THERE'S THE WRONG WAY.

THE RIGHT WAY

AND

MY  WAY!

YEAH! 

TAKE THAT!

THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS GHOSTS

Really?
What about those glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision? Imagination?
Do things get moved around or did you just forget where you put them?

All the stories you've heard. Are they hoaxes? When people who have passed visit you in a dream. Is it real, or Memorex?

Last night, writing to the wee hours, I heard footsteps, then I thought I saw my grandfather's chair move. I'm a cynic, but damn.

Years ago I wrote a paper debunking any afterlife. I attributed man's religion, myths and belief in any other plane of existence as "Man's fear of death".  In other words...create a world in which you can live on, past the biology of your physical self. Hey...I was a young college kid...what did I know? Pretty good though, huh?

Maybe not. I believe in a higher power. I profess a Christian faith. If that be true, who is to say other planes of existence do not exist. Are not ghost and spirits documented in the Bible?

Perhaps there is an entire community, walking around, sitting in the same chair you sit in, but in another dimension. Writers have explored this for centuries and I have nothing new to add.

It's just that sometimes, maybe...we need to reconsider. Think about things.

Did that chair really move?

The first day of the rest of your life

drewadamsauthor.com

Another day like any other. You've heard the maxim this is the first day of the rest of your life, and I am sure you've given something along those lines a moment of thought at one time or another. But have you really considered it.

Recently a health issue brought the end of my life into view. I'm okay, thanks to modern medicine and technology and I'm sure some grace from, God. I now have a knot on my upper chest wall. Inside that space a device keeps my heart beating as it should. That's the plan.

I can feel it, although its presence becomes less notable each day. I am certain it will continue to remind me how tenuous life is and how foolish it is to waste a moment of it. Not to say a day of waste is a bad thing. Some of you need to do just that. Waste a day, do what you want. Relax, smell the roses or whatever olfactory scent melts your butter.

Just remember, this is the first day of the rest of your life.

So, back to the plan. Take a moment and consider what you want for the rest of your life. If you feel a change is needed. Begin the process. It doesn't have to be accomplished in one day. After all, you have the rest of your life. 

Maybe you want to start a new hobby, return to an old one, or start a bible study. Perhaps you've always wanted to try sculpture, or painting. New career...I started my nursing career at the age of 50. Now I'm following a lifetime dream and writing stories. Doesn't matter if you think you'll be any good at it. You can learn and improve on anything. Sure, we were put on this earth to make choices. To decide a path we will follow. No one said we couldn't change it. I believe the lord gave us this earthly life to enjoy, so keep in mind, today is the first day of the rest of your life. So is tomorrow, the next day, and the next. Don't procrastinate, the last day of your earthly life, could be just around the corner.

Now, in accordance with the first day of the rest of my life, I will make a shameless plug for my writing. The link above this rhetoric will take you to my web page where you can buy one of my books. They're kinda freaky...like me.

FOR THOSE WHO GAVE ALL

Memorial day weekend winding down. I live on the lake and watched the boats and festivities. Wrote some, ate a lot and drank a little. Was thinking of the men and women who sacrificed their lives for this country. Some went to war because they were drafted, some volunteered and of those some felt the inner drive to make this sacrifice.

They truly gave all and regardless why they were there, they did their jobs and gave us the freedoms we enjoy today.

I read this weekend of the vandalizing of a WWII and Vietnam memorial monument. We may not agree always with our governments decisions, but the people who brave the front and make it so we can sleep at night do so for us. Their sacrifices, past and present, should not be minimized and certainly not be objects of scorn.

For whomever perpetrated these deplorable acts...these men and women had families that loved and mourned them. Look into your souls and turn your anger to something constructive. If you disagree, ultimately it is your elected officials who should bear the brunt. Vote judiciously and write letters and e-mails, join a group, protest legally.

But don't...please don't deface the memories of those who stood up for you.

Howdy! These are my two e- books on amazon. I'm writing Ghost Reaper II, Lucifer's Children now. I have a blog on this site describing the series which will include the above mentioned and two more. Ghost Reaper III, Rise of the Elect, and Ghost Reaper IV, The Two Witnesses. I felt the need for something, another writing project to switch to when the muse for one is on vacation. Any of you writers out there ever have that happen? I started...are you ready for this...a romance novel. eeeww, you say. Hey...I have romances in both of my published novels. In fact SCIZO has two of them. Of course any of you who have read my work know I march to the beat of a different drummer, so you can rest assured it will be...maybe a half-a-bubble off level. It is paranormal and I'll give you a sample here. Hey...I'll be only mushy enough to call it a romance novel.

 For now I'm titling it 'Mirror'. And all that stuff about fiction and coincidence and copyright by me A.H. Sweet a.k.a. Drew Adams applies.

 June 1970

The first time it happened, Audrey Whorley had just turned eight years old. A cake, centered on a redwood picnic table, had her name on it along with eight candles. Her friends surrounded her, all with puffed faces, aiming their breaths toward the glowing flames.

Audrey wasn't there. Her body stood motionless staring off past the candles, past her home, past her young life.

She was in a room. A room like Me-maw was in before the angels took her. Me-maw wasn't in the bed. A man was, with tubes in his nose and something in his mouth, arms bandaged, one held up in the air by strings, like a puppet. Audrey looked hard at the man, but didn't know his face, yet she felt like crying.

“Audrey...baby.” The voice was next to her. Her mom was staring at her through reddened eyes. Tears ran down her face. Audrey was eye level with the woman and her mother's hair was dull with lots of gray in it. What happened to your hair, Mama. The words were in her mind, but never left her lips. Instead she heard a strange, but familiar voice.

“Oh mama, I can't stand it. I can't live without him.” The voice was her own, she knew it, but it sounded wrong—older. The woman, her mother, hugged her tight and whispered in her ear.

“Honey...I know. I wished I could make it go away, make it better, but I can't. You've got to let him go.”

Mama always makes it better. Now she felt and heard sobs break lose from her body. Not mine! Not mine! But the sobs continued, racking her body, nose running and she felt a torrent of tears wash down her face. A woman, with a stethoscope around her neck walked past them. She wasn't wearing a white smock like with Me-maw. Her uniform was turquoise, like mama's ring.

“We've given him morphine. Once we take him off the ventilator, his breathing will slow. It could happen fast, or it might take a little bit.” Audrey knew this woman was a nurse. Why she was just as tall confused her, and why did she feel so sad?

She could feel herself nod and blot her eyes with a tissue. With her mother steadying her she approached the bed and took the man's free hand. It was warm, limp. Across the bed stood an older boy and a girl. Audrey guessed she might be twelve. The girl looked a lot like her older cousin Shannon. They were crying too. The girl looked at her and spoke. “Mommy”, she managed.

Audrey heard the voice like hers answer. “It's okay sweetie. It'll be okay.” The last word came out like a croak.

The nurse took loose the straps holding the thing attached to the man's face and pulled. A tube was attached and to Audrey's horror had been down the man's throat. She watched as the woman went to a machine and flipped a switch. The man took a deep breath, opened his eyes and looked right at her. His gray eyes, looked afraid, surprised.

Her vision blurred, but she could feel hands holding her up and moving her. She could hear crying . The loudest, was the voice that was like hers.

My new book and a thought on book buying.

http://tinyurl.com/m5qy96t

My new E-book is out on amazon.

 I was monitoring a  discussion recently, where authors were commenting on lack of sales...remarking that the book cost little more than a large latte. I also had these thoughts, but on reflection realized that readers are not just spending their money, but their free time, even more important, their reading time. For most this time is a luxury and not to be spent frivolously. I hope any that purchase and read my book find the time spent in my world rewarding. My sincere thanks to all that take a chance on me.

1. This novel is my next...we all know there are individuals out there that hear voices. Some benign, some evil. Have you ever wondered if maybe...just maybe, the voices are real?

What if you heard them? What if you talked to a few, considered them friends?

What if one of them started to kill the others? Would you just wait around for your turn...or would you do something about it?

Look for this new thriller in June.

At Frightmare Weekend. I'm the rotund white-haired guy. The lovely lady next to me is Billie Sue Mosiman. The book I am holding is her latest Novel,  THE GREY MATTER.

I've been a fan of hers for over twenty years. She's authored fifteen or so novels, all superb, as well as a fountain of short stories. Her prose will spellbound you, while trapping you in a crafted world of twists and surprises.

It's late...I'm halfway through THE GREY MATTER, my eyes are grainy and I need to sleep. Don't think that's gonna happen.

Drew Adams...a.k.a. Andy Sweet.

GHOST REAPER THE NOVEL, and don't forget your chance at winning a 20$ amazon gift card and free copy of Ghost reaper the novel. drewadamsauthor.com