Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... "Books, Cats: Life is Sweet..."
Ezra had never been as nervous as she was now with any of the ghosts she encountered, and she helped hundreds in her life find the white light to go home. Hundreds. “Jenna, don’t talk to me until we get home. Not one word. Just sit there and be quiet.”
“Okay.”
“Before I start the car, and then you keep quiet, why did you appear to me as a child?”
“Because I wasn’t sure you’d be the one I needed to protect until I saw Grant’s photo. So, appearing to you as a child, well… I thought you’d be more receptive to seeing me.”
“I’m a medium, Jenna. Since I was a child, I’ve seen apparitions. At five, of course, I was afraid. I told my grandma that I saw what I called… cloud people… because I didn’t know the word ghost… and she told me I was clairvoyant… same as she was. But she told me I didn’t need to be afraid. With her help, I learned to use my “gift” as she called it. But after a year, it became normal for me to see these visions. It’s not you who I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of what you said about Grant. Understand?”
“It’s true.”
“Let’s go home. Not another word until we get in the house. Just let me think while you sit quietly.”
“Okay.”
Allie and the two cats were still watching at the upstairs window, waiting for their return. When they saw the car pulling into the driveway they went downstairs.
The front door slammed and Ezra threw her black beaded purse on the long Victorian sofa, filled with antique laces, along with herself.
“Okay, now I want to know why you’re here. Tell me everything you know about Grant. He’s can’t be a murderer. He’s well known here, Jenna. People get along with him, and he’s not a murderer or a rapist.”
Jenna sat on the long coffee table in front of the long sofa. She calmly told Ezra, “Grant murdered me. I know it’s him. I stayed in his apartment with tape over my mouth and tied to his bed for three days. He raped me every night and when the news got too close to finding me, he smothered me with a pillow and threw me into a canal when he left college in Florida to come to New Orleans. Ask Jason. He knows about this. He came into the apartment one night and…”
“Did Jason rape you?”
“No, he didn’t, but he suggested that he get rid of me as soon as possible and told Grant he was crazy or on some kind of bad drugs to do that to me. But Jason meant to let me go not kill me. Grant got mad and Jason left the apartment. Next thing I remember is that I saw a pillow over my face… and I’m in another world in water. Dead. My divorced parents never found me… and until today I don’t know where my physical body is.”
Ezra was in shock. Stunned. “I just can’t believe this story. I just can’t. As a clairvoyant, why didn’t I feel that Grant was this type of person? Why didn’t I ever see that part of his nature… inside of him?”
Jenna, in her white foggy vision, got up from the long coffee table and sat down next to Ezra on the sofa.
“You didn’t feel that part of him because that part of him never came out with you. He fell in love with you, and you only know the loving side of him. If you get him angry, he’ll get aggressive with you and he’ll hurt you. That’s why I’m here. It took me a year to find him.”
“How did you find him?” Ezra was mystified.
“I heard your séance when the wind sent your words to me… and I followed the wind until I came to you. I saw your wedding photo with Grant and I knew I couldn’t leave you. I will never forget his face. Grant murdered me.”
Getting up from the sofa, Ezra walked into the kitchen to get some water. The lump in her throat was smothering her and the uneasiness in her chest was tightening. She paced for a while and then went back to sit on the sofa. “I’ve never had a ghost lie to me. I’m speechless.”
“I’m not lying,” Jenna said, as she folded her translucent arms around Ezra. Allie and the cats sat on the sofa with them and she joined in on the hug to comfort Ezra. Smokey and Sugar curled up on her lap. It was clear to see Ezra’s heart was torn apart and she was in shock.
“It’s only four o’clock,” said Jenna. “Go upstairs and lie down and think about what I said. I don’t think Grant will come back here.”
“But he lives here. We’re married. He has to come back home at some point in time. He has to.” Ezra was crying. Her mind was trying to process what Jenna told her and it just wasn’t registering. “He’s not a murderer. He can’t be.”
Allie brought her a tissue. Smokey stayed curled up close beside her and Jenna went back on the coffee table. As they watched Ezra cry her sorrows out, the front door opened. It was Grant.
“Ezra!”
“Grant, you’re back. Is the wedding over?”
“No, it’s not over. This party will go on late into the night and I’m staying in Jason’s guest house until I can come back and stay with you and your ghosts’ friends.”
Grant was clearly still annoyed but he seemed to get some pleasure in telling Ezra that he wouldn’t be with her.
“How long?” asked Ezra.
“How long… what?” Grant was quickly packing a small bag with some of his clothes and toiletries.
“How long will you be staying away from home?”
“I don’t know yet, Ezra Smith. You’ve made me so embarrassed in front of my friends. I told Jason a little about you and your ghosts. He won’t tell anyone else, so don’t worry about that. He’s drinking and having fun.”
“You told him! You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone. How could you?”
“Did you hear me?” Grant stood straight up with both hands on his hips as to show her he was the boss. “I said… he won’t tell anyone, so don’t worry. Have fun here with your little ghost friends. I’ll call you when I’m ready to come home.”
Ezra got up from the sofa and threw a vase at him, but it hit the opened door and not Grant.“No! You don’t call me! I’ll call you if I want you back here. I don’t know who you are. Did you…”
Jenna pushed Ezra on the sofa. “Don’t tell him anything about the murder. He’ll hurt you right now.”
“Did I what… Ezra?”
“Never mind. Just get the hell out of my house!” Ezra cried.
“I’m doing that right now.” He slammed the front door shut and Ezra ran after him. She immediately stopped crying when she got to the door and saw him go into a strange car that Ezra had never seen before and sat next to a woman she didn’t know. But she didn’t know any of Jason’s friends or family.
Slamming the front door shut, she yelled,“Oh! I’m so mad right now. I hope he chokes on a chicken bone at the buffet! Grant was never like this. Never. Over something that we could sit down and talk about, he’s mad as all hell at me.”
“He won’t talk to you about his past or any murder he committed,” said Jenna. “So, let him go. He’ll call you. In the meantime, after you settle down, I can tell you about what he did to me. He did rape me, and after that, he murdered me. I can tell you everything.”
“Then will you want to go into the white light?”
“I’m not leaving you until I know you’re safe. He’s a dangerous man.”
Ezra threw herself on the sofa and cried some more and Smokey and Sugar laid down next to her again. Jenna and Allie sat on the coffee table and watched...
What would you do if somebody told you that your husband had committed murder? Would you believe that your loving husband was capable of murder? Taking it a step further, what if the one who told you that he was a murderer, was an actual victim of your husband?!
Ezra is our main character. She is a successful author of ghost stories but she is also a clairvoyant... And, although nobody knows it, her books are actually nonfiction stories about those individuals who have died and she helped move on into the light... Ezra is also still early in her honeymoon period and is very happy with Grant, remembering often how she felt each morning as they made love. He was so loving...
Jenna picked up her words on the wind and had come to hunt for her, as a new ghost who was trying to figure out what to do next. Her ghost had left her watery grave after having been murdered... She, at least, figured out she had died and could remember that man's face as he had raped her...
Ezra had been able to purchase a new home based upon her earnings, so Grant had just moved in with her. He did not know, then, that Allie, a ghost, was living in the attic, who was shy but made no trouble for Ezra as they were working through what options were available to her.. She, too, had been raped and murdered in her teens and was still struggling with that trauma...
Ezra had never had any problem with any of those who had died unexpectedly and had little understanding what happened afterward. In fact, she had never had any of these lost souls lie to her, but she was positive that Jenna had lied...
Jenna knew she was not lying and she decided that she wasn't interested in going into the light--she was immediately afraid on behalf of Ezra and vowed not to leave until the truth about her new husband was proven... And, soon, Grant had forced Ezra to reveal that there were ghosts in her house...and he wasn't happy. After a heated discussion, he left... and threatened that he didn't know when he'd be back... In the meantime, Jenna went into details of exactly how she had been married... And then, Ezra napped and had a horrible dream which revealed even more!
“Jenna, you’re beautiful.” Ezra cried. “How could Grant do those harmful things to you? I’ll never understand the ways of the wicked mind. Never.”
Ezra wiped her tears and composed herself. With a clear mind, she spoke to Allie.
“Allie, I know why you stayed with me for two years. Grant murdered you when you were in high school. None of this was your fault. I know now that he’s a murderer and a rapist. He has a small lightning bolt on his wrist. He told me that he and some of the other guys were in a club in high school and this was their symbol. I’m so sorry. Your body will never be found either. It’s in Bayou St. John.
After that incident, Grant graduated and left for a college in Florida.He didn’t even know who you were. I’m so sorry he did this to you.He will pay dearly for what he’s done to you. Everyone who purposelydoes harm… pays in the form of karmic debt to the Universe.It’s a Universal law of nature. That’s why no one should purposely do harm to anyone. Intent is everything to your karma.”
“The crooked arrow was a lightning bolt, Miss Ezra? I didn’t have time to look that good at his tattoo, but I understand now.”
“Yes. Grant has that tattoo on his wrist along with his gang of eight as he called them. His socalled “friends.” They all ended up in a college in Florida. Now, I know why you stayed in the attic when he was home.You couldn’t be near him, but didn’t know why.”
Feeling relieved to know how she died, Allie’s body transformed the same way Jenna’s body did. She looked human. No more visions of white were floating around the air in the house. Ezra was amazed at this transformation...
~~~
Allie had also been murdered as a teenager by Grant! And both ghosts then began to learn more about their abilities as a ghost... And planned on ensuring in one way or another that their murderer was convicted for their deaths!
And that proved to be quite fun for readers... When Grant threatened to expose that Ezra's books were really nonfiction, she became worried that her "gift" would be exposed and fans would turn against her...
Once again, Plaisance takes readers into a tour of the supernatural and keeps us interested right from the beginning. After all, having a ghost for a friend could prove to be advantageous, don't you think? Do check out this book and search her name in the right column to read about her other books I've also enjoyed!
throwing in spirit, as well as body and soul (above)
Who am I to know what is in the heart of John
How can I understand what he means by soul
Surely I am comfortable knowing what a body is
Yet, when spirit is thrown in, do they mean the same?
The thing is, I can appreciate the fludity of poetry
while not understanding the writer's exact meaning
Is that good or bad, since I'm a reviewer, but
books are different. There is enough to tell
But in a poem, I often wonder...
Once I thought I understood the Holy Trinity
Father, Son and Spirit as three entities
But now I'm learning so much more
So is soul and spirit interchangeable?
Or not even relevant?
Since it is Christ
Who liveth in me...
So, I go google soul vs. spirit and got
“Soul” when distinguished from “spirit” means that which gives life to a body. “Spirit” when contrasted with “soul” simply means those aspects of human life and activity that transcend our bodily limitations and so open the soul toward the supernatural life of grace.
So, does that help? (Me, I'll keep thinking...)
Because right now in America, a word I used
all my life--Christian--is "now" Christian Nationalist according to some
Can we ever expect to truly understand another?
Should we try? I think So...
Because seeking Truth is always important
Knowing how to Speak Truth is even more important
May we all keep reading and searching for Truth
The better to effectively communicate with others
So, if you have questions regarding Words Used Today by either John or Me. Just Ask... or Ponder the words yourself...
The Blessing of Chance is wonderfully draw from images we all know and appreciate... Correctly, though, he points out that some do not want nor understand the need for change. It is a mystery only to those who are afraid of change. I really enjoyed exploring his words in this treasury of words...
On the other hand, considering my desire to respond to poetry, or other writing, I have, as some of you may remember, considered the timing of when something has been written and published. In this case, at this time, change only means chaos for millions of Americans. So much so, that to not acknowledge that chaos seems not to respect our need to constantly change. Thus a few final thought-filled words...
Responsive Poetry
--Change is Only Way to Move Forward--
God's Cycles of Change
are constants as His Truth
We change as we grow
Learning Change is good
Learning new things
deciding whether we like or not
Rejecting change that limits or hurts
Still, gaining a new awareness of need
Change is what brings advancement
into the world and our lives
Change guides us as we falter
Yet provides understanding and knowledge
Change allows us to reach out
to another, to learn of differences
Yet secure, that differences are but change
that we haven't met before...
But change wrought by choices
to affect lives negatively
Is not natural, nor necessary
even in a world of constant change
There is no mystery when man chooses
change that does not bring forward thinking
Where is the equator of events of change
which determines good change or bad
Change which brings chaos is
not really change at all
For certainly it over-shadows God's cycles
in which We can peacefully live
Destructive Change isn't a blessing
And only Man creates such changes
****
GABixler 4-26-2025
John is a prolific poet and can be found on Authors Den... I'm hoping he will choose to visit often in the future... Thanks, John!
She remembered a novel she’d read in her teens, Anna Karenina by Tolstoy. The opening line: Happy families are all alike, but an unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. The words had always struck her...
‘Don’t you see it’s my penance, Kevin,’ Joe had explained once, ‘for not doing anything to save the men that perished on my ship? For not being around to protect my Marie and Sophie?’ He’d dismissed the detective’s logical reasoning, that he’d been suffering from shock during the aircraft attack, that he’d not been in a fit state to help anyone. And again, when he’d been committed to hospital following his breakdown, the events that led to the hit and run had been beyond his control. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier to bear though, eh?’ he’d said simply. Coupland had merely shaken his head. He knew how slowly time passed for the grieving.
‘You know, I’m not convinced,’ Joe began evenly, once their breakfast plates had been cleared away and he’d wrapped up the left-over toast in his paper serviette for later, sliding it into the pocket of his hand-me-down jacket. Even on summer days he wore it, wouldn’t take it off his back. True meaning of the capsule wardrobe, he’d explained with a laugh, and Coupland knew in that moment that Joe would never return to a normal life, that he was intent on serving his penance.
‘Just how reliable is the information you have regarding this woman’s state of mind?’ ‘Well, like I said,’ Coupland replied, ‘the reports we’ve had back don’t flag up any areas for concern.’ ‘Maybe not,’ Joe countered, ‘but I’m telling you, the clues will be there… This young mother was deeply troubled by something she felt she needed to protect her son from. Something big enough to justify her actions – to herself anyway. Something she felt unable to share with anyone else.’ He paused, his eyes shutting down as though he was looking inside himself for the answer. ‘Do you think she was mad?’ Coupland asked. Joe rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, shaking his head. ‘How the hell would I know?’ he reasoned. ‘I’m a walking talking Looney Toon, but I recognise the actions of a desperate person, someone afraid to unburden their fears in case they are judged. It’s a typically British trait, stiff upper lip and all that… Realising you suffer from a mental illness is terrifying,’ he said purposefully, ‘it’s not just a condition, it’s a definition. It becomes who you are, or at least who the outside world thinks you are. From then on in, every action or reaction you have is put down to your illness and there is nothing you can do about it.’ He paused; spread his calloused hands flat on the surface of the table. There was dirt under his fingernails and they were broken. Tell-tale nicotine stains on the index finger of his right hand. On his left hand, scratched and battered out of shape, was a wedding ring. ‘I tried so hard to stay well for my Marie. She was struggling to cope with the little one and me. I’m sure there were days when she thought her life would have been easier if I hadn’t been discharged, or better still, if I’d been killed on that ship. The burden of caring for me was tearing her apart.’ He paused. ‘The nightmares I had about the ship being hit and the burning bodies didn’t stop.’ He looked across the table at Coupland. ‘The nightmares have never stopped, Kevin, I just learned to stop talking about them…’ ‘Didn’t medication help?’ ‘I don’t want a life of numbness!’ Joe spat. ‘I want to grasp life by the thorns until my hands bleed – isn’t that what I deserve?’ He looked down at his wedding ring, traced the edges of it with the index finger on his right hand. His voice shook when he spoke next. ‘It’s a fragile cord that binds us to sanity, Kevin, and wouldn’t we do everything in our power to cling onto that?’
Coupland said nothing. It was as though the life-force that had propelled him to the café that morning had finally deserted him. His shoulders looked a good couple of inches lower than when he’d first sat down. Joe leaned back on his plastic chair, studying Coupland as though he were an exhibit in a zoo. ‘What’s wrong?’ he probed. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You’ve been on edge since we got here, like the past twenty minutes have been a warm up to something else, something bigger. I thought maybe you were building yourself up to it. Are Complaints on your back again?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then what? You’ve listened to me drone on enough about my problems in the past, if there’s something bothering you,’ Joe opened his arms expansively, ‘I’ve got all day.’ ‘Lynn’s got cancer.’ Even as he said the words aloud he didn’t quite believe them. His mouth filled with bile and his eyes felt as though a thousand needles were pressing into them. He swallowed down the sour tasting liquid, blinking his eyes several times in succession. ‘And all the time I was worried that she was upset with me over something I’d done.’ He slammed his fist down hard on the table, his action barely drawing a glance from the guy behind the counter. ‘I was too far up my own backside to realise something serious was troubling her. I took her moodiness to be her way of punishing me. I never gave a moment’s thought that she might be ill.’ When he’d drawn level with her the evening before at the hospital’s main entrance, she’d introduced him to a consultant whose name for the life of him he still couldn’t remember, all he could think of was bastard. She was leaving him for a colleague and for some reason that was beyond him she thought it was helpful that he met the man who would replace him in their bed. Strangely, Dr Bastard didn’t look very smug at bagging himself a stunner. In fact he looked pained, as though he’d rather be anywhere but here with his new girlfriend and her fat husband. They’d both looked at him then, as though he’d spoken aloud. ‘Kevin?’ Lynn whispered. She had that look in her eye when she wanted him to do something he was dead set against. ‘Nick has just asked if he can have a word, his consulting room is on the ground floor, just past the lifts.’ Good for him. ‘It’s more private there,’ Dr Bastard added. They turned in unison as though they’d been practising and walked back into the hospital leaving Coupland with little option but to follow. He remembered he’d left the car in a disabled parking spot and the wardens round here were like Nazis. He shrugged. Bring it on. The corridor was longer than Lynn had implied. Coupland found himself taking a left past the café and WH Smith then a right along a row of closed doors before slowing in a department signposted Oncology. Dr Bastard removed a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked his office, ushering Coupland and Lynn in ahead of him before asking them to take a seat on the two chairs in front of his desk. Funny how Lynn chose to sit beside Coupland rather than stand beside her new fella, Coupland observed, old habits die hard, he supposed. The consultant took his seat and began talking once more; only Coupland found himself having to concentrate really hard to keep up. ‘I’ve known Lynn for a number of years, worked with her back in the early days before we both moved into our specialisms…’ So what? Was he trying to justify their attraction for one another, rationalise it as something inevitable between good friends? Coupland glanced at Lynn suspiciously; she dropped her gaze but was leaning towards him to take hold of his hand. He knew at that moment that something was badly wrong, he just didn’t know what. He felt like he wanted to empty his bowels. Now it was Lynn’s turn to speak. ‘I wanted to be sure before I said anything, wanted to be done with the tests so I could tell you facts, not suspicions.’ Christ, you could tell she was a copper’s wife. ‘But even then I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You’d think being in the trade I’d know how to handle breaking bad news but that just isn’t true. For two nights on the run I’ve sat at my mum’s with a bottle of wine but by the time I got home I took one look at you and couldn’t bring myself to say the words.’ ‘What words?’ Coupland asked slowly, already fearing the worst. ‘Lynn has breast cancer,’ Dr Bastard told him, following it with a barrage of facts about survival rates and treatments, but all Coupland could hear was the sentence no one had spoken out loud yet. Lynn was going to die. When Coupland looked up Joe was standing beside him, his hand gripping his shoulder as though they were on the edge of a cliff and Joe was trying to prevent him from jumping. ‘I’m sorry,’ Joe said.
Coupland’s throat was sore, as though he’d swallowed a bag of razor blades. He merely nodded, pushing himself to his feet so that the two men were standing eye to eye. ‘How the hell will I cope without her?’ ‘She’s not gone yet. You need to be strong. For Lynn, for Amy, but most importantly, for yourself.’ ‘What if I can’t cope?’ ‘You won’t have a choice,’ Joe answered.
~~~
I was happy to have started reading this series from book 1. It is a long series and I doubt if I can take the time to continue reading, but I can already say that I recommend this book and the series... It is both well written, but, more, has provided an excellent base upon which readers will be able to move forward, knowing what to expect. Detective Sergeant Coupland is the main character... He's an interestng character who is constantly struggling with the world as it exists--for him... He had worked himself up to his present position, Detective Sergeant, but he knew he would be stopped from moving upward from there--he'd gotten a bit rough with a suspect years ago and would never get promoted further. And, he's also concerned about his home life, but, most of it is his own imagination, while his wife is dealing with a serious health issue that she has not told him about yet. Probably not a good decision on her part, but communication seems always to be a problem, especially for those in law enforcement. Everybody knows Joe is an ex-soldier, as he still carries himself like one and maintains a keen intellect, but has decided he is to do penance for the rest of his life, for all those he was involved with, who didn't make it... Hopefully, this will change in the future, since Coupland has asked him to help work on his garden at home when he's able...
Salisbury presents an interesting twist as she presents a number of different cases, while at the same time, multiple officers, suspects, and affected individuals are carried forward on an ongoing basis with Coupland keeping on top of everything. We know he's a good and caring cop, especially when he becomes friends (trying to help him) with a veteran, Joe, with PTSD as well as suffering through the loss of his family. Coupland seems to be well respected by his staff, including a young female officer who is quite good and with whom he has become close. She does a lot of his detail work, sometimes begrudgingly, but nevertheless does it because she knows it's important.
Was this apathy because parents viewed their children as their personal property, to do with as they wished? Free to harm their own but woe betide a stranger try to? She shook her head, unable to accept that thought. It occurred to her that, for a nation of animal lovers, the collective treatment of our children came in a poor second.
As a psychological suspense novel that hones in on a tragic murder/suicide within a family. It's the type of case that has affected everybody, including the husband who is the only remaining family member. The reason for what occurred takes up most of the book as everybody "needs" to know why a pregnant mother with one son, would first, kill her son and then hang herself... The scope of the work of the police is unbelievable, as they examine even the rope used, bringing in an expert to learn what type of rope it is and why it normally wouldn't be used for this...
Readers are given almost the entire book to consider the "whys" that could have caused this horrendous action. My guess was fairly close, but the actual reason requires a move into personal history of the involved...
At the same time, a knife killing has set the area into a state of fear, with a call that knives cannot be carried on the streets... Unfortunately, this includes two young girls who enjoyed the thrill of theft, and more...
It was not surprising that Coupland had begun to think about whether it was even worth working in law enforcement, when it never seemed to end--don't we all know that! Still, through fiction, we look toward police procedural novels and other types of stories that places the good guys fighting against the bad guys... Most of us can't...stop...hoping...
They had been too late. They were detectives, but they didn’t detect anything. They merely picked up the pieces, after the tragedy, time after time after time. Despite the fact that it kept him in work Coupland hated that bad things would always keep on happening. He’d once asked Joe, who had suffered enough hardship to last a lifetime, why this was so. It was the only time he recalled his friend stalling; it seemed for once he didn’t have an answer, yet it was surely something he’d thought about, a dark voice that counselled him in moments of doubt. They’d been sitting on a bench in Light Oaks Park, working their way through Joe’s roll-ups as they watched a group of small boys play football, the air thick with concentration. They’d trudged along a well-worn path over lawns displaying signs to keep off the grass. Joe’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat, but from exertion, not anxiety. It was hard to imagine he’d been up three nights in a row, unable to cope with the recurring nightmares of his last moments on ship, of the last time he’d seen Marie and Sophie. He’d blown smoke rings into the air, the corners of his eyes crinkling at a passing toddler who ambled John Wayne style beside her mother. The child slowed by the bench and pointed at the exhaled smoke, mesmerised by the cloudy patterns, her rosebud lips shaped into a perfect ‘O’. Joe pulled the edge of his mouth into a smile, turned to Coupland just as a cheer broke out and someone shouted Goal! Maybe bad things occur, he’d answered slowly, because it’s the only way we can recognise good when it happens.
