Looking Through Eyes of Love is the story of Alarca, an extraterrestrial who meets an untimely end in a crashed Disk on the North American continent. Persuaded by the Elders of her race to reincarnate on Earth in human form, she is to complete her failed mission. Reborn into a Gypsy family in Australia, she becomes Ali. But her life doesn't go to plan. The trauma of birth causes Ali to forget her extraterrestrial roots, and so her childhood is spent trying to come to terms with strange memories and telepathic abilities.

Everything changes however on the night of her 13th birthday, when one of the Elders appears in her bedroom. It is time for the truth, and nothing is ever the same.

The teachings Ali receives include information on Crop Circles, ET Implants, reasons behind so-called Abduction Experiences, history of Human/ET/Universal Evolution and expansion of the human mind through the Contact Experience.

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ISBN: 1-9210-0544-0
Format: A5 Paperback
Number of pages: 343
Genre:  Fiction/Spiritual 

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Author: Judy Carroll 
Imprint: Zeus
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published: 2005
Language: English



Fact: tens, if not hundreds of thousands, of perfectly sane, normal human beings are being regularly taken on board extraterrestrial spacecraft for the purpose of medical-type examinations, probes and genetic procedures. These people, popularly referred to as ‘abductees’, ‘contactees’, or ‘experiencers’, cover a broad cross-section of the world community, and include doctors, lawyers, scientists, politicians, teachers and farmers, as well as butchers, bakers, clergymen and housewives.

The extraterrestrials (ETs) involved are usually the small, thin-bodied, large-headed ones, with black almond-shaped eyes, known as the Greys, although other types, some very human in appearance, have also been reported. The encounter experience often begins with the person waking in the night to find a number of entities (usually three) in their bedroom. They are then whisked mysteriously out of the house through locked doors and closed windows, and the next moment find themselves on board an ET Disc, lying on an examination table in a clinic-like room. A medical examination is then carried out on them, which often involves the removal of tissue samples, the placing of an implant into some part of their body, and sometimes a gynaecological procedure of some sort.

If the situation becomes too painful or frightening, an anaesthetic is administered, by one of the ETs simply placing their hands on the head of the human ‘guest’. When it is over, the person is returned safely to their bed, occasionally waking the next morning to such anomalies as pyjamas on back to front, inside out or folded neatly beside them; unexplainable bleeding or marks on their body, often in the shape of a triangle; and more rarely, finding themselves in the wrong bed, or even the wrong house.

Some have conscious or semi-conscious recollection of their encounter experiences, some do not, but this phenomenon, along with the UFOs (Unidentified Flying Objects), which have been seen, reported and investigated over a period of many years, is gaining more and more credence and acknowledgement as we progress through the first decade of the 21st century. In fact, hardly a day goes by without at least one sighting of a UFO or an ‘alien abduction’ report somewhere on the planet, and many popular books have been written on the subject by authors such as Whitley Strieber, Budd Hopkins, Raymond Fowler, Richard Boylan and John Mack, to name but a few.

Up until the present time, most literature on the subject has naturally been written from the human viewpoint, but now it is time for the ETs themselves to have a say on the subject.




For the present time this book is a work of fiction and therefore any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental. Whether or not it will be a work of fiction in another ten years is a different matter, for, as has been proven many times over, today’s fiction is tomorrow’s fact.

If you do not agree with such a statement then consider this. To a well-educated person living in the 18th century, simply pressing a switch on the wall to illuminate a room would have been pure fiction. Everybody knew back then that to light a room one needed a lamp with oil in it, or at least a candle. And a magical box on which one could view a moving picture and hear the appropriate sounds as well? Definitely a work of the Devil! Which just goes to show – the line that divides fact from fiction is extremely tenuous, and changes continuously with the passing of Time, so an open-minded approach to life is the way to go.

The reason for presenting this book as fiction is that the Human Race of Planet Earth is not quite ready, at this point in time, to know all there is to know about the so-called Greys. For example, one small detail of their Culture that humans may find strange and unsettling is the fact that, until they reach the fifth level of their Soul Consciousness, that is, the Elder/Teacher level, they are not known by name but rather by number. As probably many of you know already, the sound of a person’s name vibrates at a particular and individual frequency, setting you apart and differentiating you from those around you. For a human, their name is a very personal possession.

The Grey Culture however does not work quite like this. They express Oneness in every aspect of their being, and operate more closely as a Group Soul, with each perfectly happy and content to be just a small part of the Whole.

‘Number’ is the closest way I can describe in human terms the personal frequency band that each operates on. It is something like the call signs used by radio and television stations, and each individual’s number resonates in harmony with everyone else’s number, and so they resonate together like the notes that form a musical chord.

 Now, as a Level Four Worker who is at present in training to become a Teacher, being known by number does not worry our heroine Alarca in the least; in fact she likes her number. It gives her a warm, fuzzy feeling of belonging, and expresses very clearly who she is within the scheme of things. When she does eventually graduate to the fifth level and takes a name ending in ‘IS’ as all Teachers’ names do, she will quite miss her number at first, until she becomes accustomed to the change.

For the purpose of writing this book, special dispensation has been granted by the Elders to me to use names for some of the Workers rather than numbers, which they prefer to keep private anyway. This, hopefully, will help readers to feel comfortable and to be able to relate more easily with the various characters. The Elders have actually allowed quite a bit of leeway in several areas, so hopefully not too many toes have been stepped on in the process, (which is not easy, because being so tall, the Grey Elders have very large feet!). These Elders’ names have not been changed to ensure privacy, because they don’t mind in the least having their real names out here in print.

The Greys are officially classified as Zeta Reticulans by researchers on Planet Earth, because it is this Star System that they call Home, however, the term ‘Grey’ is probably more appropriate, being a more general term.

The problem is, this in itself can be a little confusing because, like humans of Earth, the Greys have several different racial types and therefore, like humans, their skin colour varies. Some for example are really more blue than grey.

Greys are interdimensional as well as extraterrestrial. They inhabit a number of different Planes throughout the Universe, and some of them live permanently on board the huge Motherships, which are really more like travelling cities. These Motherships, believe it or not, are living, sentient organisms themselves with whom the Greys interface.

The ones that humans refer to as ‘Angels’ are also highly evolved interdimensional as well as extraterrestrial beings from a number of different Planes and Star Systems. The term ‘Angel’ or ‘Grey’ more accurately denotes their evolutionary level in the Universe rather than their specific race, and therefore is more appropriate to use.

The Angels are known as Workers of Oneness (God), and Greys are the Workers of the Angels. As such, their role is that of Caretakers of Energy within the lower levels of the Universe. However, they really don’t mind what we all them – Zetas, Greys, Visitors, Guardians, Watchers or whatever, but please don’t refer to them as Aliens. In fact, what they would like best to be known as is Family.  





Our Disc skimmed the sandy surface of the planet, travelling at a steady and moderate speed of only a few hundred kilometres per hour. This was a reconnaissance flight, so my fellow crew members and I had left the safety of the giant Mothership in the higher levels of the stratosphere, to venture forth in one of the smaller, more compact Discs which are designed to carry ten of us at the most.

We were operating on a lower frequency band of the electro-magnetic scale, which meant we would be visible to any Earthling eyes that happened to be scanning the night sky, but with the storm that had been raging for the last half hour or so that was not very likely. This was not a thickly populated area of the planet, and most of the inhabitants would be tucked up safe and sound in their beds anyway, so we felt fairly secure that our presence would not be noticed.

We were probably appearing as a blip on the radar screens at the local Air Force Base, which was a bit of a worry, but even if they sent one of their planes up to investigate and intercept us, we would soon make our escape. Compared to our Discs, even the very latest fighter planes of Planet Earth were slow and cumbersome, and we could easily out-manoeuvre them. We knew exactly what their capabilities were because we’d been monitoring them for years, positioning our data-gathering plasma balls close to the wingtips of their planes during their last major war to ensure a regular supply of information on the technological progress of the military forces of Planet Earth. These plasma balls are actually living, sentient Thought Forms created as extensions of our own minds. They appear to Earthling eyes as balls of light, and have come to be known by human pilots as ‘Foo Fighters’.

On tonight’s mission it was my turn to be at the controls. Fuel-driven rockets, or engines of any sort for that matter, do not power our Discs, but rather the pure, naturally occurring energy that is the driving force behind the Universe. They are designed to access this cosmic energy directly through the hands and mind focus of the crew. To put it simply, we ourselves are the conduit for the power, and the Disc is an extension of us in that we are linked to it and to each other by thought processes alone. This energy flows into and through our bodies, which act as conductors, and is directed into the Disc, which is intimately linked into our energy and nervous systems through our hands when they are placed on a control panel.

Direction and speed are governed solely by our minds, and so the Disc can potentially travel at the speed of our thoughts, thus transcending Time and Space. The Disc is a living entity of which we are the brain and nervous system.

As I mentioned, this was a routine reconnaissance sweep, which we’d performed many times before; however, keeping the Disc steady took a little more concentration that night as we steered our way through the raging storm. A small corner of my mind became aware of an amused train of thought rippling through the mind of my good friend and fellow crew member, Ashka, who was attempting to relieve the strain by thinking of jokes and relaying them telepathically to the rest of the crew. Ashka’s sense of humour could always be counted upon, however tense the situation, but I determinedly ignored her, totally focusing my thought patterns into the receptive Disc, which was relying on me for guidance and control.

Warm, undulating waves of profound amusement emanating from the others washed over me, causing my mind to relax and waver for just a second or two. Problem was, at that very moment we were not the only ones to be operating in that particular little piece of sky. A frantic warning from the Disc flashed into my mind, jolting my consciousness back into full alert as a second craft suddenly materialised through the space/time continuum heading straight for us, leaving me no time to react.

The floor flew out from under us as the other Disc sliced cleanly through the side of ours. A massive explosion threw me sideways, causing me to lose hand contact with the control panel, which disintegrated in a spectacular shower of sparks. As our Disc helplessly nosedived straight for the hard and unforgiving terrain of the planet below, I frantically telepathed one last, desperate order to veer away from built-up areas, hoping the Disc would somehow be able to respond. There was a shuddering lurch to the side, then came the impact, and total blackness.

Everything around me was still and silent as death. Lying there in the tangled wreckage, not knowing up from down and afraid to move for fear of injury, floating in and out of consciousness, time lost all meaning. Then I felt a feeble, pain-wracked mind reaching out to me, making me aware that at least one of the others was still alive. Thank God I was not alone! Slowly disentangling myself from a twisted mass of fibre-optic cables, I crawled out from under part of the control panel that had caved in on top of me, and went in search of survivors.

‘Alarca! Alarca! Over here! Please help me! I can’t move!’

It was Ashka, and she was pinned under the side of the Disc that had collapsed inwards under the impact of the crash. I got to her as fast as I could and somehow managed to prise the tangled metal up and off her body, but it was obvious she was badly injured; then I saw the others, all well and truly dead and beyond my help.

Feeling sick in the stomach I turned my attention firmly back to Ashka, lifting her gently and carrying her outside. It was still dark, but our eyes adapt easily to night vision, so that was no problem, and I still had a good amount of almost pure oxygen stored in my lungs, which would keep me alive until my body could adapt itself to the impurities of Earth’s atmosphere, just as long as I took things slowly and didn’t panic. I went back to search for the first-aid kit, but by the time I returned to Ashka’s side, it was obvious there wasn’t much that could be done for her.

‘Oh Alarca, I am so sorry … It was all my fault … I shouldn’t have distracted you …’ A thin, grey, four-fingered hand reached feebly for mine and she gasped in pain as her rapidly weakening thoughts telepathed into my mind.

‘Ashka, no! It’s all right!’ I cried, holding her hand in both of mine to enable her to draw on the maximum amount of life-force energy. ‘Please don’t die! Don’t leave me here all alone!’ I desperately wanted to take her in my arms, but dared not because of the severity of her injuries. Instead of comforting her, I would only cause her more pain.

Car headlights swept the area as a convoy of military vehicles arrived on the scene. Coarse, loud human speech assaulted our senses and the lights blinded me. My heart almost stopped beating in terror as a group of large, uniformed Earthlings descended upon us. I wanted to run, but could not leave Ashka alone and at their mercy, but when I looked back at her, she was dead. I cried out in an agony of fear, grief and despair, and for a fleeting moment my own emotions played over the features of a couple of the more sensitive humans present, as they picked up telepathically on my pain and fright.

I struggled to my feet in panic and ran for the safety of the Disc, but a gunshot to my back sent me spinning downwards into blackness. My next awareness was of strange, stubby, five-fingered hands pulling me from the wreckage of the Disc, and of frantic activity, lights and sounds. I could not comprehend these sounds on the physical level, but knew it was human speech, and was at least able to pick up on the huge amount of emotion being generated. Then I felt myself being lifted, none too gently, which jolted another cry of pain out of me, but apart from one or two of them, these beings didn’t seem to care much at all.

My mind returned longingly to Ashka and the others, and to our Disc now fallen into Earthling hands, and my only thought was to get back to them, but my captors obviously anticipated an escape attempt, and made sure I was firmly secured. I tried to opulate – to expand my body in order to break the bonds which held me – but the bullet lodged in my back was beginning to poison and weaken me to such an extent that my energy system was rapidly failing. It was all I could do to breathe, let alone opulate, transmogrify or de-materialise.

Awakening some time later, I found myself strapped tightly to a cold, hard surface in what seemed to be a laboratory or clinic of some sort. Strong, glaring lights blinded me and alien fingers prodded and probed my body without mercy. Then came the horrifying realisation that these humanoid creatures were about to perform an autopsy on me, and I wasn’t dead!

But the next moment brought blessed relief as I finally managed to step out of the container that had been my physical body and which was now damaged beyond repair. With a sense of great joy and freedom, I followed my companions down the long, dark tunnel towards the glorious light of our Astral World.

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