In the spirit of Halloween, share your ghost stories

30 Oct 04 | Self

[bjcintennessee]

ping

[Main Street]

Here is a post I wrote last Halloween, about some of the strange things that have happened to my family and I over the many years. I hope you enjoy it.

THE SHADOWS ON THE WALL: My true Ghost Stories

"I aint 'fraid of no ghosts!"

Well,....maybe....

In the spirit of Halloween, I have recorded here, true paranormal experiences that have happened to myself, or to members of my family. Some might be explained, others cannot.

Fasten your seatbelts, but don't read this in the dark, alone!........

"I who walk the night have seen things you sleepers could never dream."

I am an Agnostic. I don't know, for sure, one way or the other about life after death. I hope that our consciousness, our souls survive death, but I just don't know. I have no solid evidence of life after death that would meet my own requirements, let alone others. Because, though I, as we all, only trust our own senses, we still demand a more solid evidence from others. Something we can hold, feel, and examine. Something that we can see, show, and study on demand. This I cannot do.

Over the years, and many attempts to find some reason, I cannot explain them all away. To simply excuse them as a runaway imagination, or some electrical signal in the brain gone astray, brings no real explanation, nor comfort of the memories of those few days and nights, alone, when for a fleeting moment, time stood still, and I was witness to something far beyond my understanding.

IMAGINATION, DRUGS, BOOZE, STRESS, ECT., ECT.....

I was not asleep, I was not dreaming. I cannot explain them as the results of being under the influence of some mind altering substance, for I neither drink, or do drugs. I was under the influence of nothing, but clear and cognitive thought, tethered neither by undue worry, in time of stress, or psychological strain. And those who know me, know well too, that I am not one who is prone to wild fits of imagination.

But before I can tell you what happened to me, a little history of other paranormal experiences witnessed by some other members of my family. Some I can find a logical explanation, others, I can't. First my grandmother....

My mother's mother, was born in the year of 1877, in a small village in north-eastern Italy. In her long life she had experienced incredible amounts of history first hand. She witnessed battles of the Great War. She suffered the concern for a husband fighting at the front, and the worry of protecting her children when the Germans broke through her village.

THEY FOLLOWED HER HOME

When she was a teen, she remembered running through the woods at night, through a trail that was surrounded by a swamp, to get to a house in the country. She recalled that she ran because she was being followed by several glowing balls of light. These lights, she was convinced, were the souls of the dead coming to get her. We can assume that these were most likely balls of glowing swamp gasses.

GHOST RIDERS IN THE SKY

During the Great War, she and other villagers had witnessed a strange and frightening sight. Soldiers marching in the sky. These simple peasants assumed that they were watching the souls of dead soldiers going to heaven, and they fell to their knees in prayer. This was quite a story in our family and very convincing. It wasn't until years later that I found out that the same thing had happened during the battle of Waterloo. Apparently, my grandmother and others, were witness to a freak natural phenomenon, in which conditions were just right, that the sun had reflected up the images of soldiers marching on the ground, some distance away.

THE LADY IS WAITING

When she was in here 20's, her mother-in-law had died. And in those days the custom was to lay the dead person out on their bed on display, as if they were sleeping. My grandmother was the one who washed the body, fixed her hair and dressed her in her funeral gown. She was now all laid out on the bed, her eyes closed, as her head rested on the pillow as if in sleep, and her arms were folded over, as her hands held a Rosary. A kerosene lamp dimly lit the room. My grandmother then went to others and told them that they could now come in to visit the body and pray. When they got to the door, they were shocked by a frightening site. Her dead mother-in-law had turned her head toward the door, opened her eyes, and her right arm lay out stretched, as if to beckon them all to enter. Most likely Rigamortis . That is why they used to put coins on the eye lids. Something she obviously didn't do.

DON'T OPEN THE DOOR

Then there was a strange and repeatable example of a unexplainable paranormal phenomenon. It involved a man in her village that had been murdered. The killer had severed his victim's head, and then placed it on a shelf in a closet of the victims home. For a period spanning a decade, on every anniversary of his death, a vision of his head would reappear on that shelf. There were many witnesses to this, including my grandmother. The local priest would be called and he would bless the area with holy water and prayer. The head would then fade away, until next year. Eventually it never came back.

THE BRIDGE TO THE OTHER SIDE (A PREMONITION OF DEATH)

When she and her children were refugees before the Huns, at the fall of Caporetto, she struggled in the masses of other refuges, young and old, in the rain, along the winding muddy roads, and open fields, with a single Oxen pulling a small cart, in which held all their worldly possessions. Her children holding on to her long dress so as not to be lost in the great mass of Humanity, slowly moving away....away to what they hoped would be safety, but for many, it would turn out to be an eternal journey into the unknown.

Their journey had reached the Tagliomento River, and the large long bridge that crossed over it. The river. A symbolic natural obstacle, deep and wide, that, once crossed, brought a sense of well being, as one could imagine a mote to a fortress. Night was falling, and just as she and here children were about to go on the bridge, she stopped! A sense of dread had come over her. Her conscience told her to stop here, and to go no further. But why? Safety was on the OTHER side, not here! Not now! The Germans were over running the area. She would soon be IN the battle. She stood on the side of the road and watched as the endless masses of people struggled to get on the bridge. She looked around for some other shelter, and in a field saw a large stone barn, with a great iron door. She rushed with her children to it. There she was confronted by the sights and sounds of wounded and dying soldiers, lying in the barn. She remembered how some of them called out to their mothers.

As she found a corner for herself and her children to rest in the dark, the great door was closed and locked behind her. No sooner had this been done, when a massive explosion rocked the barn, and the force blew open the great door exposing all to the darkness of the night. For one brief moment there was stunned silence. And then it began. As if a thousand souls cried out at once, the mournful wail of the injured and dying, drifted through the door. And then they were told. A massive shell had landed on the bridge, destroying it, and killing all those who were on it. The river was said to have run red with the blood of hundreds. Why didn't she go on the bridge? Why didn't she cross over, "to the other side"??

My grandmother was a very kind woman. She moved in with us after my grandfather had died. A very religious person, she had no doubt that there was a life after death, but she kept her deep religious beliefs to herself. Never trying to convert anyone, never preaching. She would just silently open her prayer book and read, while the family was sitting around in the evening watching TV. And she went to church every Sunday. My sister shared a bedroom with her upstairs, each having a single bed positioned against the opposite sides of the room.

Then the fateful day had come. Old and just plain worn out, she was dying. She was falling into a coma, in her EZ chair in the living room. We had relatives visiting from Canada at the time, and we tried to wake her. She murmured, "I'm tired, let me sleep.". We decided to carry her to her bed. I picked her up and carefully carried her up the steps to her room. As I did so, with her eyes closed she whispered her last words, which were, "So soon, So soon." Her breathing became very loud and labored. The house was now full of family, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins. Many crying. A female cousin brought a small electric lamp to place at her bed side, while the death vigil continued. The doctor was called, and my mother wanted her to go to the hospital, in hopes of saving her. The doctor said that it was of no use, and that it would be best if she passed away in peace surrounded by loved ones.

It wasn't long before the death rattle was heard. I remember my sister and one of my brothers kneeling at the side of her bed saying the Rosary, and crying their hearts out. We had her laid to rest in a grave next to Grandfather. And we tried to get back to a normal family life.

GRANDMA COMES HOME

One night about a week after the funeral, we were all awakened by a loud blood curdling scream that came from my sister, up stars in her bedroom. Shocked, I jumped out of bed, threw on my paints, and rushed out of my room. My dad was rushing out of the master bedroom, and we headed across the house, for the door that lead up to my sisters bedroom. Something was wrong. We opened the door and started running up the stairs, only to be met by my sister, white as a ghost, running down the steps in total fear. She was crying hysterically, as we sat her in a chair at the kitchen table, trying to calm her down. My mother warmed some tea, and had her slowly sip it, to relax her. When she regained here composer, and as her hands were shaking, she told us what happened. She said that while she lay in bed trying to sleep in the dark, she felt the presence of grandma standing over her bed. She says that she could hear her breathing, and she said that the breaths came closer and closer, until it was only inches from her face. That's when she screamed and ran out of the room.

Well, we tried to convince her that she just had a bad dream. She insisted that it wasn't a dream, and that she wasn't asleep. Sleep or no, she would never step foot in that room again. Fine. I was convinced that she just had a wild dream, and nothing more. She moved into my room. I moved in with one of my brothers.

Several months later I left for the service, and came home 6 months later after Tech School. I was full of self confidence, and afraid of nothing, least of all a sister's "bad dream". So I decided I would stay in her old room, the one she had shared with my grandmother. So that night, closing the door behind me, up the stairs, and down the dark hall I went. I got to the bedroom door, and opened it, reached for the light switch, and entered. There, the room was as it was the day my grandmother had died. Her old bed was still there, opposite my sister's old bed. I turned off the light, and settled down in my sister's old bed. And then something happened. With in a moment or two, while laying on my right side, facing my grandmother's bed, as my eyes were open in the dark, and I waited for sleep to come, I heard a very faint sound of someone,...someone breathing. It was coming from my grandmother's side of the room, where her bed was. I remember quite clearly, listening to this sound, not sure of what it was at first. I lifted my head so both ears could pick the sound up. And it slowly got louder,...and louder. That's when hit me, it sounded exactly like my grandmother's labored breathing, just as the day she died! I flicked on the small lamp above the bed board, and leaned up on my right elbow, to listen. More stunned than afraid. It continued to get louder and lasted about 4 or 5 minutes or so. Strong and clear. And I sat up, listening intently, amazed at what I was hearing. Then it started to slowly fade away into a whisper, and then it was gone. Well, that was enough for me! I got dressed, exclaiming out loud, "What the hell is this?!...WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!", while utterly astounded at what I had just experienced. I no longer doubted what my sister had heard. The room was now abandoned as a bedroom, and used for storage.

But that wasn't he end of Grandmother. My dad worked nights and didn't get home until 1:30 or 2:30 in the morning. He would then sit in the living room, have a snack, and watch the late, late show. My wife and I lived with my folks for a year, until we got settled in an apartment.

The rest of the family would go to bed about 11:30 PM, and I would stay up alone in the living-room, watching the Tonight Show until 1 AM. The TV was positioned in the room so that when I was watching the tube, just to my front right of vision, I could see through the foyer into the door that lead from the kitchen to the hall that went to the first floor bedrooms.

On many occasions, always around 12:30 AM, I would get the visual sensation of something moving in the corner of my eye, moving from the kitchen, and through the door that lead to the bedrooms. It got to the point that I expected it, and was ready to look over as quick as I could, in hope to see what it was. And on several occasions I was able to get a fleeting glimpse of my dead grandmother walking through that door toward where the rest of the family was sleeping. I told my dad about it, and he told me that he had seen the same thing as I had. But kept quite about it because he didn't want to upset my mother.

My mother never experienced anything unusual in her life, nor have my brothers.

Years later my folks sold the house to a single middle aged woman who taught school in Detroit. She lived there alone as she had no family that I am aware of. She had a garage built in the back yard, and put on a new roof. I also heard that she had the upstairs bedroom remodeled. I was told she did a beautiful job.

About five years after, I had visited the neighborhood, and talked to my old next door neighbor. I noticed that the my old house was closed up tight. My neighbors told me that the woman who bought and moved into our old house, had lost her mind, and went insane. She was committed. And the city took possession of the house. I will always wonder if she slept in the bedroom upstairs, and if grandmother had paid her a visit in the night.

The house is now sold to a young couple with children. And as far as I know from a relative who lives across the street, everything is fine.

MOTHER SAID GOODBYE

My dad's mother got stomach cancer at the age of 35, in the 1920's. She was operated on, and things were alright for about a year, when it came back. And in those days, there was nothing the doctors could do. My grandfather found a "doctor" who claimed that he had a cure for cancer. A one time injection, that would cost my grandfather about a years pay. My grandfather was desperate, and agreed. The quake injected her, and my dad's family hoped for the impossible. She just got worse.

She could no longer keep food down, and her weight dropped dramatically. Bed ridden up stairs, she suffered through terrible pain. Literally bending the metal bedposts out with her bare hands. An exposed water pipe ran along the wall of her bedroom, down through the floor, and against the wall in the kitchen below. There, when my dad, his brother, and my grandfather, were down stairs at the kitchen table, they had to listen to her moans and cries of pain, that would travel down the pipe like a stethoscope. She finally passed away some weeks later. But the night before she passed, three knocks where heard at the front door, but no one was there. They laid her out in a coffin placed in the living room, as they did in those days. She had lost so much weight that they had trouble keeping her wedding ring on her finger.

After the funeral, family friends who owned a farmhouse up north, invited them to come and stay for a week and rest. This my grandfather agreed to do. And so that night, at the farmhouse, as they were all getting ready for bed, my dad heard his dead mother clearly call out his name. He told me years later that he never told his father or brother, because he didn't want to scare them.

A week later they went home. And as they sat at the kitchen table that evening, they were shocked to here their mother's moans and cries coming through the pipe that lead to the upstairs bedroom where she died. My dad said that there was no doubt what they heard. It was his mother crying in pain. It continued on to the next day and neighbors were called over to hear it for themselves. Soon the house was full of people amazed at what they were hearing. A priest was called, who blessed the house, the bedroom and the pipes. And the cries and moans stopped, never to return.

Many years later, I was visiting my grandfather with my dad, and my uncle. When the conversation came up about the night they stayed at that farmhouse, "after ma died". My uncle said that when the were getting ready for bead, he heard his dead mother call out his name! My dad and I looked at each other, surprised at what he had just said. My dad then told him, that at the same time, HE had heard their mother call out HIS name too! But they only heard their own names called. My grandfather listening, said that he had seen her that night float across the bedroom as they were getting ready for bed. Each had kept their experiences to themselves, so as not to scare the other. And that was that.

_____________________

History was my college major, and a life long interest. As such, as a pastime, I enjoy going to the library and researching the original locations of the first homesteads in my area. The earliest pioneers settled here during the 1820's. The research amounts to studying the first plat maps of the areas, that pin-point the exact locations of these structures, along with the first initial, and last name of the original owner. I acquired permission from the State DNR, to excavate homesteads that fall on state park land. I then physically search for the location on foot, and once pinpointed, photographing the area, and sketch the location of the remaining foundations, ect. I then take a metal detector and search the area for evidence of their past habitation, looking for artifacts that will give me and the local historical association, a better understanding of who these people were, and how they lived.

In this way I have researched many difficult to reach, old deep wood and isolated homesites, far from the beaten path, and where no one goes, the vast majority without incidence. But there were two that I remember well, not only for the artifacts uncovered, and history discovered, but for something else. Something, that may be still there now,... waiting.

THE GIRL IN BLUE

The first, was a homesite about a mile off the trail's end. That I had found one September, 15 years ago. Alone, I started my search of the grounds. When I looked up I was stunned to see a girl dressed in light old fashioned blue dress, by herself, about the age of 16 or so. standing in a field about 50 yards in front of me. This made no sense. What was she doing way out here?? By herself. She stood straight and motionless, with her arms at her side, just standing and staring at me, her long light brown hair gently moving in the breeze. I felt uncomfortable. It was a very odd place to find anyone, let alone a young girl by herself, watching. So I said "Hi!" She didn't respond. She just stood there and stared at me.

Now this was getting really awkward. And I remember thinking I might as well walk over to her and make conversation. Tell her what I was doing there, and ask her if she had seen any other signs of old habituation, such as old foundations, ect. I put my head down, looking at the ground before my feet, as I made my way toward her. I looked up about 20 yards from her, and she still didn't move. I could see her very clearly now. She wore a long dress, light blue in color, of plain Jane looks, without make up, and just starring without any expression on her face. I again said "Hi!". She again, said nothing. I thought "this-girl-is-strange!" I put my head down again for just a moment, as I continued toward her, saying aloud that "I was researching the area for old home sites...." and before I finished my words, I looked up again, and she was gone. I thought, "What the..." And looked around, she was nowhere. And I could see far in all directions, and she was nowhere. Where did she go?! There was no direction she could have gone without me seeing her leave. But she was gone, just plain gone.

A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS

The last experience I had, and the one that still sends a chill up my spine to this day, happened about 8 years ago. I had located on a map, the exact location of a lost and forgotten settlement, deep in the forests of the County. This small settlement consisted of 5 homesteads, built in a circle. It was very early, predating any roads. The settlers used a now extinct branch of a river, (now drained down to swamp of muck) to reach this place. Later during the Civil War a now abandoned and overgrown railroad track crossed about a half a mile away. I drove my truck down an old narrow and long abandoned dirt road. This was very desolate area. No homes for miles. I parked as close as I could to the approximate area, and had to walk the rest of the way. I was totally alone. No life anywhere, except for myself the sounds of the birds in the woods. Looking back, what I had done was stupid. I neglected to bring my cell phone. My wife knew what I was doing, and the county I was doing it, but she had no idea where. Once in, if I had become seriously hurt or injured, they would have never found me, until some hunter might have stumbled over my body come hunting season.

Anyways, I got by gear together. Strapped my backpack and detector over my shoulders, and with my compass, map, and walking stick, made my way. After walking several hours, and following old dear paths when I could, and then hacked and clawed the rest of the way. I eventually found what appeared to be a row of old oak trees, obviously planted by man, long ago. There were crumbled old stone foundations everywhere. I had found the settlement.

The day was gray and cloudy, and under the cover of the forest, it was darker still. I unpacked my gear and got to work. Later on, I unearthed several old pieces of 19th Century Silverware, with the monogram of 'E.K.', engraved on the handles. I knew that one of the settlers there was named 'R. Kinsman'. I assumed that "E" might have been his wife. Located an old war of 1812 button (regiment of rifles), near the entrance to where one house had stood, along with a Seated Liberty Dime. Then a brass Corn Husker dated '1862'. After several hours I was startled by the sound of a woman's voice clearly calling out the name "ELISA!". She said it only once. This shocked me! I froze. Stunned that I wasn't alone, so very far into the forest. There were no trails here. How did she get here?! I looked around but saw no one. I waited, for her voice again, as I visually scanned the area around me. There was nothing. After a few minutes, I continued on about my business, thinking of what I heard, and the odd name "Elisa". I thought some mother must be looking for her child. But it made no sense, as the area was too isolated, too difficult to get to.

Twice more that day I heard this woman voice call the name "Elisa". Each time stunning me to attention from my work. The second time I heard her, was with a sound of panic in her voice. The last time, she called the name, it was with a sound of extreme disappointment or sadness. After a long pause I continued on.

Some time later, I then found a Civil War large 'A' for Artillery, Eagle coat button. Scraping the ground further, I found a large horde of buttons, both glass, and brass, dating from the late 18th Cent., to the mid 19th Century. I then found the cover of an old copper sewing box. It had something scratched on the top. It looked like writing, and I got my brush and cleaned the dirt off, to reveal writing in the style of a woman's long hand, neatly scratched into the cover. The words were "Elisa M. Kinsman".

And thus ends my personal life experiences into what could be the paranormal. I know of no other explanation. And I keep my mind open to all possibilities. I feel this is an area that needs further research, as I and we, look for answers.

Well, it's time you turn off the lights and went to bed...Don't you think??.....PLEASANT DREAMS.

[sneakers]

"The child would never again walk into the kitchen alone as long as they lived there... which would not be that long." Good story! But what happened to the baby? What did she die of? Did her death have something to do with this story?

[mtbopfuyn]

Here's one of my true but weird stories. Several years ago, my grandmother died and, as these things tend to go, my grandfather followed her about six months later. For some reason, during those six months no one really felt my grandmother was gone and felt her presence. I suspect she was waiting around for my grandfather because when he died, it seemed she left too.

Anyway, one day my mother and I were going through granny's things and came across her briefcase. We knew it only contained genealogy notes and as I am the family genealogist, Mother set it aside for me without opening it. At home a few weeks later, I decided to open it and file away the notes. When I touched an envelope, I started laughing so loud Mr. M heard from the other side of the house.

The envelope was turned face down so I couldn't know to whom it was addressed or what the letter inside said, but I did know. I turned it over and saw it had been addressed to her sister to follow up the sister's rare visit (we're talking once a decade or two visit) and it had been mailed because the stamp had been canceled. I can't imagine how it got back into my grandmother's possession or even why such an insignificant letter had been kept for 35 years. I knew before even picking it up the short couple paragraph letter spoke of a visit and when my mischievous grandfather set me up with a joke that backfired and got me grounded. I'm convinced my grandmother just wanted to let me know that everything was aright and to make me smile.

[mtbopfuyn]

Here's a second true but weird story involving my grandmother. Our oldest child is the reincarnation of my grandmother. No, really. None of the family ever believed in such things and would poo-poo such notions off as nonsense, but all have commented on how much alike these two are even though granny died two years before Little M was born. I would never bring it up first for fear of rolling eyes and crazy looks.

Little M, even as a toddler was what some folks call an old soul and at the beginning the relatives would be taken aback and be reminded of granny. Granny loved her kitchen and would hum unknown little tunes while cooking. Little M hums the same made up tunes in the kitchen. Granny would make me chocolate cookies which I couldn't replicate but Little M was telling me how to make them when she was in diapers. It's not just cooking but many other oddly similar characteristics that it makes it almost impossible to deny especially since so many others have recognized it too. Have you ever tried disciplining your grandmother?!?

BTW, did I mention Little M is adopted?

[mtbopfuyn]

I wonder if he couldn't do a search with the car's serial number and find out if a previous owner had been attacked or killed in the car by someone in the back seat. Freaky!

[mtbopfuyn]

I don't care how cheap a place is to rent, if it's gotten to the point where they've taken the staircase out because of ghosts, I'm not interested.

ROF, I'm with you on that.

[mtbopfuyn]

The strange thing was he died the morning of the first phone call so it couldn't have been him or could it have?

Hey, Christopher Reeve called Kerry...

[lawgirl]

OOh cool. That's one of the best ghost stories I've heard in awhile. :) The only thing that has ever happened to me that was remotely creepy was that when I was in college, I was staying at a friend's dorm room. My roommates were gone and I had decided, completely on a whim (i.e. it's 4 AM and we're still talking) to stay in the empty bed that she had from when her roommate moved out. About 8AM the next morning, the phone rang. This is a phone in another person's dorm room and no one knows where I am- and I sat bolt upright in bed and knew without a doubt that it was my dad calling to tell me my grandfather had died. I was right- my parents had had a hell of a time tracking me down since I hadn't told anyone where I was staying. My grandfather had been completely healthy and had died in his sleep very suddenly.

One of my best friends, who is a VERY intelligent person (pharmacist) and one of the purest people I have EVER known (simply not a mean bone in her body) came to visit me and one night as we were sitting there talking, she started acting very distracted and wasn't really paying attention. It had been another one of those marathon talking episodes and it was about 2AM, but we kept talking, and when I finally suggested we go to bed, she said she wanted to keep talking. But she kept acting distracted. I figured I must just be a totally boring person. This kept on until 7AM when she finally said that she wanted to go to bed.

2 years passed and she finally told me that she had seen a giant devlish face, about 4 feet long, floating over my left shoulder in my kitchen and it had scared her so badly she had not wanted to stop talking and go to bed but yet couldn't really concentrate either. I had never seen anything in this house, or even ever felt "not alone", but I did always have this dream in that house that I was with my family when the phone rang and a demon was on the other line choking me so I couldn't warn them and I couldnt' cast it out. I kept wanting to say "In the name of Jesus Christ be gone" but it was choking me. I have never had that dream before or since I lived there and it is one of the scariest dreams I have ever had- I would always awake in terror. Also during that time my husband and I fought incessantly and almost got divorced. Since moving we are doing 1000 times better, just in attitude. Very strange all the way around. Oh, and of course, our cats always acted like they were looking at something when there was nothing there in that house, so who knows.

[lawgirl]

That is a fabulous story. Remind me that if I ever travel through Western Kansas, you have GOT to tell me where this hotel is!

[mtbopfuyn]

Reading your story makes me wonder if you described the three people to your office-mate if she would recognize any of the three. Maybe if enough time has passed and you tell her, she won't think you're nuts!

I agree, you should tell her. It might be that her husband wanted you to tell her that to comfort her.

[LadyShallott]

Several years ago my husband and I went to look at a big beautiful civil war home in small town Ohio. It was a 2,200 square foot, brick, two story beauty. With marble fireplaces and all wooden floors, I instantly fell in love with the place. My husband fell in love with the 650 dollar a month rent. LOL. So we happily moved in with our then six month old daughter. About two weeks after we had moved in strange things started to happen. And I swear this is all true. We have a web page with pictures and a diary about the occurrences of the house.

The Candles One night, after blowing the candles out in the dining room and heading for the couch to watch TV in the front parlor, I noticed a glow coming from the dining room again. "Babe? Why did you light the candles again? I am going to watch TV and go to bed." I shouted down the long narrow house. My husband who was puzzled at this point told me that it wasn't him and that I must have not blown the candles out all the way. Ok..fine. That was good enough for me. I blew the candles out a second time and went to bed. About 2 am or so we were awakened by a heavy thud. On wooden floors you can hear everything and the thud echoed through the house like a gunshot. It was weird. My husband rolled over and chalked it up to an old house making strange noises. It happens all the time he said. So I got up, flipping all the lights on, and walked through the house. There on the dining room floor were my candles. They had "fallen" about 15 feet from where they had been sitting above the fireplace. My solid silver candlestick holders that had been sitting on the fireplace mantel were shattered into pieces in front of the hearth. Freaked out I ran and got my husband. He picked up the candles when he got into the dining room and noticed that the candles had hit the floor with such force that brick and pieces of the floor were embedded in them. We picked up the mess and went back to bed. I slept with the dining room lights on after that. For several weeks after this first incident the candles would flicker back to life. We would hear them rolling across the wooden floors after falling from the mantel time to time.

The Mystery Door In our house above the stairway was a narrow door that literally led into our next door neighbors hallway. You could open it and walk down the hall and into their home. When we first moved in neither one of us could figure out why the two houses were built side by side and were joined. The only thing we could surmise was that it may have been a family. Several generations living next to each other perhaps. We had several locks put on the door to try to keep it closed, nothing ever worked. The locks would break within weeks and the door would be ajar again. We finally just quit trying. Our neighbors had built a door to close off the hallway anyway, so it was never used. There was always a feeling of something dark on the other side of that door. I can't really explain it.

The Baby One of the things that happened on a semi regular basis was the sound of a baby crying. Our daughter was six months old when we first moved in and we would often get up after hearing the baby cry to check on our little one. After hearing the babies cry when she was awake and with us, we began to think it wasn't our little one crying after all. It was the cry of an older baby. Voices could be heard as well during the night. Always soft and usually female. Maybe a mother comforting their little one? The voices continued to be heard until we moved out two and half years later. The Shadow In The Kitchen Our daughter (who was and still is a night owl) was up one night wanting to watch Elmo and get a snack. Tired and half asleep I shuffled behind her headed for the kitchen to fill her request. She stopped in the doorway leading into the kitchen and asked "whats that?". She wouldn't budge from where she stood. She backed up, took a hold of my hand, and asked again "whats that?". The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. It still gives me chills to talk about it. I stood with her on the threshold and asked her "What do you see?". It was dark in the kitchen. The only light that came in was the dim light from the street lamps. "Baby boy Mom" was her answer. There in that dim light stood a four or five year old little boy. It was blurry, black and faceless. Not moving, not crying...just standing in the middle of the kitchen like we had caught him with his hands in the cookie jar. I picked up our daughter and ran as fast as I could to the back of the house. My husband, who was working that night, didn't even question if we had really seen something when I called him panicked. He knew strange things happened all the time. We never saw that shapeless little boy again.

The Room Under The Tub

Right before we moved out of the house we had to have the pipes worked on under the old claw foot tub. The plumbers came in and moved the tub out of the bathroom. Work began and the floors were taken up to get to the pipes. About an hour into the work being done the plumber called me into the bathroom to ask me if I had known that there was a small room under our bathroom. It was about four feet by four feet and tall enough to walk around in stooped over. It had wooden floors in the bottom of it, which I thought was strange. Why would someone go the extra mile to finish the floors? The pipes were fixed and the floors forever sealed over the room. My husband and I then got some unexpected information about the families that had built the homes.

The Civil War Doctor and His Family

My husband and I went to a museum in our small town and asked the woman who worked there if she knew anything about our house. She was 90 years old and knew about most of the people in our small town. LOL. Very sweet woman. The man who built the home was a civil war doctor who moved to our small town after treating soldiers early on in the civil war for a short time. He opened up a medical practice with his younger brother, who was also a physician. They built their homes side by side....with the door joining the families together. They lived and practiced medicine in their homes. Which, according to our historian, was common for the time. They would bring patients in up the stairway in the house next door and they would be treated. There was a small window she said that the younger brother had cut into the hallway so he could see when patients would arrive. The small window was found when the man who owned the building renovated and restored the house next door. The doctor who built our home didn't have a large family and she believed that they had lost two children due to fever in the late 1800's. Maybe that explained the cries that we heard? The family lived in that house for generations and the last of the family (a widow of the doctors great, great, great grandson)had died in the home only forty years ago. The original family was said to love their home dearly. The mother couldn't leave after losing their two small children. The small room? The doctor and his brother were a part of the underground railroad. Who knows what those walls have seen, or what went on in that small room under the tub. Maybe our candles were being lit to welcome those making a stop on the underground railroad or maybe for the sick patients that came to the doctor in the middle of the night. I don't know. But the history of the house explained so much. If you ask me? I don't think the doctor and his family have ever left. Happy Halloween!

[LadyShallott]

sorry about the formatting! I thought I did it right! :)

[LadyShallott]

Your story gave me the chills reading it!! You should take some pictures of the place (If you are traveling in the area again). I would love to see them.

[Lokibob]

 

Oakley, Kansas:

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/map/ks.html

 

I can't remember the name of the motel, but here are the directions:

going west, take the first exit in Oakley.

Just after the exit is a gas station/ convenience store and the motel is right beside it.

For some reason, "Scotties Motel" stands out in my mind, but I am more likely wrong than right.

 

I just googled "Oakley" and it lists only one motel, a best western.  If I remember correctly, it was on the western end of town, this motel was on the eastern end of town.

 

This occurred 10 years ago,

 

Bob

[Swordmaker]

Good story! But what happened to the baby? What did she die of? Did her death have something to do with this story?

She didn't die during the time of the events.

The family moved to another home and did not experience any more problems.

I met her once in about 1964; she was married, in her mid-forties, and I was a teenager. Danged if I can't remember her name. I just recall her as Irene's niece. I know she was dead by the time Irene died and I seem to recall my mother mentioning cancer.

[Auntie Mame]

bump for more stories! These are great!

[reformed_democrat]

Thanks for the thread, CB.

Bookmark bump.

[HungarianGypsy]

The voice thing has happened twice to me. One night (when I was 18), I was up at midnight writing a story. At the time I was listening to Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire". Hearing my father's voice wouldn't have been so scary, but hearing the tape (which was right next to me) click off and my father's voice say, "Get to bed!" scared me enough that I went to sleep. When I asked my dad about it the next day he said he never woke up the night before, but he and his dad had sounded the same.
The second time was after I was married. My husband was visiting neighbors across the street and I had gone home to get something. I felt a strong presence and heard my husband call my name quite clearly. I turned around thinking he was home, but he was still at the neighbor's.

I have many other weird stories. (yes, true) I usually am not scared at the time they happen. It's only after my conscious mind has time to process the information that I get goosebumpy.

[sneakers]

Thanks for the thread. Really enjoying the true stories! I've never had any ghosty experiences, but my husband and son have.

The John Carver Inn

In 1999 my husband from March to the middle of July, my husband's company was flying him up to Plymoth Mass. every week to train people in cable billing. He would leave home on a Sunday evening and return on Friday evening. Most weeks his company booked a room in the Sheraton Inn in Plymoth.lymoth. However, when that was full, they put him up at the John Carver Inn. On two of those occasions, he several weird things happened. The first time, he was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of something slamming on the dresser. When he investigated, the plastic holder that holds the menu had fallen over. He tried knocking it over himself, and it was difficult to do. The shape of it (kind of 'L' shaped) prevented it from falling over very easily. It happened every night for the week he stayed there. Then, in July, he stayed there again, but in a different room. There were roll-down blinds on the windows. Sometime in the night he heard a loud noise and the blind had been yanked down so that it was hanging down over the heater under the window. He thought that maybe the spring broke and the blind just gave way, but it went up again when he pulled it. The next night, he was awakened by another very loud noise. Again, the blind was yanked down but this time it was yanked so hard that it was pulled completely off the rod. Needless to say, he slept with the lights on the next several nights.

The Old Stone House

A mile outside of our town of Indiana, Pa. is a little stone house that was built in the early 1800's. Local legend has it that two brothers lived there. One year, after a long winter, a neighbor went up there to visit. When he arrived, the place was deserted and the house empty. That was strange, since he wasn't aware that the brothers were moving away. When he walked around the house, there, in the yard, he saw a hand sticking up out of the still-frozen earth. When he and some of the neighbors dug up the shallow grave, they found the one brother, murdered. The other brother was gone. It is theorized that the one brother went stir-crazy after a hard winter cooped up, and murdered his brother. From that point on, the house gained a reputation for being haunted. Nobody lived there for long. It was abandoned for many years. Finally, a family built on a large addition sometime in the late 1960's or 70's. The addition is actually much larger than the little stone house it was built on to. Still, people did not stay there long.

One night, my son and several of his friends, in the tradition of most teenagers seeking a thrill, took cameras (and several girls) up to the old stone house. They walked around the deserted house looking in windows and taking pictures. Soon, everybody but my son went back to the car. My son spent a few more minutes looking around. When he got back to the car, the guys were insisting they had to leave RIGHT NOW!, and the girls were crying. They said when my son was around the side of the house a blue glowing mist appeared out of the ground near the front door. My son just got a glimpse of the last of it as it slowly disappeared. I talked to the girls (I was friends with a mom of one of them), and they said they had never seen anything like it!