Picture Reading: Husband Fishing and the Little Girl Close By

A woman was taking photos of her husband as he was fishing in a
remote location that they had to hike to get to. There was no one
else around but the two of them, so she thought. After getting the
film developed she noticed this girl whom appears to be wearing
a bonnet, just to the right of her husband.
My Opinion:
This little girl is standing on the bottom step of where
she used to live.
She is facing the door and is very shy about church today.
Company has come and she is sparkling.
Later, months later, in her fever deliriums, she will remember
this pose and remember only happiness.

Hotel Security Investigate Horrible Screaming From An Empty Room – Marriott Hotel

Great point, I never thought of a demon….come to think of it, those screams didn’t sound human.
Who would lock a demon in a hotel room?  weird!

On 7/10/2013 3:29 PM, Marie Taylor wrote:
I have determined this demon could not get out of this room by itself. I’d look toward the last occupant. The one who ‘stayed’ the demon there, inside the room, by barrier.
Seems the demon did everything possible to bring someone there with the purpose of opening the door. Once the door was opened, he was out and gone that fast.
Slippery, sneaky, schemeing, destructive, yeah, all that.
And free at last again. (grrr!)

OMG that hot room is really scary…

Dr. Donald Ryles posted: ” How Do Spirits Communicate ? What Is The Best Paranormal Software ? Is There A Ghost In Every House ?…click to continue Share This Post…  ”

Credit: Dr. Donald Ryles

GHOST HOUSE – POEM BY ROBERT FROST

 
 

Ghost House
by

Robert Frost

“I Dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;

The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.

It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me–
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,–
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.

~Robert Frost – Ghost House~


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