Asheville Daily Planet
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Thursday, 02 February 2017 12:54
By SHELLEY WRIGHT
Special to the Daily Planet


This may come as something of a surprise,  but I don’t have an altar at my house. Nor do my spells rhyme. I also have never danced naked under a full moon. Always wanted to try that, though!

I am chock full of contradictions. I don’t think I do anything the way you’re “supposed” to. And yet, my spells always work, my intuition is always spot on and I never have to consult a calendar to see when to cast a spell or make my magical formulations.

I’ve also noticed that the things I’m supposed to attend to creep up exactly when they’re supposed to.

For example, when I used to live at the haunted tuberculosis sanitorium, I started noticing that the trash in the bathroom wastebasket would end up all over the floor around it. 

That hadn’t happened before, but with all things, you should blame the pets first. It’s the most obvious answer and the one you have to deal with the least. I also had the world’s smallest trash bin in there, so it was bound to overflow onto the floor. The most sensible thing to do was to empty it more frequently. Nothing paranormal in that!

But it kept happening. Even though I’d never known my cats to play in the trash, it had to be them. I resolved to empty the can more frequently and keep an eye on the kitties.

Drat! It happened again. No cats in sight and I knew the trash couldn’t have hopped out on its own. Right?

So, I emptied the trash can and I dropped a Q-tip right in the center of the can. Then I walked away, carefully taking note of where my animals were. A few minutes later, I walked back in and there it was, lying on the floor right next to the can.  I was pretty sure something was going on.

At that time in my life, I had been invited to participate in a  group of like-minded individuals who had different talents and experiences.

The lady that brought me in did past-life regressions. The couple who hosted our group at their enormously creepy and utterly cool mansion the next city over, entered a trance state and would do automatic writing. She was married to a very open-minded scientist. I didn’t know what to call myself or what my talents were, but I got asked to be the medium at a weeklong psychic fair. I had to decline, as I already had a full-time gig at a rock radio station.

I named our group of mostly women “The Others” after a very short-lived TV series where they were basically doing the same things we were.

We met once a month and I always carpooled with the past-life regressor and her boyfriend. One night, on the way to our meeting, I casually mentioned the trash that kept hopping out of my trash can and how I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t my cats.

My friend said that she wanted to try something. “Close your eyes.” I closed my eyes. “Now imagine that you’re back at home in your bedroom and see yourself laying in your bed.”  I did. “Now see yourself getting out of bed and walk into the bathroom. What do you see?”

I walked into the bathroom and came face to face with a little girl. “I see a little girl!” I exclaimed.

“What does she look like?” my friend asked in her soothing voice. 

“She’s about three or four years old and has straight, shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s wearing a long white gown. She’s beautiful.”

“Ask her what her name is.” For some reason, I thought the question instead of voicing it. Emily is the name I heard in my head.

“Now ask her how she died.” Again, I thought the question and the little girl coughed once, so I knew somehow that she died of tuberculosis.

“Ask her if she wants to be with her mommy.” Again, I thought the question and Emily shook her head yes.

“Now, imagine a white light and tell her her mommy is in there in the light, waiting for her.”

During this whole thing, I had a running commentary in my mind. I kept thinking this is not  happening. I didn’t know if I believed any of this. But I will say this: My trash never hopped out of that trash can again!

I always wanted confirmation about Emily. I know in my heart that she was a real patient and that she was messing with the trash in my wastebasket because she knew I’d notice. I think she wanted to play. 

I know I really encountered her. But I always felt that I needed to know about her — what her last name was, how long she was a patient there, who her parents were, where she was buried. 

Maybe one of these days I’ll ask my friend Vance, the chief historian of Haunted Asheville and new host of “Speaking of Strange,” to help me find her. He can find anyone! I’d like to truly lay Emily to rest, once and for all.

Shelley Wright, an Asheville native, is a paranormal investigator. She owns and runs Nevermore Mystical Arts shop and works at Wright’s Coin Shop, both in Asheville. 



 



 


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