Yes, I write in the action-adventure/thriller genre. I've always loved that genre, ever since I was a kid. James Bond films,World War II movies, old Sergio Leone westerns, Dirty Harry, all of them. Dad introduced me to that genre at an early age, and it just stuck with me.
Somewhere along the way, in 1980, when I was ten, I found a book called The Executioner #39: A New War. The premise: Mack Bolan, who had waged a one man war on the mafia, earning the nickname "The Executioner", was now under the employment of the U.S. Government to wage war on terrorism. His new name? "Colonel John Phoenix." Yes, a blatant metaphor.
I got into the series, and then, in 1982, several things happened, besides me turning 12. I started writing stories then, little short ones, but, the bug had hit. I found myself writing almost any chance I had, even in class. But, in 1982, The Executioner gained some allies on his "new war." Able Team & Phoenix Force. I fell in love with the team concept. Yes, the solo adventurer was great, but the teams really appealed to me.
A group of guys, some, in the case of Phoenix Force, complete strangers, coming together for the greater good. These guys would willingly die for each other and for the people of the world they had sworn to protect. I still enjoy these series today.
And, in 1982, a small action/political thriller movie came out starring Ken Wahl, called, simply The Soldier. I saw the trailers, begged dad to take me since it was rated R. So, we went. And, it was not just about one guy. "The Soldier" had a team that he relied on to assist him. There was no way he would have accomplished his mission without them.
This has actually become one of my favorite movies. Yes, it's dated in some respects, but in others, it's still shockingly accurate and still possible today. The world's reliance on Middle Eastern Oil to flow, the threat of a nuclear "suitcase" bomb in the hands of terrorists, a plot to destroy/discredit Israel... sound familiar? 30 years later, all this is still around. Plus, there is a ski chase scene that rivals any of the Bond movies. Why this movie isn't on DVD or Blu-ray is beyond me.
Anyways, I kept the team concept in my head not only for writing, but also for real life. I have several friends I made back when I was 7, and, we're still friends today. As great as you are alone, you're that much better with a team of friends to support you, and for you to support in turn.
I'm thankful for all of my old and new friends. These are friends that I know, no matter what, I'll have their backs and they'll have mine. You guys know who you are. And I'm glad you all are around.
My first book, The Sleep of the Just introduced the FACET team to readers. The next one, Sins of the Father is in progress and should be finished by late spring/early summer, with the third in the series, as yet untitled, coming out in late fall. The FACET team is just that. A team. These guys live, fight, and would be willing to die for each other if they had to. All the lessons that an Executioner, a Phoenix, and a Soldier taught me as a kid.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
The Mouse Is Roaring
The more I see of the situation with North Korea, the more I'm reminded of "The Mouse That Roared." You know, the story by Leonard Wibberly of the tiny country of the Duchy of Grand Fenwick that decided to go to war with the United States. The reason? So the U.S. would defeat them, and then the Marshall Plan would go into effect, and the U.S. would have to rebuild their country, much as the U.S. did to Germany after World War II.
Kim Jong-il liked to saber rattle. He'd constantly keep trying to goad the South and the U.S. into doing something, but, thankfully, we never bit. He'd rattle, we'd throw some sanctions, and leave him alone, because, it seemed, he was nothing but a lot of noise. Hell, he'd said in 1994 that North Korea would dismantle their nuclear program for U.S. Aid.
But, in 2002, OOPS! North Korea admitted it had been producing nuclear weapons since that Agreed Framework, for "security reasons." In, 2006, North Korea said it had completed an underground nuclear test. But, still, he wasn't taken too seriously. Oh, we kept an eye on him, but compared to the threat that al Qaeda presented, the ongoing wars in Iraq & Afghanistan, and keeping tabs on Iran, North Korea kind of sat on the back burner.
Now, Kim Jong-il is, of course, deceased, and his third son, Kim Jong-un is now in power. And this is what's disturbing. This is a 28 year old kid who doesn't seem to grasp that his dad's saber rattling was just that. This is a kid who has shiny new toys to play with, the security and prosperity of his people be damned.
He's said in the past month that they now have ICBMs capable of reaching the U.S. West Coast. He's said that the 1953 Armistice Treaty is null and void, essentially restarting, at least verbally, the Korean War. Even China and Russia aren't touching this kid like they help back up Iran in the U.N.
And still, we throw sanctions on him. We say we're ready at a moment's notice. And, truthfully, we are. Maybe this kid isn't as dumb as we think. Maybe he's trying to push dad's idea to have the U.S. invade and then activate the Marshall Plan even further than dad could get it to go. There's just one problem that I don't think this kid understands. You launch a nuke, and shit will get real, and fast.
For the sake of the people of North Korea, I hope someone in his cabinet tells him to chill. Dad was easy to predict. He'd yell, threaten, and then go sing about how lonely he was. Jong-un? He's a wild card. And one that, for the safety of the world, needs to be put back into the deck.
Kim Jong-il liked to saber rattle. He'd constantly keep trying to goad the South and the U.S. into doing something, but, thankfully, we never bit. He'd rattle, we'd throw some sanctions, and leave him alone, because, it seemed, he was nothing but a lot of noise. Hell, he'd said in 1994 that North Korea would dismantle their nuclear program for U.S. Aid.
But, in 2002, OOPS! North Korea admitted it had been producing nuclear weapons since that Agreed Framework, for "security reasons." In, 2006, North Korea said it had completed an underground nuclear test. But, still, he wasn't taken too seriously. Oh, we kept an eye on him, but compared to the threat that al Qaeda presented, the ongoing wars in Iraq & Afghanistan, and keeping tabs on Iran, North Korea kind of sat on the back burner.
Now, Kim Jong-il is, of course, deceased, and his third son, Kim Jong-un is now in power. And this is what's disturbing. This is a 28 year old kid who doesn't seem to grasp that his dad's saber rattling was just that. This is a kid who has shiny new toys to play with, the security and prosperity of his people be damned.
He's said in the past month that they now have ICBMs capable of reaching the U.S. West Coast. He's said that the 1953 Armistice Treaty is null and void, essentially restarting, at least verbally, the Korean War. Even China and Russia aren't touching this kid like they help back up Iran in the U.N.
And still, we throw sanctions on him. We say we're ready at a moment's notice. And, truthfully, we are. Maybe this kid isn't as dumb as we think. Maybe he's trying to push dad's idea to have the U.S. invade and then activate the Marshall Plan even further than dad could get it to go. There's just one problem that I don't think this kid understands. You launch a nuke, and shit will get real, and fast.
For the sake of the people of North Korea, I hope someone in his cabinet tells him to chill. Dad was easy to predict. He'd yell, threaten, and then go sing about how lonely he was. Jong-un? He's a wild card. And one that, for the safety of the world, needs to be put back into the deck.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Where to Ponder Life
Wow. Two months since my last blog post? I know I've called myself "an infrequent blogger" before, and, there's your proof. So, what prompted this post, you ask? (And if you didn't ask, tough, I'm going to tell you anyway)
Well, it started with a text I got from my niece with a quote from Chris, my four year old son. "After I'm done in here, I'm going to go in my room and think about my life." Of course, I started laughing when I read that. Here's my son, deciding he needs to go contemplate his life. But then I read it again. "After I'm done in here." What's he doing? I thought. So I asked. The answer?
"He was getting into his pants after taking a dump." I lost it, laughing. Tears in my eyes. People looked at me like I was bonkers. Well, I get that look a lot, anyways, so I guess that's not really that different. And this is where I realized that I had a major opportunity to teach my son one of the great truths of being a male.
We don't ponder life after taking a dump, we ponder life while we're in the bathroom. Let's face it guys, and especially fathers, that is the one room we can escape to and let mom or whoever deal with the stuff outside. It's a great place for thinking, catching up on reading, playing Angry Birds, it's a sanctuary. There's a reason they call it the throne room, because, dammit, in there, we're kings! And woe to those who knock on the door and disturb our reverie!
A.J. understands this. He knows the greatness of the throne room. The hallowed halls. The place of refuge. Although, he did make a comment after going to the ESPN Zone in Downtown Disney. "We should have TVs in our bathrooms so we could watch sports while we're in there." Kid is wise beyond his years. I could probably squeeze a dorm fridge in there too...
Well, it started with a text I got from my niece with a quote from Chris, my four year old son. "After I'm done in here, I'm going to go in my room and think about my life." Of course, I started laughing when I read that. Here's my son, deciding he needs to go contemplate his life. But then I read it again. "After I'm done in here." What's he doing? I thought. So I asked. The answer?
"He was getting into his pants after taking a dump." I lost it, laughing. Tears in my eyes. People looked at me like I was bonkers. Well, I get that look a lot, anyways, so I guess that's not really that different. And this is where I realized that I had a major opportunity to teach my son one of the great truths of being a male.
We don't ponder life after taking a dump, we ponder life while we're in the bathroom. Let's face it guys, and especially fathers, that is the one room we can escape to and let mom or whoever deal with the stuff outside. It's a great place for thinking, catching up on reading, playing Angry Birds, it's a sanctuary. There's a reason they call it the throne room, because, dammit, in there, we're kings! And woe to those who knock on the door and disturb our reverie!
A.J. understands this. He knows the greatness of the throne room. The hallowed halls. The place of refuge. Although, he did make a comment after going to the ESPN Zone in Downtown Disney. "We should have TVs in our bathrooms so we could watch sports while we're in there." Kid is wise beyond his years. I could probably squeeze a dorm fridge in there too...
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
A Farewell to Heroes
It's funny, I wasn't planning on doing a blog post today. I'd thought about it, but decided that the pictures I put up of my dad on Facebook and Twitter, and their accompanying posts were a sufficient enough way to mark the 12th anniversary of his passing today. Then, it happened.
I saw the news on my Twitter feed and couldn't believe what I was seeing. The rumors were flying, and then, unfortunately, the rumors turned into fact. Tiaina Baul Seau, Jr., was dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. For any Chargers fan, especially those of us who remember seeing Junior play and how much he meant to his hometown community, it was like a punch in the gut.
Oh, when I first knew about Junior Seau, I hated him. He went to Oceanside High, a rival of Ramona. And, they kicked our asses. Then, he went to USC, and lo and behold, the Chargers wound up drafting the hometown boy. And, he became, arguably, the most popular Charger in the franchise's history.
Now, yes, Junior was a hero, a sports hero, a community hero, and someone that I looked up to in that regard. Obviously, my dad was my hero in a much different, way, much like Junior was hero to his own three children.
And, this is where it gets tough. We won't know what drove Junior to commit suicide (as is the primary theory currently). We'll all remember the smiling player on the sidelines, the charge and full speed he brought to each and every game, the community activist who tried to make his hometown of Oceanside and San Diego better.
What we won't see, as long as the press stays the hell away from them, is his children trying to figure out why their dad, their hero is gone. My heart breaks for them. I lost my dad right before I turned 30, and it devastated me. Junior was 43. One year older than me. I look at my young kids and it scares me to think of leaving them.
The first thing I did tonight when I saw my boys was give them a huge hug and a kiss. I didn't tell them why the hug was a little longer than normal. Just told them that daddy loved them. Anytime one loses a parent sucks. To lose one at such a young age, and to those circumstances, is unfathomable.
Rest In Peace, Junior. Rest in Peace, dad. You both inspired me in different ways, and will continue to do so even though you're not with us anymore.
I saw the news on my Twitter feed and couldn't believe what I was seeing. The rumors were flying, and then, unfortunately, the rumors turned into fact. Tiaina Baul Seau, Jr., was dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. For any Chargers fan, especially those of us who remember seeing Junior play and how much he meant to his hometown community, it was like a punch in the gut.
Oh, when I first knew about Junior Seau, I hated him. He went to Oceanside High, a rival of Ramona. And, they kicked our asses. Then, he went to USC, and lo and behold, the Chargers wound up drafting the hometown boy. And, he became, arguably, the most popular Charger in the franchise's history.
Now, yes, Junior was a hero, a sports hero, a community hero, and someone that I looked up to in that regard. Obviously, my dad was my hero in a much different, way, much like Junior was hero to his own three children.
And, this is where it gets tough. We won't know what drove Junior to commit suicide (as is the primary theory currently). We'll all remember the smiling player on the sidelines, the charge and full speed he brought to each and every game, the community activist who tried to make his hometown of Oceanside and San Diego better.
What we won't see, as long as the press stays the hell away from them, is his children trying to figure out why their dad, their hero is gone. My heart breaks for them. I lost my dad right before I turned 30, and it devastated me. Junior was 43. One year older than me. I look at my young kids and it scares me to think of leaving them.
The first thing I did tonight when I saw my boys was give them a huge hug and a kiss. I didn't tell them why the hug was a little longer than normal. Just told them that daddy loved them. Anytime one loses a parent sucks. To lose one at such a young age, and to those circumstances, is unfathomable.
Rest In Peace, Junior. Rest in Peace, dad. You both inspired me in different ways, and will continue to do so even though you're not with us anymore.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
An Odd Love Affair
Yep, I'll admit it. I love someplace I have only seen personally from their airport. I haven't stepped outside in the wonderful city of Chicago before, but it is on my bucket list. What's not to love about Chicago?
You've got Wrigley Field, the Sears (I don't care what the new name is, it's still Sears) Tower, the Chicago River, Soldier Field, the Field Museum, the John Hancock Center, Navy Pier, Victory Monument, the Magnificent Mile, and the Art Institute of Chicago, which I really want to see.
Heck, I even love or will root for Chicago Sports teams. Da Bears, the Blackhawks (Original Six) and the Cubs. Not the White Sox. Almost every White Sox fan I've met is the American League equivalent of a Dodgers fan. Also, not the Bulls. Screw the Bulls, and screw you, John Paxson. (We'll ignore the fact that Danny Ainge left you open at the top of the key to double-team Horace Grant)
So, where does this love for Chicago come from, from a kid raised in the San Diego area? Well, it was baffling to me, as well. But, I figured it out. I'm a child of the '80s. I was raised on '80s movies. The first taste of Chicago was in The Blues Brothers. (Best. Chase scene. Ever.) Later on, it was The Untouchables and The Fugitive. But, they're not the cause of it.
Nope, '80s movies mean John Hughes. He showed a Chicago that seemed like it would be a great place to hang out and live in. From Sixteen Candles to The Breakfast Club, from Planes, Trains and Automobiles to Home Alone, he showcased Chicago. Well, "Shermer, IL." But, his crowning achievement, and what basically became a travelogue for Chicago was Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Let's face it, we all felt like we'd been to Chicago after watching that. And, if we hadn't been there yet, because of that movie we all wanted to go and see the places Ferris, Cameron and Sloane went. (Don't lie, you want to go to a restaurant and put your name down as Abe Froman.)
Now, and this is going to burst some bubbles, whilst Cameron's house is in Illinois, Ferris' house is actually in Long Beach, CA. Yep. No lie. That's all right. Doesn't matter, doesn't change or affect my view of Chicago.
And, I can't wait as in about three years, we'll be making a roadie out that way. Until then, I've got my movies and the sports channels to tide me over.
You've got Wrigley Field, the Sears (I don't care what the new name is, it's still Sears) Tower, the Chicago River, Soldier Field, the Field Museum, the John Hancock Center, Navy Pier, Victory Monument, the Magnificent Mile, and the Art Institute of Chicago, which I really want to see.
Heck, I even love or will root for Chicago Sports teams. Da Bears, the Blackhawks (Original Six) and the Cubs. Not the White Sox. Almost every White Sox fan I've met is the American League equivalent of a Dodgers fan. Also, not the Bulls. Screw the Bulls, and screw you, John Paxson. (We'll ignore the fact that Danny Ainge left you open at the top of the key to double-team Horace Grant)
So, where does this love for Chicago come from, from a kid raised in the San Diego area? Well, it was baffling to me, as well. But, I figured it out. I'm a child of the '80s. I was raised on '80s movies. The first taste of Chicago was in The Blues Brothers. (Best. Chase scene. Ever.) Later on, it was The Untouchables and The Fugitive. But, they're not the cause of it.
Nope, '80s movies mean John Hughes. He showed a Chicago that seemed like it would be a great place to hang out and live in. From Sixteen Candles to The Breakfast Club, from Planes, Trains and Automobiles to Home Alone, he showcased Chicago. Well, "Shermer, IL." But, his crowning achievement, and what basically became a travelogue for Chicago was Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Let's face it, we all felt like we'd been to Chicago after watching that. And, if we hadn't been there yet, because of that movie we all wanted to go and see the places Ferris, Cameron and Sloane went. (Don't lie, you want to go to a restaurant and put your name down as Abe Froman.)
Now, and this is going to burst some bubbles, whilst Cameron's house is in Illinois, Ferris' house is actually in Long Beach, CA. Yep. No lie. That's all right. Doesn't matter, doesn't change or affect my view of Chicago.
And, I can't wait as in about three years, we'll be making a roadie out that way. Until then, I've got my movies and the sports channels to tide me over.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
A Challenge Lies Ahead
Well, as anyone who follows me on Facebook or Twitter knows, Thanksgiving night I received some rather bad news. My grandfather has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. We had our suspicions that he had it for a while now, there were the signs. The forgetfulness. The telling the same stories over and over. The confusion. But, being told that he was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on a cruise when we called Thanksgiving night? Yeah, that was pretty much a dead giveaway. The phone call to my aunt confirmed it. What's sad is how many years we went without speaking to each other for a while.
See, after my dad died, there were things said from both sides that were hurtful. He had been told some things that were incorrect about us, and unfortunately, he believed them. I fired back, and he didn't speak to me for nearly 8 years. Almost a whole decade.
We would send him Christmas cards and gifts, never expecting any back, and never receiving any back, that wasn't the point. We didn't care about that. What we cared about was the fact that he wasn't sending ours back to us. When A.J. was born, I had hoped to hear something from him. Anything. We heard nothing. From my aunt and great aunt we did, sure. But, not from him.
Finally, one day, I asked my aunt to put him on the phone. We talked. And talked some more. We drove up when A.J. was three. We met. We talked. We hugged. He cried. I told him with a smile to knock it off. We can't change the past, we can only learn and move on. We then made an annual trip up to see him with A.J. and later, of course, Chris.
He loves his great-grandsons. They love him. And, this is what's going to make it hard. The next time we go up, we have no idea what his mental state will be like. He may fine, he may not. But, you know what? Who gives a shit? He's my grandfather, their great-grandfather, and dammit, we love him no matter what. We'll get through this. We're LaPraths. It's what we do. We're too stubborn to know any better.
See, after my dad died, there were things said from both sides that were hurtful. He had been told some things that were incorrect about us, and unfortunately, he believed them. I fired back, and he didn't speak to me for nearly 8 years. Almost a whole decade.
We would send him Christmas cards and gifts, never expecting any back, and never receiving any back, that wasn't the point. We didn't care about that. What we cared about was the fact that he wasn't sending ours back to us. When A.J. was born, I had hoped to hear something from him. Anything. We heard nothing. From my aunt and great aunt we did, sure. But, not from him.
Finally, one day, I asked my aunt to put him on the phone. We talked. And talked some more. We drove up when A.J. was three. We met. We talked. We hugged. He cried. I told him with a smile to knock it off. We can't change the past, we can only learn and move on. We then made an annual trip up to see him with A.J. and later, of course, Chris.
He loves his great-grandsons. They love him. And, this is what's going to make it hard. The next time we go up, we have no idea what his mental state will be like. He may fine, he may not. But, you know what? Who gives a shit? He's my grandfather, their great-grandfather, and dammit, we love him no matter what. We'll get through this. We're LaPraths. It's what we do. We're too stubborn to know any better.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
I Ain't 'Fraid Of No Ghost
I'll come out and say this. Yes, I believe in ghosts. Laugh all you want, but I have seen crap I can't explain logically. Since it's Halloween, here's one of my encounters. Yes, this is entirely true, no bullshit. First, however, there needs to be some back story.
When I was four, we were driving back to my Great Aunt's house from dinner. We got stuck in traffic and moseyed our way up. There was a lot of flashing lights, several cop cars and an ambulance. I asked what happened. "Looks like someone got hit by a car," my dad said from the driver's seat. "Looks like they were killed." I remember looking out the window and seeing the body laying covered by a sheet on the road. That gave me the chills. Still does. Well, we make it through the accident scene and continue on our way. We get to my Great Aunt's house. There's a cop car waiting there for her. Yeah, that accident we drove through? Turns out it was my cousin Kim that had been hit by that car. It was my cousin, who I loved dearly, that was lying on the street under that sheet.
Flash forward four years now. I'm 8. I was at my Great Aunt's house, playing in the backyard while everyone else was in the dining room. Everything's fine, middle of the day, a warm summer day, when suddenly I get cold. I don't mean a slight chill, I mean freaking cold. I look around the back yard, but there's nothing there. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I could feel someone watching me. For some reason, I looked up at the second floor, to Kim's room, and I saw her looking out the window at me and smiling.
I didn't scream, I got up and ran inside the house. Everyone asked me what was wrong. I didn't answer, I bolted up stairs. Kim's door was shut, just like it always was. I took a deep breath, grabbed the handle, and opened it slowly.
The room was empty, the air still. Her dresser and bed were still there, untouched. Her black light posters still on the wall (It was the 70s after all), the closet doors shut. At that point I was sure it was my imagination until... My gaze fell upon the rocking chair by the closed window. It was aimed towards the window, like if you wanted to sit and look out of it. And, it was moving. I don't mean a slight moving back and forth, I mean the damn thing was rocking. Yeah. Now I was kind of freaked out.
I went back downstairs and asked if anyone had been in Kim's room. The answer was a unanimous "no." I come from a long line of pranksters, but, everyone knew you didn't joke about Kim. For years, when we stayed with my Great Aunt, I'd swear I'd see lights on the stairs, hear footsteps on the stairs and in Kim's room, and hear the rocking chair. It was freaky, yes, but, I never really felt at harm from it.
Once, I asked my Great Aunt about it. She seemed relieved to know that she wasn't the only one who'd seen and heard these things. I always half-joked that Kim, once she died, became my guardian angel. Part of me wants to go back to the house and try doing an EVP session, like you see on Ghost Hunters and Ghost Adventures, and part of me doesn't. My Aunt still lives in the house, so if it was anything malevolent, you'd have thought she would have bailed by now.
Well, that's one of my ghost stories. What about you all? Had anything freaky happen?
When I was four, we were driving back to my Great Aunt's house from dinner. We got stuck in traffic and moseyed our way up. There was a lot of flashing lights, several cop cars and an ambulance. I asked what happened. "Looks like someone got hit by a car," my dad said from the driver's seat. "Looks like they were killed." I remember looking out the window and seeing the body laying covered by a sheet on the road. That gave me the chills. Still does. Well, we make it through the accident scene and continue on our way. We get to my Great Aunt's house. There's a cop car waiting there for her. Yeah, that accident we drove through? Turns out it was my cousin Kim that had been hit by that car. It was my cousin, who I loved dearly, that was lying on the street under that sheet.
Flash forward four years now. I'm 8. I was at my Great Aunt's house, playing in the backyard while everyone else was in the dining room. Everything's fine, middle of the day, a warm summer day, when suddenly I get cold. I don't mean a slight chill, I mean freaking cold. I look around the back yard, but there's nothing there. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I could feel someone watching me. For some reason, I looked up at the second floor, to Kim's room, and I saw her looking out the window at me and smiling.
I didn't scream, I got up and ran inside the house. Everyone asked me what was wrong. I didn't answer, I bolted up stairs. Kim's door was shut, just like it always was. I took a deep breath, grabbed the handle, and opened it slowly.
The room was empty, the air still. Her dresser and bed were still there, untouched. Her black light posters still on the wall (It was the 70s after all), the closet doors shut. At that point I was sure it was my imagination until... My gaze fell upon the rocking chair by the closed window. It was aimed towards the window, like if you wanted to sit and look out of it. And, it was moving. I don't mean a slight moving back and forth, I mean the damn thing was rocking. Yeah. Now I was kind of freaked out.
I went back downstairs and asked if anyone had been in Kim's room. The answer was a unanimous "no." I come from a long line of pranksters, but, everyone knew you didn't joke about Kim. For years, when we stayed with my Great Aunt, I'd swear I'd see lights on the stairs, hear footsteps on the stairs and in Kim's room, and hear the rocking chair. It was freaky, yes, but, I never really felt at harm from it.
Once, I asked my Great Aunt about it. She seemed relieved to know that she wasn't the only one who'd seen and heard these things. I always half-joked that Kim, once she died, became my guardian angel. Part of me wants to go back to the house and try doing an EVP session, like you see on Ghost Hunters and Ghost Adventures, and part of me doesn't. My Aunt still lives in the house, so if it was anything malevolent, you'd have thought she would have bailed by now.
Well, that's one of my ghost stories. What about you all? Had anything freaky happen?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)