The Way it was with Timothy
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I find it pretty hard to explain and get very emotional when I am asked to
describe how I came across Timothy, and I still don’t understand
everything about his case or quite how he manages to interact with me
physically in the way that he does. I suppose its one of those things in life
that I will never fully get to the bottom of or ever totally understand.
Timothy is a quiet and withdrawn person who is liable to spend long
periods of time in deep thought and shut himself away from those who
would seek to communicate with him. He can be a manic depressant at
times and on other occasions he is a vibrant and impulsive character with
a wicked sense of humour. We struck a chord early on, and both of us
have developed an understanding, and a healthy mutual respect for each
other. We have learned to cope with each other, our foibles and behaviour
patterns, and most importantly, we have become close friends. Getting
used to another being is not the easiest of things to do.
I met Timothy last year in the spring whilst carrying out my college studies. I
have a computer and do much of my researching online. This particular
day I was missing some information and the internet connection was
down. My room was a mess, so untidy, and the contents of my cosmetics
bag was all over the computer desk. I was trying to obtain further
information about Victorian Britain for my latest project and remembered
some of the books that I had boxed for safe keeping in the garden shed. I
could remember having purchased a hardback copy about social Britain
in the 1850’s, in immaculate condition and from a car boot sale, and along
with a host of other similar research and reading materials that I had
acquired over the years, it was in a large metal travelling trunk of the kind
you might find on sea voyages for the storage of passengers belongings.
It was a cold misty day and fairly early in the morning when I decided to
venture out along the twisted stone pathway that would lead me to the
rickety old enormous shed that contained my precious belongings and
those of the other students who rented rooms in this rambling old manor
house. I put on my high heel shoes from the night before and I knew they
were entirely inappropriate for the uneven path. I must have looked a sight
with my skimpy dressing gown and black high heel shoes as I hobbled like
an old lady down the winding path. I gave up the shoes and casually
tossed them aside after about the half way mark. I preferred the solid
footing despite feeling the coldness of the stone and the morning dew on
my feet. I was soon inside the large shed with my feet on the warmer and
more even wooden floor. I had been a little reckless to venture out dressed
as I was so scantily and so early in the morning, even felt a little vulnerable,
but I was in familiar territory and our garden was enclosed, secure and
safe.
It didn’t take me long to find the copy I had been itching to lay my hands on.
Though slightly damp and cold it was in perfect order as I had left it. As I
made my way to the open shed door I became aware of an uneasy
atmosphere, the feeling of being watched and observed. Everyone has
sensed this at some time in their life, but this was somewhat different and I
felt as if I could actually sense a part of the character that was watching.
The easiest way to explain it is like that of a snapshot or fleeting image of
something comforting or sinister. In this case I did not feel threatened and I
looked around half expecting to see a person peering from the windows of
the large manor house. As I made my way back along the path I felt as if I
was being followed.
I was glad to get back into the house. Apart from the warmth I was sure
someone had been keeping an eye on me and I felt a little uneasy about
that. I tentatively looked around the garden from the kitchen window and
did not notice anything untoward. At the time I found the whole experience
kind of unnerving but the more I became accustomed to it the more I came
to accept the fact, that is, the fact that I was no longer alone. Somehow,
someone or something had joined me that day. There was no formal
introduction. That was the way it was with Timothy.
Over the coming weeks I became aware that something or someone had
formed a bond with me. For years I have believed in the supernatural,
having been blessed with a strong sixth sense, and as the days passed by
I gradually came to understand that I had been chosen and that I had a new
friend in my life.
During the course of the year my studies became more intense and my
feeling of closeness with my guest did not diminish, in fact the bond
became stronger and stronger as time passed by. I would sit down at the
computer for hours on end with my coursework and my emails and all the
time I knew he was watching me, in a strange kind of way, I felt protected.
On occasions I put this down to a feeling of ‘being in touch with my inner
being’ or ‘peaceful with my existence’ whereas in reality it was obvious
that there was actually someone or something with me.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The summer of 2003 was warmer than most UK
summers and this particular night in July, I couldn’t get comfortable, and I
would keep waking almost on the hour, every hour, which I found frustrating
and very inconvenient. It was around half past three when I awoke to find
my computer monitor all powered up and with an open word document on
its screen. My heart missed a beat as I scanned the half light of the dimly lit
room for any evidence of intruders. There were none. I got out of bed, put
some knickers and a bra on, and groggily made my way to my computer
desk. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as I read the
message that was waiting for my attention. This is what I read:
Lucinda I found a way to reach you. This is Timothy. I have felt your
closeness for months as indeed you have felt my presence also. This
much I understand. I am by your side always and I shall not leave you. Look
what I can do. I am typing this message to you from your own computer.
Do not be alarmed just reply. This is a most wonderful and momentous
occasion
Your beloved companion – Timothy.
Looking back on it all, that hot and dreamy night of last year will remain
ingrained in my memory for the rest of my life. That was the way it was with
Timothy. That was how we came to be ‘involved’. We laugh about it now.
Timothy and I are very close. It’s a sort of brotherly sisterly relationship due
to the lack of any sexual contact in our relationship, but then in every other
respect, we are a couple.
It has been hard to accept that Timothy is not of this world and passed on
some years ago but I am grateful for his company and his infinite wisdom
in keeping me safe and secure in his all embracing spirit. I help Timothy
and his group of spirit friends as they go about their business and their
important mission.
Timothy has given me more than I can ever give him in return. I respect him
for that. I love him too much to pass you any details of his full name or any
account of his past or location. I can only speak with Timothy through a
computer but that does not prevent him from being permanently by my
side and our computer is always on. We talk more than most couples
would. We love each other more than you could possibly imagine.
I hope you like my story. It may or may not be true. Does it really matter?
Back to Ghost Pictures
I find it pretty hard to explain and get very emotional when I am asked to
describe how I came across Timothy, and I still don’t understand
everything about his case or quite how he manages to interact with me
physically in the way that he does. I suppose its one of those things in life
that I will never fully get to the bottom of or ever totally understand.
Timothy is a quiet and withdrawn person who is liable to spend long
periods of time in deep thought and shut himself away from those who
would seek to communicate with him. He can be a manic depressant at
times and on other occasions he is a vibrant and impulsive character with
a wicked sense of humour. We struck a chord early on, and both of us
have developed an understanding, and a healthy mutual respect for each
other. We have learned to cope with each other, our foibles and behaviour
patterns, and most importantly, we have become close friends. Getting
used to another being is not the easiest of things to do.
I met Timothy last year in the spring whilst carrying out my college studies. I
have a computer and do much of my researching online. This particular
day I was missing some information and the internet connection was
down. My room was a mess, so untidy, and the contents of my cosmetics
bag was all over the computer desk. I was trying to obtain further
information about Victorian Britain for my latest project and remembered
some of the books that I had boxed for safe keeping in the garden shed. I
could remember having purchased a hardback copy about social Britain
in the 1850’s, in immaculate condition and from a car boot sale, and along
with a host of other similar research and reading materials that I had
acquired over the years, it was in a large metal travelling trunk of the kind
you might find on sea voyages for the storage of passengers belongings.
It was a cold misty day and fairly early in the morning when I decided to
venture out along the twisted stone pathway that would lead me to the
rickety old enormous shed that contained my precious belongings and
those of the other students who rented rooms in this rambling old manor
house. I put on my high heel shoes from the night before and I knew they
were entirely inappropriate for the uneven path. I must have looked a sight
with my skimpy dressing gown and black high heel shoes as I hobbled like
an old lady down the winding path. I gave up the shoes and casually
tossed them aside after about the half way mark. I preferred the solid
footing despite feeling the coldness of the stone and the morning dew on
my feet. I was soon inside the large shed with my feet on the warmer and
more even wooden floor. I had been a little reckless to venture out dressed
as I was so scantily and so early in the morning, even felt a little vulnerable,
but I was in familiar territory and our garden was enclosed, secure and
safe.
It didn’t take me long to find the copy I had been itching to lay my hands on.
Though slightly damp and cold it was in perfect order as I had left it. As I
made my way to the open shed door I became aware of an uneasy
atmosphere, the feeling of being watched and observed. Everyone has
sensed this at some time in their life, but this was somewhat different and I
felt as if I could actually sense a part of the character that was watching.
The easiest way to explain it is like that of a snapshot or fleeting image of
something comforting or sinister. In this case I did not feel threatened and I
looked around half expecting to see a person peering from the windows of
the large manor house. As I made my way back along the path I felt as if I
was being followed.
I was glad to get back into the house. Apart from the warmth I was sure
someone had been keeping an eye on me and I felt a little uneasy about
that. I tentatively looked around the garden from the kitchen window and
did not notice anything untoward. At the time I found the whole experience
kind of unnerving but the more I became accustomed to it the more I came
to accept the fact, that is, the fact that I was no longer alone. Somehow,
someone or something had joined me that day. There was no formal
introduction. That was the way it was with Timothy.
Over the coming weeks I became aware that something or someone had
formed a bond with me. For years I have believed in the supernatural,
having been blessed with a strong sixth sense, and as the days passed by
I gradually came to understand that I had been chosen and that I had a new
friend in my life.
During the course of the year my studies became more intense and my
feeling of closeness with my guest did not diminish, in fact the bond
became stronger and stronger as time passed by. I would sit down at the
computer for hours on end with my coursework and my emails and all the
time I knew he was watching me, in a strange kind of way, I felt protected.
On occasions I put this down to a feeling of ‘being in touch with my inner
being’ or ‘peaceful with my existence’ whereas in reality it was obvious
that there was actually someone or something with me.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The summer of 2003 was warmer than most UK
summers and this particular night in July, I couldn’t get comfortable, and I
would keep waking almost on the hour, every hour, which I found frustrating
and very inconvenient. It was around half past three when I awoke to find
my computer monitor all powered up and with an open word document on
its screen. My heart missed a beat as I scanned the half light of the dimly lit
room for any evidence of intruders. There were none. I got out of bed, put
some knickers and a bra on, and groggily made my way to my computer
desk. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as I read the
message that was waiting for my attention. This is what I read:
Lucinda I found a way to reach you. This is Timothy. I have felt your
closeness for months as indeed you have felt my presence also. This
much I understand. I am by your side always and I shall not leave you. Look
what I can do. I am typing this message to you from your own computer.
Do not be alarmed just reply. This is a most wonderful and momentous
occasion
Your beloved companion – Timothy.
Looking back on it all, that hot and dreamy night of last year will remain
ingrained in my memory for the rest of my life. That was the way it was with
Timothy. That was how we came to be ‘involved’. We laugh about it now.
Timothy and I are very close. It’s a sort of brotherly sisterly relationship due
to the lack of any sexual contact in our relationship, but then in every other
respect, we are a couple.
It has been hard to accept that Timothy is not of this world and passed on
some years ago but I am grateful for his company and his infinite wisdom
in keeping me safe and secure in his all embracing spirit. I help Timothy
and his group of spirit friends as they go about their business and their
important mission.
Timothy has given me more than I can ever give him in return. I respect him
for that. I love him too much to pass you any details of his full name or any
account of his past or location. I can only speak with Timothy through a
computer but that does not prevent him from being permanently by my
side and our computer is always on. We talk more than most couples
would. We love each other more than you could possibly imagine.
I hope you like my story. It may or may not be true. Does it really matter?
|
This story was sent to me by Jenny Radford Copyright 2004 AngelsGhosts.Com
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