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Annie is a beautiful sprite who talks to the animals and ethereal spirits and faeries of the forest in mid-1600s Colonial America. She is blessed with the gift of healing from the Spiritual Universe, but Annie is also dwarfed, mentally slow, and lacking in social and emotional development. She is the victim of birth defects in a time when such babies were put to death or banished, along with their mothers.
Ridicule, bullying, and perceptions haven’t changed much from the 17th Century to the 21st. We still see the inequality of women’s rights and “special” people of all ages being ignored, bullied, or labelled. Annie came to me in a past-life regression while I was studying to become an Advanced Certified Psychological Hypnotherapist, ACPH, to help myself deal with the pain, immobility, and weight gain of an immune-deficieny disease treated with steroids.
Was I Annie in another life? Or did a higher being select me to tell this story with its timeless message? I’ll let you decide based on your personal beliefs. Annie is written as historical fiction, based on extensive factual research.
“Annie’s Story” begs to be told. She is an unusual child growing up in the British North American Colonies who is “Blessed With A Gift.”
Watch this short video to reserve your limited, first-edition, signed copy of Annie’s Story, Blessed With A Gift: Includes 340-page historical fiction novel based on fact via a past-life regression, shipping within the continental U.S., part of the proceeds donated to a nonprofit organization.
Join the Annie Movement. Help fight for women’s rights and cure birth defects.
Excerpt from “ANNIE’S STORY, BLESSED WITH A GIFT” COMING SOON!
COPYRIGHTED AS A WORK-IN-PROGRESSS, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AUTHOR, DEBORAH A. BOWMAN
James and Mary
In the Year of Our Lord 1630
The pain ceased and he saw Mary, fresh and lovely as a spring’s misty morn with the sun peekin’ o’er the pinkish purple and amber hills of The Highlands. This time he not only heard the voices clearly, but saw the happy faces of his Clansmen; not just his immediate fam’lee, but warriors he had fought beside and watched die fightin’ The MacKinnon’s dreaded enemy, The MacLeoids; as well as wee bairns and babes lost to The Clan in infancy and youth; and Mary’s kin as well, veiled in the shadows.
In the middle of them all, in a gleaming gold light, stood his Mary in a white dress with The Blackbain Plaid o’er her shoulder, the earthy colors of The Plaid blending with an armful of Highland wildflowers and a wreath of yellow, red, and pink rosebuds crowning her glorious dark auburn hair. A loving smile graced her luscious lips, and her rosy cheeks glowed as she reached out to him as his bride.
James stepped out of the dark and soiled cabin into the lush green of rollin’ hills, reflected in the deep blue water ‘round The Isle. He was dressed meticulously as a groom in The MacLean Kilt, the silver and dark emeralds of The Brooch at his broad shoulder twinklin’ in the sun.