is coming back to haunt her. Someone is threatening the lives of everyone she loves.

Nine bodies have been discovered, and Catherine is the FBI’s prime suspect.

To prove her innocence, she must unravel the secrets of her past, and answer the challenge of a deranged psychic.

Bet you can’t…FIND ME!

"If you love the psychic suspense of Kay Hooper and the witty characters of Tammy Hoag, you'll love Find Me!"

PROLOGUE

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me…

But He wasn’t with her.

She leaned against the cold steel door, her eyes closed in prayer. “Father, why have you forsaken me? What sins have I committed that you would punish me this way?”

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood.

“Fiank-o!” she screamed.

Her eyes flew open, and she spread her hands in front of her. Blood rimmed her manicured nails. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the blood-soaked blouse plastered to her chest. So much blood for such a tiny body.

Ripping at her blouse, she mewed like a wounded animal. “Then take my eyes, so I no longer see the blood of my child on my hands. Take my ears, so I no longer hear the shrieks from below, the clanging of the chains.”

Silence met her cry. God was no longer listening. She sank to her knees and ripped at her hair, bordering on madness. How could they do this to her? Had she not served them well for more than ten years?

“You know what you must do, Aggie. I have seen the feux-folet. She is the child of Diablo, and she has cursed you.”

For a moment, rage blocked the pain squeezing her heart. “You!” Her eyes filled with hatred, fists clenched at her side. “You brought this upon us with your superstitions and your curses.”

“Mwen pòv zanj pèdi—you know I speak the truth. I was here when she was born without life, her body blue, her soul already beyond this world. Five years have come and gone. As she grows, so does the evil. They warned you this day would come.”

The old woman’s words washed over her like a river of ice, extinguishing the fire of her rage, leaving only a cold, still emptiness.

“I begged them, Mother. Begged for her life as her blood seeped through my fingers. I have served God, and I have served the spirits. But they have forsaken me.” She raised tortured eyes to beseech the old woman, her efforts met with stony silence and beady eyes filled with accusation. “I begged them!” Her voice tapered to a whimper. “She is only five. I have lost Catherine. Must I lose Mary also?”

The old woman knelt beside her. Taking her right hand, she pried open the fingers and closed them around the cold steel of the knife. “You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down. You disobeyed. You have been punished. Now pick up your cross, and carry it.”

The silence in the room was broken only by her whimpers; the old woman had left as quietly as she’d come. The knife lay heavy in her hand, just as the task before her lay heavy on her heart.

She rose and opened the door to the basement, ignoring the shrieks and clang of the chains. Her feet descended the steps slowly, the old woman’s words echoing inside her head: You can’t cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Coming in 2012--Bet you can't. . .FIND ME

"Imagine a killer that can kill at will, from a distance. No gun, no weapon. Nothing more than a thought. And then imagine a world of women, men, children, that occasionally, sometimes without conscious knowledge, reach out intuitively."









PROLOGUE

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me . . .

But He wasn't with her.

She leaned against the cold steel door, her eyes closed in prayer. "Father, why have you forsaken me? What sins have I committed that you would punish me this way?"

When you spread out your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you; even if you offer many prayers, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood.


"Fiank-o!" she screamed.

Her eyes flew open, and she spread her hands in front of her. Blood rimmed her manicured nails. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the blood soaked blouse plastered to her chest. So much blood for such a tiny body.

Ripping at her blouse, she mewed like a wounded animal. "Then take my eyes so I no longer see the blood of my child on my hands. Take my ears so I no longer hear the shrieks from below, the clanging of the chains."

Silence met her cry. God was no longer listening. She sank to her knees and ripped at her hair, bordering on madness. How could they do this to her? Had she not served them well for more than ten years?

"You know what you must do, Aggie. I have seen the feux-folet. She is the child of Diable and she has cursed you."

For a moment rage blocked the pain squeezing her heart. "You!" Her eyes filled with hatred, fists clenched at her side. "You brought this upon us with your superstitions and your curses."

"Mwen pòv zanj pèdi, you know I speak the truth. I was here when she was born without life, her body blue, her soul already beyond this world. Five years have come and gone. As she grows, so does the evil. They warned you this day would come."

The old woman's words washed over her like a river of ice, extinguishing the fire of her rage, leaving only a cold, still emptiness. "I begged them, Mother. Begged for her life as her blood seeped through my fingers.

I have served God, and I have served the spirits. But they have forsaken me."
She raised tortured eyes to beseech the old woman, her efforts met with stony silence and beady eyes filled with accusation.

"I begged them!"

Her voice tapered to a whimper. "She is only five. I have lost one already. Must I lose them both?"

The old woman knelt beside her. Taking her right hand she prized open the fingers and closed them around the cold steel of the knife. "You can't cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down. You disobeyed. You have been punished. Now pick up your cross and carry it."

The silence in the room was broken only by her whimpers; the old woman had left as quietly as she'd come. The knife lay heavy in her hand, just as the task before her lay heavy on her heart.

She rose and opened the door to the basement, ignoring the shrieks and clang of the chains. Her feet descended the steps slowly, the old woman's words echoing inside her head: "You can't cure a mad dog, Aggie; you can only put it down."

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Excerpt- The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery



Sheriff Sarah Burns pulled off the road and parked near the site of Saturday night’s tragic accident. Unnatural deaths were rare in Glade Springs, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d missed something.

An image of Morgana Nelson clutching the body of her daughter, her heartbroken cry echoing through the morgue, flashed through Sarah’s mind.

Maybe it was only wishful thinking. The Nelsons were good people, and Johanna had been their only child. The accident made no sense. Johanna wasn’t the typical eighteen year old. She didn’t run off to Edgewood or Richmond after graduation, looking for a larger city and more excitement. She didn’t stay out late. She didn’t drive fast. She didn’t drink. So why had she been here, driving so fast she missed the curve? The toxicology reports weren’t in yet, but the body had reeked with the smell of alcohol. The Nelsons had questions, needed answers.

Climbing out of the Explorer, Sarah walked toward the curve as she closed out the noises around her, traveling the path Johanna had driven. Emotions were strong here. She could feel the sadness—and the anger. Johanna was upset.

Sarah moved into the curve slowly, feeling the shift in the emotions surrounding her. Panic took over, quickly turning to fear. She retraced the path the car had taken as it skidded off the road into the huge oak tree.

Crouching near the point of impact, she placed her hand on the earth and closed her eyes. For a brief moment she felt physical pain and then all emotions ceased.

Sighing, Sarah stood up. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to find. Let it go, Sarah, she chided herself. Some questions have no answers.

Heaving another sigh, Sarah started toward her vehicle. She was tired, looking forward to a quiet evening at home. Last night’s dream had upset her. All day she’d been haunted by the image of the dark brown eyes filled with pain, the heart-wrenching cry that had jerked her from an uneasy sleep. The whispered message that had kept her lying awake, trembling as she listened to the sounds of the night.

She hated the dreams. Hated the feeling of helplessness they created inside her as the dying reached out, sending messages to loved ones, or crying out for vengeance against their attacker. Only this time the dream had been different. This time the message was for Sarah.

Sarah shook herself mentally, pushing away the memories, the fear. It was just a dream. And this was just a horrible accident. Accidents happened—especially when teenagers drank. Her foot touched the passenger tire track imprinted in the soft earth near the tree. A feeling of panic clutched at her, growing stronger, making it hard to breathe.

“Jesus,” she muttered as she stepped away from the track, breathing deeply.

Kneeling, she touched the earth, holding her breath, as emotions flowed through her fingertips. Unlike the driver’s side, the panic here continued to escalate. There was no physical pain, no ceasing of emotion. This was what had been bugging her. The something missing. Johanna Nelson had died almost instantly, but she hadn’t died alone. Someone else had been in the car with her when she crashed into that tree.



Monday, January 24, 2011

Cattitude by Edie Ramer - $.99 on Amazon Kindle


Edie Ramer loves her cat so much, she wrote CATTITUDE, a book in which a cat changes bodies with a woman. Edie tried to put herself in her cat's mind. She managed so well it was eerily freakish.

She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her husband, two dogs, and the original Belle the cat. She started writing in the 1990's, selling short stories in the mystery genre to National magazines and two Women Sleuth books. In addition to non-fiction articles, she wrote verses for greeting cards, and she possesses a drawer filled with cards for any occasion.

She's co-founder of Write Attitude (writeattitude.net), an inspirational website for writers, and a popular group blog, Magical Musings (magicalmusings.com).

You can visit Edie at www.EdieRamer.com.
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After Belle the cat switches bodies with a psychic on the run from a murderer, she wants her perfect cat body back instead of this furless human one. But she doesn't count on falling in love with her former owner. Or that a CEO and a beauty queen want to use up her nine lives. Now is her chance to prove anything a human can do, a cat can do better.


"Cattitude is a magical tale that you won't soon forget. Edie Ramer has a writing voice that charms, and she pulls the reader right into Belle's amazing world." -Cynthia Eden, author of Deadly Fear and I'll be Slaying You

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Monday, July 19, 2010

Increasing your Intuitive and/or Psychic Abilities

Although in writing I often refer to psychic abilities as “gifts” in truth, it is something that everyone possesses. Albeit, some seem to be born with more a knack for the ability while others have to work a little harder. A lot of it depends on whether you consider yourself an “external” or “internal” person. Externals tend to love the hustle and bustle of people, places, parties, and conversation. While internals are more content to spend a quiet evening at home, sit by a body of water and daydream or lose themselves in a good book. Most of us are a combination of external and internal. Dependent upon our mood we love both.

There are, of course, thousands of books that can be read on increasing your intuitive and/or psychic abilities. All of these may have some value, but remember that we are all individuals and what works for one may not work for others. I believe in keeping it simple. The only thing you truly need is time, place and open mind.

The three basics to opening your mind to your own abilities are 1) quiet 2) relaxation and 3) visualization. I discussed visualization in an earlier blog. If you haven’t read it you might want to check it out. Below are two simple exercises to try. Remember the more you practice the better results you will achieve.

1) First, buy a good pair of ear plugs that are comfortable. Now pick a room in your home that you’re familiar with and comfortable in. A room with good vibes. Before starting decide how long you want to work, and make sure you turn off all your phones, and that you have that amount of time without the fear of interruption. When you’re reading stand in the middle of the room, put in your ear plugs and close your eyes. Take several deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. Feel all tension, anxiety and negativity flow from the top of your head out through the tips of your toes. When you’re relaxed, keeping your eyes closed look straight ahead. Open your mind and see what’s directly in front of you. You know this room. You may get images, or just a sensing of what is there. Now do the same to the left and the right. Now, reach out with your mind and look behind you. Not specific areas such as windows, doors, lamps, chairs. At first this may feel a little weird as the lack of sound, and outer stimuli allows you to truly open your mind, seeing, feeling and sensing with just your mind.

Practice this moving from room to room, and when you’re comfortable, stand in one room and mentally walk through your entire home. Take it one step further. Go outside your home. Look at the front door.

2) Now that you’ve practiced and you’re comfortable moving around with your mind, take it to the next level. The next time you’re getting ready for a trip to the store, or some place you travel all the time do this exercise, only this time travel the road to where you’re going. See the highway, passing scenery. Note any cars you may pass. The color of stop lights. When you’ve finished the entire route, open your eyes and take your trip. How close was your mental vision to the real trip? You may be surprised that in time your mental trip will be almost identical to your actual trip, right down to the cars that pass you and color of stop lights.

These are just two simple exercises you can use to begin your journey in opening your mind to its full potential. For paranormal investigators the room scans, or remote viewing like the car trip can be very helpful in setting up your investigation.

Have any questions, please feel free to ask.

Have a great night, and remember – If the mind can perceive it, the heart can believe it then you can achieve it.