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27 January 2017 0 Comments

Reality vs Frightful Shadows Part 2- Phobias

ghostly tracks

Throughout childhood really weird phobias crept out of nowhere and I found myself in some cases manipulated by odd fears. To this day, I hate cars or vehicles of any sort coming up behind me. It unhinges me to no end. If I hear cars coming I either run or hide in bushes. There’s a really interesting comfort in knowing I can’t be seen. As a child, I would outrun cars walking home or find hiding places along the way home. I actually had hiding places down in my head that I could run to at a moment’s notice along the way to and from school. To this day as an adult, I have to keep myself from jumping into bushes. I’m sure Michael wouldn’t appreciate trying to coax me out of our neighbor’s bushes so I do my best to control this strange habit.

I can’t sleep with a top sheet. I don’t like the feel of it and I don’t like my feet being confined  by the weight of the top sheet and the bedspread. I have memories of being on a table and having a thick, sticky, mucus like substance draped over me. It would get really tight and I wouldn’t be able to move. My arms and legs would be held so tight that I remember screaming with no sound coming out of me.

I could turn my head side to side and look around but I couldn’t get free and the more I struggled, the tighter it would become. It would feel like hours would pass with no one coming around. In some ways that was just as bad as what the Greys were doing to me. That was probably the worst torture of all and I believe to this day that the Greys and anyone else who does this, knows it. It’s part of the mind-screw that they implement starting at young ages. To this day if I find sheets on me, I panic.

Add to the above, the uncomfortable and stressful feelings I get being in an elevator or in a car on a highway that is slowed by traffic. When I was in Paris, France years ago, I was staying at a hotel that had a small and round elevator. It was big enough just for two people. I went up it the first time and by the time we hit the floor our room was on, I was a total mess. I couldn’t breathe, I had sweat coming off my forehead and the palms of my hands were sweaty and hot. When I got to my room, I looked in the mirror and was flushed from head to toe. I looked like I had been in the sun and was a cooked lobster. It took a few hours for me to get back to normal. I walked up and down the stairs after that.

Just recently Michael and I went to go get family from the airport and the roads were full of black ice. Traffic came to a standstill, three or four times and I found myself panicking, not being able to breathe. My palms were sweaty and I was stressed beyond my limits so much so that I  almost jumped out of the car. This particular phobia, I don’t understand unless I was taken away against my will multiple times in vehicles and I associate traffic and being confined in a car to this fear.

Like most abductees, I can’t sleep with the lights off. The darkness is too vast and so much can happen in the blackness of the room. Corners in a room become hiding places for uninvited creatures and closets become doorways into the unknown. I can feel spirits looking down at me, sucking my breath away or standing by my bed staring down at me. I have been touched and shaken even with the lights on but for me, the advantage is that I can see my surroundings. The days of sleeping in a dark room were over years ago.

I grew up in an average household with two older sisters. We were middle class America with hopes and dreams just like everybody else. Maybe that was a part of this phenomenon, the more American pie people are, the better they are for target practice and to experiment on.

How does the paranormal fit into all of this? Well, for some reason abductees attract the paranormal to them and I am assuming because we carry with us a very distinct energy or frequency that becomes altered through the abductions, it stays with us throughout our lives.

Sometimes the shadows will divulge what type of  intelligence is lurking in the corner. It doesn’t matter if it’s Alien, human or spirit, I don’t like uninvited guests especially when I’m at my most vulnerable. For Empaths like myself, we don’t like surprises so turning on the light seems to be whole heck of a lot easier than waiting for the darkness to emerge.

As Michael says, sleep tight but for those of you like me, keep the lights on.

16 December 2016 2 Comments

Paranormal Awareness

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Sometimes I listen to paranormal shows and I often wonder what their impact on people is. What are the do’s and don’ts of living in a haunted house? What are the signs that there is a problem and when should a person get professional help? It’s not easy living in a haunted home or for that matter experiencing the paranormal on a daily basis. It usually happens when we least expect it which in a warped way, is the paranormal’s way of showing us; it has a dark sense of humor.

When I was in my early teens, I realized that there were some things I had to learn to do to survive even the slightest hint of anything paranormal. I didn’t have any tools so I did what I could to feel safe. I realized even back then that there were people like me who were experiencing the paranormal but that there wasn’t a specific rule of thumb to go by. Maybe it’s time I wrote about my version of this rule of thumb so to speak and how it helped me get through some dark and tough times. This is obviously based on my experiences so I hope in some manner, large or small the advice I give will help those in search for answers.

Closets                                                                                                                                                                                   From childhood on up to this very day, closets still scare the bejeezus out of me. If a child or young adult tells their parents there is a problem in the closet, in most cases they won’t be believed. This happened to me and it was really more about my parents didn’t want to deal with something that could possibly be a problem. The door would be shut and if it opened, there was a rational explanation. A closed door that doesn’t usually open on its own isn’t normal. Sounds from a closet are not normal. Things being messed with in a closet, isn’t normal. Something coming out of a closet definitely isn’t normal. If any of these things I spoke of are part of a conversation you have with your kids or family members, there’s a problem. The real question is, why would a parent discount what a scared child or young adult tells them?

I believed my daughter when she told me something was in her closet watching her and what was worse, she then proceeded to tell me a voice told her to go to the closet. When she told me this, I immediately knew something was up. I mean, that is not a regular conversation I would usually have with my four year old . First and foremost, believe what your kids and family members are telling you. Secondly it’s important to go and open the door, look around in the closet and state you are aware it’s there. Claim the closet as part of your house and smudge the inside of it with sage. I would also light either, frankincense and myrrh or dragonsblood  incense in the bedroom. I would call my daughters guardian angels into the room and ask them to watch over her. I would also place a piece of tiger eye or serenite in the closet. I also do this for myself.

Antiques                                                                                                                                                                                   I’m a sucker for antiques and in some ways they can be my downfall. There are two things you can do if you want to bring a piece of the past home with you, first, ask the history of the piece, where it came from and who owned it before it came up for sale. Secondly, ask the salesperson if anything strange has happened around it. If you get bad vibes meaning heart racing, head ache, stomach tightening or goose-bumps from being around the piece, that’s usually a sign you should not buy it. Remember if something is attached to a piece of furniture, art or lamp, you will feel it. It’s harder for the darkness to hide when the room temperature changes. Beware of cold spots.

Haunted Rooms                                                                                                                                                                       In a prior post I wrote about a house I lived in, in my early twenties. The room was one of the most haunted spaces I even to this day have come across. Usually haunted rooms or locations occur when a death, natural or unnatural has occurred. This means that perhaps violence and or negative emotions were absorbed into that room. Sometimes spirits like to occupy a space even if they did not live or experience anything there, it just depends on the circumstances. For example, a little boy spirit would peer in my daughter’s room from an  an outside window when she was young. He didn’t have anything to do with the house but was more attracted to her and her playing in her room. He wanted her to invite him in; I made it clear there would be no uninvited spirit playmates in the house.

Clearing a haunted room isn’t that easy. As a home owner, it’s important to state it’s your house and that includes those spaces that are apart of your house that are compromised. I have always had an alter in my bedroom anywhere I’ve lived. It’s the one thing that I think people should do in their homes. Once I get my alter set up, I then make it clear that my guardian angels and spirit guides are invited in besides friendly contacts but all others with negative intentions, have to leave. If they don’t like it, I ask my guardian angels to take care of it. The important thing here is to know without a shadow of a doubt that your guardian angels will take care of it. If you doubt this, you take away their ability to get rid of unwanted spirits and you actually empower the unwanted spirit with the fear of uncertainty. Your convictions as a live human and your beliefs are put to the test when you have to get rid of unwanted spirits. They have to know that you have dominion in this reality. If they are mean, it may take some time but when I’ve had my fill of activity, I’m steadfast and stick to my guns in order to get them out.

Attachments                                                                                                                                                                            Spirits have their own agendas and sometimes figuring out what their agendas are can be like going down a rabbit hole. It’s important to look at yourself as a whole individual with a protective bubble around you. The one way spirits can attach themselves to people is when they are depressed and unprotected. Think of all the people who take medication for depression, it’s a real problem and a part of this problem is dark energy taking advantage of the low points in people’s emotional lives.

Here’s something that might help, first off, it’s important to have daily goals even habitual routines that are reminders to keep our shields of protection up. All this shield is, is asking your spirit guides or guardian angels or whoever to protect you. Imagine wings around you all day or a wonderful array of lights engulfing you. However you can, imagine your shield around you because it is the most important part of keeping the darkness at bay. Imagining it, feeling it and relaxing in its protection is what makes it real. It’s a daily ritual of asking that reminds us that at certain times within a day, we can become vulnerable. This is when we need help the most.

Dark Shadows                                                                                                                                                                   Every so often in the various houses I’ve lived in, I have seen dark shadows. I don’t always see them as something apart of the house because I have seen them outside as well. I think they are beings from other dimensions who are fascinated with our energy. I think our vibrations of emotional highs and lows attract the attention of these creatures. Whatever appearance you see them in doesn’t really matter because they all seem to show themselves in whatever image gets the worst scare out of you. I’ve seen black blobs, shadows of men in military uniforms, tall and short figures of people and the list goes on. Whenever I see them, I say out loud, “I see you!” This has always worked in making them leave because for some reason they don’t like for the people to know they are watching them. I can’t say in all cases that if you let them know you see them that they will leave but at least it puts you on a even keel with whatever is looking at you. Awareness is key here.

Paralysis                                                                                                                                                                                This is a weird one here because I have woken up on my stomach totally paralyzed except for my eyes looking around. I have had a strange dark figure try to pull me off the bed a few times with me paralyzed except for my eyes and a difficult time speaking or should I say screaming! If I focus on my vocal cords and really try to get them to work, I usually can make a sound squeak out and then I can get it louder from there. I think on this one, if you can stay focused on your body and not what’s going on around you it helps. It’s important to try to get your mind over matter and focus on what works so that you can go to that inner place within you that is your source of power. This is what I call the sanctuary of the soul where God presides. In my opinion there is nothing more powerful than this place within a person and if we can learn to focus on it, we usually can free ourselves. I know I did it in Egypt when I woke up paralyzed. The Medicine men and women I studied with showed me how to focus during times of distress.

You have to calm down your breathing, almost feeling your heart beat, feeling it within your chest beating in a more relaxed manner. Secondly know that you are working from your mind and that what the mind tells the body to do, it does. Its part of the reality of this dimension, our mind is the pilot of our body. Focus on your inner sanctuary where your essence is most comfortable and at home. Between the two, mind and essence, focus on easing yourself from the confines of the paralysis. As it was told to me, all humans need to get used to going within themselves instead of focusing outside themselves. By going within, we make it harder for paralysis and mind control to happen. There’s a vast Universe within us that we never venture into, maybe it’s time you did.

Hope these examples help you. I’ve been dealing with all kinds of things for 50 years. Not much surprises me but there are those exceptions. I’ll talk about those in my next post.

5 February 2015 0 Comments

Religion and the Abductee Experience

Religous 3

My private journey into the phenomenon of the paranormal and abductee experience was and is an isolated, complex, up hill trek that tends to leave me feeling vulnerable and exposed not only to the elements but to opinions. To be more to the point, I am speaking about opinions like yours, your friends and the public at large, yet here I am sharing my story with you. Am I a glutton for punishment, not really? This is just apart of my desire to see if anyone else, has had similar experiences, perhaps furthering my own exploration into the religious, abductee experience.

My religion seemed to add a twisted, exorcisty kind of atmosphere that made me think I was possessed or abnormal most of my childhood. The two worlds for any child can create a dysfunctional and skewed perspective concerning what reality is and what it will become. If I can levitate does this mean I’m an angel? If I see beings from above, does this mean they are from heaven? Most of these questions were answered from my childhood in the most basic to elaborate of ways. Who might I ask, could answer the questions that plagued me, especially if they didn’t understand the problems at large, the unequivocal intimidating type that molded and encouraged me to become a timid victim? Believe it or not, it was religion that was quick to answer me pointedly because in some peculiar ways, it played a role in my experiences.

Sorry, I’m not going to write about great experiences with the church I grew up with. I went to a Catholic school for the First grade, which played a surreptitious role in me being bused out a few days a week to a base and underground facilities where I grew up. I was warned early on that if I said anything to anyone, especially my parents, one of my parents would get hurt. What can a child do but believe that the adults scolding her, making her feel responsible are not only speaking the truth but making her a part of the consequences. I was tight lipped and proud yet I held on to a secret that no child should ever have to deal with. At age six, I was responsible for the well being of my parents, or so I thought.

This kind of responsibility leaves a mark; it’s like an emblazoned imprint on the soul because the mind of a child can only handle or empathize with what they are being told by adults. As time faded the mark of my censorship, the imprinted stigma stayed with me because the moments of responsibility took a toll on my childhood and in essence took away my childhood naivety.

It didn’t help that right around the time I was 13, the movie, The Exorcist came out in theaters. I thought for sure I was the object of some ill-begotten spirit. Night time was a panicky and heart palpitating occurrence, where I lived under the covers. I could always feel spirits looking down at me, just a nose length away from my face, trying to suck the breath out of me. I had two giant teddy bears on either side of me that did nothing but help me hide, from whatever I knew was in the room with me. I loved sleeping under the covers because they always gave me a false sense of comfort, a divided barrier that hid me from whatever was antagonizing my sanity.

Obviously the paranormal plays a role with abductees. In my case, with spirits freely visiting me at night, I also had to deal with the infamous … closet! It didn’t matter what house I stayed at, closets always symbolized the omnipotent, ethereal world that was black and empty. As a very young child, I knew vampires, witches and goblins lived in closets but after age five, there seemed to be something more sinister, lurking within the claustrophobic blackness. I have always felt that because of my interactions with the Greys, I have become more empathic, almost as finely tuned and observant as they are. This came in handy, when I felt they were near.

A sound can be just a sound to everybody else but as an abuductee, sounds are the introduction, the beginning of a dreaded dream that always seems to portray itself with the same characters, over and over again. In the end, the closet doors always opened slowly, creaking methodically and within my child’s mind, everything the blackness represented eventually came out to play. Sometimes, I would hear a voice, speaking faintly, its words lingering in my ear or was it in my mind. Either way, there were always two black eyes to go along with the ominous voice, I came to dread.

Sometimes even in the light of day, I saw strange things. I had a picture of the Virgin Mary that was on a wall by my bed. I would look up to her in the mornings for some kind of explanation for the previous night’s activity. Occasionally, I would think I saw a faint change in her face, and I would jump out of bed because my nerves just couldn’t handle another manifestation of either the paranormal or spiritual. For a child, even the most symbolic representations of religion, can become a daunting reminder of the unreachable, the unfathomable beyond that is heavy handed and unyielding. Sometimes religion can make God seem like a million miles away.

One Saturday morning when I was 14, I abruptly awoke, opening my blurry eyes. I had to adjust my vision because my room was brightly lit. On this particular morning, for some bizarre reason, I didn’t feel safe immediately after waking up. I was facing the picture of the Virgin Mary and as I was gazing up at her, from my peripheral vision, a shadow like figure darkened both my windows, and the face of the Virgin Mary started to drip blood and become distorted. I quickly closed my eyes and hid behind my big teddy bear. My door was closed so making a run for it, was out of the question. I subsequently opened one eye and tried to peak around my teddy bears left ear. To my relief, the picture of the Virgin Mary was back to normal again and my room was bright with sunshine. I thought to myself, did I just dream that or did it really happen? I jumped out of bed and ran for the door, deciding the answer wasn’t important.

Questioning oneself is the modus operandi for most abductees. A mark on the body is either a beauty mark or just a mark, even if it has a strange design to it. Finding clothes put on backwards the next morning, just means, we weren’t paying attention the night before. A strange gooey substance coming out of our private parts is a mild case of the flu, diarrhea or food poisoning. Waking up with strange bruises on our body, just means we knocked into something the day before, and didn’t pay attention. Bloody noses that are extreme, occurring on a daily basis, are explained as dry nose and common place. Finding ourselves outside our homes in the middle of the night, is described as sleep walking, even if all the doors and windows are locked from the inside. One clear observation that can be made, is that we are the most absent minded and obtuse people on the planet, especially to those people who are our critics, and the naysayers of our experiences.

When I was 18, I called upon a young priest who occasionally gave service at the church I attended. My experiences were getting beyond what I thought I could handle and I decided I needed some outside guidance. He was young, giving the appearance of being slightly innocuous, yet astute in his demeanor, I was uncomfortable and sweaty beyond belief.

Within seconds of sitting down, I literally spewed out my predicament, leaving nothing to the imagination. A long, torturous silence followed and I felt compelled to high tail it out of his office because I became horribly uncomfortable. He eventually looked up at me from closed eyes and said, “Pray my child and God will help you.” I stated that I did pray and the experiences still happened. He then said I needed to pray harder. I basically bared my inner most secrets to this man, thinking he would be my redeemer and to my dismay, he brushed me off with a safe and predictable answer. I left his office feeling foolish for even thinking he could help me.

I decided to go to see another priest (who was older) and prepared myself with a more resolute attitude, knowing he was going to help me and give me the answers I was seeking. To make a short story even shorter, within minutes of explaining my situation, I was asked to leave his office because he didn’t have time to deal with a paranoid and delusional parishioner like me. I left knowing that the religion I thought I could always count on, wasn’t there for me anymore.

The different times I did pray during an abduction experience, my abductors didn’t seem to pay attention to me or they ignored what I was doing. I realized that prayer is great for an abductees’ sanity after the fact, because it pacifies the nerves and serves as a familiar and safe haven. In order for prayer to work, we have to assume that ET’s have religion similar to ours and like us, they view God in the same way. If they are doing something terrifying to us, we can only assume, they must be malevolent in nature, opposite of our beliefs and that of God. If they don’t know God, how can they fear God. I remember thinking to myself years ago, that to assume my abductors followed society’s dictates and customs was just about as ludicrous as assuming they would ask me if I wanted to go with them instead of taking me against my will. I understood a long time ago they weren’t from here.

Growing up with an abductee’s state of mind was not easy, especially when high school became the mile marker that indicated that I was not like everybody else. Graduating from high school helped me feel normal because it seemed like a momentary way out or a reprieve from the abduction phenomena. Months after graduation, my nightmares and experiences became less and less and I “almost” lived a normal life.

The word “almost” is very important to remember here because it seems like the alien agenda carries within it individual timelines for each abductee. This can mean months, even years can go by with nothing happening and then all of a sudden … boom, with no warning, they start up again! The rollercoaster begins and it’s a ride that consumes the senses, leaving no room for normalcy, only the descent of questionable insanity.

In some ways, my abduction experiences tested my belief in God because if he existed, how could he let this happen. Yet, I have to say, something really interesting happened as I started to stand up and face my fears. I knew that being human was not only to my advantage but a blessing in disguise. I realized I was apart of something that was wise, venerable and sentient. This connection allowed me to see, that I needed to stand on the building blocks of my own convictions. This birth right which I call our fundamental foundation consists of 4 pillars that hold all of us up as human beings. They are known as, the emotional, spiritual, physical and mental pillars of humanity. The consequences of abductions, can wreak havoc on these pillars, tearing them down one by one leaving a person broken and fragmented. Once the human foundation is unbalanced, the three pillars by proxy, have no recourse but to carry the burden of the faltering pillar. This unbalanced condition can become so intolerable for abductees, that they react from a survival perspective based on fear rather then an analytical response based on faith.

I had to figure out a way, how to become whole again during these dark and confusing times. I realized that my faith was more then super glue, it was the rudiments from which my pillars were made. God created my pillars and because they were made by his blue print, I knew they could rebuild themselves back up. I also knew that it’s who I am in-between the abductions that matters most. The question of, why me, turned into, it does not define me.

Faith replaced the religion that I grew up with and it has been the one constant through out my life that has never let me down. Once I started to understand who I am, the abductions became less monumental in my life. This makes sense to me because I no longer feed the fear mongering monsters lurking in the closets; the door stays shut and if it opens, it’s because I opened it myself.

7 November 2014 0 Comments

The Spirits of McGavock Confederate Cemetery

Carnton plantation 2

This is a fitting story to share with all of you during Fall and the beginning of Winter. It’s a new tale, fresh with a mixed brew of emotions and haunting whispers. It is one story I thought I would never tell only because my experiences with ghosts have never been with the Civil War, only the old west towns of my home state, New Mexico and those along my travels as a cowgirl.

Sometimes spirits reach out to those who can feel them, hear them and relay the replays of life that went on years past. They whisper the echoes of torment, languishing pain and the truth of how death does not end their soul’s convictions…it only prolongs the outcome of their inevitable actions, if such have the fallacy of intolerance.

What wayward souls can not comprehend, they cannot see and because of this, they cannot rest.

With this being said, I will now share with you the story of my travels with my sister Holly, to Carnton Plantation just a few minutes from Franklin, Tennessee where the Battle of Franklin took place in November 30, 1864.

Just a mere two weeks ago, I went to Nashville to visit my sister and to enjoy the southern hospitality she is known for. My sister is a fabulous cook, the hostess with the mostess in all aspects of making anyone feel right at home. The area where she lives is not too far from the town of Franklin, a place that oozes with the shadowy memoirs of a sorrowful past. I realized the moment Holly took me through this beautiful town; I was literally thrust back in time, no time machine needed here because the surroundings emulated old Southern pride. It’s a déjà vu kind of feeling but as a Yankee, it felt a little unnerving. The architecture through out the town with the churches and homes held within their walls the echoes of people running, yelling, and the distant thunder of gun fire. It was still in the air and I could feel the emotions with every fiber of my being. Holly and I are empaths, we feel places and with this ability we can smell the flowery aromas of perfume or the trepidation and stench of death. This ability is in our family, it’s in our blood.

The day after traveling through the striking town of Franklin, Holly somehow without forethought but I’m pretty sure, pure intuition, drove right by the Carnton Plantation as if planned and on queue. She said she had never been there before and was quite surprised to have driven by there on our way to another plantation. We decided immediately that we were destined to go to this one instead. The land seemed to whisper secrets through the car windows to us and then there seemed to be an urgency to our summoning. As Holly turned the car around, we almost went down a one way road the wrong way. It was a bit confusing at first but interestingly enough that confusion never left us even as we drove up the one lane road. We could see that this plantation was not only massive but obviously an important historical landmark. As we drove into the parking lot, the house sat back behind what looked like a large barn and to our right was a cemetery that had huge headstones peaking out from the iron fence.

With my persuasion, we first went to the cemetery because it was up on a hill and I wanted to look around and see the vast green land that encircled the cemetery. Holly stated she had reservations about entering the cemetery but like a trouper, she ventured forward with me. There seemed to be an odd feeling that almost felt like we had walked into a bubble or a time warp from the past. The air was different, birds crowed and yelled down at us and we both felt the immediate sense of sadness and the traumatic demise of all the soldiers within the cemetery. There are nearly 1,500 Confederate soldiers buried at the cemetery who were casualties of the Battle of Franklin. Carrie Winder McGavock was in charge of the soldiers brought to Carnton which was to become the largest field hospital in the area for the wounded. There were at least 150 Confederate soldiers who died that first night at Carnton from the battle. There are still blood stains on the floorboards of the main house to this day.

When we entered the cemetery none of this information was known to us. We understood the severity of what all the men had gone through because we could feel it in our bones. It was with this emotion, this connection that the first communication with some of the spirits of the cemetery started to happen.

I heard a mans voice say softly to me, “How is Elizabeth?”

Wait a minute; I went…no, he said Lizbett. I thought I must have gotten the name wrong but when he said it again, he said it more forcefully and I knew for sure he was saying the name Lizbett. I told him I was sorry that I didn’t know her. I asked my sister if that was a Southern name and she said she thought so.

We walked through the main entrance and Holly said she didn’t feel right, she almost felt like she didn’t want to go forward. I had trepidations myself but I walked a little ways past the family gravestones to the entrance to where the Confederate soldiers were buried. Holly walked with me and we immediately stepped to our left, looking at the first of granite markers. We saw two copper pennies on top of two markers and we both wondered what the significance of that was. It was at this very moment that a young mans voice came to me, talking in my right ear and in my head, stating that he had died of a gun shot wound and he wanted to show me where he was shot. I didn’t want to know but he didn’t let up and upon hearing him say, “I got shot in my stomach,” I felt the first stinging pains in my own stomach right where my belly button is. I told Holly my stomach hurt and when we turned to face the dirt path that went down the middle of the markers, we did an about face and left the cemetery. It was just too much.

This young soldier would not let up. It was imperative for him that he tell me what happened to him. I finally acquiesced, letting him know I would listen.

He started from the moment he was shot. He said he was down for about an hour. It hurt like hell and he didn’t think at the time it was something he would die from. He knew men were down around him but he thought if he could get help, he would be alright.

He knew he was bleeding out and he tried to calm himself down waiting for help to come. He was only 19 or maybe 20, young, full of hope, not really understanding the gravity of his situation. When help did arrive, he felt he would be taken on a stretcher and he would live to fight another day. There were three men, two carrying a stretcher and the other man checking wounds. They talked to him for a few minutes, looked at his wound and with grave faces told him there was nothing they could do for him. They were under orders to take and carry only those wounded that could be saved. They gave him his death sentence. He never saw it coming just like he never saw the bullet that hit him. He said he lay there for about three to four hours before he died. He couldn’t believe they left him and for him, the fact they did leave him was worse then getting shot. He felt alone when he died. I think this is why sometimes he’s not sure he’s dead. His memory stays within the confines of the bullet that brought him down. It’s an eternal pain that he shared with me, not just a physical one.

Carnton Plantation

By the time he finished telling me his story, my stomach was burning and I felt as if my insides were on fire. The pressure on my stomach was intense; it was as if I literally had an opening gash that was bleeding out.

Holly and I entered the gift shop by the barn area and when we walked in, we both thought for a minute we might fall down from weak and shaky legs. I couldn’t really focus on any one item except for a book on Carnton. I felt like I should buy it but for some reason I didn’t. We decided to make a hasty departure to the car because neither one of us was feeling or doing well. I was bent over at this point from the pain in my stomach and Holly had a headache that was growing in intensity by the minute. The Carnton house was out of the question. Neither of us wanted to take the tour.

As I climbed into the car, from my right ear, I distinctly heard an angry male voice that seemed to be in his mid 40s to early 50’s. Discretion Advised! (Please understand that this is what I heard and not how I talk. I debated whether I should state what I heard and I feel it’s only right to write exactly what I heard.)

He said, “God Damn (N word)! Nobody is gonna tell me what I do with my property!”

I said, “Oh my God, Holly, you won’t believe what I just heard.” I then proceeded to tell her, word for word. She shook her head and said it was time for us to go. I was in shock and couldn’t believe the intense animosity coming from the male voice who spoke in my right ear. That kind of talk is just plain wrong and I found myself feeling disgusted at hearing it.

Holly drove down the one lane road exiting the plantation and it wasn’t until we were on the main road and driving away that we both started to feel better. For a minute we just looked at each other. Words were beyond us.

As a woman of the west, I must admit that I came back home with a tangled web of emotions. I had no idea the Civil War was fought in so many areas where my sister lives. I had no idea the mindset of the South lives on. Most of all, I had no idea how sad I would feel about the loss of life. It’s an intense feeling of sorrow with a raw edginess to it.

There is one thing for sure that I do know and that is that death makes every man and every woman equal because in the eyes of death,our humanity is all the same. What makes us individuals is our sense of self when we die. For these men of the Franklin Battle, they were comrades in arms and I think it’s this unity that keeps them there. They stay because of each other and they stay because in the end, they don’t seem to know the Battle of Franklin is over.