THE TWINS
When I was seventeen, and before I was married to my first husband, I found out that I was pregnant. At that time I was carrying twins. A few weeks later I began having complications, and one of my twin babies had died. At the time I was living with my parents. My best friend and I shared a room which had been added onto the house years before. One morning ... I had woke up very early, and had felt a strange presence staring at me. In the corner of my bedroom by the door, I saw a small child. It was a little girl about three or four years old. She has long golden brown curls and she was dressed in a frilly blue dress. She looked very upset, and very afraid. I attempted to talk to her, but she disappeared. At the time I didn't mention this to anyone in the house, but continued to see her quite often. Each time that I saw her, I would try to speak with her, and she would disappear. Then one night my Mom and my best friend and I were in my room laying in my bed just talking about stuff. My Mom turned her head toward the corner of the room, and I noticed that she turned a bit pale, then she shook her head. When we asked her what was wrong She stated that she must be too tired because she was starting to see things. And at that time, I knew that it wasn't just me anymore, and asked my mother what she saw. She stated that she saw a beautiful little girl standing in the corner. I asked her to describe the little girl, and my mother described everything, exactly the same way that I had seen her. I then explained that I had been seeing this child frequently, and how I tried to communicate with her. My mother suggested that I keep trying to do so. So for the next few months, I would talk to this little spirit, and before long she stopped disappearing. But she still made no effort to respond. Then in late November of nineteen ninety-five, I gave birth to my other existing twin baby Kathleen. The little spirit was now becoming a more frequent visitor. She would push my new baby daughter in her wind up baby swing, play with her in her walker, and watch over her while she slept. But the whole time the little girl seemed sad. Then one night, she came to me in a dream and asked me what I would have named her had she been born too. That is when I realized that this little girl was the child that I had lost during my pregnancy. I told her that I would have named her Courtney. And in my dream I held her in my arms. Since that night, she has appeared less frequently, and when she does, she is smiling. I thought that she was wanting me to focus more on my other children. My daughter is now three, the same age as my little spirit child. And looks identical to the little spirit who once stood in my room every night not too long ago. I know that she still visits her twin sister every now and then. Kathleen has told me about how Courtney comes to play with her and her new baby brother. And I feel secure that there is a precious little angel looking out for them.


SLEEP TIGHT MY LITTLE ANGELS
I was thrilled when the house next door was finally sold, the added bonus was that the family had five children, from ages one year to six years old. I could hardly wait to have more children to brighten the house next door. That house had been empty far too long. Children would indeed brighten it up.
Sally and Mike moved into the house the very next week. The five little pixies were exactly as I had pictured them. Pretty as pictures.
The six year old was especially charming. Tiny for her age Casey would love to come over and watch me as I worked in the garden. My special pride and joy was the bleeding heart rose bush that my husband gave me three years ago for a special occasion. I tended it with such care, but still it was barren of any blooms. Casey would come over with her little watering can, and water it daily. She was beginning to love that special plant as if it were her own.
I never got to be as close to Sally as I would have liked. I sensed problems between her and Mike soon after they moved in. I thought Sally was strange in many ways. She seemed to run hot and cold. Some days she would look right past me, as if I weren't even there. Other days she would go out of her way to draw attention to herself. Waving and calling out a greeting. Her tiny brood jumping and running around the yard.
One day when Casey came over with her little watering can it broke my heart to see the sadness in her big brown eyes. Her head hung down as if she were ashamed to look up. She talked in a voice that was just above a whisper. "we were playing with the angels last night". I reach up and gently pulled her to sit on the grass next to me. "Tell me about it sweety." Casey's big brown eyes stared into mine, she began to tell me how she and her brothers and sisters were sitting on the laps of beautiful angels. This gave me a sense of foreboding. I smiled and said "What a wonderful dream". She chattered on a bit more, avoiding any questions from me. Soon she jumped up and ran home.
After only a few months the only sounds coming from the house was Sally and Mike quarreling, sometimes late into the night. Many nights I would see the driveway was empty. I knew Mike had not returned home that night. Sally used the garage, so Mike would park in the driveway. Soon it was weeks that the driveway was left empty.
I approached Sally and asked if she was having a hard time dealing with the children, or wanted an afternoon to herself that I would be more than happy to watch them, or help in any way I could. She than burst into tears and told me that her marriage was over. "Mike was filing for divorce and was seeking custody of the children," she sobbed. I assured her that custody was always given to the mother. What would Mike do with five children? He was just wanting to scare her.
After a long court battle, that was visibly taking it's toll on Sally, the unthinkable happened. Mike was awarded custody of all five children. Seems Mike brought out behavioral problems of his wife that only he knew. We could only guess and speculate what Sally had done to deserve such a terrible punishment as losing her children.
She avoided me for the new two weeks. When I went to her door she ignored the bell and knocking. The doors were kept locked and the children kept indoors.
My husband and I were awakened to the sound of police sirens and a lot of flashing lights spinning across our bedroom walls and ceiling. As we jumped out of bed to investigate, we saw all the commotion was coming from next door.
Mike had come that evening to pick up the children to take them to his newly established home further out into the country. He entered the house to find Sally in the kitchen. curled up in front of the door leading into the garage. He smelled the fumes as soon as he opened the garage doors. He found all his babies in the station wagon. They were all dressed in pajamas, like sleeping angels; only these angels would never wake up.
Sally being distraught over both the divorce and losing her children had dressed the children in new pajamas, loaded them into the station wagon and drove around town until they were all asleep. She filled the tank with gas...drove home...pulled into the garage...left the engine running. After shutting the garage up tight she curled up on the other side of the door where Mike found her.
The next morning as I stood at the fence looking over at the house that held such a tragic ending, my eyes were drawn to my bleeding heart bush. After three years of barren branches there were five blood red buds blooming. Casey's little watering can was lying next to the bush. The morning dew was dripping from the buds as if they were tears. My own tears came with wrenching sobs.
A new family soon moved in. The Morgans were in ignorance of the tragedy that had taken place there. They had two small boys of their own. Soon they began to hear sounds of children playing in the upstairs storage area off the bedrooms. At night the little boys said they felt someone sitting and jumping on their beds. Toys that were neatly put away the night before, were found scattered around the room the next morning.
When they learned of the tragedy that had taken place in the garage, they were only filled with sadness and compassion. They were never frightened of their little ghostly angels. The children's noises continued. Their ghostly presence was constantly felt. No one minded, they were accepted into their fold. When Isabel Morgan cheerfully went from room to room singing as she picked up the scattered toys, she would always say "Enjoy my little angels." The sound of echoed giggles would follow her down the hall.
Sally ended her own life four years later. Details were not given to the press, only a short reminder of that tragic night.

ROCK ABYE BABY
Great-granddad still shakes when he recalls the story of the time Angie passed away.
The year was 1922. Sam and Angie were sweethearts since grade school. Since times were rough, Sam left school to work in the coal mines when he was just thirteen years old. Angie continued on until she was fifteen, then like Sam, she left to work in one of the local Silk Mills. On weekends when you saw one, you would always see the other. They were each other's breath of life.
Sam was nineteen years old and Angie was seventeen, when the two finally wed and were joined as one. This was one wedding the whole town attended.
Life was hard for both Sam and Angie, but they were one now and, that was all that mattered. Angie loved Sam from the very depths of her soul. She was obsessed with this wonderful man. Angie was ecstatic to learn she was going to have a baby. She felt like a complete woman, life was exactly the way she had pictured it as a girl.
Life isn't always the way we picture it though, now is it? Angie was not the strong girl she thought she was. The pregnancy was hard. Angie was sick most of the nine months that followed. Sam was always by her side, when he wasn't in the mines. He was at home holding Angie's hand. He gave her the comfort that only a husband can give.
The summer had just set in when Angie went into labor. Sam had a midwife on call for the last few weeks, he wasn't taking any chances where his beloved Angie was concerned. Angie finally gave birth to a fine baby girl, but fate wouldn't let Angie see her first born. She died minutes after Sarah gave out her first cry.
Sam now had the task of not only burying his beloved, but finding a wet nurse to keep his little Sarah fed and cared for. That would be the job of the wet nurse.
Marge came into the household the very day that Angie passed away. This was out of necessity and not choice.
The house was solemn. Neighbors came to offer condolences, and brought what they could to help the grieving husband and father. The first night as Sarah fed from Marge's breast, she was restless and fretful. Marge did her best, as she already felt love for this motherless infant. Only a week before, she had lost her own infant son. He had passed away only seconds after drawing in a weak breath. The second one never came. Marge was only too glad to nourish little Sarah when Sam asked...Her loss was as great as his...
The first two nights passed without incident. The third night was one of double grief and stress. Angie was laid to rest. Marge had retired early with her small charge. Soon after feeding Sarah, Marge had her nestled safe, sound and fed in her cradle.
Marge soon awoke to Sarah's fretful cries. It was only an hour since her feeding, so she reached out from her bed and started to rock the cradle. The cradle was yanked from her hand. Pulling the cradle back, she gently started to rock the baby again. The cradle was again pulled from her grip. Marge jumped from the bed and turned on the lights. NOTHING! The cradle was now still. She checked the sleeping Sarah. All seemed well and both fell into sound sleep. Marge kept the night's occurrence to herself. She must have been overtired and was sure she imagined the whole thing.
The next night was the same thing all over again. After feeding Sarah and tucking her in, she got into bed and again reached out and started to rock the cradle. Again the cradle was snatched from her hand. Marge looked wide-eyed around the room. At the bottom of the cradle stood, Sarah's mother. The look of love and anguish on her face was one that threw Marge into a state of mixed emotions. She was frightened out of her wits, but was saddened by the loss she knew Angie had to feel never having seen her first born. She gently picked baby Sarah from the cradle. Sarah's eyes were wide open. "did she also see something?" Marge turned the baby to face the other end of the cradle, where the spirit of Angie stood. Angie looked upon the baby with a love that seemed to light up the whole cradle. A long sigh was heard, and the apparition of Angie dissipated.
Sam was both bewildered and relieved when Marge told him of the night's happenings. He had been unable to sleep, knowing that Angie never got to see her child. Sam felt that his beloved could now rest in peace, having seen her baby.
Two years later Sam and Marge were married. She had lost her husband in a mine accident months before her baby was born and died. They went on to having three sons and two daughters of their own. Sarah, my grandmother was always Marge's favorite. She knew she had to have a little extra love. She made Angie that silent promise, the night she came back to see her newborn.

HUSH LITTLE BABY
The shell of the small haunted mobile home stands surrounded by high brush. When the night is black with no moon to light the darkness, you can see an eerie glow inside the little box car like home.
A few years ago happiness and love lived there. There wasn't a lot of money, but there was a huge abundance of love residing within these flimsy walls.
Matt worked the all night shift at the shoe factory. When he stood on the dock, peering across the tracks he could see the warm glow of lights coming from his home. He never had much money, so when he and Martha married, she had moved into the small trailer he owned. She would have lived in a tent if that was all that was available. They were fast approaching their early forties, so to have found each other was the best gift of both their lives.
With Martha's biological clock ticking away, no one was surprised when she became pregnant their first year. Little Franny was both sickly and cranky. Most nights Martha would be walking up and down the small narrow hall trying to soothe the distressed infant. Matt would take over early mornings so Martha would get a little sleep, before he had to go in and get his own decent rest.
Neither really minded losing sleep walking little Franny up and down, back and forth as Mommy crooned "HUSH LITTLE BABY". It seemed to be the only thing that soothed her. Matt promised Martha a rocking chair. Each pay he put a few dollars aside for just that purpose. Colic was always hard on first time parents. They were sure she would soon be sleeping through the night, so a bit of colic was nothing to be that concerned about... She was a poor eater so they agreed that was part of her problem. Doc. James assured them she would soon outgrow her fussing.
It was a few hours before Matt got home from his shift. Martha had awakened with a heavy feeling of DOOM. She must have slept right through Franny's middle of the night whimpering. As she rushed into the baby's tiny room, she could see from the door way that the baby was a ghostly white."Little Franny had stopped breathing sometime during the night".
Though Matt could see his home from the dock, he hadn't heard a sound. The high pitched whaling and weeping pierced the night air, still Matt had not heard a sound.
When Matt opened the front door a few hours later, the first thing he smelled was the propane gas. On the couch, lay his whole life. Franny was held lovingly in her mother's arms. Martha's cold face was peacefully nestled in Franny's little neck. Her dark curls covering the side of Martha's face.
Matt had to be physically torn from their side...He has long since passed away. "He died a lonely broken man".
Neighbors have seen the eerie light that passes through the trailer at night. BACK AND FORTH, UP AND DOWN, night after night it is SEEN. They have also heard and seen the bushes rustle and sway, as if a heavy wind was ripping through, when the night was still with not even the slightest breeze. More than one has told of seeing a heavy "fog like substance" that seemed to be pushing through the brush to the trailer. There the fog hangs for hours, as if desperately trying to "GET IN."

RAGGEDY ANN
The time is about 1917. Smallpox rears its ugly face and mass inoculation follows on its heels. It is customary, at this time, to inoculate all children in schools against the dreaded disease. Obtaining consent from the parents before inoculating the child is not customary. Children are routinely inoculated, at school, several times for the same disease without parents giving consent or being advised of the inoculations.
Marcella Ann Gruelle is the young daughter of Johnny Gruelle; a successful writer and illustrator employed by a magazine entitled Physical Culture. Marcella has been inoculated at school. She loses her appetite, becomes feverish and fatigued. Her parents do not consent to more inoculations, yet more are given. Marcella's health continues to decline. She loses her muscle control, becoming listless and lifeless like a rag doll.
Marcella dies a slow and painful death. Seven leading physicians are called upon to investigate about the cause of her death. Six concluded it as the result of vaccine induced poisoning and call it malpractice. The seventh, being the head of the school board and an supporter of vaccination, declined to comment.
Soon after his daughter's death, Johnny is asked to create an illustration to accompany an article, "Vaccines Killed My Two Sisters." The cartoon is a clever and effective work, reflective of Johnny's style which is familiar to the readers of the magazine. However, they are not prepared for the note which Mr. Gruelle encloses with his single drawing. It reads:

"Having recently lost our only daughter through Vaccination (in public school, without our consent) you may realize how terribly HUMOROUS the subject of vaccination appears to Mrs. Gruelle and myself. Of the seven physicians called in on the case, six pronounced it in emphatic terms MALPRACTICE. The seventh did not commit himself, being the head of the school board and a firm advocate of vaccination."

Shortly after Marcella's death, Johnny creates a doll much different than the more popular, rigid, clay dolls of the time. Rather than create a doll that stands up straight with a healthy and happy glow, in a fitting tribute to his only daughter, he designs a doll to represent her limp and dying body. He named her Raggedy Ann.
In 1920, A Midwest department store giant, Marshal Field, markets Raggedy Ann. Though most people have no knowledge of the tragic inspiration behind this beloved child's toy, Raggedy Ann symbolizes a near century of childhood vaccine injuries and deaths. Raggedy Ann is the main inspiration for many of the dolls of today that little girls play with.

As we cuddle our sweet dollies at bed time, we do not know that we are preparing ourselves for a time when we may hold our own, lifeless, listless, vaccine-sickened child in our arms.
Help yourself to the apple pie that is America.

HELLO? ANYBODY THERE?
Annalisa bought a new address book. As she was writing the names from the old book, she noticed her friends name. Linda had died several months ago. She felt silly transferring the name to the new book, but she felt a little strange to just ignore it. She knew she was being a bit morbid, but something was telling her to dial that number. Maybe to know and hear that it didn't belong to her friend anymore might bring some closure to her. She was having trouble dealing with the grief that was with her almost daily.
Much to her shock, LINDA ANSWERED. Taken aback, she stuttered the beginning of a conversation. In no time, they were talking like the old friends they were. The last several months were especially hard for Annalisa. In addition to losing Linda, her fiancee left her, so she used the opportunity to pour her heart out to Linda. In doing so, the bitterness and hurt she felt lifted from her soul.
Linda asked why Annalisa hadn't called in so long. "Why hasn't Bruce Called?" Linda cried. "He promised to always be there for me."
Bruce was the driver of the car that took Linda's life. He was driving her home after her bridal shower and the shower gifts were packed not only in the trunk but high in the back seat, blocking the back windows. They were to be married in just three short weeks. Bruce was injured in the accident and had been in a deep coma since that day. He knew nothing about Linda's death.
Annalisa was thrown off guard. How do you answer such a question? Linda continued, "Why haven't you called all these long months? Why hasn't Bruce called?" She asked this over and over.
Not knowing what else to say, she gasped "BECAUSE YOU DIED." Annalisa heard no reply. All she heard was the DIAL TONE! Her heart was pounding in her ears, as she hurriedly dialed the number again. "Pizza Hut Pizza" announced the voice on the other end.


THE SWEATERS TELL A SECRET
"That's one more box filled", I told myself. Mom had been sealing her boxes with tape. I wasn't quite ready to do that just yet. "Look sweetheart, if you see something you want, just keep it." Mom said. So many of her things were filled with memories. I felt I wasn't ready to part with anything just yet. This only made the packing take longer than it should have.
Granny lived a long life, I know, but being only sixteen. I wanted to hold everything she had for one last time. I knew it wouldn't bring her back, but I just want to hold on to her that much longer with each and every item.
It was just me and Mom doing this difficult task. My older siblings, Barbara and Nick, were tied down to their new jobs. They found time for the services, but they couldn't help out with the hardest part, sorting through Granny's life. "Besides," Barb said, "Granny always loved you the best." I wanted to argue, but it was true. I never knew why, but Granny and me always seem to have a special bond.
Granny was wonderful and loving to all of us, but for some reason, I was always at the top of her list. "My precious little Lauren", she always whispered, whenever she hugged me.
Her little house always seemed cozy, but for this night, it was very drafty. I found her favorite sweater in one of the dresser drawers. "This I will most certainly keep" I thought to myself". When I was only five or six, I'd use it as a blanket, cuddled in her lap, whenever she would read to me. I loved her scent that always clung to it. It was old, but it was very thick. It wore well with time. I put it on, hoping it would keep me warm. Instead, I felt colder. Regardless, I wore the sweater while I packed more of Granny's things.
I had spent many nights in Granny's bedroom, so I thought I'd lie on her bed for a few minutes to try to relive some of those memories with her. I must have drifted off. I slowly opened my eyes and found myself in bed, but not in Granny's bed.
Everything was sterile, especially the man at the foot of my bed. He never once looked at me. His eyes were glued to a clipboard in his hands, but he never looked at me. "No problems," he said. Then he left the room without another word. I noticed I was still wearing Granny's sweater when someone grabbed my arm and said, "it will be alright." As cold as the man's face was, the woman's was warm. "Don't worry about the Doctor," she said, "your baby couldn't be in better hands, Vivian."
My eyes opened suddenly. Granny's name was Vivian. It jolted me, but I knew it was just a dream. It was late, but I packed a few more of Granny's clothes from a dresser before I called it a night. After a hot bath, I again put Granny's sweater on, and crawled into her bed. I fell into a deep sleep, and again, I found myself back in that bed. I laid there, in the same bed, in that same sweater, feeling empty and cold. That cold looking man was at the foot of the bed again. Again, he only looked at the chart. "What happened," I asked. "That's not your concern." He still didn't look at me. "What was it?" He left the room, without a word or glance. The woman, a nurse, was still there. She grabbed my hand and said softly, but urgently, "I didn't tell you this, but the adopting couple named your daughter, Lauren."
Wow! I'm Lauren! Suddenly, I laid awake in Granny's bed not knowing what to think. Granny always used to hold me and say, "you came back! I knew you'd come back!". I never knew what it meant.
The dream woke me up. I knew that somehow the dreams were trying to tell me something. I also felt the sweater was helping me to open my mind to accept whatever I would learn. I pushed myself deeper into Granny's bed, still in her sweater. I was feeling safe and warm, when I fell back to sleep. It was a sound sleep.
I remembered … nothing. The only image that stayed with me was a bookcase filled with books. I noticed one lonely book without a title on the spine. When I awoke, I was disappointed. "There has to be more", I thought.
The next morning Mom and I started to tape all the boxes closed, when I suddenly remembered a certain book. We boxed all of Granny's books. We were going to give them to our town's library. I remembered one book that didn't have a title. The spine was thin and blank. I noticed it but didn't pay much attention. I rummaged through the boxes that weren't sealed and found that unlabeled book. That book was Granny's diary. Somehow I already knew what I was about to read. She became pregnant as a teenager, and quickly and quietly was sent away to a home for Unwed Mothers. The place was almost as hidden away from the public eye as she was. The Nuns and Doctors treated like the trash they said she was. One nurse, however, was compassionate.
The diary recorded her months of lonely heartache. The birth of her daughter, who was just an anxious whispered name to her. "LAUREN" It told of the tiny sweater she was knitting in the dark, and hidden in a hatbox, away from preying eyes.
Granny wanted to name my Mom, Lauren. My Great-Grand mom would have nothing to do with it. As Granny wrote, "she said, Why do you want your child you remind you of that!" She tried again when my Mom had Barb, but Great-Grand mom still felt it was wrong. My Mom never understood why "Lauren" was so important to Granny but by the time I was born, Great-Grand mom passed away and Granny stilled pressed it, so she gave in. Granny finally had her special little Lauren. We had our own special bond, our own special secrets. "We can always keep our secrets special," she'd say. And that was how it was. I could do the dumbest things and Granny wouldn't tell Mom.
While I read through that diary, I felt warm. I ran to the room where Mom was, I wanted to share the secret with her. Suddenly, I felt chilly again. I paused and decided I should hold off on reading the diary to Mom. The warmth from the sweater returned. I knew Granny wanted this to just be our secret for now. I found the tiny sweater wrapped in tissue paper hidden in a small hat-box on the back of the closet shelf. The delicate soft ball of white yearn still attached to the incomplete labor of love. It is now hidden deep into the back of my closet.
I'm twenty-two now. I have tried to find my Aunt Lauren. It seems the hospital is big on confidentiality. Still, I really do believe that Granny will lead my Aunt Lauren to me when the time is right. For now, it's one of our special secrets. Mom always wished she had a sister, "SOMEDAY SHE WILL"!