This is definitely not your average or even close to average ghost story! May Elizabeth Trump-a recluse by nature dies suddenly via her favorite cake slice. She only had one friend who she resented--until she was dead!! Turns out that May was a medium but never knew it--she never would have believed in such nonsense.
From the day she died and her spirit began to wander around she came to meet several other spirits. One of whom she promised to help. Penny, recently deceased was worried about her daughter Chloe who might end up losing the family home due to lack of funds. Live people could hear May, just not see her. The living and the dead banded together to find a solution.
This book will delight you with the interaction between the living and the dead (including their animal companions). It is also very well written and will come full circle at the end which obviously I can't tell you cause I want you to read this. It also hints at reincarnation at the very last chapter.
About the Book: (from Amazon)
The deathly silence is about to be broken. She disliked the company of others and death did little to warm her spirit. She had led an independent life and she faced death in much the same way. She was finally alone, finally free from the mindless babble of others, at least that’s what she thought. May Elizabeth Trump was the rarest of spirits and she was none too happy about it either. She was a dead medium, a ghost who can speak with the living, and her services were to become in great demand. Flung into the limelight and smothered with unwanted attention, May soon discovers that it is not only ghosts with long awaited messages that have taken an interest in her. Something dark was lurking in the shadows, stalking her. Even the dead are not left to rest in peace. Dead Medium: A humorous, character driven story and a unique vision of life after death. Not your average ghost story.
Read a chapter or two here
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About the Author: (from Amazon)
Peter John was born in Bromley Kent, England in 1973. He gained an interest in creative writing at the age of 14 and was published during the 1990's in several poetry anthologies. Happily Married to Jo since 1996 and currently living in Sidcup Kent, not so far from the tree.
I was born in Bromley, Kent back in the early seventies. I spent most of my childhood riding bikes, playing tag and kicking tin cans around the street, unless there was an actual football to hand. At the age of fourteen I had a milestone experience. Prior to that I had never shown the slightest interest in writing, if I remember rightly I wanted to be an astronaut, but then I got put into detention one afternoon. I had failed to bring in my homework assignment and the teacher had punished me by forcing me to write a short story during the lunch time break. While all the other boys kicked tin cans around the playground, I was sat in a room on my own with a sandwich, a carton of Kia-Ora and an exercise book. I picked at the sandwich while staring at the blank pages in front of me and then it happened. All of a sudden a story formed in my head and I almost instinctively threw in down on the paper. 45 minutes passed in what felt like seconds and the short story which I had called 'Thinking Crash' was spread throughout the exercise book in my scruffy, barely coherent handwriting. I had never fallen into a story like that before, where my hand was struggling to keep up with my brain and I didn't look up once from the pages until I heard the lunch bell ring. Ever since that day I have been hooked. I could have been circling the earth in a tin can and eating my dinner out of a tube if it wasn't for that one stint in detention; I still like to consider it as a lucky escape.
OPINIONS OF GHOSTS
You would expect me, being the author of a paranormal comedy, to be a great believer in ghosts but you would be wrong in that assumption. You would then presume that I have never seen a ghost and again you would be mistaken, confused yet? I consider myself to be a hopeful skeptic; hopeful because I would really like to be able to break free of my own Cynicism and a skeptic because no matter how hard I try, I can't. Even after seeing things that I can't explain myself, I fail to convert myself into a believer on the basis that just because I can't prove it false doesn't mean it's true. I regret this standpoint entirely, I see all the benefits in believing in something as strongly as some people believe in the existence of ghosts and other forms of supernatural beings but I don't seem capable of stepping over that final hurdle of doubt, and I blame psychics for this entirely. Years of hearing how people have been fleeced for more money than they can comfortably afford by Clairvoyants and Mediums has left me armored against certain aspects of the supernatural. Con artists and schemers who have promised them answers to the soul burning questions that we all ask of ourselves during times of grief. Is there more? Are they truly gone or are they just behind the curtain of death, waiting for me to join them? Are they watching over me, right here, as we speak My mother is a great believer in the spiritual powers of others and has often remarked on her own psychic ability. I have to agree that on occasion she has made remarkable predictions that have turned out to be true, though sometimes it has been in a 'ball park' kind of way. Through out my childhood I have listened to her stories about what this medium said and what that psychic told her but I have also listened to the recording of such spiritual meetings. "I have a name coming through. It's faint but I think it begins with an A, it might be an O or an E. It's definitely starts with a vowel or there's a vowel in there somewhere at least". My mother never failed to fall hook line and sinker but, even at a young age, I could see the vague and fishing manner in which they all spoke. It made me cynical and suspicious when it came down to beings from another plain of existence and I have yet failed to shrug this guarded approach. Maybe one day I will find the proof I need, or experience something that will turn my head a full 360 until I'm skeptical about whether living people actually exist, but until that day I will remain full of questions, doubts and hopes.
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