Do YOU Need to See to Believe?

Being a Christian and writing about ghostly spirits and the master of temptation, admittedly seems like a complete contradiction.

As a believer, however, I don’t think that means you’re unable to believe in things that exist in our world, just because our minds cannot comprehend them.  After all, we cannot physically see the wind, yet we know it’s there, right?  And you don’t have to look the devil straight in the eye, but you should know enough about him to be able to recognize his treachery and have the power to resist the temptation he places in your path.  Because with Satan, it’s not a matter of if he’ll come after you, it’s a matter of when.

So how can we explain those moments when we sometimes seem to know something is about to happen or when danger is near?  Moments when we either listen to a voice telling us to go another way or we make a decision that differs from what we were originally planning to do?

Tori faces that challenge every day.  She is continually learning that there are many things about this life that she doesn’t understand, and yet she still continues to believe in the power of good.

As we step into Chapter 1 of Guardians of the Chosen, we find ourselves looking down at Tori, stretched out and bleeding on an old examination table in dire disrepair.  She is disoriented and unable to recall the details that brought her to where she is, yet she knows she’s in danger and that evil is near.

Have you read the book yet?  Here is an excerpt from Chapter 1, to get you started.

“What the….,” Tori began to say when she heard the sound again.

Drip.

Instinctively, her eyes flicked over to the faucet by the counter but there was no sign of water beading at the end of the aerator.

Drip.

Further confused as to the origin of the sound, she tried to sit up and immediately felt a searing pain in her left arm.

“Ah!” she cried out, falling back against the table, grabbing her arm.

Feeling a wet stickiness on her fingers, she pulled her hand away and saw that her fingers were covered in blood.  She looked at the exposed flesh of her upper arm, where a deep gash was freely streaming down towards her fingertips.

“It hasn’t begun to coagulate yet so this cut is recent,” Tori thought, trying to put the pieces together.  Then she saw the trail of blood.  Unable to stop herself, her eyes slowly followed the trail down her forearm onto her hand and off the tips of her fingers.  She leaned over slightly to look over the edge of the table and saw the large pool of her blood on the linoleum directly beneath the table.

Drip.

Instantly nauseated, she lay back on the table, took a deep breath and closed her eyes while both her heart and her mind raced.  “Sweet Lord in heaven,” she whispered.  “What’s going on?”