Embracing the Spirits: True Stories of My Encounters With the Other Side Barbara Parks (good e books to read .txt) đź“–
- Author: Barbara Parks
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We met up later that day, and Katinka told me what she
knew about the hotel. From breaking glass, disembodied foot-
steps and life-like apparitions, it was obvious that she had no doubt that the hotel was haunted. The fax machine would
mysteriously turn itself on, buzzing and carrying on despite
there being no fax. Doors would mysteriously open and close,
the till would fly open by itself. The Kalamunda Hotel even
has an invisible toilet flusher!
One particularly solid apparition made an appearance in
the hotel bottle shop, prompting Katinka’s husband (who was
on duty at the time) to try and serve the strange woman he
believed to be a customer. The elderly woman was dressed in
period clothing, her grey hair pulled back into a severe bun.
She disappeared as soon as she was approached.
The old woman is widely believed to be the ghost of Miss
Jarrett, the daughter of the Irish Stockman who built the original hotel. It is reported that she lived in the attic until her death and refuses to move on. Others still report the ghost of an Irishman, so perhaps Miss Jarrett and her father are haunting the hotel together.
The Kalamunda Hotel 69
Katinka also told me about a sad case involving a suicide in
the 1970’s. A young woman came to the hotel to see her boy-
friend, who was working his shift at the bar. Their relation-
ship was on the rocks, and she was hoping to speak to him and
patch things up. Contrary to salvaging the relationship as she had expected, her boyfriend informed her that it was all over, and that he was in fact seeing somebody else.
The distraught young woman made her way upstairs and
into the first room she could access. Consumed by heartbreak,
she impulsively took her own life. She was found hanging in
Room 1 the next day, a spur of the moment decision which
has kept her imprisoned in the hotel’s hallways ever since.
A day after hearing Katinka’s story, I received an email
which stopped me in my tracks. A lady named Jacqui wanted
to show me a photo she had taken a couple of years ago at the
Kalamunda Hotel. The photo was of a ghostly apparition; it
was the image of a young woman with long, blond hair. I was
sure it was the woman I had just been hearing about. Jacqui
also told me that her stay at the hotel had yielded some com-
pelling EVP’s. I was excited and intrigued.
We arranged to meet at the hotel the following week.
Although we were just meeting for a casual lunch, I knew it
would turn into so much more.
The photo was amazing. If it wasn’t for the fact that the
apparition didn’t have a lower half to her body (and the fact that Jacqui had assured me no other person was present at the
time) I would have thought that the photograph was of a liv-
ing person. Another giveaway was the ghost’s confused and
pained expression. Zooming in on her face was heart-break-
ing, it was obvious that the woman had been thrust into a
tragic situation by her angst-ridden impulsiveness. Her suicide 70The Kalamunda Hotel
was a knee jerk reaction which has now left her trapped in the lower-vibratory realms.
Jacqui handed me a thumb drive which I would listen to
later, but first it was time to introduce ourselves to the hotel’s resident ghosts.
We made our way up the wide, wooden stair case, snap-
ping away as we went. Although we managed to capture
numerous orbs in our photos, we were both in the mindset
that we wanted a more concrete connection with the hotel’s
ghosts. We didn’t need proof of their presence, we knew they
were there and we wanted to help.
Perhaps fortuitously, a smallish round table sat off to one
side of the upstairs bar area.
“That table would be perfect for a session of table tipping,”
I said. “Do you think we should see if anyone wants to make
contact?”
Jacqui smiled as she pushed away the surrounding chairs.
“Absolutely!” she said.
A moment later, we were carrying the table into the Dome
Room; the room in which we felt the ghosts most strongly.
“Right!” I said as we placed our hands on the table. “Let’s
see if anyone wants to come through …”
Jacqui and I spent the next half hour chatting to the young
girl in the photo, and to Mr Paddy Connelly himself. Although
Paddy was initially reluctant to communicate, he soon
warmed to us and was happy to join in. We ended up using an
upturned glass with a hastily scribbled Ouija board, through
which Paddy was able to identify himself and make contact.
His energy first came across as unwelcoming and angry, but
we soon reassured him that we were here to help and meant
him no harm. I feel confident that we eventually won him
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over, especially since we shared an amusing exchange at the
end of the afternoon.
“Paddy,” I said. “We are definitely coming back next week.
We’re going to help you and all the souls who are trapped here move on. Are you happy about that?”
YES he slowly responded.
“I know you don’t have a great history with women, but
may I ask if there’s any chance you like me?”
Again, the glass dragged itself to YES.
“What about Jacqui?” I asked. “Do you like her?”
YES!
“Wonderful!” I said. “We feel the same about you. And I
know you won the Ugliest Man competition, but let me just say that I’ve seen your photo and I don’t think you’re ugly at all!”
The light-hearted banter seemed to affect the atmosphere
in the room. The heaviness seemed to clear, and was replaced
by a sense of excitement and anticipation.
I asked Paddy if we could have a farewell photo before we
left, suggesting that he posed with Jacqui. At first glance, there was nothing to hint at Paddy’s presence, and it wasn’t until I downloaded the photo that afternoon that I began to laugh.
A radiant little orb had positioned itself right in the mid-
dle of Jacqui’s lips, prompting me to think that our new friend was giving her a farewell kiss. I couldn’t wait to get back to the
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