The House Where Evil Lurks: A Review

I have to admit that I am a sucker for ghost stories.  I like the historical factor that is associated with them.  The idea that the energy of an event or a person can consciously or unconsciously linger over time is intriguing. 

I just finished reading The House Where Evil Lurks: A Paranormal Investigators Most Frightening Encounter by Brandon Callahan. My mind is muddled over what to think of it.  The book is written in first person, and in some ways feels a little bit like a movie script. I don’t know if that is because of the way the story unfolds, or if I have watched too many episodes of Ghost Hunters /Most Haunted and can visualize what each scene would look like.  The events that unfold are interesting and can keep the readers interested.  By the end of the book, I tended to wonder about the cats, but that probably has more to do with me being a cat person, than any intent on the authors part. 

Overall the book is about as frightening as an episode of Most Haunted or Ghost Hunters.  It gives you enough history for your mind to make certain leaps and jumps, but not enough to leave the average reader shaking in their boots.  If anything, the picture of the cover is a bit more sinister than the recollections of the paranormal investigation.  

I am sure that some people would want to take every word seriously, but seeing that I was reading for pleasure and not to expand upon paranormal investigation skills, I found it was easy to skim some parts with out losing the gist of what was happening.  It was an easy beach read, that kept me amused as I was slowly roasted by the unrelenting solar rays.  I enjoyed the book, and would lend it out if someone was interested in that sort of genre.  If I were to give it a rating it would be 3 stars out of 5 stars.  A good beach read, with low investment of mental energy to enjoy. 

Dreams of Sun and Sand

Did you ever have one of those dreams that you can’t forget about? I know that most people don’t remember their dreams at night or don’t even dream.  Every once in a while I can remember fragments of a dream that can leave me scratching my head.  Last week I had a dream and if I close my eyes I can still recall the way parts of it felt. 

::insert wavy dream transition sequence here::

The sun was shining in the cerulean sky. Gat and I had beach chairs slung over our pale white shoulders as we ambled to the shoreline. My friends, Maria and Clint were already set up where the breaking waves could tickle their toes. Maria had a twinkle in her eyes ad her curls bounced in the breeze as she offered me a brown bottle beer as we sat our chairs in the sand. Clint smiled like a salt and pepper Cheshire cat and told us to dig our toes in as his eyes crinkled in glee.  Maria winked and plugged her beer with her thumb as a huge wave crashed over us.  I could feel the grit of sand between my toes as I tried to anchor myself as the clear blue and white water swirled above me and tried to sweep me out to sea. 

::End dream sequence::

There was a second part to the dream, but that I am going to keep to myself.  The dream of sun and sand is a contrast to the ice and gray of winter that I am currently in. If I close my eyes I can still feel the sand between my toes and the way the water tried to tug and pull me away.  I am sure that if I were to consult a dream dictionary it would have some deep and possibly meaningful opinions on what my subconscious was trying to tell me. I am going to remember the way the sand felt between my toes as a wrap another scarf around me in an attempt to keep warm.