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Among The Spirits
Among The Spirits
Among The Spirits
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Among The Spirits

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Among The Spirits tells the story of Irene Allen-Block who discovered at a very early age that she wasn’t like the other children she played with while growing up in England -- she could see and communicate with spirits! This would lead Irene down a unique and sometimes lonely path of self discovery.

Filled with laughter, tears and frightening visions of the other side, Among The Spirits is a personal story of one woman’s spiritual journey as she travels through the world of the strange and paranormal. From crossing over the spirits of young Victorian era children to battling demonic forces in a terrifying fight to the death, Irene uses her gifts to help out people in need on both sides of the spiritual veil. And as you journey with her you will see first hand how her experiences have effected her own life, but those closest to her.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 1, 2014
ISBN9781311732002
Among The Spirits
Author

Irene Allen-Block

Irene Allen-Block is a devoted British housewife, mother and grandmother, who currently resides in the lush UK countryside of Carmarthenshire, Wales. At an early age, Irene perceived the ability to contact and interact with the spirit world. From that point on, Irene realized that she was being prepared to undertake a mission that was different than she had ever envisioned.Irene was born in Amberley, Sussex and raised in south London. During her early adult years, she was extended an opportunity to master coordinated remote viewing at the time of the Cold War. In later years Irene took advantage of her prowess as a remote viewer and, combined with her psychic gifts, enabled her to be stronger in the spiritual service she currently performs to help others in need.Irene founded Spirit Rescue International in 2008 with the express intent of helping individuals, families and businesses with their paranormal issues at absolutely no cost. Working with her team of psychics and remote viewers, Irene is able to ascertain if people are dealing with spirits, demons, or just real-world problems – and help bring peace of mind to her clients. In extreme cases she can clean the location of any negative spirits or energies, and help lost and wayward souls cross over to the Other Side.

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    Among The Spirits - Irene Allen-Block

    Among The Spirits

    Copyright 2012 Irene Allen-Block

    Published by Glannant Ty Publishing

    First Edition: April 2012

    Second Edition: December 2014

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Table of Contents

    Dedication

    Acknowledgements

    Chapter One – The Early Years

    Chapter Two – Lost Souls

    Chapter Three – Shift In Time

    Chapter Four - Italy

    Chapter Five – The Murdered Teenager

    Chapter Six – A New Gift

    Chapter Seven – Glannant

    Chapter Eight – Out Of This Will Come Three

    Chapter Nine – Along Came The Second And Third

    Chapter Ten – Spirit Rescue International

    Chapter Eleven – One Side Of The World To The Other

    Chapter Twelve – Kansas Here I Come

    Chapter Thirteen – The Surrey Case

    Chapter Fourteen – My Years Of Hell

    Chapter Fifteen - Aliens

    About The Author

    DEDICATION

    My father Bill was one of the kindest people anyone could ever want to meet. Not only was he and understanding man. But for anyone needing it, he would give his last penny. A man that attracted people to him; friends, strangers it didn’t matter, people just opened up to Dad and would tell him their problems even if they had just met him. He was always there for everybody. Dad was a happy man, the life and soul of any party. Even at times when things got tough, he never allowed it to show in front of us kids. He was a train driver. Wages in those days were not enough to keep the family going, so when not driving trains, Dad would be looking for any means in which that he could make some extra. No work was too much for him, and at times he would be doing three jobs to keep our heads above water.

    He was very strong man, and tall, over six foot two, with blonde wavy hair and beautiful blue eyes. Very Nordic looking, it was always said that there was Viking blood in the family, and looking at my dad I would have to agree. Wherever dad went, women would do a double take. They would always turn to get a second look at him. He knew it too and lapped up the attention they gave him.

    He loved his family; was a good husband and as a father could not be faulted. He was strict when needed, but most of the time, he was the most loving, gentle father anyone could want.

    I came from a long line of people who had gifts. My fathers were to have premonitions of disasters, usually through dreams, but to him this was not a gift but a curse. Whenever it happened to him, the disaster would come to pass within a few weeks. The details were always exact; if the plane was to crash into a mountain that is what would happen. If someone were going to have an accident, it would happen just as Dad said.

    The last premonition Dad had was his death. At the time Dad told me about it, I was doing some ironing. He only told me, no one else in the family. I had a weird dream last night, he said, I was travelling through a tunnel, floating. I could see light in the end, but I couldn’t reach it. The walls of this tunnel were pulsating, and arms were coming through it and reaching for me. I don’t think he knew what it meant, and it did not click with me, until after he died, that what he dreamt that night was his demise.

    Up until this dream, there had been nothing physically wrong with Dad. He was a fit man, but a few weeks later he was complaining of severe pain in his back. I knew that this worried him, but if he had any other symptoms, he never said. He would not see a doctor.

    Time went by, and the time came that he had to see a doctor, and he was submitted to hospital straight away. Tests were done the first week, and the results showed bowel cancer. The second week, they did an exploratory operation, but the cancer had now reached the organs. Another week and he died. He was 53 years old.

    I knew this was not the end for Dad, but that did not stop the pain that I was feeling. My family was devastated; it was a hard time for all of us. We were falling apart. Dad had always been a rock in our family, and now we were alone.

    In time, we learned to cope, to pull our lives together, but Dad was always there somewhere in our thoughts and hearts. I next saw my Dad in a dream, a dream that was so vivid. He had been gone for two years. My first son Jamie was one year old, when Dad came to me in this dream, and told me never to worry about him; he was always beside him. I looked on this as a sign that he was my son’s guardian. When my next son, Billy, was due, he again gave me the same message, that he would be with this son also. He appeared that night sitting on the edge of my bed. The due date for the baby was on the 15th, but Dad told me I had two days, that he would be born on the 6th. I was wide awake, sitting up in bed talking with my father. I felt overjoyed. There was so much to tell him about what had happened to us since he had gone. This dialog took place through telepathy, and the following day I felt as if a load had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt like I was flying; so light and not a care in the world.

    As a child, I used to loving dancing with my dad. I would stand on his feet whilst he danced around the floor. Round and around we would go. From as early as I can remember, I loved dancing. It’s no wonder that when I grew up, I would have tried to make a career at it. Whenever the radio was playing music and dad was close by, I would jump on his feet for him to waltz around the room with me. Even as a grownup, we were still dancing, only now I could stand on my own feet and waltz around the room.

    Sounds crazy I know, but on more than one occasion, when I have been worried about something or have been listening to music, I will find myself dancing around the room. I can feel him there with me; I can smell him and feel the overwhelming love he held. Even after death we are still dancing. I am sure Dad is still there when I need him, helping sort out my problems. It doesn’t seem fair. My mother and siblings, even now after 32 years, still miss him and mourn him. But for me, I never lost him.

    I dedicate this book to you; Dad, my father Bill Allen, who I know is with me all the time. You are the man that made me the person I am today. You always gave me love and understanding. You taught me right from wrong, and to put others needs before my own.

    To you, Dad, one day we will dance again.

    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

    I would like to thank my husband Brian and my two sons, Jamie and Billy for their faith in me and the support they have given me during the writing of this book. You are my life

    To Della, who gave me my lovely grandchildren, Amy, Thomas and Emily Irene. Who on many occasions nearly deleted the book by sneaking onto my laptop, Thank you Della.

    To Natalie my daughter in law who gave me my second grandson Harry. Thank you Natalie.

    Mum, I love you, but I bet you never thought I would do it. This book is for you.

    Joe, who first suggested I write a book. I have done it Joe.

    Karen, Marie and Trevor my siblings I love all three of you.

    To all my friends at Spirit Rescue International, for being there for me and who have sent me countless well wishes you know who you are.

    To all the team members of Spirit Rescue for the endless good work they do to help those in need, you are SRI!

    To Tammy and Kim for their help with the book. Thank you.

    To Kim, for the final touches you put to the book.

    To Mark my Editor, Manager, Agent and business partner, a man of many titles. Without your encouragement and support I don’t think I would have got this far. Thank you Mark with all my heart.

    And last but not least my Spirit Guides and Guardian Angel, who keep me safe, Thank you.

    Chapter One:

    THE EARLY YEARS

    It was even before I was old enough to have the freedom to roam the countryside that I believe I sent my first spirit to the light. I must say here that I didn’t realise it at the time. Being so young, I didn’t recognize that first experience for what it was, but looking back on the memory, it seems that it’s just what happened.

    I must have been about four years old, or maybe a bit older. I was allowed to play with the other children from the village, as long as we didn’t go out of sight of my mother’s sharp eye. My brother being two years older was allowed to stray further from the house with his friends. I envied him for this. Children in this village seemed to play in age groups, and all the children I was playing with were around my age. It was an ordinary day, such as this, when I first saw him standing there, watching me; a small rather bedraggled looking boy of about three to four years old. Running up to him, I asked if he wanted to play with us, or would he have to go and ask his mum. I was one of those children that were friendly to any lonely child, so I asked him again, but there was no response. He just stood there looking lost and forlorn like a stray puppy dog.

    We carried on playing, and the next time I looked across to the boy, he was gone. I remember this boy as clear today as if it was yesterday. I can see his little face; his mousy coloured hair with a wave in it, his eyes sad and blue that looked deep into you as if pleading with your soul. Children tend to attract child spirits, and that was the case with me. Many times after this day, I would see him watching us. Each time I would wave at him, run over and ask him to join us, and each time I got the same response, no answer. One of these times I even asked some of the other children to ask him if he wanted to play. They just looked at me as if I had flipped. Ask who? they kept saying. Only later as I grew up did I realise that they never saw him.

    It was a sunny day when I saw him for the last time. I was outside playing, this time on my own. There I was, trying my hardest to balance on two tin cans with a bit of string attached to them; homemade stilts made by my dad for my brother. I fell off of them more times than I could balance on them, one time even grazing my knee on the pavement. The boy was there again, watching me, and this time I felt annoyed with him. I was uncomfortable that he was seeing me not doing too well trying to walk on the tin cans. Go to your mum, I said to him, I can hear her calling you. He just looked at me. Go to your mum! I shouted. But he carried on just watching me, Go to your mum! I bellowed. I said it with such intensity; I felt something different, like an electric tingling sensation run through my body. That difference did not register with me until I knew what I knew now that the feeling was a rise in my vibrations. The boy turned his head to the side as if looking at something and with that; he vanished. I never saw him again, and I never found out who he was.

    That night while lying in bed, my mum came in to say goodnight and give me a kiss. My father had already been in and read me a chapter from my favourite book, Gulliver’s Travels, as he always did. Now mum had come in to settle me down to sleep. She lit my night light for me, which really didn’t throw much light into the room, but made me feel safe never the less. As I lay there, I could hear my parents talking and was trying my hardest to listen to their conversation. Then something took my attention.

    Directly over top of my bed and above my head were three golden elongated shaped lights. They fascinated and mesmerised me. They seemed to hover and were bright. I felt no fear at all. It was so quiet and peaceful. The voices of my parents seemed to drift into oblivion. And as I watched the lights, the words the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost came into my head. I was just about four years old, and although I attended Sunday school every Sunday, at that age, we only played games. We were too young to learn the bible, so I had never even heard of the Holy Trinity. I knew nothing about it. There I was repeating those words in my head. Thinking about it now, I wonder if the lights could have been the presence of a little boy and his parents just returning to say, Thank you.

    From that time forward, I was one of those kids that saw things. Wherever there was anything to show itself, I would see it. But nothing ever frightened me, no matter however it looked. Maybe in my little mind I converted what I saw into something that I could understand. If something unusual appeared in front of me, out of curiosity, I would go towards it and try to touch it. Initially, I would tell my mother about these things, but I soon learnt not to mention them to her. I knew what she would say. Some of her preferred sayings were It’s all in your head, or You have such an active imagination. Her favourite was, If anyone were going to see a ghost, it would be me. I was born in a haunted house! These words would echo in my head for the rest of my life.

    My father, now he was different, he seemed to understand, and would listen to what I had to say. He would try to explain things to me. Even though they were the sort of explanations that a loving father would say just to try to put his overly inquisitive child’s mind to rest, he was there for me. It was later in my life that I found out he had a gift himself. He could and did predict many disasters, even forecasting his death, long before he became ill. Apparently, I came from a long line of people with psychic abilities.

    The experience I gained with my family children and working with children in the work that I do I have noticed one thing. Children, very young children of an age say from two three to four seem to have no fear of the things that they see, but children from five onwards very well could do. M believe is that once a child becomes school age and begins education then they become aware that what they are seeing is not normal. In their minds then it should not be, and they begin to question the reality of it, it is with this questioning that the fear sets in.

    The Vicarage Garden

    One spectre that has always stood out from my childhood was that of a young girl. I was six going on seven years old by now, and my parents felt I was old enough to go to my friend’s on my own. Asserting this newfound freedom, I would often go to play with my friend, Diana, who lived in a cottage down by the Castle.

    One day, on such a visit, as I was walking past the vicarage garden, I was aware of a young girl about my age playing in the garden. She was skipping in and out of the bushes, and peeping from behind the trees as if playing a game of hide and seek. I walked over to the gate and stood up on it to get a better look. Calling out to her, I asked, Do you want to come and play with me and my friend? She stopped what she was doing and looked in my direction, but didn’t answer. I was sure she heard me. Her hair was long with ringlets, and she wore a pretty, embroidered dress, under which she had on what I now know as long pantaloons. I liked her dress. I would have loved to have a party dress that looked just like that one, with embroidery on it. I wasn't so sure about the pantaloons, however. She again continued to play her game, and for a while, I stood watching her, confused about who she was. She was not a pupil at the village school, or I would have recognised her. I stood there and watched her for a bit, before looking down at my Mickey Mouse watch. Time seemed to have flown, and, I realised that I had only an hour left to play with Diana before I had to be home for teatime, so I carried on my way. For the rest of that summer, whenever I went to Diana’s, I would stop at the vicarage gate, and watch for a while, the little girl in the garden.

    Being old enough now to walk to the other end of the village to play with a friend, I was also old enough to go and visit my grandparents. I loved my grandparents dearly, especially my grandfather who was always teasing me. They lived at Crossgates, only a short walk up the lane for me. It was on one such visit to their house that I got my first glimpse of my spirit guide. The one that has stayed with me from birth, and more than likely will be there at my death.

    I was walking up the lane that led to their house, daydreaming as I went. I was picking Primroses and other wildflowers, and maybe a pretty weed or two that grew on the grass verges alongside the road. Just as I passed what the older kids used to call the hanging tree, an old gnarled oak tree that for me marked the halfway point, there in front of me was a Monk. At that time, I had no idea what a Monk was and hadn’t even heard of one. Only later, as I became wiser and more educated, did I realise who my mystery man was, and recognise the fact that there was no monastery anywhere nearby. I remember him clearly. He wore a brown habit, the cowl hanging right over his face, and his head hung low. There I was, this tiny girl standing in the presence of this strange person with funny clothes and yet I felt no fear. He looked at me, his eyes so gentle and kind, and in my head, I heard his words, words that were meant for my ears only. I continued on my journey, and when I turned my head to look back at the stranger, he was gone. Over the years that followed, I was to have many more meetings and conversations with my Monk. I know he follows me around. Many other Psychics have verified this to me. They tell me they see him standing just behind me.

    Those days living in the countryside were some of the happiest I ever had. We children would get up early, have a boiled egg for breakfast, and run down the garden to feed the chickens. Chores done; we were allowed to go off to play. We roamed everywhere, down the wild brooks, across the South Downs, wherever adventure took us. We were explorers, pirates looking for buried treasure. We lived in a castle and fought off invaders. I was a tomboy, and this time in my life, I would play more with my brother and the boys than I would with the girls. It was action and adventure for me.

    At nine years old, my parents decided to move to London for my father’s work. For me, this was a big change. Coming from the village to this big city it was all so different. With all the grey buildings, and busy roads that I was scared to cross, everything looked so big and ugly. I had come from the biggest playground any child could ever want, to the back garden and a municipal park. I felt trapped, caged. We no longer had the freedom we were used to. Mum worried every time we left the house, and she now had to know where we all were at all times.

    We were now living in an old Victorian house, and it was no surprise to find that we had an extra guest living with us. ‘Yep, it was haunted.' Her name was Mrs Hyland, this we found out by

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