Meet Author Olivia Starke



Boo!

 I love the paranormal, and I admit I love a good ghost story. One of my favorite programs is Ghost Hunters on the SyFy channel, which is on T.V. as I’m writing this blog post.

My parents swear they lived in a haunted house years before I was born. As a kid I listened eagerly to their stories of it. If you walked upstairs, they said you’d hear someone walk downstairs and across the floor. If you walked downstairs you’d hear someone walk upstairs and across the second story floor. They had a yard gate that regardless of whether it was locked would be open each morning. One evening they arrived home with my uncle and aunt in tow and saw a bearded man walk through the home. Everyone saw the figure as they stood in the driveway. When my father and uncle went inside they found the place still locked and no one in sight.

Yes, it sounds pretty creepy right down to the fact that after my parents moved out the home burned down (as you hear haunted houses often do.)

My best friend says as a teenager she heard the family dog, with her little nails tapping away on the hardwood floor, trot into her bedroom per the dog’s usual morning routine. Of course this was days after the much loved canine family member had passed on.

I have to say that I am a diehard skeptic. Though I have a vivid imagination, I’m simply someone that has to find a plausible explanation for everything. Yet, this past winter I had an experience that leaves me scratching my head.

I was sitting in my cozy chair one night, typing away on my laptop, when I saw my Rat Terrier, Max, jump behind the arm of the sofa out of sight. I scolded him right away to leave the cats alone, fearing he wanted to bully the kitties (he’s so darn bossy.) My mother was sitting on the couch and she gave me a strange look.

“Why are you on to Max? He’s right here.” And yes, he was sound asleep at the foot of the couch, not on the floor. As I thought about it, the dog, though similar in build, had been smaller with a lighter color and different pattern of spots.

If I’d had a quick glimpse out of the corner of my eye, I’m sure I could discount it without a second thought. But I had looked up and had a clear image of the small dog’s leap and had even heard the soft thud of paws hitting carpet. I mentioned what I had seen to my mother, who humored me while engrossed in her television program. I searched all over for the yellow spotted stray that had somehow gotten into my house. Of course, I didn’t find the mystery dog.

A couple of months passed and my mother was walking down the hallway from the bathroom when she stopped at the door to my bedroom. She walked inside my room, looked around, and came back out with a strange look on her face.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I swear I saw a small dog in the doorway to your bedroom. It was sitting there staring up at me, before it ducked behind the door. I went in, but none of the animals are in your room.”

I asked her what it looked like, and she said it was a little yellow spotted dog.

How odd, because for one the door was open and I keep it closed so I don’t have four dogs and two cats fighting over my bed. Second, she’d seen the dog I’d seen—though she’d forgotten about my own encounter. And third, it was in the daylight, so she’d had a clear view of the phantom pup and not just a shadowy figure that could have been anything.

I’ve never owned a dog that looks like the one we’ve spotted, and from what I know the previous owners’ of the home didn’t have a dog. I am a complete sucker for strays, and all of my companion animals are rescues. Though I’m still not a believer I have to wonder, am I now a magnet for strays of a ghostly sort?

Oh well, at least they’ll be cheap to feed…



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Olivia Starke is a multi-ePublished erotic romance author with six paranormal releases available at Cobblestone Press (http://www.cobblestone-press.com/.) She can be found on Facebook, as well as on her website http://www.oliviastarke.webs.com/