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    Inbetween Shadows
    Inbetween Shadows
    Inbetween Shadows
    Ebook113 pages51 minutes

    Inbetween Shadows

    By Ann Bailey

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Some years ago, the Author of this book experienced a supernatural event. This true
    documented story entwines the death of a U.S.A soldier killed in 1944 with a Canadian soldier killed in 1992. Included in this book are spiritual Prose and Poems which the author feels
    adds to the supernatural event and the existence of a spirit world.

    InBetween Shadows will be of interest to readers of all Faiths since it strengthens Belief
    and helps to convince those who doubt. After all, there is only one universal God, one Truth, no
    matter which Prophet or Teacher we follow.

    This fascinating book also includes a bundle of Thats Life poems.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTrafford Publishing
    Release dateFeb 26, 2007
    ISBN9781412242745
    Inbetween Shadows

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      Book preview

      Inbetween Shadows - Ann Bailey

      Contents

      ‘WRITINGS’

      and

      POEMS

      SOFTLY, SOFTLY

      THAT’S LIFE

      A SMALL BUNDLE FOR MY HUSBAND

      DEDICATED TO

      THOSE WHO DIED SO THAT

      OTHERS MAY LIVE

      To

      my husband

      and

      Rick Wheeler

      who both died in 1992

      JUNE 13 1944

      She showed their tickets at the Gate to a grey haired man dressed in a grubby looking railway uniform. He clipped them and handed them back to her.

      ‘Train leaves in seven minutes, Madam’, he informed the woman who was nervously searching for the porter who had taken her luggage

      He appeared behind her, luggage piled onto a trolley. ‘I’ll put ‘em in the luggage compartment, you just go and find yourselves a seat’, he suggested, staring at the ground as she fumbled in her purse for two thrupenny bits.

      The child looked angrily at her mother, she liked thrupenny bits, twelve sided brassy coins which she collected in a specially shaped money box. She thought a sixpence would have served the purpose.

      ‘You will be careful to put them on the right train’, she asked, anxiously.

      ‘Don’t you worry, Madam’, he mumbled, disappointed at his tip.

      She felt uncomfortable at the thought of their luggage disappearing without her superintending its safe storage. After all, she told herself, losing clothes was like losing the family silver, what with rationing. She dismissed her thoughts for there were seats to be found on a train full of soldiers. She took her child’s hand and hurried along towards the engine at the far end of the platform where pistons were hissing and an occasional puff of grimy smoke rose from the funnel.

      ‘Here’s a place, quick get in before it’s taken’, the child felt a hard hand on her back as her mother tried to hurry her into the carriage.

      ‘May I sit here’, she inquired, politely. ‘She can sit on my lap, she’s so small and far too thin’, she added, confirming this triviality more to herself than to the soldiers who were trying to manoeuvre themselves into the narrow seats.

      You can have my seat, ma’am’, offered a handsome young soldier. ‘ I don’t mind standing in the corridor, I can talk with my friends and get a cup of tea’.

      ‘If you’re sure’.

      ‘My pleasure ma’am’. He slid the carriage door open and disappeared down the corridor.

      She settled back and gave a sigh of relief as the Guard at the back of the train gave a final blast on his whistle and late passengers slammed carriage doors. The train jolted as its wheels slid on the track before slowly moving forward.

      She stared out of the window at the passing countryside. She had not noticed the war in Wales, everything had seemed reasonably normal except for her sister who believed in herbal tea and ghosts. She looked down at her child and smiled with satisfaction.

      They had enjoyed their holiday together, her sister’s cottage was old with a thatched roof and lots of nooks and crannies and creaking floor boards. There was an orchard and her daughter had climbed trees and they had paddled and netted small fish in a stream running at the bottom of the garden. Lambs and sheep had bleated all night in a nearby field and her sister, in her usual outspoken manner, had told her child that was because they sensed they were to be slaughtered.

      Her daughter had run to her room and thrown herself on the bed. ‘I’ll never eat lamb again’, she swore, too young to understand the impossibility of her oath. ‘I hate farmers, how can they do that’, she had sobbed.

      And what was even worse, her sister had gone on about the cottage being haunted and she had been angry with her and told her not to speak like that in front of a child. But her daughter had seemed to take it in her stride and told them how she often saw ghosts.

      ‘Rubbish’, she had snapped fiercely, indicating the subject was closed.

      She turned her attention to a young soldier sitting opposite, he seemed little more than a school boy and she wondered if he missed his mother and how his mother

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