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20 Facts About Me
1.    I’m scared of garden gnomes. I mean seriously, I don’t get why people love them
2.    I wrote my first ‘real’ book at 36 and haven’t looked back since
3.    I’m a middle child (don’t even get me started on that one)
4.    I have a thing for the colour purple, the colour and the movie
5.    I am a Great Dane lover from way back
6.    Sometimes I dream about running away to a cabin in the woods, then I remember that I’ve seen that movie and it doesn’t   end well
7.    I’ve been known to proofread menus
8.    My favourite cuisine is Mexican, I’ve never walked past a taco that I didn’t like
9.    My favourite flower is carnations, now some people call them filler flowers but I love them
10.    I don’t believe in soul mates (well I don’t yet), I think people come into your lives when you need them most
11.    My mum is the strongest woman I know
12.    I can sing fairly well, when no one is in the same room, or house. I only sing to myself, mainly in the car
13.    I have an impressive Stephen King collection
14.    I’m an Anne of Green Gables fan and I am a little wary of the upcoming remake
15.    My favourite book and movie is Gone With The Wind. Ditto on the remake, they better do a bloody good job
16.    I’m actually pretty funny once I get to know you
17.    I frequently suffer from foot in mouth and regularly get myself into trouble because of it
18.    I blush very easily, always have, always will
19.    I’m a Nickelback fan (make of this what you will)
20.    I love the Lego Movie (everything is awesome!)

 Most of you who know me, know that my son Connor is autistic. A few years ago after we first received our diagnosis for him, I wrote an essay for university, sharing an insight on what it felt like to raise an autistic child.
Three years later, we have seen so many changes in our little boy, he has grown up into a capable, loving, intelligent little boy. I’d like for you all to read our story so far.
 
I always knew Connor was special. Right from the moment he was born. His little head raised itself on his tiny neck and stared at me as if we were long lost soldiers fighting on opposite sides of a war. He had recognised himself in me and I in him. From then on, we were connected.
            I lived my life for my small son, watching him grow and explore the world around him, watching him come into his own personality, and realise his own strengths. He was courageous, fearless even. He met every milestone early, rushing headlong through his first 18 months as if he couldn’t wait to get to the next stage, to grow up. Then one day without warning, it all just stopped. His achievements fell away as if they were nothing more than a dream I once dreamt. No longer could he stare into my eyes. Any attempt to catch his gaze would end up with me in tears wondering why he no longer looked at me. Every photo was a blur as he pulled away, shying away from that personal contact with me and the world. He lost his words. It sounds like such a silly thing to say but once he had charmed us with his babbling vocabulary, now he was reduced to grunting, pointing and throwing tantrums. The tantrums. He would bash his soft little head against the wall, the floor, the kitchen cupboards, anything, including me. It broke my heart to see my little boy disappearing.
            Then began the doctor’s visits. GP’s who said there was nothing wrong with him, he was only 18 months old, he’s a boy, he’s misbehaving. Any excuse to dismiss what I was observing. How can you tell a stranger that your little boy is no longer there? That you watch him fade away one day at a time? That when you looked into his eyes, the emerging person you once knew no longer lived there? It pushed me to breaking point, but also pushed me to become a better mother. Perseverance led to a referral to a paediatrician and so we met Heidi. It was a bad day. Connor was at his worst and I was terrified and trying not to show it, the only clue to the anxiousness I was feeling was my inability to sit still. Pacing the waiting room while watching my husband trying to keep Connor contained was difficult. He was screaming and throwing himself on the floor but I comforted myself with the thought that Heidi needed to see him at his worst to diagnose him.
            The interview was pure torture. Heidi asked pages and pages of questions, all designed to show her how bad a mother I was, or so it felt. One exercise saw me calling out Connor’s name to see how long it took him to respond. 22 times actually. I called him 22 times before he finally turned around and acknowledged me, and when he did, it was minutes after the final failed attempt. I knew it was bad but those two hours gave me a look into a world I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of. It was traumatic for me but for Connor, it was just a chance to play with new toys, to destroy a new room. Two weeks later we found ourselves back in that waiting room, this time without Connor. The room felt too hot and my hands didn’t want to stay still in my lap.
‘Connor is autistic.’
            These words will forever haunt me. My beautiful boy, autistic. He’ll never have a job, he’ll never leave home, he’ll never have friends and he’ll never marry. These are the thoughts rushing through my head but most of all, how can I support him through this? How can I guide him through life when I no longer have the correct manual?
            I remember one day I took Connor to the park. It was about two weeks after his diagnosis, I was still getting used to the idea, still in the shock bubble. A young girl, maybe two years of age came waddling over to us, a big grin on her little face. She put out her hand to Connor, expectantly. He looked at her hand, not her face, and just kept staring. He had no idea what to do, no idea what the right response was. Instead, he picked up a handful of crisp autumn leaves and threw them in the air, squealing as they fell to the ground. The girl waddled away. At the time this encounter nearly broke my heart but perspective made me see that my little boy was marvelling at the way the leaves felt in his hand and the way they spun through the wavering autumn light as they floated back to the ground. Autism is seeing the world differently. It means you’re different, not less.
            We had tried Connor in daycare before, it didn’t go well. The teachers, while liking him well enough, didn’t know what to do with him. They stuck him in a corner with an ABC book and left him there for hours. I was working full time but they would call me after an hour and say they couldn’t control him, come and get him, he’s disrupting the other kids. I would sneak in like a thief, trying to make Connor leave when all he wanted to do was stay. He couldn’t participate with the other kids and wouldn’t do what everyone else did. He didn’t fit in and it was never as clear as when I overheard a small boy speaking about Connor one morning as we entered the back yard.
‘There’s Connor. We don’t like him ‘cos he kicks over the blocks. Let’s not play with him.’
            Another moment that will stay etched in my memory forever. But Connor didn’t hear, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. He sailed past, intent on banging the wooden spoons on the pots hung on a wire frame in the yard. It was only my heart that broke. After his diagnosis, we enrolled him into an autistic specific school where all the kids were diagnosed with autism. I knew it was the right place for him when I saw all the kids had bare feet and many of them were lining up cars, shoes and hats in long lines. He finally fit in. He was one of the group. I cried. He didn’t. It was magical.
            Kids can be cruel, sometimes without meaning to, but adults are worse. Those who should know better often don’t. I’m often met with hostile faces and arrested conversation when I mention my son is autistic. I used to tell people, almost apologetically that he was autistic, usually after he’d pushed another child, or started screaming and couldn’t stop. I eventually stopped organising play dates, the awkwardness that I felt, the judgement from other mothers made it not worth putting myself through that. Eventually, once he started responding to treatment I found the courage to tell people and plough through the silence listing his wonderful achievements. Maybe it was my unabashed pride or the way I wouldn’t accept my child as less than theirs, but people starting responding to us. We received play date invites, other kids wanted to play with my son.
            Coming to terms with a disability has been difficult. He gets stared at a lot in the supermarket when he covers his ears and screams as the loud speaker goes off. Or on the road when he must count and jump every white line on the zebra crossing. Or how when he says hello and someone doesn’t say it back, it breaks his heart. Connor is special. He can count to 100, do maths, knows what a 10-sided shape is called and can recite the alphabet backwards. He is an extraordinary person with a wonderful outlook on life. He also struggles with the basics of playing with his friends, of knowing what to do when handed a baby doll and a bottle, or a bucket in a sand pit. But every day, my little boy shows me strength and courage beyond anything I had imagined. He has shown me a new way to view the world, a different way.


 

 

I first got talking to Sondi Warner from Wrought Iron Reads after she read Little Girl Dead for their sunday reviews. I admire the work that she does and how passionate she is about helping Indie authors and wanted to ask her a few questions here on the blog.


What were you like at school?
I was a bit of a smug little know‐it‐all. I say that with a smile, but it’s the unpretty truth. I was a 
part of the gifted program for students with exceptional IQs, the talented arts program for visual 
artists and the talented theater program for aspiring thesbians. I was so smart that I was able to 
skip the sixth grade entirely and go straight to middle school. I’ve always had an avid interest in 
learning as much as possible about a diverse array of topics, and of course, as children, we don’t 
have the tact not to show off. So, I guess you could say I was unpopular. Thankfully, I evolved 
into a better person! *Sheepishly Laughing*
 
 
When did you decide you wanted to be a writer?
I’ve been writing since early childhood, but when I reached adulthood, I chose a regular nine‐to‐
five to be able to support my family. It wasn’t until a crisis of finances that I made the decision 
to write as a side hustle. I enjoyed it so much and made more money writing, so I ditched my 
nine‐to‐five and took on writing full time. 
 
What genre is your book?
My book, Jonquille, is a contemporary romance in the interracial romance niche. I hate genres, 
though. Like most labels, they rarely tell the whole story. I encourage readers to give it a try, 
even if they aren’t into contemporary romance or interracial books because most books don’t fit 
such rigid roles. 
 
What, if any research did you do for your book?
My main character is a tarot reader, and I didn’t know much about reading the cards. I had to 
research the process, the meanings, the different interpretations. It was fun! I’ve always been 
interested in tarot, and writing this book gave me an excuse to learn something new.
 
Did you have a plan when writing your book?
I always work with some form of outline—whether loosely delineated beats or pages and pages 
of detailed notes—but for this book, I actually married parts of an old manuscript with new 
ideas and came up with a unique story. My notes were sparse for this one. I kind of just went 
with the flow.
 
Where does your inspiration come from?
Years ago I met a tarot reader in New Orleans who told me I had a very fortuitous future. Some 
of her premonitions came true, but of particular interest was how quickly she read the 
relationship between me and my sister, who was with me at the time. Audrey, the tarot reader, 
said, “You two are best friends, aren’t you? No! You’re sisters! How uncanny. I see your 
friendship much stronger than your familial relationship.” I’m a born skeptic, but the way she 
saw us was exactly right, and it stuck with me through the years. So, when I set out to write a 
book about New Orleans, it seemed only natural that my main character be someone as awe 
inspiring as Audrey.
 
What is the hardest part of writing?
The hardest part of writing for me is that it’s my full‐time job. I am always working on 
something, which takes away from time I get to spend with my family, and often the writing is 
for someone else. I’m a ghostwriter, and I sell the rights to 98% of my work to publishing houses 
and authors; so, I get no credit for the writing. It can be frustrating, but for now it pays the bills. I 
look forward to the day I have the time to write and publish more under my own name to build 
my resume. Some of my best work is floating around out in the world under a different author’s 
handle.
 
Do you prefer eBooks or paperbacks? Why?
I prefer paperbacks but only because I don’t have an e‐reader. When I get a great book from 
author friends, I’m stuck reading it at home on my laptop. I like to take my books with me 
wherever I go.
 
If you could meet anyone, who would it be?
That’s a tough one! I’ve never been celebrity‐struck. I wouldn’t be too wowed to meet a famous 
actor or performer. I guess I’d be more interested in meeting in real life some of the wonderful 
people I’ve met on Facebook from all over the world. I have a diverse network of friends I can’t 
wait to see one‐on‐one.
 
What do you do for fun?
Fun? What is that? *Laughing* I don’t have much free time. When I am free, my partner and I 
enjoy traveling. We went on a cruise to Mexico last year and had the time of our lives, and then 
we took a trip with our kids to stay two weeks in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. I love 
seeing new places, and family vacations give me life.
 
What else do you do besides write?
Most of what I do is write. I’m a poet, a songwriter, screenplay writer (with two indie movies 
produced), visual artist, graphic designer, amateur video editor, marketing enthusiast, former 
choreographer by hobby, and I even used to make board games for my friends and I to play. I 
love creating. It’s what I do.
 
How important are covers?
When I’m buying a book, I don’t necessarily buy a book based on the cover. I read the blurb. I 
gravitate towards authors I know or genres I love—and I read a lot—so any book is liable to be 
purchased on the merits of much more than the book cover. However, as an indie author, I 
understand that everyone isn’t as indiscriminate in their reading tastes. The book cover is the 
hook. It’s probably one of the most important selling points for an indie author/indie publisher.
 
How has having children influenced you?
Children are amazing blessings. I say that, and I’m not very religious, but being a parent just feels 
like such a divine gift. My kids inspire me to write because it’s my way of providing for them, and 
they also give me great ideas for stories.
 
Do you have any pets?
I do! My partner is a cat person, and my kids love animals. We have two cats named Se7en and 
Winter Wardrobe. Winter is a nickname because each of our children came up with different 
names for her: “Mittens,” “Boots” and “Footies.” So, I started calling her Winter Wardrobe. It’s a 
running joke in the family, and I’m afraid the poor cat has no idea who she really is. *Smiling*
 
Do you believe in love?
Wholeheartedly.
What are you working on at the moment?
Everything. My blog, my vlog scripts, book reviews, edits to a book I wrote for a client, short 
stories for my website, articles for my LinkedIn, a book idea that germinated in December and 
the outline a novel I plan to actually begin this month. When I say I’m busy, I mean it. I write 
nearly every hour of every day.
 
Why do you write?
For a living. Not just for the money, although that’s a major motivator. But, I mean really for a 
living. I have this one life, and the only things I get to take with me are my thoughts, and the 
only things I get to leave behind are my thoughts. Writing is how I think best. I can’t picture life 
without it.
 
What’s the hardest thing about writing?
The hardest thing about the process, itself, is making sure I say just enough as concisely as 
possible. The mark of a brilliant writer isn’t what he or she says, but what isn’t said, what the 
reader must come to on their own. 
 
What social media do you use to promote your books?
There’s a running list that I add to or take away from, depending on what is working best. I use 
Facebook because I’ve always used Facebook for everything. I use Twitter, LinkedIn, Wordpress, 
Stumble Upon, Wattpad and a host of others. I don’t use Instagram because I’m one of the rare 
people in the world without a cellphone. I’ve been trying to figure out Snapchat, but I honestly 
don’t have the time. Maybe in the future. 
 
What’s next in your writing career?
My short term goal is to finish my next novel, tentatively titled The King of the Union. My stepfather gave me the idea for the story, and, because of that, it’s priority numero uno in terms of what I write next. Meanwhile, I plan to continue promoting Jonquille, which is a book 
I personally love. Long term, as with many writers, I hope to reach national success, become a bestseller, see my books turned to movies. It all hinges upon having a supportive network and the funds to make the dream happen. 
There’s hard, steady work ahead for the foreseeable future; I have no illusions that this will be in any 
way easy. But, I’ve been fighting for what I believe in my whole life. I believe in myself. There’s no way I’ll give up.

Author Bio
 
Thirty‐year‐old Sondi Warner is an indie author and cofounder of small press, Wrought Iron Reads, out 
of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA. After nearly a decade spent ghostwriting as a secondary source of 
income, Sondi recently made the transition to writing full‐time and hasn’t looked back since publishing 
her first book, Jonquille, in September 2015. Now she runs a blog called “Writer People Problems” and 
juggles writing books for W.I.R. as well as ghostwriting for others. You can follow this writer at 
www.wroughtironreads.org as well as across the following platforms:
 
Follow Sondi 
 
Facebook: www.facebook.com/sondi.writer
 
Twitter: www.twitter.com/wiruniverse
 
LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/sondiwarner
 
Wattpad: www.wattpad.com/user/SondiWarner
 
Blog: www.wroughtironreads.org/2016
 

About Jonquille 
by Sondi Warner
Available only on Amazon, $0.99
Buy Link: www.amazon.com/dp/B015QMQ5LY

A tarot reader and a poker player walk into a bar.
 
Jonquille is just out to have a little fun and get over her cheating ex, but the sexy gambler, Pierce 
Princeton, has something more serious on his agenda—striking it rich. Different cards, different 
games, but the same high stakes. The unlikely players throw caution to the wind and have a one­
night stand, despite uncertain futures and undisclosed pasts. It’s the secrets they hide that may 
 break them.
 
                           Pierce is betting against time, and the odds aren’t good. When the two find themselves running from
                             Jonquille’s jilted ex-lover, death is in the forecast. But whose? And, who can win the game when love
and lust are two sides of the same card?
 
Emotion-driven from beginning to end. Brace yourself for an engrossing love story.
 

Today I am interviewing author Lo-Arna Green from Perth, Australia. She is the author of All The Colours and the newly released All The Darkness. She lives with her husband, two boys and a playful cat named Evie—she's also my little sister.

What were you like at school?
Of course you would ask that! Naughty. For a little while and then I pulled my socks up. Apart from the one class I had with my best friend, we didn’t really do well in maths. I was pretty thrilled to receive an award as a senior in high school—it was for the most improved student in our year level. That was probably my proudest moment in my whole high school career. I loved acting, so drama was my favourite class.

When did you decide you wanted to be a writer?
I started writing poems when I was eight and then moved on to short stories and even a series at one point—spanning 12 notebooks. I actually wanted to be an actor and was going to apply for Victorian College of The Arts in Melbourne. Writing was always my first love though. I’ve only recently started calling myself a writer, I always felt too shy to say that’s what I am.

What genre are your books?
New Adult romance. I do like to shake the romance up with a different element though. All The Colours had a mystery in the background, All The Darkness is a darker romance with the violence and the inner turmoils of the MC’S.

What, if any research did you do for your novels?
Google is my friend. I relied on my memory for places in my books where I’ve lived before as well.

Do you have a plan when writing?
Not usually. I tend to rebel against plans.

Where do you get your inspiration from?
Life. Mundane things in life, news articles, observations, air.

What is the hardest thing about writing?
Writer’s block! I try to get around that by writing in segments and then stringing it all together at the end. I also try not to beat myself up if I don’t write a single word for the day. It’s ok to not write sometimes.

What is the best thing about writing?
Everything. Emptying my mind. The rush.

Do you prefer to read ebooks or traditional paperback books?
I was always a paperback girl. I used to borrow 10+ books weekly from the library. I love the smell. Then I realised how many ebooks you can store on your device and sort of converted. Now though I am swinging between both. I like the light on my phone, I don’t need the lamp on and it doesn’t smack me in the face as much as paperbacks do when I am laying in bed. But then, you can’t beat the feel of a book can you?

How important do you think covers are?
As a reader, I don’t care… but as a writer trying to market your book? Very.

How has having children changed your life?
In every way. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you could meet anyone who would it be?
Male? Angus Stone because, yum.
Female? Sarah Michelle Gellar because, awesome role model.

Share something embarrassing with us.
I once shoved my licence into the ATM machine at the pub mistaking it for my keycard. Clearly I was too drunk to be getting out money to buy more booze.

Have you ever had an animal that changed your life?
Yes my girl Evie. She is a lilac burmese and she’s our little fur daughter. My husband was anti-cat before we got her and he is in love too.

Do you believe in true love?
I can’t really stomach romance but true love I do believe in. I believe in a form of true love with friends too. Love to me, is souls connecting. I remarried last year and I have experienced the extreme differences through both my marriages. My husband doesn't believe in soul mates and all that stuff, but yet, we work because he believes in me and I believe in him.

What are your fears?
Spiders and the snake that is most likely still chilling out in my roof.

What is your favourite TV show?
The Walking Dead. Buffy The Vampire Slayer still holds a place in my heart too.

How has your relationship with your family influenced your writing?
My family is supportive. When I met my husband I told him I like to write—at the time I was studying a bachelor of arts and majoring in creative writing and journalism. He asked if I would ever write a book, I said I hoped to and he never let up until I did. If it wasn’t for him I still wouldn’t have published a book. My kids love it and want to write their own books. We have writing sessions together. Mum encouraged me from a young age, always joking I would send her broke with all the pens and notebooks she had to keep buying for me. My sister is an author too so it’s pretty cool to go through it together. ;-)

What character of yours do you identify with the most?
Some parts of Jazz and some parts of Edie. Sheri reminds me of my best friend, she’s pretty much my inspiration for her.

What’s next for you in your writing career?
I am currently working on All The Games and a standalone, they will both be out this year. I have others in the pipeline which I will update the progress on those on my blog.

Where you can get in touch with Lo-arna online
 website  Facebook    Twitter  Goodreads
 
 
 

Well, it’s a new year and the tradition is to make a New Year’s Eve resolution, something that you’re supposed to keep all year long. So many people fall off the wagon within the first few months of the new year.
I am one of those people, so I have decided to do something different this year.
I purchased a glass jar the other day, a pack of aqua sticky notes and a nice pen. So what I’m doing is making an accomplishment jar. Each time that something good happens to me, I’ll write it on the sticky note then put it in the jar.
On New Year’s Eve this year, I will open the jar and read all the wonderful things that have happened to me over the past year.
That’s my non-New Year’s resolution.

I’m a mum of one who is addicted to reading and writing. If I’m not spending time with my son, I can be found hunched over my laptop, writing. I’m also one of these (weird) people that can compose whole chapters on their phone while taking a stroll round the neighbourhood. My sister is convinced that I am going to be kidnapped but so far I’ve only walked into one car, two trees and some dog poop.
I find these long walks gets the creativeness flowing. It also inspires me to walk faster so I can get home and tap away at my laptop.

For me, writing is like breathing, essential to your wellbeing and heady with promise. I write mostly horror, having been influenced at a young and impressionable age by none other than the master of horror, Stephen King. His book Cujo was a revelation, a turning point for me. I still have fond memories of reading it under my sheet with a torch, too scared to move. To this day, I cannot even look at a Saint Bernard.

It was a pivotal moment in my life, a milestone if you will. I learnt to love the horror genre and immersed myself within it. I have written countless horror stories, some good, some bad and some just plain wrong!

So despite my deep love and affection for horror (we have an understanding), my first book, Little Girl Dead (catchy huh?) is a murder mystery. Initially it was going to be a short horror story. I had every intention of causing more murder and mayhem, but the story had other ideas and evolved into something else. While still being brutal in parts, it is a lot more character driven that what I have previously written.

I cry when I write, I’ll admit it, I’m a sook and I’ll yell at the screen when writing about an evil character, even as I write the words. I believe that the author must have an emotional connection to the story to make it believable. If you can’t involve yourself emotionally in the story, how can you expect a reader to? It’s really a case of leaving your heart on the pages, hold nothing back.

Not everyone is going to like your book. You can’t please everyone and although one bad review can ruin your week, it won’t ruin your life (I’ll get back to you on how that goes later on!). As hard as it is, we need to let these reviews slip right past us or use then to strengthen your next manuscript, even if it is like a shard of glass to the heart.

What happens if a book doesn’t sell as fast as you want it to? Well this book is going to be out there forever, no one can take that away from you, you wrote a damn book, it may sell years down the track, you just never know.
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What I have learnt is to persevere. You can only get better at writing, by writing.
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I’m a real horror freak, I’ll gladly fly the flag. I wear that badge with pride and usually I write about fictional horror. One of my other passions is stories about the paranormal. So much so that my best friend and I have this thing where we visit former asylums and do the tours, usually the ghost tours. Recently we went to Mayday Hills Lunatic Asylum in Beechworth and did the tour. We had an absolute ball and encountered something of the paranormal variety. Want to know what happened? Read on.
 
The Beechworth Asylum was originally called Mayday Hills Lunatic Asylum and is located in Beechworth, Victoria. My best friend Tarni and I have a little obsession with visiting asylums and other haunted locations. We’ve previously spent a wonderful and insightful day at J Ward in Ararat which is where the housed the criminally insane until the Aradale Asylum was built. We’ve also visited the Sunbury Asylum but they no longer have tours anymore. The Victorian University owns the site now.
We set off on our three and a half hour journey to the George Kerford Hotel which is situated on the 88 hectare site of the asylum. It was previously staff quarters turned into a lovely little hotel.
 
The Beechworth Lunatic Asylum was opened in 1867 and operated for 128 years until 1995 when it was closed for business. Part of the site is owned by the original owner and part is owned by La Trobe University. There seems to be a theme of universities taking over old asylums like the Victorian University taking over the Sunbury site for a time.
The asylum was pretty much self-sufficient, having on site a piggery, orchards, kitchen gardens, stables and barns. It also had a tennis court, oval and a cricket field.
 
Back in the days of these asylums such Kew, Aradale, Sunbury and Beechworth, it took only two signatures to lock you up and eight to get you released. Odds are, once you crossed the threshold, you were never leaving. There were many reasons why you could be committed such as hysteria in women, drunkenness, vagrancy, hanging the wash out on a Sunday, masturbation, grief, just to name a few (and the list is very long).
 
Ghost tours are held at nights and we decided to do one (of course we did).Our tour guide was called Craig but he introduced himself as John James Dempsey, the name of a doctor who worked at the asylum and who conducted experiments on both the men and the women incarcerated there. Tarni and some of the other guests were given small lanterns to light the way through the dark and deserted hallways.
 
Dr Dempsey took us down to the cellar (basement) underneath where the kitchen stored their food. It was also the back door to the asylum which dead bodies were taken through. As the good doctor said ‘it didn’t take them long to realise those two things didn’t mix.’ Incidentally, the man who removed the dead bodies from the morgue also worked in the kitchen.
 
We were taken to a small room with a single bed in it. We were told to cram in then to turn out the lanterns. I was sitting next to Tarni on the bed while the good doctor was recounting a story about a radio station that held a competition in that very room. The contestants were asked to stay inside the dark room, with the door closed for 45 minutes. If they could do that, they won a prize. The doctor told us that one woman felt her hair being braided, pats on her shoulders and eventually a pair of hands trying to pull her under the bed. While he was recounting this I began to feel funny. First I felt an insurmountable wave of sadness then my body began to heat up. It started in my toes and went all the way into my head. I felt like I had hot pins and needles in my head and I thought I was going to pass out right there on the bed, in the dark, in front of 20 strangers. This went on for about 2 minutes until the lights finally came back on. Doctor Dempsey later said that cold chills, poking, nausea and fainting were proof that ghosts were around. All I know is that there’s no way I could handle solitary confinement in the dark. I really would go crazy!
 
We were taken to another room that held an autopsy table and what looked to be a dentist’s chair with stirrups. A man got up on the table while the doctor explained how an autopsy worked in graphic detail. He even showed us the attached hose used to clean the body of liquids. He said that he (his character) kept many of the body parts suspended in formaldehyde in his office. Rows and rows of them lined up on a bookcase. In the 1950s when the asylum underwent a renovation, these jars were removed and never seen again. Doctor Dempsey believes that they are behind a brick wall in the small cellar room. He told us that they couldn’t check as each brick was heritage listed (as they came from the original Ha Ha wall) and damaging them came at a cost of more than $10000. The doctor liked to perform experiments to both sexes but performed gynaecological experiments on the women who were strapped down in the chair. I felt a wave of sadness when I thought about all the women who would have suffered for the experiments of that man. The men were also subjected to torture. If they bit a nurse, their top two front teeth were removed, in the chair with no anaesthetic. If it happened a second time, their two bottom teeth were removed. If it happened a third time, all of their teeth were removed and they subsisted on bread and tea for up to 12 weeks or until they could eat prison food again.
 
We heard about one interesting case of a man who disappeared. He could not be found anywhere. The asylum had 4 large water tanks buried on the property and as it rain a lot, always had plenty for their needs. During a drought, the town of Beechworth needed to use the water the asylum had stored up, so pipes were laid to run down to town (the asylum sat on a rise). During this time, no one knew that the escaped man hadn’t really escaped, he had become caught in a drain and slowly disintegrated into the water. So for the period of several months, the good folk of Beechworth drank, bathed and washed their clothes in water that had a decomposing corpse in it. Eventually his bones washed into the reservoir and he was scooped out and buried.
 
 
 
The following day I wanted to go back to the asylum to take some photos of the outside as I hadn’t been able to get many good ones from the night tour. We drove up the winding road and parked in the carpark. We were the only ones there, only chirping birds to keep us company. We walked around the building, chatting, laughing and taking photos when we came to a building that hadn’t been on the tour the night before. Tarni noticed that the door was open. I wanted to go in and what ensued was a hushed conversation about why it was bad to go inside because there might be an axe murderer in there. I wanted to go in although I was reminded that every horror movie I had ever seen saw the heroine do something stupid like go into an unlocked building in a deserted asylum where no one knew where you were. So we didn’t go inside after all. I took a photo of the door open as proof and we decided to call the operator of the ghost tour to tell them that a door was open.
 
We went back into the garden near a decrepit old pond full of mouldy leaves and small rocks and talked over what to do. Then we looked up to the second storey window and saw that a light was on. It looked like a chandelier. As we stared hard at the window, Tarni saw someone run from one window to the next, then suddenly another light came on three windows over. We began to get a little worried when suddenly the first light went out. As we watched, the window began to fog up from the inside yet we could see no person behind the fog. I looked towards the other window with the light still on and I clearly saw a woman with short brown hair cut in an old fashioned style turn the light off the walk down the stairs and disappear.
 
After that, we walked rather quickly, got back in the car and locked the doors. Tarni called the tour guide company and they said they’d send someone out. So we waited, a little nervous after our other-worldly encounter but determined to wait it out. Soon after a man pulled in beside us and said he was from the tour company. He informed us that this building wasn’t one of theirs and was owned by George who owned most of the buildings on the site. He went through the door and naturally we followed. It was like stepping into another world. While the rest of the asylum building were run down inside, with peeling paint and the smell of mildew, this building had a fine green Persian-looking hall runner, a chandelier in the hall and Queen Anne-looking chairs in the sitting room. There wasn’t power to the building as he explained but we showed him the photo we took of the light on. After a quick check of the downstairs area for prowlers (or ghosts), we exited the building and closed the door with a resounding bang.
 
We wondered if it was a person, where had they gone? Where was there car? We decided, despite the gloom beginning to set in, that we would drive round the back of the building and see where her car could have been. As we drove we spoke about our ghostly encounter. It seems that we are more prone to see ghosts during the day than we are at night. It happened on the last tour that we did too.
 
We tried to find the back of the building, but we couldn’t before we knew it, we had come upon a restaurant and quickly realised that it was the restaurant attached to our hotel. The hotel was a good ten minute drive from the asylum, yet we made it back there in under two minutes, driving slowly. We felt like we had been led back to the hotel, something didn’t want us to investigate further. As it was getting dark and we didn’t want to tempt fate, we called it a night and went back to our room.
 
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