I Spy with My Third Eye: Captured Truths of the Afterlife

by Katie E. Beryl

Overview

Ever since she was a small child, Katie E. Beryl wanted to see spirits. She even prayed to God to gift her with such aptitude. It wouldnt have been too shocking, since psychic blood ran through her veins. Katies own grandmother could see the future, but she gave up her talents after a painfully accurate reading that foretold a funeral.

Katies life changed at the age of forty-seven at Port Arthur in Tasmania, Australia, where her dormant abilities sprung to life. She became more in tune with herself and considers this moment her epiphany. In a photo, using her own camera, Katie captured the truth of the afterlife, and she shares this image for all to see, filled with spirits and apparitions.

She now connects with her loved ones anytime she wants. You can too if you tap into your spiritual side, let go of built-up ego, and use your inner self to be your guide. Part memoir, part self-help book, part educational text, I Spy with My Third Eye is an interesting experience for those who seek to seize their own psychic potential.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781504301923
Publisher:	Balboa Press AU
Publication date:	04/19/2016
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	124
File size:	2 MB

About the Author

Katie E. Beryl is a massage therapist in Brisbane, Australia. She acquired a newfound ability as a psychic medium at the age of forty-seven.

Read an Excerpt

I Spy with My Third Eye

Captured Truths of the Afterlife A True Story!

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By Katie E. Beryl

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2016 Karen Leigh Egan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-0191-6

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CHAPTER 1

One should think about writing a book at least once in a lifetime. I knew that I would do this, but I didn't expect it to be about my psychic abilities.

When I was young, I always wanted something to happen. I remember asking a favour of God: "Please let me be able to see dead people." I had a fascination about the spirits and people who had passed over. I loved the thought of having the ability to communicate with those who passed to the other side. I also always had a fascination with Egypt. These feelings and emotions just grew and intensified as I got older.

My first encounter with death was with Uncle Harold, my grandmother's brother. I first met him when I went overseas with my grandparents, Alfred Kenneth and Katie Ellen May Wilkinson (nee Childs). They affectionately called each other Ken and May. I was only sixteen years old when I left Australia to visit our relations in England. We travelled all over England for seven months. We had interesting experiences that were full of life whilst I was there.

My uncle was a friendly fellow, and my grandma adored him. She respected and loved him but not his wife, Caville. She was, in my grandmother's opinion, nothing more than a gold-digger.

During our time in England, we stayed with Uncle Harold and Aunty Caville. They lived in Chickerell, Dorset in a lovely, semi-detached house with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a single garage. They catered to and looked after us well. Sometimes, we sat out in what they called their conservatory, a small hut with glass windows and a couple of deck chairs. On sunny winter days, it was nice to sit out there.

Chickerell was very different from where I lived; Brisbane, Australia, was always hot, and the humidity was high. We talked for hours in the conservatory, usually about the good old days. Grandma reminded me of things she and her brothers and sister would get up to. Grandma Wilkinson often talked about her family, especially about her parents, Edward Childs and Else May Brown. She loved them dearly. We sat and watched some television after dinner. Grandma offered tea, and we all accepted enthusiastically. Whilst sipping on our tea, we listened to Grandma tell us how on her father's side we were descended from Spanish gypsies.

Once I finished my tea, I'd ask my grandma to read my tea leaves. (When making a pot of tea, we always used loose tea leaves; I don't even think teabags were invented back then.) She always agreed; Grandma could never say no to me. Grandma also taught me how the read the future with playing cards. But she preferred reading tea leaves to any other method.

I finished my cup of tea quickly, impatient to hear what my future held. Grandma swished my tea leaves around in the cup, always three times, and then tipped the remains into the saucer. She analysed the cup with great awareness and in deep thought. She was always very serious when it came to this request.

Soon, she announced her findings. "Oh dear, you will be going to a funeral very soon."

"That's not good news," I said to her.

She showed me how the leaves had gathered in my cup. They were in a very even, straight line from the base of the cup to the very top lip of the cup. To me, it looked like a very long trail.

From my recollection, everyone in the house was asleep by 9:30 p.m. Later I awoke to strange sounds coming from my uncle and aunt's room and voices in the hallway. Then I heard my aunt shout for my uncle.

"Ken!" she yelled in a panic, "Something is wrong with Harold. His breathing is funny."

I leapt out of bed to discover that Uncle Harold was having a heart attack. Aunty Caville was hysterical. Everyone stood around helpless, watching him die. Grandad rang for an ambulance, but by the time the medics arrived, it was too late. Uncle Harold passed away in my grandma's arms.

We all attended his funeral the following week. He is sadly missed.

The day after the funeral, Grandma came to me. "Last night was the last time I'll ever read tea leaves." With that, she announced she was hanging up her psychic abilities forever. Caville passed away years later.

For many years after Uncle Harold's death, Grandma and I often spoke of the events of that terrible night. We wished there was more we could have done as he was dying. He was in excruciating pain and kept yelling out, "Stop the pain!"

My grandparents are deceased now. I miss them terribly every day. I remember the day Grandma passed away. I was in my early thirties. I went to her bedside at the hospital. She was fragile and pale, but she could still give me a smile when she spotted me at the end of her bed. Mum moved away from the bed so I could say goodbye to Grandma. She was breathing very slowly and wasn't able to talk. I leaned in close and told her I loved her. She said she loved me, too. I wasn't very brave; I began to cry. I couldn't just wait around for her to die. I told Mum and Dad that I was going home to my family. They promised to ring me and let me know when she had passed. Around 5:00 p.m. that day, I received the phone call from my dad, who let me know Grandma had passed away quietly.

To this day, I miss her. It's like a piece of my heart left with her. My dad told me what he experienced as she slowly slipped away. He said my grandma was troubled because she didn't want to leave us behind. Grandma told Dad that "they" wanted her to come with them, but she felt as if she was abandoning her family. Quietly and calmly, Dad reassured her it was okay to leave us and join her loved ones who had passed. She was an amazing woman, wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother.

Just about every day, I've asked God if he would allow me to see things other people don't. Fortunately for me, I still get to connect with my loved ones anytime I want or need. You can have this same experience. Everyone has the ability. You just need to tap into your spiritual side, your psyche. Let go of all your built-up ego, and use your inner self to be your guide. Later, I will explain this in more detail.

CHAPTER 2

This is my journey. I became more in tune with my psychic ability at the age of forty-seven. Yes, I was that old when it finally happened. I still get excited when I think about this particular experience. I call it my epiphany.

My angel photo was taken June 27, 2009, at Port Arthur, Point Puer Island. This place was once a boys' prison; in fact, it was the first juvenile prison in the British Empire. I was on tour with a large group of people, and we were approximately 250 metres away. I saw a brilliant white light form what looked like an ornate cross and rooftop (the portal).

Arrows will help you identify various features of my photograph.

Figure: 7A

Angel cradling an infant. At first sight and from a distance, it looked like an ornate cross.

Figure: 6B

A young boy with dark hair; long, dark-brown pants; and shirt. He is crouching down and holds a portal.

(From that distance this portal looked like the rooftop of a building)

Figure: 5C

Here we see three young boys. The one with blond hair and a striped shirt is in the middle. Do you see the dark-haired boy with a dark shirt on the right side? What about the other dark-haired boy on the left? There are others who stand behind them, too.

Figure: 4D

These are the spirit guides.

Figure: 3E

Another young boy, facing side-on, looks in the direction of the angel.

Figure: 2F

A dog, seated, is both watchful and protective.

This is the enlarged image of the original photo. Can you now see what I saw — an angel cradling a child?

Do you see the little boy holding the portal, crouching beside the tree?

Can you see the lost boys in the bushes to the left of the angel?

Can you see the other images of spirits reaching out to me in the photo?

This experience changed my life forever, and I hope it also has an impact on you. I saw it with my own eyes. I photographed it — my captured truth of the afterlife — with my own camera. It's all true!

There are so many more visions of spirits and apparitions within this photo. See if you can see them for yourself. Test yourself; try to connect with them. It's an amazing capability. I have the proof. I saw it with my own eyes, and there is no denying it. Let me tell you the story of how this all came about.

We arrived in Port Arthur on June 26, 2009. Michael and I were joined by Joanne and Stanley, and we stayed for two nights. It was a pretty place; quiet and peaceful. Michael and I love the surrounding and the areas so much. For some strange reason, we both feel like it's home.

We all went to the restaurant for dinner, and our ghost tour started at 8:15 p.m. the next evening. Our tour guide was Kenny. Earlier that day, we decided to take the cruise to the islands that were once part of the prison at Port Arthur. The first stop was Dead Man's Island. There were a lot of resting places of the dead from the 1800s to the 1900s. It was deemed as sacred land only after the Reverend George Eastman was laid to rest there. I ended up with one of the photos of a headstone with a few orbs surrounding it. It was very sombre as we strolled around the gravesites in the cemetery, listening to the tour guide tell us about the misfortunes of the convicts and the sad endings of staff and soldiers who once lived at Port Arthur.

Next stop was the island, Point Puer Island. This was where they housed boys who had been sentenced to jail. Boys as young as seven were sent to Port Arthur from England to be punished for their crimes. One young boy stole a toy and was sentenced to seven years in jail. The commandant at that time realised the boys needed to be separated from the men who were in prison. Hence, the boys were moved to Point Puer Island. Boys were taught trades such as carpentry, masonry, tailoring, and shoemaking and mending. This would be useful to them once they were released and reformed. At the very least, if they survived their sentences, they would be able to find a job. Can you imagine the hardship those young children had to face? Taken away from their families, jailed for years, and then expected to go and live a normal life once their time was up. This would have been positively unbearable and a very harsh existence. The government eventually closed the boys' prison and ordered the buildings to be dismantled and the stone shipped to the mainland for recycling at the main prison. On the last part of the tour, while we waited for the boat to take us back, the tour guide, Penny, told us about the church that once stood to the far side from where we were standing. Facing the jetty with the water in front of us, she pointed to my left. I turned to have a look and saw trees and bushes. I took another look. I could see a brilliant, white, ornate cross standing on the ground and what appeared to be a rooftop to its right.

I looked at it for a few seconds before asking in a soft voice, "Penny, sorry, excuse me. Is where that big cross stands where the church was once?" Penny kept talking about the tour. I thought, she either didn't hear my question or she's ignoring me. After a few minutes passed, I asked again, but louder. "Is that where the church stood — where that big, ornate cross stands, pointing in that direction?" She replied, "I don't know of any cross."

I was pointing at the cross I saw and was pretty insistent about it. "I know what I am seeing."

Then Stanley, who was standing to the left of me, said, "Katie ... what cross? I can't see any cross." I couldn't understand why he wasn't seeing it. It was such a brilliant, white colour. So white, in fact, it looked silverly white, which was luminescent.

Joanne and Michael, on my right side, asked me the same thing: "What are you talking about?" I still couldn't understand why they couldn't see what was in front of them. I bent down slightly and used my arm as a guide to pinpoint where the cross stood. But they still couldn't see it. It was then I pulled out my camera. "I'll take a photo of it to show you all it's there!" I lined up to take a photo. I could still see the image through the viewer, but Joanne still couldn't. Click ... got the photo. There it was: a most breathtaking, brilliant, white cross amongst the bushes and what looked like the rooftop of the building.

I was so excited by this time. It was happening to me ... what I had been asking for so many years. The spirits were putting me to the test, and I was over the moon. I didn't care if people chose not to believe me. I had a photo — my evidence — that there is an afterlife. I jumped for joy. People around me were shocked. Some were scared and moved away from me. Others embraced it and called me the "ghost whisperer." That moment in time validated my realism. The moment will stay with me until I die. The moment in time will be a timeless piece of evidence. My indubitably captured truth of my epiphany.

When I showed Penny the photo, she was gobsmacked. She called to the other tour guide, Kenny, to show the picture to him. Once we reached the mainland, we made our way past the reception area, where Joanne had mentioned to the girl behind the desk what I experienced. She, too, was amazed and without answers. She also called over fellow staff workers to look at the prize photo. She handed me a card with a woman's name on it. She would be grateful for a copy to put with the other unexplained photos. I decided I wouldn't be sharing that photo with anyone. But now I'm ready to show the world my captured truth.

As for the night tour I mentioned earlier, we had a nice time. I got loads of photos and saw so many orbs I couldn't count them all. Michael volunteered to be a lantern carrier for the tour, so everyone had to stay in front of us, which was great for me. I took dozens of photos. Towards the end of the tour, about the last twenty minutes, I saw the orbs right before my eyes. I could see the ectoplasm surrounding people in front of me and Stanley. I felt a sense of privy, for they all came out for me to see them. I could only hope they were at peace and not tormented. Touching the walls, doorknobs, and window latches only made me visualise the ones who used to walk these grounds and had passed. It was a very harsh life back in those days. This whole experience changed my life, my whole being. I had my captured truth, my wish, and my epiphany! Other photos taken by me are included in this book. They are real and miraculous!

What follows is Joanne's recollection of what she witnessed that day.

Near the end of the tour, the tour guide was telling us where the existing church had been at that time. She showed us drawings that were kept in a folder of what the building look liked and described them to us because there were no ruins or any remnants of any type of building. The buildings were all demolished years ago. Then the tour guide pointed over towards the trees in the distance. "This is where the church site was," the tour guide articulated.

Then Katie pointed and announced, "Is that where the cross is?" Then I looked at Katie and asked, "What cross?"

Stanley, who was standing beside me, also turned back and said, "What's she talking about? There's no cross there."

Katie replied, "There, about 11:00 o'clock," using her arm and hand as a guide. So then Katie took out her camera and took a photograph of the cross. We both looked at the picture and said, "Shit, there is a cross."

CHAPTER 3

Michael and I made our way to Tassie, a prison site in Port Arthur, in 2008. There were old ruins and many old buildings to discover, and they also offered a ghost tour at night. Michael wasn't keen on the ghost tour. He said he wasn't going, but if I wanted to go then go. Yeah, right. As if I would go by myself. He was adamant in his decision. I was disappointed because it was something that was right up my alley and on my list of things to do.

Well, as it happened, at the place we were staying, the Fox & Dog Motel, there was a couple sitting at the bar whilst we, too, were having a drink before dinner. Their names were Missy and Redmond, a nice young couple from Melbourne. Michael had talked to them before I arrived at the bar. He said to me, "Katie, guess where they are going tonight?"

"I don't know," I responded.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from I Spy with My Third Eye by Katie E. Beryl. Copyright © 2016 Karen Leigh Egan. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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