evp book start?

Question

This is just a start to my EVP book. thanks 4 ready in advanced!!!

Four o’clock; my favorite talk show is on. I didn’t care if the woman was talking about men’s health or how to bake chicken that could win you a million dollars. I watched her everyday and didn’t miss a single episode. I definitely wasn’t going to miss her today.
She was talking with members from the AAEVP (American Association of Electronic Voice Phenomena). I was a skeptic at the time and didn’t want to believe in it.

Bigfoot isn’t real, the lochness monster is a hoax, aliens cannot abduct us, ghosts are photoshopped images, and I certainly was believing we couldn’t communicate with the dead. A married couple, The Butlers appeared on stage. They went into detail about the AAEVP and what they do. They go to various different places with a tape recorder and record voices from people who have passed on. Once they said that they believed they captured Marilyn Monroe’s voice, I still was skeptical.
Another woman by the name of Karen Mossey appeared on stage. She recorded messages from her father via electronic voice phenomena. Her recordings also appeared in the two-thousand five movie, White Noise. At first, I totally believed this was all a bunch of bullshit, a scam, a hoax, and just a new way to give people hope. They played her recordings. They were short clips of a man speaking. He had a strong voice. He sounded alive, but what he was saying took many amplifiers to understand. She said her family ag

agreed it was him.
I believed it was just a new type of hope. People want to believe that their loved ones are okay and that they made it alright. Psh! No one can talk to the dead. The talk show host didn’t look or seem skeptical. They seemed rather shocked and described this as a new “shocking revelation.”
During the commercial break memories of when I was fourteen played in my mind. My Uncle Frank, or Frankie as my aunt called him passed away near Christmas time. He was sick most of his life, so I wasn’t surpised, but I was somewhat devastated. Uncle Frank was one of my heroes. He couldn’t leave this world now.
As part of the grieving process I tried writing. I would write him medium sized letters. I would tell him the current gas prices, how school was going, what I was doing in school, and many things that were current:

Dear Uncle Frank,

A lot has happened since you passed away. North Korea has launched off missiles as a test. The oil prices have hit record above $75 a barrel. I'm on summer vacation now. The summer days have only gotten warmer and longer. Key lime pie. Flower printed shirts. I could have sworn you were a Beach Boy, but your not a Beach Boy. You're not even a saint. You're my uncle. My dead, decaying, fading uncle who lost all of his faith when she said, "I'm coming home without Missy." Oh how you loved her. Oh how you finally had a dream come true. Your finally in heaven with her. You should be happy and I should be happy for you. It was your time to go. Those times when you just want to disconect the phone from the line. Those times when it actually hits home. When your dying and he keeps trying. He keeps trying to win the next biggest pool championship, but it's kind of hard. Monday's weren't always so pretty. These poems are all I have left to hold onto and to remind me of you. There was a time when

it was fun
to put the ornaments on the tree and find where the pickle was hidden this year, but it was different that year and every year after. I hate Christmas. I hate the pretty lights. I hate the Santa statues and I hate the tree topper. It's a star, but I don't believe wishing on those. Christmas has changed so drastically. It isn't the same anymore. Was there ever a time when everything was so innocent? When everything only consisted of togetherness and not some stupid Disney themed roller coaster that had a lot of up's and down's. Will the end of your life be the beginning of something new? The end of death or the happiness we can't ever find?

In my sleep he would come to me and talk to me. He would respond to the letters. When it first started to happen I was scared and frightened.

I rarely remembered my dreams. There were times I would stay up all night in bed just so I didn’t have to hear him. I thougt it was a form of psychotic problems. I took many psychotic tests online from well known health websites. Every result I got said, “You’ve scored less than five percent. You are not at all psychotic, but if at any time you do feel suicidal please seek medical help. Fifty-nine percent of other woman your age have gotten this answer.” I kept getting the same answer so that proved to me that I wasn’t psycho.
I wasn’t going to tell my family about any of this. They would surely throw me in the nuthouse or have me put in a straight jacket. I didn’t tell them when I had my first alcoholic beverage, the day I tried marijuana, and they certainly weren’t going to know about this.
It could have been possible that I was talking to him. I mean, my nana believed after her friend died that he called her up on the telephone.

She was just doing normal house chores when the phone rang. It was her friend who just passed over telling her he was okay. She was all upset. I also believed it could’ve been a special talent like my mother’s. My mother had a lot of premonitions or dreams her whole life. All of her dreams and premonitions came true the next day or a week later. She once had a dream of a man riding a red motorcycle and colliding into something and dying. The next day my Uncle Rich was out riding his red motorcycle and collided. He arrived “dead on arrival” at the hospital. Her most reccent premonition was of a dog. She reminded me the next day that we were not getting a dog. Later on that day I found out my cousin had gotten a dog. It was the exact dog she had in her dream.

My mother could also predict or know many things. Every Friday night I watched the reality television show, America’s Psychic Challenge. During the commercial break they would let the home viewers test their psychic ability. They would ask various questions such as, “What color blouse will Helen buy?”, “How many fingers is Donald holding up behind his back?”, or “What card will the poker dealer turn over?” I’d run into her room and ask her. She’d tell me her answer and then the show would return. There was never a time that she got an answer wrong. Every question they asked, she got right. It would freak her out most of the time. Her gut would go into her stomach and she would get this unpleasent feeling like something wasn’t right. She knew she was psychic and didn’t like taking tests. She doesn’t like being psychic. It scares her.
Was this all a coincidence or real proof that being psychic can exist? Her mother experienced it, her gradmother experienced it, she was experiencing it,

my brother experienced very little of it when he was younger, and now, was I?

Answer 1

Looks interesting.

Answer 2

I wish you could condense this. It sounds interesting..but for some reason I can't read it all (or stay connected to it while reading it) Maybe it has to do with reading from a computer. Do you think you could condense it so we could give you an answer or an opinion? Thanks

Answer 3

I sent you an e-mail response but I posted here for the 2 points ;)

Answer 4

Would you mind repeating that?