Please welcome medium Kristy Robinette to my blog today. Kristy’s book Forevermore, is a unique look into the paranormal and Edgar Allan Poe. As a big fan of Edgar Allan Poe, I was fascinated when I heard Kristy talking about him on the paranormal radio show Darkness Radio and knew I had to have her on my blog. Welcome Kristy!
Kristy Robinett has always had helpers in spirit, but when she was thirteen, she met the most fascinating spirit guide of all— Edgar Allan Poe. Forevermore – Guided in Spirit by Edgar Allan Poe tells the true story of how Edgar Allan Poe helps Kristy fulfill her destiny as a writer, a psychic medium and psychic detective.
Far from being a madman (as he’s often portrayed in the media), Poe is an insightful guide and a sleuth with a passion for justice. Working with law enforcement, Kristy and Poe uncover truths of the past—murders, suicides, missing persons—and shed light on the wrongs that have found their way into the present day.
Join Kristy as she shows how personal growth can come from the unlikeliest places and affirms the comforting fact that we are all given the chance to learn and evolve on the other side.
“Are you certain this is a wise idea?” Chuck asked, taking the crystal candle sticks and white candles out of the backpack and setting them on the rickety table. “I mean, I trust you and everything, but…,” he put his hands on his hips and looked over the unfinished auditorium from center stage.
“What is it?” I asked him, struggling with four chairs that I placed around the table.
Chuck sighed and with his hand brushed back his salt and pepper hair that was highlighted with orange tips. He would never dye his hair, except for highlights of fun colors. It was often the topic of discussion to those sitting next to us at a restaurant, or shopping and even going through border control to and from Canada. “I wish I could explain it, but something feels off tonight.”
If you could call someone a professional séance hostess, that would be me, and my husband of several years had participated in dozens of them with me and was rarely to ever freaked out by anything metaphysical or paranormal. We’d dined with demons, had run-ins with poltergeists, pushed down the stairs by non-entities, grabbed by ghosts of prisoners, hunted by shadow men and had hundreds, if not thousands, of other odd experiences. It was just my crazy life that turned into his crazy life with the ‘I do’ and the sealing kiss. I always protected myself, called on my guides, angels and archangels and higher energies to act as my body guards and only allowed higher vibrational energies in to communicate. Easy peasy, right? Right?
“Well, it’s too late to cancel. We officially sold out yesterday,” I shared. “And everyone is looking for their Halloween spook.” I put my arm through his and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve got it covered,” I promised. “We’ll see tonight if in fact there is someone or something here, but I do know that the legends of this place are just that, a legend.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Chuck mumbled and continued to decorate the attic.
Not that it even needed any decorations. The unfinished attic of the masonic temple did have an eerie energy to it, which was the exact reason why we were using it. The event coordinators shared that other than a few movies scenes (vampire movie scenes, at that), it had never been used, skeleton of the balcony sat intact, waiting to be dressed, after near a hundred years.
The Detroit Masonic Temple was built in the early 1900’s by a wealthy gentleman named George D. Mason. The building, a massive structure boasts over 1,000 rooms, secret staircases, concealed passages, and hidden compartments within the floors. Urban legends say that Mr. Mason went bankrupt and after his wife left him, he jumped to his death from the roof of the temple. Research, however, notes that Mr. Mason in fact did not jump and lived until 1948 and was in his nineties when he passed away. Yet there are numerous claims of ghosts that wander the large building, many who’ve experienced cold spots, heard doors slamming and feel watched. But the most intriguing claims comes from those that work there, and feeds into the legend.
With a series of events during Halloween week, as we were packing up to leave, an employee pulled me aside to share a story.
“I was working the night shift. It was after a concert and I was checking doors when I saw the elevator going up to the attic, so I followed it in the other elevator, figuring it was kids hoping to get locked in for the night,” an employee shared. “I got off in the darkened hallway and saw a shadow race to my right, towards the outside patio doors and I chased after it, only to see whatever it was just go through the doors. The doors didn’t open,” he explained, his eyes wide. “I checked the door, and it was locked. It’s always locked. But I did something stupid and I unlocked the door anyway and walked outside, making sure to put a brick between the door and the frame so not to get locked off. And I saw the shadow that I had chased turn towards me and then jump. I swear to you. It was like Batman. I panicked and leaned over to see if maybe it was real, but there was no noise, no scream and no one. As I leaned forward, I felt a push and almost fell over myself. I don’t think I’ve ran that fast in my life,” the employee laughed.
“What do you think it was?” I asked.
The employee shook his head as if trying to shake the memory out. “I think someone did fall to their death – or rather was pushed to their death. Not Mr. Mason, but someone.”
Chuck couldn’t seem to shake the image the employee shared and when they opened the patio doors off the attic to show us, he stayed near the doorway and offered a loving warning for me to stay far away from the sides.
Even though the attic was massive, it was rickety, and the Fire Marshall limited the space to no more than fifty people with strict instructions that nobody was to go into the unfinished balcony or behind the side walls. We had sold out every single seat and previously placed an array of couches, love seats and chairs around the stage to make it look almost like a gothic nightclub. Large construction lights stood off side back stage to offer limited and spooky lighting. Chuck used his large LED flashlight to assist guests to their seats and I took a seat at the candle lit séance table awaiting the final guests to get settled.
We all have spirit guides, whether we know it or not, whether we want them or not. One of my spirit guides, ever since I was thirteen years old, was none other than the famous Edgar Allan Poe. Oh, I’ve never claimed Poe as mine and mine alone, I knew that he cheated on me with others, but there was a time and a place when he was there to assist me and a time and a place when he left it to my other guides to take the shift. As I called on my guides to help and I placed a protective bubble of white light around me, I heard Poe clear his throat as if trying to get my attention.
“Do you remember “The Cask of Amontillado”? Poe asked me telepathically.
“This is not time for a literature quiz,” I hissed at him.
“Have you ever wondered why the Masons refused my membership?”
I could see him smiling smugly.
“Maybe because they couldn’t stand your pompous personality.”
“I’m hurt, Kristy. Pained, even.”
“You’ll get over it, I’m sure,” I laughed, knowing that it took a lot to hurt Poe and a brash insult was not going to affect him in the least. “Is Chuck on to something?” I asked, feeling a cold shiver go up my back and twirling around to see nobody there. “Can you keep me safe?”
“The Cask of Amontillado is all about revenge and of secret murder. There may be laws in theory, but outside of that there really are none.”
I have to say that it had been frustrating to have a guide who loved to speak cryptic and to test me. Okay, you might just call that marriage, but my other guides were much more reasonable and sympathetic. Sometimes I liked it all just spelled out for me.
Chuck grabbed my attention my turning his flashlight on and off and then nodded for me to begin.
After explaining about different spirit communication techniques I called upon several participants to participate in a table tipping demonstration. There was no magic involved, simply energy from my guides and their loved ones, to help with communication by moving the table or knocking and rapping on the table. A group of three, a mom, dad and daughter, from the same family joined me and I began by putting a protection around us and giving the rules to the group and to our guides.
“If there’s anybody who would like to speak to us, please show yourself by knocking, rocking or rapping,” I called out, but before I could finish my sentence, the table began to rock back and forth and the audience gasped.
“It’s okay, I reassured them. This is what we want. It’s okay. It’s a man that I see is with us,” I said.
I’ve seen spirit since I was three years of age and they communicated with me in a way that I called spirit charades. They showed me signs and symbols that made sense to me and I could communicate to my clients. There was a young man standing next to Poe, as if he helped usher him in. Poe looked over at me and gestured to be cautious, with no other explanation.
“I didn’t kill myself,” the young man with sandy brown hair said. “Please tell my family that I didn’t kill myself. I was pushed.”
“You have a son on the Other Side who said that many believed he committed suicide, but he’s adamant that he was killed.”
The mom, who was sitting across from me, began to sob and broke the circle by taking her hands off the rocking table. “I knew it. I knew in my hearts that he wouldn’t have killed himself.”
Her husband and daughter nodded in agreement.
“He says that he was trying hard to get clean; to sober up. He says that police never investigated, but that it was connected to someone he knew. Someone connected to the police…”
“It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong,” Poe whispered.
Just as I went to continue to relay messages, a loud boom was heard in the balcony. Everyone turned around and with a hundred eyes we saw a dark shadow race across the unfinished structure towards the stairway leading down. Several men jumped out of the seat to meet whoever it was at the end of the stairwell only to come back baffled when nobody was there.
I ended the session, asking them to talk to me afterwards, and switched participants, praying I wouldn’t regret continuing, but the remainder of the night was quiet, besides for some knocks, footsteps behind us on stage and a few more shadow figures that teased us. It was an evening that offered the ticket holders exactly what they hoped for – the spook factor.
After I closed the event with my gratitude, the three family members joined me afterwards with a hug and a thanks.
“We always suspected that Joe didn’t kill himself. He was working hard on making something for himself. He wanted to be a police offer and help kids the way he wished he’d been helped,” Joe’s dad shared. “They said that he jumped in front of a car, but there were witnesses that said someone else was there too. I always suspected that he was pushed!”
“The irony was that it was the police who wouldn’t even look at the theory that something was askew,” the daughter said, wiping away her tears. “He’s come to me several times after his death, always upset. Like he couldn’t even talk.”
I nodded. It made sense. Those who cross unexpectedly, often in a violent way, are often confused. In my head, I telepathically asked Poe if there was anything that we could do and he simply answered with a no.
“Was that Joe in the balcony?” his dad asked.
Again, I looked at Poe for the answer. “No, it was Joe’s killer. He died soon after Joe was killed. A car accident.”
The family drew in their breath and looked at one another with knowing. With arms wrapped around one another, they walked to the elevator and pushed the button to the lobby.
Chuck was cleaning up and pushing chairs and couches back against the walls.
“See, we survived unscathed,” I remarked.
“Is that a question or a statement?” Chuck smirked.
“Maybe both,” I grinned, taking his hand and walking slowly to the elevator. I took one last look at the attic, knowing that it would be the last time I ventured there. I was often more afraid of the living than the dead, but it was the in between that sometimes frightened me and there were others that were waiting. Maybe some simply needed help crossing over, or their story told, or maybe some sought revenge at any stake, against anyone.
“The true genius shudders at incompleteness–and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be,” Poe solemnly added as Chuck loaded the trunk up with boxes filled with Halloween decorations.
“Hey, that’s not from The Cask of Amontillado!”
“I’m very proud. You do sometimes pay attention, Kristy!”
“It’s sad that those parents will never see real closure.”
Chuck thinking that I was talking to him walked to the passenger side and kissed me on the cheek while opening my car door. “No, maybe not closure, but maybe some comfort in simply knowing that their loved one is often with them and that the truth is out there.
Kristy Robinett (Livonia, MI) is a psychic medium and author who began seeing spirits at the age of three. When she was eight, the spirit of her deceased grandfather helped her escape from a would-be kidnapper, and it was then that Robinett realized the Other Side wasn’t so far away. As an adult, she was often called upon by the local police department to examine cold cases in a new light and from a different angle. She gained a solid reputation for being extremely accurate at psychical profiling and giving new perspectives on unsolved crimes. It was then that she began working with a variety of law enforcement agencies, attorneys and private investigators around the United States, aiding in missing persons, arson, and cold cases. Her psychic detective work was recognized in a new series on the ID Network, Restless Souls.
Robinett teaches psychic development and paranormal investigating at local colleges, lectures across the country and is a regular media commentator and has been spotlighted on Coast to Coast, Darkness Radio, ABC News, Fox News and the Ricki Lake Show. She is the author of Forevermore: Guided in Spirit by Edgar Allan Poe; Messenger Between Worlds: True Stories from a Psychic Medium; Higher Intuitions Oracle; Ghosts of Southeast Michigan; and Michigan’s Haunted Legends and Lore. You can visit her online at Kristy Robinette, Follow her on Facebook or Find her on Twitter.