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I’ve always been drawn to stories that whisper of the unknown—the kind that make you glance over your shoulder, as if something unseen might be watching. The legend of Indrid Cold is one of those stories that sends a shiver down my spine—a mysterious figure whose unnervingly wide grin and glowing eyes seem to linger
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I was thinking the other day about something my grandfather used to say: “God didn’t put you on this earth to serve yourself. He put you here to help others.” That was one of his core beliefs, and he made sure we understood it. The older I get, the more I see just how right
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I see a big orange balloon bouncing in the distance. It is bouncing up and down from the ground to the air. I am running to try and catch it. I hear someone giggling, and I look over and there is my sister running next to me. We are very young. I might be three
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This event took place during the time when I was writing my book, Confrontation with Evil, which was the true story of the St. Louis exorcism case. Numerous strange events took place during the writing of that book. This was just one of them.
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I always start a conversation with a paranormal client the same way: “What do you think it is?” That question does more than just break the ice—it hands the power right back to the person experiencing the phenomenon. After all, they’re the expert on their own life, their fears, their memories. I’ve learned that when
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Sunday. For many, it’s a day of church services, sermons, and hymns. For me, it’s a time of reflection. But not in a pew. Not in a building. And definitely not under the authority of an institution that has caused so much harm. Here’s the truth: I am deeply spiritual. My connection to the divine
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I was about four years old when one of my earliest memories unfolded—a simple, magical day in St. Louis. It was sunny, and my mom and I set out for a walk, just the two of us, in search of ice cream. Every step felt like an adventure. I remember the rhythm of our footsteps
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Music serves as a comforting companion in life’s chaos, transforming struggles into relatable experiences. From quirky love songs to therapeutic breakup ballads and powerful protest anthems, tunes provide solace and motivation. Whether belting out catchy lyrics or wallowing in sadness, music acts as the duct tape for the soul, always ready to resonate.
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Let me be blunt: when you vote for politicians who call us “degenerates” or promise to “protect traditional values,” you are not just casting a ballot—you are signing off on a blueprint for our erasure. The Department of Homeland Security’s recent decision to revoke protections barring the surveillance of LGBTQ+ individuals isn’t a bureaucratic tweak.…
Steven LaChance Blog 