Author: L. Sydney Fisher

Congrats to Regenia Young, the winner in this month’s GIVEAWAY.  Your signed copy is on the way!

My book hit the BESTSELLER LIST on Amazon for Supernatural Suspense last week.  HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY!

With Father’s Day approaching, my mind becomes consumed with memories of my father and a story about his passing that has a paranormal twist you may appreciate….

Daddy was diagnosed with colon cancer and lived for about two years before crossing over in April, 1991.  I remember him as a man with an incredibly calm disposition.  He rarely showed anger and if he did, it didn’t last long.  I also remember him as a very devoted Christian.  My parents divorced when I was very young, but I remember spending many weekends and summer vacations with Daddy over the years.  If I forgot to pack a dress for Sunday church, he took me to one of the malls in Memphis, Tennessee and bought me something to wear.  We didn’t miss church.  Even though he slept through most of the service.  He had a condition known as sleep narcolepsy.  Usually, my brother and I would sit on each side of him putting him in the middle so that if he began to snore, we could jab him in the ribs from both sides.

I also remember that he definitely believed in an afterlife.  He believed that the soul lived on.  In fact, this was so important to him that he had a conversation with my uncle while he was a patient at St. Francis Hospital in Memphis.  The conversation went something like this.

Daddy:  Jake, I want you to know that I am going to heaven when I die.

Jake:  (Looking surprised at this sudden affirmation from Daddy)  Ok, Landon.  I believe you.

Daddy:  I mean it.  I really want you to know that.

Jake:  I believe you.  But I tell you what. Why don’t you send me a sign to let me know that you’ve made it?

Daddy:  Ok, what kind of sign?

Jake:  (Thinks for a minute)  I know.  Remember those old tombstones standing in the middle of the wheat field at mom and pop’s house?  You know, Dr. Ross.  The ones that have been there for over a hundred years?

Daddy:  Yeah, Yeah.  I know.

Jake:  Ok.  Then knock them over.

Daddy:  You want me to knock them over as my sign?

Jake:  Yeah, knock them over.  I’ll know it’s you when I look out the kitchen window and don’t see them.

Fast forward one year later in May, 1992.  I get a telephone call at 9:00 p.m. on a Sunday night.  Uncle Jake precedes to tell me about the above conversation before he informs me that the tomb stones have been knocked down.  Not just knocked down, but knocked completely off a concrete base weighing several hundred pounds.  And no one really knows how many days that the tombstones had been in that condition.  What could have caused it?  These tombstones had been standing in the middle of a wheat field for over one hundred years.  Surrounded by tall, waist high wheat.  Fields that my uncle farmed.  Maybe a prank by a group of teenagers?  How did they get to the middle of the field without an ATV or something that would have indicated traffic through the field? And who would have known about the location?  Bad weather?  There had not been a storm in weeks.  Earthquake?  Since this was in Missouri, my uncle did inquire about any local tremors.  NONE.  I was stunned to hear this and told my uncle that I wanted to come and have a look.  My brother and I made plans to view the graves the following weekend.

When we arrived, my uncle was just as eager for me to see the graves as I was.  We walked through the fields with wheat already growing waist high.  There it was.  Just as he had described it.  A century old tombstone completely busted away from its base.  It was massive.  Huge.  Solid concrete.  I stood and stared for a few minutes.  I found myself searching for a logical explanation.  Was this Daddy’s sign?

During the ride home, I pondered over the event.  A comforting feeling washed over me.  A feeling of awe and wonder.  Amazement.  This was definitely Daddy’s style.  During his struggle with cancer, he shared his Christian testimony with many and touched lives during his stay at St. Francis.  Was he now in the afterlife still reaching souls through a supernatural message that would be shared with thousands?

I opened the front door and flicked on the lights.  It was just me in the apartment.  Alone.  I sat down at my antique writing desk and picked up my pen.  Words began to pour from my fingers.

Dear Daddy, I heard that you made it.

Register to win a signed copy of L. Sydney Fisher’s latest release,

The Haunted Prophecy of Natalie Bradford.  NOW thru June 19th.  HURRY!

Visit the contact page at https://www.lsydneyfisher.com and submit the form for a chance to win.

GOOD LUCK!

It happened on a hot July day back in the early 1990’s.  I was visiting a local museum full of Americana memorabilia.  There weren’t many other people in the museum that day, but I do remember a few wandering around.  The front desk clerk busied herself with counting tickets and waiting on visitors as they entered the front entrance hall.  I had just paid for my ticket as I made my way down a small ramp that leads into another part of the exhibit hall.  I turned back to see where my companion was when suddenly the front door of the museum opened and in walked a tall man (probably 6’1″ or 6’2″).  He was dressed in a ragged Confederate uniform.  I stopped dead still in my tracks and stared at this man as he continued to walk past the front counter where the clerk seemed to be oblivious to his presence.  The man walked with a limp and sort of dragged his right foot (if I remember correctly about which foot it was).  His shoes were absolutely worn out.  There were holes in the sides.  He looked very hot and wiped sweat from his brow onto the sleeve of his shirt.  He stopped at the end of the counter and sat down in a wooden, kitchen chair.  I was mesmerized by this point and could not remove my eyes from him.  Why wasn’t anyone else noticing him besides me?  He didn’t speak to anyone or utter a sound when he came through the door.  But, couldn’t someone else see him?  Who was he?  Was he a part of a reenactment going on near the museum?  As I continued to stare taking in every detail of the man’s attire, he finally looked directly at me and showed his irritation at my staring.  His brow was in a furrow and he quickly looked away.  At that moment, he stood up and I pretended to be looking at an exhibit as he wandered past me.  He walked down the same ramp and just as I turned to follow him, he was gone.  I dashed around the corner of the hall, but he was nowhere to be found.  Where did he go?  I searched all around the exhibit halls and looked for a possible exit that he may have taken.  Nothing.  I was so shocked that I walked back to the front entrance where the scene was just as I had left it.  Chills covered my body until I was forced to rub my neck and stop the tingling creeping up my ears.  What had I just seen?  I finished my tour of the museum and left.  Once outside, I explored the surrounding area and asked people if there was a Civil War reenactment going on.  No one knew of any events in the area.  Years later, I did some research of the area and discovered that the museum is actually located in the middle of a Civil War battlefield.  The Battle of Tupelo was fought on those grounds with heavy Confederate casualties July 14-15, 1864.  Was this soldier re-visiting the place where he had died?  I have been back to that museum many times and have never seen the man again.  I may never know who he was or why he was there, but l will never forget the day that I couldn’t believe my eyes!

Please join me here at Facebook by clicking LIKE!

https://www.facebook.com/LSydneyFisher

THANKING YOU NOW!

This story is now available as a set at Amazon.com.  I want to invite you to experience the world of the paranormal through Natalie’s eyes.  I am a living witness in this story.  It happened.  Sometimes the terror of it all still comes alive when I drive by the restaurant where Liz Bradford was murdered.  I remember them all.  The Bradford family.

And Natalie?  All I can say is denial can be deadly.

Sleep with the lights on,

L. Sydney

Ok, the writing has begun. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that the research stops so that I can do more writing. The Phoenix Series is definitely going to challenge me. It will require me to do research as the process and words unfold. I will be questioning everything. During the early 1990’s, our military operated a program that explored the capabilities of the human mind for intel purposes. The findings were extraordinary to the skeptics, but I wasn’t surprised at all. I already knew. In fact, at least 3 U.S. presidents may have been at the forefront of this program’s approval since we funneled over 20 million dollars into the research. Meet Seth Phoenix. If the international community finds out that we have a human being with his capabilities, it could spark a global manhunt. How can you develop a weapon against him? Stay tuned.