Chapter One.
This is the sad story with a very happy ending, about a young woman named Chloris Ingleby.  She was a dancer who worked in waterfront dives in Philadelphia, PA, circa 1815, and Michael and I first read about her tragic story in a book called PHILADELPHIA GHOST STORIES by Charles J. Adams III., Exeter House Books.

According to the book, her spirit wandered an alleyway that is not far from where we live; about 7 blocks away.  Curious, we decided to check it out, and we were very surprised when we actually FOUND her there.  The address is 260 S. 9th St., an old house that is dubbed "Bonaparte Place".  This is because Napoleon Bonaparte's brother, Joseph, lived there for a year, or so.  The book also claimed that Chloris' tormented spirit wandered the alleyway next to the house, mostly, but she also frequented the garden walkway by the house, which is where she was shot dead in the back.

Why did all of this happen?  Well, Joseph Bonaparte's steward had been wooing young Chloris, a woman from the "wrong side of the tracks", and a dancer, to boot.  She was in love with the ! steward, and desperate for respectability.

After a year, the steward was to return to Corsica, so he could marry a "respectable" woman.  Poor Chloris became unbalanced at the thought of  her love leaving her, and as a result, she stowed away on the ship that was to carry the steward back across the sea.  She was discovered before the ship could sail, and taken into custody.

The guards then tried to imprison her in a barn that was in the backyard of Bonaparte House. Chloris, however, broke free and raced away from them with everything she had.  One of her captors shot her in the back on the garden walkway, where she fell and died on the spot.

Michael and I took a walk down that alleyway by Bonaparte House, not expecting very much of anything.  Half-way down it, however, I felt an overwhelming feeling of oppression hit me, as if gravity and air pressure had suddenly increased by 50%!  The garden wall next to me seemed to swell outward toward me, as though space was warping before my eyes.  Simultaneously, I felt the abrupt knowledge that I was perceiving another place...an! other wo rld.  At that point I heard a woman's far-off scream.  It sounded agonized.  As soon as I reached the end of the garden wall, however, the sensation lifted.  I told Michael what I had just experienced.  He reeled around.  "I just felt the same thing!" he responded in surprise.

Shaken, and even more determined, we began talking to her; calling her by name.  We circled around to the garden walkway and felt nothing.  It was then  that I realised that she was most often sighted in the alleyway on the other side of the wall.

So, we went back to the alley again, still talking to her. This time I knew someone was listening (no, not some passerby, either). We told her that we were her friends and that she deserved better than she received.  It was at this point that we both perceived a lessening of the tension, in the area, and that we had her full attention.  There was a feeling of amazement that someone was acknowledging her, and even treating her with respect!

When I walked back through the "high gravity" space war! p, again , I felt a distinct lessening of pressure, as though someone had let some of the "air" out.  I sensed a slight lessening of despair and a spark of hope.  We left her temporarily with the words, "We have to go somewhere, right now, but we will be back to help you. "  We left, marveling, and came back two weeks later.

It was a sunny day and we found her resting in a patch of ivy, right inside the garden gate.  As we stepped through the gate, both Michael and I were gripped firmly, right below the solar plexus, like we were being grabbed right under our rib cage.  It felt like a desperate hug; a need for our friendship.  Chloris had been waiting for us and was saying, in our heads, "I'm HERE, RIGHT HERE......TALK TO ME!"  and we did.

Although we couldn't actually SEE anyone, I could feel her eyes intently focused on me, waiting.  At first I thought I was going to stammer, however I fell into a spiel fairly easily.  I got on a roll about how we knew who she was, that the year was 2000, and that she was dead.  I told her that we know what happened and those guys had no right to abuse her  and kill her.  I also told her that this steward was a first class jerk! 

At this point, as an empath, I felt an overwhelming happiness and gratitude.  She was latching onto us as friends that I don't think she had, in life. We tried to get her to pass over but still she clung to the idea of us as her friends.  For some reason, she was not ready to leave, yet, and we could not stay, at that point.  After my pep talk, we told her that we had business to attend to,
but that we would definitely be back to help her again.

The 2nd session ended with Michael and I walking north on 9th Street to Market St.  To our amazement, she followed us joyfully, like a happy puppy, for about 3 blocks.  At that point, her presence fell away abruptly.  I was happy for her, but I kept thinking..."Why won't she leave, yet?"
The Story of Chloris Ingleby.