Yours, Eternally

                          Introduction



            I have always been one to believe in the afterlife, or paranormal, as some would have it; I was anything but a skeptic.  It started when I was just a child, maybe five, playing with more than just imaginary friends, and they were not due to a child’s overactive imagination. 

I was raised in a religious Roman-Catholic home, attending Church every Sunday and religious holiday, and I went to Catholic school and Sunday classes.  My grandmother, Iris, was from Italy and was a strict Catholic who gave herself to the church when my grandfather died the same year I was to be born. Grandma raised me, as well as my younger brother, Tyler, and sister, Kylie, as her own, when our mother left us to start her life over, free of children.  Our grandmother devoted herself to us as we were her own, giving all the love and care we needed and more.  She raised us to believe that as long as we had strong faith in our religion, everything we touched would be blessed, and also that everything that happened in our lives, good or bad was in God’s plans. 

            My grandfather used to come to visit me in my slumber many times.  This occurrence is what began my journey into the paranormal.  I had never met my grandfather, but I knew who this man appearing to me was.  I remember trying to tell my grandmother about my grandfather’s visits and described him, right down to the way his eyes twinkled.  In my sleep, he told me some things only my grandmother would know, and when I would repeat them back to her, she brushed my ramblings off as a child’s fantasy gone amok, fueled off photos and stories about him.  It never came to Grandma’s attention that she never told me these private details that I magically knew. 

“That’s all in your head, Addison.”  She would tell me.  “There is no such thing as this afterlife mumbo jumbo; it is a sin to believe in such nonsense; it is witchery”

          As the years passed, I became more distant from my Catholic upbringing. Despite the strictly religious lifestyle I was raised into, I focused more on paranormal study in my spare time.  This was my little secret; I attended our normal church functions and Mass, but afterwards, I was consumed by my hobby.  By the time I turned sixteen, I was living and breathing the other side and I had studied just about all of the history, folk lore, ghost stories, books, magazines, pieces of literature and video about the subject that was available at that time.  The stories had to come from somewhere and there had to have some type of truth to them.  I focused on my inner psyche and my channeling abilities to let spirits use me as a gateway and communicate, but failed because I was never able to meditate or concentrate long enough without thoughts running through my head. 

I explored local believed haunted places with my brother and sister when they were old enough to come out with me, and we invited a couple of friends who did not think we were was crazy.  I had slew of ghost hunting gadgets I saved my allowances for that would also join us on our excursions.  Our trips were becoming an almost every day a week habit and quickly becoming my addiction that could not be cured; it became my life and my drive until I was old enough to have to earn a living and move out on my own.  I settled into an employment position where I had to give up my extracurricular activity – and just about all social life altogether – and it was not in the field of the thing I was most passionate about, and, after some time, I fell out of touch with my hobby.

         To believe in such things as the After Life was a sin in the eyes of anything holy.  Today, the Paranormal is more accepted in society.  I remember being out cast by most of my peers growing up.  People thought I, Addison Williams, was a freak, a witch, a black-magic voodoo lady, believing in the works of Satan.  Nevertheless, as I recall in Catholicism, we worship and pray to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Wouldn’t that concept and belief be similar, if not the same, as believing in the paranormal or the afterlife?  A contradiction, if you ask me, not a sin.

        Nonetheless, things were about to drastically change in time.  I don’t know if the change would be for the good or the bad, but it was coming, and as Grandma Iris used to tell me, it was all in God’s plan.  I could feel this change in my gut and see bits of scrambled sequences in my sleep.  I trust whose instincts.  This change would whiplash my belief in the “other side” to a whole new level, slamming the pedal down in full gear.  A level that some would say was just in my head, an emotional frame of mind or mental disturbance interfering with my reality.  Those skeptics would become believers; it was just something that could not be avoided, no matter how they fought back the urge.

        This unknown change leads me to this point.  I am here to try to prove those naysayers, the skeptics, dead wrong.  They just didn’t know it yet.



































Chapter 1



         I hit the snooze button hoping to get an extra ten minutes of sleep.  Unfortunately, it was a gorgeous and unusually bright winter morning in the middle of December.  That time of year, for the most part, was usually gray and dismal, but the weather was unpredictably warm, reaching almost fifty degrees since the beginning of the month. The brightness crept into my window through the drawn blinds and navy curtains at full force.  I incoherently place a pillow over my eyes to block its annoyance, but the light seeped through the gap between my face and the pillow.

“Damn it.”  I muttered as I tossed the pillow to the opposite end of the bed and wiped the sleep from my eyes.  Through half opened eyes, I untangled myself from the blankets that were wrapped around my body and pinning my legs hostage to the mattress.  I must have had another nightmare.  My nightmares were deranged graphic depictions that ranged from a grotesque death of myself to disfigured creatures chasing me into a hole, and, as I fell, I would wake up.  Sleep had not been coming easy and the nightmares, which began the previous August, had only gotten worse when I noticed I was having irregular rapid heartbeats.  Upon visiting my doctor, he detected a slight congenial heat problem, which was most likely acquired when I was in the womb.  I never had any symptoms, until now, twenty-seven years later.  I was assured that it was a serious, but  potentially life-threatening illness, provided I took care of myself, which, I do by eating as healthy as I can and exercise, which is something I can never find time to do.  I left the doctor’s office that day with a renewed daily routine and a bottle of sedatives for the worsened nightmares to try to control my R.E.M. sleep, when the dream state take place.  Scared by my recent heart diagnosis, I got on the straightened arrow, and also stopped my six year habit of smoking.  I never had any kind of serious ailment, except for a bout of mono my sister brought home from school after sharing a can of soda with a friend, if you can even put mono on the same tier as a heart problem.

Still in the morning fog, I managed to finally break free of the web of blankets and planted my feet on the floor to rise from the bed.  I walked over to the mirror to see the mess the night’s sleep left me in.  My long, naturally copper colored hair was usually pin straight, but it was disheveled beyond belief in an up-do of curly tangles, and I was not going to try to let my hair down from the its ponytail and attempt to drag a brush through it.  My eyes skimmed past the reflection of my face in the mirror.  I did a double take and took a long glance of my face.  I had dark, puffy bags under my blue-grey eyes.  Yep, it was definitely one of those nights, I thought to myself.  It looked as if I had been crying for days; my guess was my nightmare had gotten the better of me.  It was a good thing I didn’t remember it; my dreams have a subconscious tendency of affecting my mood when I wake up, and I did not want to feel the aftermath of the horrid dreams.  Not today.

         It was Saturday, a day to sleep in, but I had my whole day planned ahead of me, as I usually did.  It was only seven o’clock in the morning, but I knew the hours would hurry by.  It was a true statement that there are not enough hours in a day.  Saturdays held the prime opportunity to get my cleaning and errands done.  Sunday, on the other hand, was my day to see my family, or just lounge around in my sweats and take advantage of the lazy sort of day before the grueling week of work to come. 

The first on my agenda this particular morning was to start brewing my morning coffee and take a hot shower to get me out of this early morning funk.  I dragged my socked feet through the bedroom of my town house and into the hallway toward the stairs leading down to the first floor and went into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes again. 

Upon entering my eat-in kitchen, I sleepily reached up to my left with both hands to pull open the cabinet doors and grabbed the coffee filters.  With butter fingers, the filters slipped from my hands as I lowered my arms to take one out for the coffee maker.  The filters floated back and forth and in slow-motion in the air, ultimately landing noiselessly, scattered all over the kitchen’s linoleum floor. 

“Wonderful,” I said out loud to myself.  “One of those nights is turning into one of those days.”  I squatted down and collected the snowstorm of coffee filters and put them in the garbage pail.  I got to my feet removed a fresh filter from the now half-empty pack that was tucked under my arm and placed it into the coffee maker.  I continued to make my liquid breakfast. 

While waiting, I sat at the kitchen table going over my mental to-do list.  Tidy up, Farmer’s Market, grocery store – Wait – maybe I could skip cleaning and take things slowly today.  Maybe catch a movie with my sister?  I am barely home and this place stays pretty tidy.  What’s one week of skipping?  After re-arranging my schedule, I flipped open the latest copy of Paranormal Weekly that had been on the table, waiting to be read.  I was so engrossed in an article about Mediums, people who communicate and interact with the deceased, when it dawned on me that I forgot about my now- burning coffee.  Displeased with the thought of drinking burnt sludge, I jumped out of my seat, unplugged the coffee maker, and emptied the pot into the sink.  “I’ll stop by Star Bucks on the way out of town, I thought to myself.

         With a little over an hour behind me since I crawled out of bed, I went back upstairs to my bedroom to lay out my clothes for the day onto the bed.  Being a non-typical winter day, I picked out a pair of dark denim jeans, my favorite white fleece zip-up hooded sweatshirt and a black tank-top for underneath.  Being ultra-comfy was the goal for weekends.  Lord knows I was uncomfortable all week long for work because I had to dress business-casual and I usually wore heels.

         I dragged my feet down the hallway into the bathroom to run the shower.  While waiting for the water to warm up, I brushed my teeth and then tried to let my hair down and get a comb through the nest on top of my head.  I looked like hell, but it was nothing a deep conditioning and a little make-up would not fix. Afterward, I decided the water was now hot enough and finally was able to take my long-awaited shower.  I returned to the mirror and pulled it open, revealing the medicine cabinet which contained my make-up.  I applied some cover-up to the grayed circles under my eyes and applied a coat of mascara.  I picked up the comb from where I left it on the sink and ran the comb, like a hot knife through butter, into my dripping wet hair before I plugged in the dryer to straighten my hair and put it into a pony tail complete my look.  Ah, much better, I thought.

Now I would be able to officially start my day.



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New Hope was down a long stretch of road that ran directly over the Delaware River and right through my hometown of Lambertville.  I loved New Hope, particularly because was known to be haunted and it had such a feeling of history, with the buildings and rustic scenery to match.  My favorite attribute about New Hope was the shopping.  There were literally hundreds of shops and my destination for today – the huge outdoor Farmer’s Market at the opposite end of town.  I made my way down the road with my pearl white 2003 Acura 3.5TL.  After stopping at several lights in town, I finally reach my destination.  I paid my fee for parking and put the permit onto my ivory dashboard.  I found a spot close to the road across from the market.  I got out of the car, shutting the door behind me and hitting the alarm button.  I took a deep breath as I noticed swarms of people shopping and decided to brave the crowds.

After a couple hours of some serious retail therapy and buying several things I did not need, as well as some necessities, I decided it was time to make my way home.  I made my way through the crowds at the 3-acre market, passing many bootleggers and stands that sold a variety of items: everything from fruits and vegetables to home-made dog biscuits, designer knock-off shoes, clothes, handbags and more.  I had to search for my Acura in the even larger parking and packed lot opposite of the market.  Lugging my bags toward the crosswalk, I noticed I did not take out my car keys.  I moved the handles of my shopping bags in my right hand around my wrist so I could reach into my pocket and free the keys.

Abruptly, I froze in horror as a sharp knotting feeling tore into my chest from the pit of my stomach.  I thought it was just another gut feeling of something to come, which I had occasionally.  The knot felt as it had its own life, growing bigger and about to burst through my skin, taking my intestines with it.  My hands clammed up and started shaking profusely.  The trees surrounding me began to play a game of Ring-Around-the-Rosy, using me as the Rosy, taunting me.  I became increasingly dizzy.  My ears popped just as I heard a car horn honking at me.  My heart sped up and my legs began giving out.  My eyes rolled up into my head and everything started going black as I dropped to the pavement of the street.

           The voices of the people around me turned to static, like a station that will not come in on an old, rabbit antenna TV, like white noise.  I entered a panicked but contradictorily peaceful state I have never been in before; it was a dream-like state, but only, I was not sleeping.  I was lying on a grey floor and propped myself up on my left elbow, squinting away from a blinding light, beaming from a figure that stood just ahead of me.  Was it an angel, perhaps?  I was aware that I was not at Heaven’s Gates; I had only passed out.  But what happened?  Why?  The ethereal figure’s outline appeared to have a male physique.  I could not define facial features; only the light emanating from it was distinguishable.  Curiosity enticed me to reach out, to touch it, so I attempted to.  As I did so, the figure fiercely pulled away and I felt myself start to come out of the unconscious stupor, bewildered.

             My head was being cradled by a set of muscular and unfamiliar arms, seemingly male.  This mystery person’s sleeves were rolled up; his skin had an even more unfamiliar, yet intriguing and calming scent that I adoringly inhaled deeply into my lungs.

             “Fall into someone’s arms much?”  A voice I also did not recognize laughed.  The voice forced my eyes open; my sight was blurry.  Did I hit my head?  Through the cloudiness of my unadjusted eyes, I saw the most beautiful smile shining as bright as the visitor I envisioned.  My eyes began to focus more, and behind this ray, was an even more beautiful face of a man, unlike any face I had ever seen.

             I was convinced I was going insane; maybe my mind made me think I was waking up, but I was, instead, in a euphoric state of being.  Wherever I was, he was breathtakingly dazzling.  He had a natural bronzed complexion – a much bronzed complexion, compared to my porcelain white skin tone.  His hair was jet black and short, and a bit longer spiked towards the front.  My knight in shining armor had hypnotic, darker-than-brown eyes, and deep dimples. He was God’s pure perfection.  I felt my heart skip and my head slump back, but I wasn’t unconscious; I was still aware of my surroundings.  He had me in complete awe - and I surrendered to him without a fight.

           “Hey, you awake?”  He lightly tapped me with his index finger on my cheek.  “I think it’s time you go to the hospital and get looked at.  You leave me no choice, I am calling 911.”  He must have thought I was out again.

             I opened my eyes once again as he tapped my cheek and opened my mouth to speak, but words could not escape my lips.  I cleared my throat and found the words that were fighting to get out of my throat.  “No, please…I’m fine.  Please, spare me any more embarrassment than I may have already caused myself.” 

I could foresee a crowd around us, and I felt my face getting hot and my cheeks flush.  This had to be a sight to see – this perfect creature holding a beet-red girl.  Since a child, the hue my face would glow was always a dead giveaway to my emotions and it exposed me.  My blushing sometimes got me into trouble, as it could also show my guilt.  All hail my pale skin.

             This momentarily nameless man’s chuckling voice broke through my thought bubble.  “Well, it’s either you get in my car and I will take you myself, or I call for an ambulance.  It’s your call.”  He took his right hand from behind my head and ran it over my face, removing loose hair from my forehead. 

             His skin was barely touching mine, but nose felt like it was being tickled.  I was more awake now, and a speck of apprehension surged through my blood when I realized what he said about getting into his car.  “I don’t get into cars with strange men who appear out of nowhere and magically save me.  Do you realize what kind of world it is this day in age, buddy?”

            “Actually, my name’s Matthew – Matt – but you can call me Buddy if it makes you feel better.”  I could sense his arrogance, but I could not tell if it was deliberate.  Either way, it was not at all flattering.  It figured that a man as handsome as him had this negative personality flaw.  Men who act like that think they are God’s gift, from what I learned on several encounters with this type.  “I didn’t swoop down from the sky or appear from nowhere.  I was leaving the parking lot and noticed you from the corner of my eye.  I couldn’t help but notice something was not right, you were wobbly and looked as pale as a ghost, but it could have just been that you are naturally pale to begin with.  Regardless, my instincts told me to pull over and make sure you didn’t fall into the road and get run over.  Let’s just say, this is part of my duty to serve and protect.”  He added proudly,  “and it wouldn’t hurt to let you know that I am a trainee for the New Hope Fire Department.”  He was smiling, giggling behind those perfect, white teeth. “And besides, if you did get hit, it would have made a big mess and this newly paved road.”

             “What the hell is so funny?”  I was trying to sit up and get this man’s – Matt’s arms from around me.  I was enraged at his snide attitude.  I weakly fell back, through no action of my own.  He roared with wild with laughter as his left hand reached out and cushioned my head and prevented it from hitting the pavement.

             “Ok, let’s go, I will do you the favor and spare you any more embarrassment.  I am not calling the ambulance; we’re going in my car.”  He placed his arm under my neck and the other behind my knees and stood up in one smooth motion, picking me up as a groom would hold his bride as they walked over the threshold.  He carried me across the street to where he pulled his car over when my incident occurred.  I did not put up a struggle with this eccentric man helping me, a complete stranger; in fact, he oddly had a calming effect on me.  I squinted my eyes against the sun to peek in the direction we were heading:  toward my dream car; a 2006 garnet red G35 coupe, complete with a sunroof, limo tint all around, and nineteen inch gunmetal OZ rims.

He walked over to the passenger side, still carrying me.  “I am going to put you on your feet.  Here, lean against the car.”  His face was serious now and he bit his lower lip.  He ever-so-gently put me down.  As my feet touched the ground, I noticed he was in the region of 6’3”, and towering over my 5’10” frame.  My knees buckled and lost balance, as my gelatin-like legs gave out from under me and I began to gravitate to the ground.  Matt reached out and caught me before I could hit the pavement and wrapped his left arm around my waist as he opened lifted the handle to the unlocked car door with his free hand.  He helped me into the car, making sure I didn’t hit my head.  I sank into the black leather bucket seat and leaned my head on the headrest.

             “Want me to lay the seat back?”  He asked, studying me and fastening the seat belt around me. 

           “No, I am fine.  And I mean fine.  Well enough to drive myself home.  I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

             “You are a stubborn girl, aren’t you?  Listen.  You are not driving.  If you pass out behind the wheel, I will not hold guilt on my conscience if you cause an accident.”

             “But –“ I tried to complete my sentence, but he closed the door.  The rush of air aroused my nostrils.  The car had the same scent as him.  For the life of me, I could not place what that sweet and sensual smell was.  I peeked into his side mirror and watched him walk back to where my episode had taken place and saw that one of the possible spectators in the crowd had gathered my bags and keys.

             “Thanks for your help,” I heard him say through the slightly ajar driver’s side window.  He waved the person off as he jogged back towards the car.  He opened the driver’s side door and tossed my bags over the driver’s seat into the backseat of the Infiniti.  Being careful not to hit his head, he cocked it to the side and climbed into the seat next to me, dropping my car keys into the center console.

             “How ya feeling, Red?”  He caught my eyes. 

Oh. My. God!  What was this feeling that came over me?  I thought.  I have never felt like this before.  Upon my chance meeting with Matt, I felt something I could not place my finger on.  He was sexy and gorgeous as hell, but he seemed cocky and egotistical.  I detested that. I have never really had time to let feelings for a guy interfere with my life.  I was happy how I was: focusing on my career and being single; being to myself, with no drama or distractions of a man.  But Matt – I didn’t know what was coming over me, but I was not letting my guard down; I was fine in the four walls that I built around myself.  Besides, we did not know each in order for me to be feeling this way or to come up with a legitimate reason as to why I melted at his glance.  I snapped out of my thoughts when I realized I hadn’t answered his question.

             “I told you, I am fine.”  I replied icily through clenched teeth. 

             He seemed troubled about my cold reply.  “You’re a real firecracker, huh?  Must be true what they say about redheads.”  He looked out his side mirrors and carefully pulled into the road and began to drive. 

             “And what, may I ask, is that supposed to mean?”  I was getting angrier every word that spewed out of his mouth.  “How dare you!  You do not even know me!  You don’t even know my name and you think you can pass judgment!?”  I crossed my arms across my chest and scowled.

             “Well,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “I’ve heard redheads are vixens who and have tempers more fiery than their hair.”  He started laughing.  “For the last few minutes you’ve been awake, I felt it was safe to surmise it was true.  But, as for the vixen part, well, maybe time will tell.”

             My blood began to boil as the hung off his tongue.  “Well, whoever told you that is a total jackass!  And you surmised wrong!”  That was it, I was ready to snap.  “Oh, and not too-mention, you’re over-confident, as well as cocky, don’t you think?  You seem like an ego maniac.  That’s what I surmise!”  The anger was steadily building up and I was ready to jump out of his car and run as far as my legs could take me so I never see this jerk-off again.  “Trust me, after today, there will be no “maybe time will tell!”  And you better pray I never see you again!”