How many places do we touch in an average day that once held meaning for the living? How many rooms have we slept in where someone took their last breath? You might think that sounds strange, but is it really? How many hotel beds, how many houses, how many quiet corners have absorbed a final moment? Natural causes. Suicide. Even murder.
We move through these spaces without much thought, brushing against the traces of other lives. Every wall, every chair, every mirror might carry a story. A laugh that once filled the room. A sigh that lingered too long. A heartbeat that stopped before its time.
Maybe what we feel in those moments we call haunted is not a ghost at all, but the imprint of a life. A kind of echo that refuses to fade. The leftover energy of love, fear, or longing that clings to the world long after the body has gone.
Over the next few years we will walk together down Zombie Road. We will step into the halls of haunted houses. We will travel the corridors of an Egyptian pyramid. We will feel the sorrowful presence of a Holocaust victim still searching for his shoes. “They took our shoes,” he said to me once.
There are so many things I want to share with you in the next eleven paranormal books. Serial killers, ghosts, demons, monsters, and yes, even angels. So much to explore.
I hope you will come with me on this journey. Because I find myself wondering about these things quite often.
(c) Steven LaChance, 2025
Steven LaChance Blog 
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