The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I first touched a dead body years ago, the early nineties. I was at a funeral, the funeral of my Father. As I paid my respects at the coffin, I reached out and touched his hand. I touched his face and his hair. I had never touched a dead body before and didn't know what to expect.



Rigor had set in, and the flesh was stiff. He was cold. The metabolic engine of his body had ceased. We expect some things to be cold. Metal is cold. Water can feel cold. What is heat anyway, the relative level of kinetic energy of the molecules in a substance. The molecules bumping into molecules of another substance, raising their kinetic energy; heat is the movement of energy from one substance or place to another. The molecules of some materials, like metal, move readily and thus their kinetic energy, and heat spreads quickly. Hey, metals are maleable, that is their nature. They dissipate heat. Wood feels warm, it is an insulator, it doesn't dissipate heat well. But human bodies, they generate heat.



His metabolic chemical engine had shut down when his soul left. He no longer generated heat, actually dissipated heat, more like the steak you put on your black eye, expecting it to reduce the swelling. That was it, he was now just flesh. When the soul left, it took the body's energy with it. The chemical engine of digestion, of life, was over. New chemistry, the chemistry of decomposition, would soon start, albeit slowly due to the modern chemistry of embalming.



He was dead. The body was cold and hard to the touch. Yet I could feel his warmth. This body had been my father, now his warmth was within me, my mother and my sisters, within everyone he had touched.



At funerals of family members, I encourage my kids to touch the body. They shouldn't be scared of their grandparents, even in death. I make it a habit to attend funerals when I know the surviors. It's part of of being a citizen of the greater community. I always say something. Usually that I was sorry about the loss. I make a comment on the pictures and scrapbooks. It is better to say something, than say nothing. I make it a point to touch the body if I can. It is always cold. Cold. A reminder of the everlasting soul and the finite nature of our physical being.

The Black Angel



In the cemetary, in the town across the river, stand a staute, a statue of an Angel. A Black Angel. In the dark, at nite, you may visit the angel to determine your fate. If the eyes glow when you look at them, you will not live through the nite.



When I was in high school we used to drive over to the town across the river to see the Black Angel. The Black Angel was in a cemetary on top of the hill overlooking the river valley. What a great place to take the girls. They were naturally scared, as they wanted to be. We were naturally their protectors, as we wanted to be. We all had fun.



But... When you looked into the eyes of the Black Angel, they sparkled. It was the sparkle that was dangerous. Why would the eyes of statue in an old cemetary sprarkle. The story said that if they sparkled when you looked at them you would not live the nite. Or was it live a long life. Or maybe it was you would die in a car crash on the way home. No, maybe it was you would not live to see your 19th birthday.....



Well, I drove over there during the day and took a look at the statue. The statue was monument to the daughter of a local predominate family a 100 years ago. Ruth Ann Dodge was her name. Not of Dodge automobiles, but of General Dodge. The statue was of granite, but had inlaid glass eyes. Wow! Thats why they glowed. They just had to catch the light of the moon or a street lamp.



I sat for a while and thought of Ruth Ann. Maybe she heard me. She was probably a fine woman. Loved by her family. Died at a young age. Her family mourned and we, being the stupid teenager that we were, played games at her monument.



After that, I never visited the Black Angel at nite. Though, that didn't stop me from telling my kids about the the Black Angel. And by the the way, one of the girls ended up as my wife, so we both told the kids the stories. We now live at the opposite end of town and the trip to the Black Angel is 20 miles or more. Our kids don't take the trip.



They will never meet Ruth Ann as I did.

Several years ago when my son first starte do drive, he and his friends drove out to a rural cemetery known for ghostly events.



He went back later with a our digital camera and started taking pictures, at night, of the cemetery. Lo and behold, there were orbs, floating in the air, above the graves.



My son showed me the pictures. I had never seen anything like this. I did some research and found quite a bit of information on orbs. Spirits, ghosts etc... The most likely was a scientific web site that stated that the orbs were an artifact of the flash reflecting off of dust particles for point and shoot cameras that have the flash close to the lens. That makes much sense. I had a time persuding my son that this was the case. He visited the cemetary at nite again with his friends with the same result. Eventually, he then the cemetary rest in peace.

About a year ago, my son was wrestling in a tournament in a small town outstate. On the way out I was listening to the local radio stations and a vampire song came on. It talked about not wanting to be here and drinking blood. The station didn't mention who the artist was. On the way home, at about 10 at nite, between towns on the interstate, in the pitch black, with the only light the headlights of the semi trucks a quarter mile back, the river on my right... something came out of the woods and hit the side of my car. It looked like a brown streak, a coyote possibly, maybe something else. It hit the car with a thud and a bump. I kept driving, not wanting to stop, not wanting to get hit by the semi behind me on a desolate road, in the pitch black. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw something brown tumbling on the shoulder.



When I got home, I found a tear in my bumper shroud and blood on my bumper. Did I hit a coyote? A lycanthrope? I will never know.



I went to the car wash. I haven't fixed the bumper shroud. A trophy perhaps. Of a lycanthrope....

My kids recently told me about a ghost in the basement. Our basement is two levels. The first level is a rec room where the kids play the video games, surf the net, hang out with friends etc... There is a set of steps that go down to the lower basement. Down here we store stuff such as boxes, seasonal decorations etc... Also have the water heater and furnace.



Now I have 5 kids, ages 20 to 9, and it was the teenages that first brought it up. Now I have noticed a presence in the past and have found it to be a pleasant presence. The kids must have been playing their music too loud since they thought the presence wasn't so friendly. I laughed and told them I knew about the ghost and that the ghost had promised that it would stay away from the kids. I told them I would talk to it.



A week later I was in the upper basement, we had some water come in, someone had left the downspout extender off while mowing. It had rained hard and the water came right down the foundation and soaked the carpet. I was down there by myself, tearing up the carpet and notice the presence. It wasn't friendly. I walked down the steps to the lower basement and felt it. The presence was strong and not happy. Now, I'm not especially psychic or anything like that, but my mom always had a strong sense and I think I inherited some of hers. I stayed and prayed for the lost soul and wished it well. I knew the presence I had previously felt wasn't evil. I haven't felt the presence since, nor had the kids.



I assume it is still around, maybe a little happier now.

COMMENTS

-

---

Dragonrouge
19:17 Jan 16 2008

Very interesting story.

Did the presence was floating through the walls?

A spirit I met was just like your description.

Keep this journal updated about that, please!

---

POST COMMENT