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Eine Lieferung an Minderjährige ist nicht möglich
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My name is Ellen R. O'Neill, old country spelling. You think you know weird? No, you don't. Not unless you meet certain criteria. And my bona fides are as follows: I have been dead, twice. Because of this, I know weird.
If you have a smidgen of what I simply call, The Gift, and this is different from knowing weird, The Gift can allow you to know when weird is getting ready to happen.
I guess my favorite and most direct warning system for weird is Clive. That would be Clive, King of the Crows. Where o' where do I start?
My newest waring from Clive: "You are getting ready to be picked
…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
My name is Ellen R. O'Neill, old country spelling. You think you know weird? No, you don't. Not unless you meet certain criteria. And my bona fides are as follows: I have been dead, twice. Because of this, I know weird.
If you have a smidgen of what I simply call, The Gift, and this is different from knowing weird, The Gift can allow you to know when weird is getting ready to happen.
I guess my favorite and most direct warning system for weird is Clive. That would be Clive, King of the Crows. Where o' where do I start?
My newest waring from Clive: "You are getting ready to be picked through. Be mindful. He is a charmer and he likes older, plump women."
That is when the searing pain went through my side.
I woke up in the hospital and sitting by my side was the doc-on-call. My chart in his hands, his eyes reading through the notes left behind by others. "Perforated bowel," he nodded.
Lifting my hand to his lips, I heard him sniff then lick the veins.
"That's a bit odd," my eyes fixated on him. "You do not see that type of behavior in most docs. And especially on-call-docs. I am missing a lot of blood. Running tests, they say. Ha! Are you the vampire they keep in the basement?"
"Well yes, I am," he replied, kissing my hand and then I felt a small prick. I watched as the blood welled up from the vein and with a delicate flick of his tongue, it was gone. "I understand you have been asking to meet me."
"Have you a name?" I asked.
"Jon Irving."
"Jon Irving," I nodded. "That is not a pretty boy name, at all. And you are a pretty boy."
His eyes, held me down and kissed me in the most intimate of places.... those two orbs, they looked like the moon rising though the mist filled trees, dark and shadowy and brilliantly lit as the light filtered through the limbs. For a moment, I thought I could get lost there. And maybe I did because it does not help that he looks exactly like my dead husband.


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Autorenporträt
I am a graduate of Oklahoma State University. I have a degree in Theatre and an opinion about everything. I have a strong, undeniable faith in God and attempt to keep Him in my heart at all times. Some days are better than others.

It has been an honor and a privilege for thirty-six years, to be my beloved husband's camp follower. I would follow him through hell and back because I know he would bring me home safely, or die trying. There have been eighteen house-hold moves in twenty- seven years, three were over seas. I have traveled in forty-seven different states. I have tasted my way around the world, literally. Veni, Vedi, Visa. I came, I saw, I did a little shopping. Hey, someone has to keep the economy rolling. I am a U.S. Army wife and damn proud of it.

I do not believe in coincidence and that word does not exist in my vocabulary.

I think of myself as a domestic entertainment chef. There is no recipe to complicated or day of the week that is not worth celebrating.

One of my favorite pastimes is to visit tea houses and then review them on my blog site. On the flip side of that, I love coffee. "Really, you roast your own beans! I'll be right over!"

...the spirit transcends the body...

Myers-Briggs: I 60% ; N-80%; F-93%; P-88%