Tag Archive: fears


When Momma Smokes. 1/10/2016. By Tama J Poore

Of course I loved it when my momma smoked, it was funnier than hell and the minutes flew by. She would dance around, parading like she was all alone in the spotlight. Where did those twirls come from?

And my Momma sang, boy did she sing. Belting out some bluesy shit, she didn’t come from Harland. But life was tough as hell back then, they did things old school. If you didn’t break your fist on that dude’s face, then his facial bones sure weren’t broken! “That’s man shit.”, I heard some of her men friends say! And Momma liked manly men.

A lot of those memories are buried. But did you know that on rare occasions buried things will rise to the surface?

I remember one night this burly man was with Momma, and I was just about to unlock the door, because they didn’t seem to have a key, what with all the noise and banging sounds they were making. But then the scouring sound of scuffling replaced the banging and I risked a peep through the eyehole, he had Momma backed up against the door. I spun around, middle finger up to the air and went back to bed.

I got so fed up with her coming home late, or sometimes not coming home at all. Well, sometimes she made it in before sunrise, but still, I was home all alone, 11 years old and worried like an 86 year old wondering when he closed his eyes if he would wake up to see another day. Or, would his conscience slip away on a long snore followed by a cough, choke, gasp….hold it!! Hold your breath.

I must be holding my breath because I can’t feel the air. I can’t clear the stuffiness from my nose. Why are my eyes tearing up and burning? Everything is burning and my lungs feel like they are going to burst! A damp hotness spreads across me and then the heat turns to cold. Like someone pulling a blanket of snow and ice over me. I can only see white. It’s the same whether my eyes are open or shut. I sense the presence of shadows, sinewy shadows with long, wavy arms. But I can’t feel them. And I can’t hear them. They move silently, are they really there?

Well, Momma is really here now. And, as mad as I was at her for leaving me alone, I am not mad anymore. Despite the morbid fantasies that play out in my mind during the anguishing hours between midnight and 4am, scenarios which involve Momma’s car leaving the road, or Momma driving into the back of an 18 wheeler, my heartbeat softens because now she is safe at home.

How could I stay mad at Momma? No one was prettier than my Momma when she was feeling carefree, her face soft and wrinkle free while her hair flows from her shoulders when she does a twirl, dancing in the memories of the bar room song. How could she do a twirl and not fall down when she is so damned drunk that piss is already trickling down both legs! Fuck! Fuck it all to hell! Oh, I want to walk away. I want to run away! I want to leave her there, already stumbling, as her nylon stockings slip on the urine in the floor. Her urine!

Disconnected images flash through my mind, I can see Momma falling hard, her head hitting the door frame. I can see her crumpling to the floor and her neck drooping, tendrils of stringy hair draping to the floor, soaking up the urine. Was that blood staining her soft, blonde hair? It sort of looked pinkish; it wasn’t a deep red, no wait! Those were tears which had picked up traces of blood. Nope, the blood was flowing from her scalp, and it was very red.

I shake it off, whatever this loathing feeling is, it has ways of creeping upon me. I hate the sickness in which it reels. It’s a dark place, a place where a sober Momma lives. Or is she living? Her face furrowed, the corners of her mouth dragging down. A few years ago the crevices between her brows formed parallel lines. Now they form an incomplete hash tag.

Is any of this my fault? If it weren’t for me she wouldn’t have to work hard labor, long hours, ruining her soft skin. She wouldn’t have to suffer, her shoulders and back aching. I will rub them for you, Momma.

Oh, the worried face of Momma. That’s when parentheses form around Momma’s mouth, and her eyebrows make punctuating commas above her eyes. The eyeliner starts to smear, she tears up so easily these days. Is that also my fault?

So, of course I love it when my mother smokes. She doesn’t piss on herself, or vomit on the floor. She doesn’t go on crying jags, and drooping drags where she falls to the floor in regretful sobs, pulling on me, weighing me down.

Nor does she go out and find a man to tickle her fancy, even if just for one night. No, the smoking Momma laughs and giggles and sings and dances, oblivious to the fact that she can’t do any of those things well. But it sure makes her pretty, smoking does. It erases the frown lines and the signs of anxiousness. It makes her stay home, where she belongs, with me on weekends. It makes her spend time with me. Time that won’t last nearly long enough.

The minutes zip by on the tails of meteors, and too soon the long week begins, with me going to school, her going to work for way too many hours. My sitter taking me home, feeding me, helping me with homework until an exhausted Momma comes home, ready for a bath, a greeting full of hugs, until she falls asleep on the sofa trying to watch the news. Each day ending the same, no deviation till laundry day and grocery shopping on Fridays, then the weekend arrives and I wonder, ‘this weekend will Momma spend it drinking or smoking?’

If it is a drinking weekend, she will seek the depressing music in a smoke filled bar, and the weekend will bring the gloom .These are the slower paced minutes of my life. The ones that are laden with weight. And time always, always creeps by slowly. Much, much too slowly. THE END

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This old debilitated tuberculosis hospital is touted as one of the most haunted locations in the South. Almost every paranormal enthusiast has visited-or plans to visit Waverly Hills in Louisville, KY. We at Paranormal Spectrum.com are no different.
Practically obscured by trees, sitting majestically atop a hill now surrounded by distant housing new development, it encompasses approx 29 acres. With more than 6,000 documented deaths, if this place “isn’t haunted – no place is.” Fenced & surveyed by cameras it is nearly impossible to get inside without permission. So don’t attempt it. Besides, we were told that one group who entered that way has an amazing story of their own to tell as they tried to chop through a metal door to escape the haunting inside. One of our photographs on our main website shows the axe marks. We have details on the stories inside the old hospital on our Haunted Places page at http://www.ParanormalSpectrum.com.
The legendary “body chute” is a sight to behold, more than 500 ft of descent into the ground where bodies where whisked away so the patients couldn’t see the corpses, leaving at the rate of 1 body per hour.
Then of course there’s Room 502 where a pregnant nurse hung herself. Our guide explained that this area of the building has the ability to bring on feelings of depression,complete with thoughts of suicide. One of our members was “touched” by phantom fingers near the doorway to 502.
But our favorite floor was the 4th floor, where shadow people and an evil entity threaten to leave a lasting impression that spirits do exist. One tour guide says he was attacked by enseen forces on this floor.
Lastly, we were charmed by the spirit of a young child known as “Timmy”, who likes to play ball or hide and seek. In one of our pictures there seems to be a child on a ledge, could it be Timmy? In the photo can you see the shape of a kneeling child? (Thank you Debbie, for taking this amazing photo. You captured a lot if interesting images.) See Debbie’s photo album on the Photo Gallery page of our main website.
Current owners of the sanatorium graciously offer tours for all budgets. We enjoyed our tour, even though we have a few complaints such as they intro felt like a circus show and was purely intended to instill fright, the whole tour could be improved upon.
We had several experiences at Waverly Hills, so visit our main webiste and see the Haunted Places page. http://www.paranormalspectrum.com

Can’t get enough of Waverly Hills Sanatorium? Why not check out this DVD which gets great customer reviews. Goes beyond the boring documentaries. Spooked The Ghosts Of Waverly Hills Sanatorium

Soldier Haunting Read House Hotel?
Soldier Haunting Read House Hotel?

“It’s not the first time I slept in a haunted place. But it is the first time we paid to sleep in one; and paid dearly.”

            Our experience with the Sheraton Read House Hotel, in room 311, was incredible.

My daughter enjoys history, thanks to an inspiring, middle school history teacher, and also like myself, she likes a good ghost story. So we spent 2009 Spring Break in Chattanooga. Appreciating the rich history there and hoping to see a ghost.

            We called ahead to book an appointment at the historic Read House Hotel; Requesting room 311. The booking agent didn’t hesitate, or even snicker when we requested that room, and she would have booked us precisely NOT in room 311, if I hadn’t asked how many beds were in the room. She asked if we needed one or two. “Wait a minute,” I chuckled, “I want room 311, how many beds are in this room?”  She could NOT guarantee that room. She could request it, and if available when we arrived, we could get it….”No thanks, we are coming to Chattanooga to stay in room 311.” We decided to take our chances, having read that the hotel doesn’t rent the room except when requested, or when the hotel is full.

            When we arrived I was somewhat hesitant to request the room specifically, but after we walked in, and saw the ornate décor, and felt the atmosphere, it seemed natural. The desk clerk was great; he played right into the legend, and even had us speak apart from the children, so they wouldn’t hear the ghost story. (Of course, they already knew.) But from his account, room 311 wasn’t actually the original room. When the hotel was remodeled, they sealed off the actual area where the murder took place, and moved the room number down 1 door. But you could still see the barred window where it happened, since the room is still there, visible from the bedroom window; and also where Al Capone had stayed while awaiting trial. This almost felt like a let down. But if there are ghosts, the passage of time, the destruction of buildings, and even fire won’t change their pattern, so we rented the room. AFTER the desk clerk played a little pricing game with us. Quoting an outrageous fee at first, and then telling us he would speak with the manager to get a discount. Still, while we played along with him, he had a worker give us a tour, and this guy was terrific. He took us through the staff elevators to the Silver Ballroom; (This is a beautiful reception hall where we did have a paranormal experience.) As for room 311, our tour guide wouldn’t go inside the room when he let us preview it.

            Back in the lobby, the clerk told us we could have the room for $250/night. We played the game a little longer, having priced the rooms hours earlier when we tried to make reservations. Since we weren’t jumping at his discount, he decided we needed another tour, and he got another man, who looked the part of a haunted doorman, to take us to the kitchen, the basement and throughout. This guy was the best. He had worked there for more than 25 years and he said there were secret corridors he didn’t even know about. We toured the basement, and all the way to the 10th floor. It was worth the trip just to get these two tours, because we never could have accessed some of the places he let us into. He said he had seen and heard things he preferred not to talk about throughout the old hotel.

            Finally, we rented the room, for less than $250/night, thankfully, but still more than the booking service online. The kids couldn’t wait to unpack the video camera. My middle schooler took control and went on a 30 minute journey just taking video of our room, the halls and elevators.

            After going out into the streets of Chattanooga, we couldn’t wait to get back to room 311. The first mysterious occurrence happened then, as I had deliberately turned on the desk lamp just inside the entry, and staged the desk so that I would know if anything was moved. (Even took a picture.) When we returned, that lamp was off and the light in the kitchenette was on instead. I had to prove to the family with the photo on the camera that someone had messed with the lights after we left.

            Then, we checked the room for extra linens as the couch was a foldout bed, (we had one king bed, 4 of us). No extra pillows, sheets or blankets. We tried to call room service, but the phone in the room wouldn’t work. My hubby went down to the lobby and asked for these things and was told it would be brought to the room. While we waited, my husband called out on his cell phone to a friend, and my daughter did the same with her cell phone. Within minutes someone knocked. I went to the door expecting room service, but there was no one there.  I looked up and down the hallway, there was no one? That was spooky. And it was about another ten minutes before room service did bring the linens.

            The plumbing in this old part of the hotel made a lot of noise, and by the time we actually went to bed, my kids had become rather scared after hearing the noises that I attributed to the plumbing. So they didn’t stay on the sleeper sofa, they came to our bed. This would prove to be a long night. I didn’t sleep well, myself, and though I didn’t see anything in particular, I heard voices (wasn’t too alarmed, we were in a hotel), and noises like a small animal’s toenails catching in the carpet. A few times I “thought” I saw shadowy movements, but when I investigated, there was nothing.

            I finally drifted off to sleep, to awaken a few hours later from heat. This is where it gets odd. Yes, there was 4 of us in this bed, and yes, that could have contributed to the heat, but I was drenched in sweat, it literally rolled down my skin, and my husband woke up the same way, within a minute of my discomfort, so he got up to check the air conditioner, and turn it to a cooler setting; he checked the wall thermostat and it read 69 degrees. There was no way it was accurate. He put the setting on 66 and returned to bed. We didn’t even pull the thin sheet over us. It got hotter, and my kids woke up sweating. We actually got up for a little while, to cool down, which was within a few minutes.

 (I lived in a haunted house for a few years, that had burned and was built on the same foundation with some of the same bricks, and I know from experience that when a place has burned and is haunted, it can get very “hot” just the same as the “cold” spots that accompany most hauntings.) The Read House had burned before, so I really feel that this was a paranormal phenomenon in itself.

            When morning came, I was very grateful to see daylight, and the only thing that we all heard that didn’t have an explanation was the sound similar to a woman moaning, and it seemed to rise right up from the bed.

            I have to say, one night in room 311 was all I needed, because I was sleep deprived, so we moved on.

            Now to the Silver Ball Room. When we returned home and looked at our pictures on our computer, the hair actually stood up on the back of my neck, and I got chills when I saw the images in the mirrors taken in the Silver Ball Room.  Kids have great perception of things that we don’t always understand, and my youngest elementary aged child saw a soldier in that image. It wasn’t as clear to me at first, until I zoomed in on this dark shape, and definitely I could see the outline of a hat, and a very faint beard on the face. We caught some orbs, too, in the motel room and in the kitchen. But nothing excited me like the images in the mirrors.

            Amazingly, when we went to the hotel, I knew of the mysterious female ghost that supposedly haunted room 311. I didn’t learn until after our return of the soldier that walked around on the 4th floor.

 Note: Just a few hours ago when I was going through the video my daughter took, I was pleasantly surprised to hear an unknown female voice. This was during an excited moment when we first arrived and my daughter wanted to start filming the place. The entire clip is almost 30 minutes long, so I took fragments of the video and used in my youtube slide show. It was during this scene selection that I heard this voice seemingly say “I can’t stay here.”

 That was a moving experience for me. It is almost like a hurried whisper, yet so distinct.

I can’t doubt that the Read House has ghosts….From my experience in life, spirits are like humans, they are very unpredictable, and they can’t be forced to make themselves known just because a human wants to see or hear something from their world. But I wasn’t disappointed in the visit.

For more info on the Read House, choose one of these links:

http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WM23N5_Read_House_Hotel_Haunted_Room_311

 

http://www.gallagherstravels.com/States/TN/smartcity.htm

 

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/98347/the_read_house_hotel_chattanooga_tennessee_pg4.html?cat=8

 

http://www.haunted-places-to-go.com/haunted-hotel-2.html

I don’t know too much about EVP’s, but I think I may have captured a “voice” in the cemetery I visited over a month ago. I made a youtube video about my visit, and I did a blog on wordpress, too, but I didn’t know then, that I had this possible EVP.

I omitted using this particular clip because my family was present and running/walking around, plus my youngest child ran “screaming” past the camera, so I didn’t give this particular clip more than a passing glance. But I was going through the clips the other day and heard this noise that sounded so much like an adult male voice, I had to pause and listen several times. Clearly, it is not my voice, nor that of my children, nor my husband, as he was walking away in the distance, and besides that, he didn’t say anything, nor does it sound like his voice, or his accent…we are from Tennessee, you know; and though I can’t really make out if this “voice’ is even saying anything intelligble, it doesn’t sound at all like any of us. And we were the only people present.

Naturally, the whole experience has increased my excitement that I might have caught a real EVP. I am planning on going back to this cemetery, historically rumored to be a site for paranormal activities, as an earlier blog describes. 

Check it out on youtube. 

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhgnd1pM5dc

The Reason Behind These Posts

There is a reason I have searched out a place like this. For most of my life I have been aware that most people possess a “sixth” sense. I have been aware there is more to life than meets the eye… for an open mind, there is so much more. But for most of my life, I have been uncomfortable, and I have feared that which I have not understood. That which is not so easily explained. I have turned away from the deeper realm that life has to offer.

I needed a place to go, to journal my thoughts, and chronicle the events that have heightened my awareness.  A place where I could share with others, if I ever chose to share.

 What would I share? My visions of life, glimpes of time passages, and then, if I dare, I will also include the many events that I finally accept are beyond what many others experience.  Experiences that have brought me to this stage in life.

I love the life that God has granted me. Up to this point, it has been most interesting.   I am still unsure where I am suppose to go, but I place my fate in a higher entity, and it is left up to me to  enjoy the journey, and grasp what is offered.

Facing my fears, I forge on.  Not alone, never alone, even when by myself.