I would like to invite readers of Books One and Two to participate in a voluntary project in Book 3.
A character in Book 3 has invited people from around the world to send in their accounts of paranormal/ supernatural or just very weird experiences. She is especially interested in alleged “vampire” sightings/encounters. (Suppose you met Augere but didn’t know what he was, for example: what were your reactions, what did you feel, hear, see, what scents, what emotions…etc. )
Those of you who are interested in participating would have a brief entry included in the book (subject to some editing perhaps if you want to write one yourself, or one could be written for you. Your first name, and last initial, a date of your choice if any (such as a birthday/ anniversary but you can change the actual year) and your actual location or any location in the world you choose.
Brief excerpts/ examples: “I felt compelled by him; as if he weakened my will, as if he somehow had control over me and I remember I began to feel faint; the entire brief encounter was very disturbing.”
“He held my gaze and my full attention and yet all the while I kept thinking I needed to get away from him…”
And the encounter could be ANYTHING strange, weird, unnatural…
“A friend and I were crossing a busy street against the traffic late at night in the pouring rain. We had been drinking at several bars and we were laughing like mad, and I remember the cool night air and the rain taking away some of the buzz, and I know we weren’t that drunk. As we crossed to the other side of the street we ducked into a dark doorway, set back a ways, just to get out of the rain for a while. But as we entered the doorway—we compared notes later—we both saw these red eyes, at eye level, staring back at us. You could barely make out the dark outline of a figure–you couldn’t tell if it was man or woman, or human! We were both freaked out and sensed danger if not evil there and we ran for several blocks until we came to a pub that was open and ran inside, cold, wet and shaking. We still talk about that night and still wonder what the hell it was we saw.”
Cynthia R. and Jasmine M. March 15, 2007, Savannah, GA, historic district
If you are interested send your info to slcader@aol.com by the end of November.
Thanks!
Book 3 is coming along nicely!
Sandrine Genier 
I grew up in Savannah, Georgia. I heard tales of a somewhat older gentleman who strolled the streets of downtown in the evenings. He seemed to favor the Colonial Cemetery on Abercorn Street downtown. What made the accounts interesting is the fact that he actually dressed as one would expect a vampire to dress. Black suit, black cape, visible small fangs if he smiled. I actually never saw him until one night in 1993. I was heading upstairs into a well known gay nightclub to see the Lady Chablis perform. The stairs were very narrow and crowded, but the crush of bodies squeezing past didn’t bother me in the least and I had certainly seen some of the people coming up the stairs behind me. For whatever reason, I was compelled to look behind me when I was halfway up the crowded stairs. There stood the gentleman . All black garb and cape. I saw no fangs as he did not smile, but he scared me absolutely. A crowed staircase in a pack nightclub in the Savannah summer is a thick hot soup. No air, no coolness. This guy made me cold and he scared me. He said nothing, did nothing, but stared me dead in the eye. I pushed up the through the crowd and he absolutely just disappeared. Ya’ll, nobody saw him. They maybe lied, but I couldn’t find him again. True story.
I am working on my to-be-considered submission right now!
Shirley Patterson-Wallace
I am a little confused as to what is expected, but I was keeping in line with the book.
STORIES ABOUND…
Three years ago, I experienced an extremely peculiar incident the magnitude of which still haunts me to this very day.
In honor of our first wedding anniversary in 1987, my husband Bill and I were finally realizing our dream of visiting New Orleans. Neither of us had ever been nor could we contain our exhilaration as we stepped into the Maison Dupuy Hotel. The establishment exuded a time long gone but not forgotten. Entering the foyer, our senses were hit with an aroma of old, and new mingled together, escalating our excitement. Everything seemed so bright and flashy under the street lamps compared to our life in Washougal, Washington.
Suitcases unpacked, our stomachs protested that it was time to grab a bite to eat. We decided upon The Gumbo Shop, which was within walking distance and would give us an opportunity to take in the surrounding area with all its charm and unique architecture. The brightly colored residences and businesses we passed on our way were cheery and so enchanting. Some of the buildings were a little rundown, and I wondered if it were only the paint that held them together. Nonetheless, it only added to the historic atmosphere that surrounded us. We looked at one another and smiled—French Quarter of New Orleans! The Gumbo Shop was in sight.
The Maître ‘D escorted us to a quiet section of the restaurant. The smell of food and spices caused our senses to overflow with a pleasant unfamiliarity. Bill quickly started perusing the menu for some delicious Cajun cuisine, but just as I was about to look for myself, a strange feeling of being watched washed over me, accompanied by an icy draft. Looking to my right, I noticed an exquisitely dressed gentleman slowly sipping some sort of green liqueur. He was boyishly beautiful; yet ruggedly handsome—the epitome of a true Southern gentleman. His mesmerizing eyes bore into my soul, and I lost track of everything save the exquisite face before me. My body felt as though it were levitating as the sweet aroma, of what I can only describe as sweet as well as sensual, filled my being. I was overcome with passion and desire, but there was also some other emotion in the mix—fear.
“Shirley! Are you listening to me?”
My trance was abruptly broken when Bill began flapping the menu in my face. Suddenly embarrassed, I wondered if anyone, especially Bill, had noticed my enamored countenance.
“Where was your mind?” He teased.
Smiling as naturally as I could, my face flushed a bright red as the unknown man’s face flashed into my mind. Feeling brazen, I stole a quick glance only to find the hypnotic stranger had vanished. I was confused by my total disappointment at his disappearance.
Bill and I held hands as we walked down St. Peter Street. He talked most of the way, and I nodded my head a few times with a smile in polite acknowledgment, but I can remember nothing of the conversation. Soon we were at our destination and as Bill put the key into the lock, I turned my head in time to see the shadow of a tall man in the mist who seemed to be beckoning. Had Bill not grabbed my hand leading me into our room, the compulsion to run to the shadow would have undoubtedly won.
Stories of vampires abound in New Orleans. If I were prone to believe in such tales, I might ponder whether I had been glamoured on that dark night. However, vampires are just creatures of legend. Aren’t they?