Tag Archives: unexplained

The Boogah Man – Paul Laurence Dunbar

Recently , while researching ghost poetry I came across a poet and story-teller that I really like and felt like his style was right up my alley of spooky historical verse. His poems are simple and stirring and reflect the times in which he lived.  I could not decide on just one, so I am including 3 of my favorites so far, that I enjoyed reading. The first one, made me feel like a kid again, sitting by a warm fire on a dark night, listening to a good spooky bedtime story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

The Boogah Man

W’en de evenin’ shadders
Come a-glidin’ down,
Fallin’ black an’ heavy
Ovah hill an’ town,
Ef you listen keerful,
Keerful ez you kin,
So ‘s you boun’ to notice

Des a drappin’ pin;
Den you ‘ll hyeah a funny
Soun’ ercross de lan’;
Lay low; dat’s de callin’
Of de Boogah Man!

Woo-oo, woo-oo!
Hyeah him ez he go erlong de way;
Woo-oo, woo-oo!
Don’ you wish de night ‘ud tu’n to day?
Woo-oo, woo-oo!
Hide yo’ little peepers ‘hind yo’ han’;
Woo-oo, woo-oo!
Callin’ of de Boogah Man.

W’en de win ‘s a-shiverin’

Thoo de gloomy lane,
An’ dey comes de patterin’
Of de evenin’ rain,
W’en de owl ‘s a-hootin’,
Out daih in de wood,
Don’ you wish, my honey,
Dat you had been good?
‘T ain’t no use to try to
Snuggle up to Dan;
Bless you, dat ‘s de callin’
Of de Boogah Man!
 
Ef you loves yo’ mammy,
An’ you min’s yo’ pap,
Ef you nevah wriggles
Outen Sukey’s lap;
Ef you says yo’ “Lay me”
Evah single night
 
‘Fo’ dey tucks de kivers
An’ puts out de light,
Den de rain kin pattah,
Win’ blow lak a fan,
But you need n’ bothah
‘Bout de Boogah Man!
 

The next poem on my list of favorites by this author,  is The Phantom Kiss. It is a dreamy little poem that made me smile and yet still left me with a little shiver.

The Phantom Kiss

One night in my room, still and beamless,
With will and with thought in eclipse,

I rested in sleep that was dreamless;
When softly there fell on my lips

A touch, as of lips that were pressing
Mine own with the message of bliss—
A sudden, soft, fleeting caressing,
A breath like a maiden’s first kiss.

I woke—and the scoffer may doubt me—
I peered in surprise through the gloom;
But nothing and none were about me,
And I was alone in my room.

Perhaps ‘t was the wind that caressed me
And touched me with dew-laden breath;
Or, maybe, close-sweeping, there passed me
The low-winging Angel of Death.

Some sceptic may choose to disdain it,
Or one feign to read it aright,
Or wisdom may seek to explain it—
This mystical kiss in the night.

But rather let fancy thus clear it:
That, thinking of me here alone,
The miles were made naught, and, in spirit,
Thy lips, love, were laid on mine own.

Lastly, I chose The Haunted Oak. This poem has a lot of historical significance. Being from Mississippi, I have often been attracted to old trees and have often wondered when I am near one that seems alive with a story, if it were possible that the events mentioned in this poem, had ever happened on it’s branches. If only the trees could speak their secrets.

The Haunted Oak

Pray why are you so bare, so bare,
Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;
And why, when I go through the shade you throw,
Runs a shudder over me?
My leaves were green as the best, I trow,
And sap ran free in my veins,
But I say in the moonlight dim and weird
A guiltless victim’s pains.
They’d charged him with the old, old crime,
And set him fast in jail:
Oh, why does the dog howl all night long,
And why does the night wind wail?

He prayed his prayer and he swore his oath,
And he raised his hand to the sky;
But the beat of hoofs smote on his ear,
And the steady tread drew nigh.
Who is it rides by night, by night,
Over the moonlit road?
And what is the spur that keeps the pace,
What is the galling goad?
And now they beat at the prison door,
“Ho, keeper, do not stay!
We are friends of him whom you hold within,
And we fain would take him away
“From those who ride fast on our heels
 
With mind to do him wrong;
They have no care for his innocence,
And the rope they bear is long.”
They have fooled the jailer with lying words,
They have fooled the man with lies;
The bolts unbar, the locks are drawn,
And the great door open flies.
Now they have taken him from the jail,
And hard and fast they ride,
And the leader laughs low down in his throat,
As they halt my trunk beside.

Oh, the judge, he wore a mask of black,
And the doctor one of white,
And the minister, with his oldest son,
Was curiously bedight.
Oh, foolish man, why weep you now?

‘Tis but a little space,
And the time will come when these shall dread
The mem’ry of your face.
I feel the rope against my bark,
And the weight of him in my grain,
I feel in the throe of his final woe
The touch of my own last pain.
And never more shall leaves come forth
On the bough that bears the ban;
I am burned with dread, I am dried and dead,
From the curse of a guiltless man.
And ever the judge rides by, rides by,
And goes to hunt the deer,
And ever another rides his soul
In the guise of a mortal fear.
And ever the man he rides me hard,
And never a night stays he;
For I feel his curse as a haunted bough,
On the trunk of a haunted tree.
 

“The Haunted Oak,” written and publsihed in 1900, could have been based on one of the 105 lynchings that occurred that year, but it was inspired in Washington, D.C., by a story that Dunbar heard an old black man relate concerning his nephew in Alabama who bad been hanged on an oak tree by a mob of whites after having been falsely accused of “a grave crime.” According to the story, shortly afterwards the leaves on the limb used for the lynching yellowed and fell off; and, unlike the rest of the normal tree, the offending bough shriveled and died. Townspeople began to call the tree “the haunted oak.” Dunbar, using the ballad form to enhance the superstition, personifies the tree and makes it the most sensitive and remorseful participant in the crime.”  from a review by James A. Emanuel

About The Author

Paul Lawrence Dunbar

Paul Laurence Dunbar was the first African-American to gain national prominence as a poet. Born in 1872 in Dayton, Ohio, he was the son of ex-slaves and classmate to Orville Wright of aviation fame.
Dunbar was prolific, writing short stories, novels, librettos, plays, songs and essays as well as the poetry for which he became well known. He was popular with black and white readers of his day, and his works are celebrated today by scholars and school children alike.
His style encompasses two distinct voices — the standard English of the classical poet and the evocative dialect of the turn-of-the-century black community in America. He was gifted in poetry — the way that Mark Twain was in prose — in using dialect to convey character.

Dunbar was born on June 27, 1872, to Matilda and Joshua Dunbar, both natives of Kentucky. His mother was a former slave and his father had escaped from slavery and served in the 55th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment and the 5th Massachusetts Colored Cavalry Regiment during the Civil War. Matilda and Joshua had two children before separating in 1874. Matilda also had two children from a previous marriage. Dunbar married Alice Ruth Moore in 1898. A graduate of Straight University (now Dillard University) in New Orleans, her most famous works include a short story entitled “Violets”. She and her husband also wrote books of poetry as companion pieces. An account of their love, life and marriage was depicted in a play by Kathleen McGhee-Anderson titled Oak and Ivy.
Dunbar took a job at the Library of Congress in Washington. In 1900, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis and moved to Colorado with his wife on the advice of his doctors. Dunbar and his wife separated in 1902, but they never divorced.
He wrote a dozen books of poetry, four books of short stories, five novels, and a play. He also wrote lyrics for In Dahomey – the first musical written and performed entirely by African-Americans to appear on Broadway in 1903
His essays and poems were published widely in the leading journals of the day. His work appeared in Harper’s Weekly, the Saturday Evening Post, the Denver Post, Current Literature and a number of other publications.
Depression and declining health drove him to a dependence on alcohol, which further damaged his health. He moved back to Dayton to be with his mother in 1904. Dunbar died from tuberculosis on February 9, 1906, at age thirty-three.

He was interred in the Woodland Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio. To read more about this poet and writings, please see the resource links below. See his Find A Grave Memorial Here:

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=307

Research Links

More Poems : http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/a_f/dunbar/additionalpoems.htm

http://www.dunbarsite.org/

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/302

“The Crowded Years: Paul Laurence Dunbar in History” in A Singer in the Dawn: Reinterpretations of Paul Laurence Dunbar. Ed. Jay Martin. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1975. Copyright © 1975 by Jay Martin.

Black Poets of the United States, from Paul Laurence Dunbar to Langston Hughes, Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1973. Copyright © 1973 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois.

http://www.libraries.wright.edu/special/dunbar/poetryindex/the_boogah_man.html

http://www.libraries.wright.edu/special/dunbar/poetryindex/the_phantom_kiss.html

http://www.libraries.wright.edu/special/dunbar/poetryindex/

http://www.libraries.wright.edu/special/dunbar/bookcover_gallery.html

University of Dayton –http://www.dunbarsite.org/

Modern American Poetry Web Site – English Department at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/a_f/dunbar/dunbar.htm

Paul Laurence Dunbar House Ohio Historical Society
http://www.ohiohistory.org/places/dunbar/

Paul Laurence Dunbar PAL: Perspectives in American Literature A Research and Reference Guide – An Ongoing Project
http://www.csustan.edu/english/reuben/pal/chap6/dunbar.html

Paul Laurence Dunbar Collection at the Dayton and Montgomery County Library
http://home.dayton.lib.oh.us/archives/dunbar/DTABCONTENTS.html

The Writings of Paul Laurence Dunbar Springfield Library
http://www.springfieldlibrary.org/dunbar/dunbar.html

Ohio Memory – Paul Laurence Dunbar Scrapbook
http://worlddmc.ohiolink.edu/OMP/YourScrapbook?scrapid=6698

http://www.libraries.wright.edu/special/dunbar/gallery/dunbar_photos.html

compiled and posted by Angela L Burke – MSSPI

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The Legend of Benjamin Blackwell A Ghost Story Part II

written by Angela L Burke

Part II

The population of Cedar Rock has changed little, since the death of Benjamin Blackwell. Blackwell Road is still a rural part of the Hill Country and remains a gravel road. Few people live along the road anymore. Most of the fields are used for cattle and horse grazing. A sparse cabin, or the rotting skeleton of a framed shack, can still be found along the roadside. All are un-inhabitable and resemble broken down tool sheds choked out by brush and the suffocating tendrils of Kudzu vine.

Stories about Ben Blackwell, are rarely discussed in public these days. But there are some locals, who know the history and also know of the strange happenings on Blackwell Rd, especially at night. Only the bravest of locals will use the Blackwell Rd as a cut through, but never after dark, and never on a full moon. It has been said, that the cursed and angry spirit of Benjamin Blackwell, still rides his horse down Blackwell Road, patrolling his fields on his massive black beast.

 Speeders, joy riders, strangers, trespassers and parkers, have encountered the dark spirit of Ben Blackwell on the abandoned gravel road. His tall, wicked shadow, usually said, to be holding a shovel. Many even claimed, to have been chased down by the crazed phantom. That the spirit of Benjamin Blackwell, has been known to chase a man’s car down the road at lightening speeds. One local even claimed that his car windshield had been covered in a swarm of wasps, to the point that he ran off the road. Then they disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

Billy Blackwell, is also said, to haunt the property of Blackwell Plantation. Many locals claim to have seen young Billy, sitting near the creek, drawing pictures. When Billy turns to look at you, he has the look of having been badly beaten on one side of his head and face. He is said, to grin at you with a sad grin and then turn back to his drawing, before disappearing before your very eyes.

Ben Blackwell has reportedly been seen, standing on the hillside, with a shovel slung over his shoulder near the Blackwell family cemetery. It is believed, that he can sometimes be seen, sitting on his monstrous black horse in the middle of the road, as you wind around the bend on a full moon night. Only to disappear when you slam on the brakes. Many lovers have sought to do some private star-gazing on the dark back road, only to look up and see the ghastly face of Benjamin Blackwell peering through their window. His face swollen with oozing whelps from being stung by angry wasps and bitten by venomous rattlers of the afterlife, in which he is trapped.

It has even been said, that the prints of giant horse hooves, have been seen on the Blackwell Rd. No one with any sense would dare to ride a horse down the old road, due to the number of deadly rattlesnakes that have been seen, curled up in their path, sunning themselves in the warm Mississippi sunshine. Anyone who has ever dared venture down the long, pitch-dark, gravel road at night, or even on the brightest of days, do not feel safe in the largest or fastest of motor transportation. The feeling of being watched and chased by an unseen darkness is inescapable on Blackwell Rd. The fear of being struck by a vicious timber rattler or attacked by angry red wasps, will cross your mind at least once, while you’re considering the risks or taking your chances on the old road.

 Curious cemetery explorers and genealogy researchers have reported hearing the sound of a woman wailing, coming from the nearby woods near the cemetery. As well as, the sound of weeping, near the plantation house foundation. Hunters have reported hearing someone whisper the name “Billy “in their ears, while sitting near the creek, only to find that no one is ever there.

But the most surprising claims, are that Benjamin Blackwell’s grave site, as well as the plantation house foundation, is infested and swarming with large rattle snakes and swarms of big red wasps. Mississippi red wasps have an extremely painful sting and to those who have sensitivity to them, they can be deadly, especially in large numbers. Most people caught off guard by a timber rattler, never make it out of the woods. Alive that is.

The Blackwell Plantation was abandoned after the burning of the main house. The barely visible chimney, is now held tight, in the grips of Kudzu and ivy vines. The foundation of the big house is hardly recognizable. Curiosity seekers, teenagers and hikers have attempted to explore the ruins of Blackwell’s Plantation House, but none have ever stayed long. The ruins are said to be infested with rattle snakes. No one with any sense at all, regardless of their hill country survival skills, would be foolish enough to take on a hot breeding nest of angry timber rattlers.

A group of modern-day paranormal investigators, tried to explore the old site recently, and one of them came out of the woods with his life hanging in the balance. The photographer had to be air lifted to the trauma center for rattlesnake venom, after he was bitten on the leg while attempting to photograph the ruins of Blackwell Plantation. Mysteriously, there was nothing on his roll of film, even though all of his frames had been shot.

Numerous claims of mysterious fire lights, tall lurking black shadows, apparitions of a large man with a shovel, thick smoke from unknown sources and mysterious mists, the smell of wood and flesh burning. They have all been reported over the years at the plantation site. The land has never been lived on again. It is now owned by the state’s national park service. All attempts to develop the land have failed. Visitors are always cautioned to avoid the area as being unsafe and extremely dangerous, due to the infestation of rattlesnakes and red wasps. Don’t count on a cell phone for help. There are no signals in these hills, only the echos of a black buzzards scream.

The land sits vacant, said “to be cursed” by Mammie Faye and haunted by the tormented spirits of Benjamin Blackwell and his family. It is believed that Martha searches the charred ruins of the house whispering for her son Billy, in her desperation to say goodbye to him. Mammie Faye’s whispers can still be heard near the ruins of the plantation house. That the smell of whiskey, cigars and burnt flesh can be caught on a passing breeze near the charred ruins. That Billy Blackwell, still draws pictures near the Blackwell Plantation Creek.

But the most feared encounter of all for those who are brave enough to venture onto the Blackwell Rd and Plantation, is to run into the ghost of Benjamin Blackwell, the meanest man who ever lived in the Hill Country.

May the curious outsider beware! They say that behind every good legend story, there is a hint of truth in it somewhere. Explore The Legend of Benjamin Blackwell, at your own peril. You never know when the curses of a ghost legend, will turn out to be real.

Note from the Author:

The Legend of Benjamin Blackwell, is just that. A Legend. It was inspired by a rumored, Mississippi back road in the Hill Country where I live. The actual location is rumored to be haunted by an angry farmer on a black horse. But this fictional story has been dramatized and exaggerated, mixed up and made up for storytelling effect. The location, character names and claims of activity are purely fictional and any similarities with actual places, persons or events in Mississippi, or anywhere else, are purely coincidental and unintentional. The only part of this story that is known to be true and factual, is that the location, that this story was inspired by, is indeed rumored to be haunted by a dark spirit, riding a tall, black horse. The cursed home site is indeed, in ashes. It’s foundation is absolutely, infested with rattlesnakes and angry, red wasps! The rumored, haunted road thru the Hills, is definitely crawling with rattlesnakes. I will never tell anyone of its true location. It will be to my dying day, a deadly secret.

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Something Unseen by Stephen Hill

Stephen Hill takes you on a spine tingling journey into the mysteries of the afterlife and what awaits us on the other side. A mysterious voice captured on the audio of his camcorder during a local cemetery visit causes him to question his perception of reality, religion and even his own sanity. These questions lead him back to the cemetery in an attempt to find answers to mysteries that he cannot comprehend. He soon realizes that something has followed him home from the graveyard, something that wants to make it’s presence known. Yes, Something Unseen!

This gripping tale of one man’s journey into the other side will keep you on the edge of your seat. Stephen Hill went into the graveyard that day to do a little genealogical research. He walked away with more than he bargained for. What happens when we die? Is that it, or is there more? After reading this book you may never look at the afterlife the same again! This book may haunt you…so don’t read it alone!

About the Author- Stephen Hill
 Stephen Hill is an Empath and an Electronic Medium. He is also the Founder of Piedmont Paranormal Research and is a haunted homeowner. You can check out some of his work on his YouTube Channels at
 
 
 Book Review
 I had the pleasure of reading Something Unseen last night and I have to say, that I was very impressed at Stephen HIll’s story telling ability. I read the book from start to finish in 4 hours without stopping. It held my attention the entire time and I couldn’t wait to read what happened next. I think it is a really great book and one that all paranormal investigators and researchers should take the time to read. I enjoyed the fact that it was based on his personal experiences and I could identify with much of what he experienced and the questions that he asked himself. I also enjoyed his sense of humor as well as his ability to tell a chilling tale and I would highly recommend the book. My only disappointment was that I wanted to see his pictures and hear his audio clips for myself. So now I’m making my way to his paranormal website to do just that.

Excellent job Mr Hill ! Thank you for sharing your book with me and I certainly came away with a new way of looking at the paranormal. I’m sure that on my next trip to the cemetery, the experiences you shared in your book will be in the back of my mind. I enjoyed the book very much and am grateful that I had the chance to read it.

Angela L Burke Co Founder-Mississippi Society of Paranormal Investigators and Author of Hauntings In My Head.

You can read more reviews about the book Something Unseen by Stephen Hill and get your copy of the book on Amazon by Clicking HERE
 
 
 
 

 

 

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Spooked

Spooked

By Angela L Burke- MSSPI

Walking down a crooked hall, doorways looming ever tall.

From dark corners cobwebs hang, unlocked shutters clack and bang.

Cedar, moth balls scent the air, dusty footprints creak the stairs.

An eerie fog creeps neath the sill, swirling round your feet at will.

Distant lightening’s eerie glow, hear the call of night’s black crow.

Cracking thunder shakes the core, you can see the light no more.

In the darkness silent scare, you can feel them standing there.

Hear their whispers, laughs and taunts, feel their tears, regrets and wants.

Bony tree limbs tap the glass, leaves make whirl winds in the grass.

Light of full moon shadows cast, silhouettes of life long past.

Dancing through the willow trees, phantom’s drift on lifted breeze.

In the sky the air is thickened, thumping of the drum is quickened.

Chill of blackness gripping bones, feel the weight of chiseled stone.

Suffocating roses smell, hear the toiling of the bell.

Taste the kiss of death’s sweet wine, step across the veil divine.

Onyx feathers brush your face, then disappear without a trace.

 

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The Shadow Watcher

The Shadow Watcher

Sequel to : The Davidson Farm

by Angela L Burke- MSSPI

 

I left Michigan in March of 1993. I was moving back home to be near my family with my two young children.

I was terribly sad to leave my home at the Davidson Farm which I have written about in a previous post. If you have not read that post, I would encourage you to do so as it might shed some light on where I’m coming from with this post.

The first few months back in Tennessee had been uneventful as far as unusual activity, and after about six months, my husband at the time, had decided to move to Tennessee and we were going to make one last attempt at working out our relationship. We moved into a three bedroom ranch on the North side of Memphis. My husband had brought what remained of our furniture and belongings that I’d had in storage in the basement of the previous Davidson Farmhouse.

For 3 or 4 months we attempted to repair the damage done to our relationship, but things changed little for the better and had in fact become much worse. The violent outburst and fighting all the time were more than I could deal with. And we separated again with some resistance on his part. In fact it would be a long and drawn out divorce proceeding.

About a week before I finally called it quits for good, I was home alone. In the front part of the house was a formal dining room that had frosted glass French doors and a frosted glass wall that separated it from the entry way and the kitchen. I was standing in the kitchen, trying to gather up my papers and packing up things I wanted to take with me. It was daytime and the light from the dining room was fairly bright coming thru the frosted glass. I thought I saw something move in the dining room and I looked up towards that direction. I was very startled to see the tall thin shadow of what looked like a man, standing there , facing me from the other side of the glass. It was very scary and for a brief few seconds it just stood there, frozen. Then without any warning it darted into the front wall and disappeared. I very cautiously walked toward the dining room and opened up the French doors, but there was no one there. I thought perhaps it had been a shadow from outside the house, so I walked outside and looked all around the house , but there was no one there either. Later that week I moved out into a nearby apartment.

It was a really nice place and at first I didn’t really notice anything strange, but after about a week, I started to hear footsteps in the hallway. And on a few occasions I would see a shadow go past the bedroom door, I would open it up and look out, but no one was there, I would go check on the kids and they would be asleep in their rooms. This was a bit unnerving, being as I was a single mother , living alone in a new apartment, but I just tried to brush it off as my imagination. On a few occasions over the next few months, I began to notice that every time I had company over, especially if they were male, that my ceiling fan in my bedroom and in my living room would make an awful noise and begin to shake and vibrate erratically. I called the maintenance man and he came out and looked at the fans but could find nothing wrong with them. After about the third time I had called him to come back out, he changed them and put up new fans, but the activity continued. It was sporadic and usually only happened when I had company over. Many of my friends would joke that I had a ghost and that it must not like my friends very much. We all laughed and joked about it, but in private I began to take it seriously. One night after my company had left and the activity had been rather strong that night, I made a comment out loud that I didn’t think it was very polite to rattle the fans like that every time I had company and I turned off the fan. Just about the time I was out of the room, The fan began to turn, faster and faster until I thought it might spin itself plum off the ceiling. I said, Hey, don’t get ugly with me and immediately the fan stopped rotating. I high tailed it to bed and was a little nervous after that every time I would walk under the fan or attempt to turn it on. After about six months, I began dating again and I met a man who I’ll call RM for his privacy, after a several months of dating, he asked me to move in with him. I was having trouble paying for my apartment and trying to raise two kids alone and he was very good with my kids and treated them like his own and so I agreed.

We moved into some old apartments in Millington, TN, very near the Naval base. He was in the Navy at the time and it was very convenient for him. His room-mate had been discharged from the service and had moved all his furniture out and so we used my furniture as a replacement. Immediately after moving in , we began to notice his ceiling fan making the same noises and vibrations that mine had made. He said that it had never happened in the year he had lived there, until I moved in. We also began to notice that the light in the hallway would come on and shut off by itself. It became almost a nightly occurrence. I would see the light come on under the bedroom door and I would get up to look and the kids would be sound asleep and no one would be there. One night it became so annoying that I took the bulb out of the socket and placed it on the dining room table. The next morning I got up to find that the bulb had been replaced and the light was on. I asked RM if he had replaced it and he said, no I’ve been in bed ever since you took it out. I knew that the kids hadn’t done it as they were only about 3 and 5 yr old and they could not have reached it even if they had pulled up a chair to stand on.

After this started I also began to notice things being moved. One night, I wasn’t feeling well and I went to bed without doing the dishes, I got up the next morning and they were all done and put away, I went to thank RM for doing them and he said, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t do any dishes. My kids of course didn’t do them, and so then it became somewhat of a joke for RM that I had fairy elves helping me with the dishes.

On another occasion I had left a pair of scissors on the dining room table where I had been doing some sewing, I got up to go use the restroom and when I came back the scissors were gone. I looked all around the house and finally found them in the kitchen drawer. There was no one home at the time but me and I had been using them all morning. I know for a fact that I did not put them away as I was still using them.

That same week I was in the kitchen getting ready to cook some spaghetti. I had turned on the stove burner to brown the meat. I had made a plate of fudge and had it in a glass serving dish which I had removed from the refrigerator and sat on top of the stove top. A few moments later I heard someone call me ” Mama, Mama” My kids were in the living room in my view and I thought it was them calling me. I went into the living room and said , what? , and they both turned from their tv show and said, what? we didn’t call you mom. I said are you sure that you didn’t just say Mama or maybe someone said it on TV? and they both said no, just about that same time I heard a large boom come out of the kitchen and heard the shattering of glass. It was so loud I ducked down on the floor on top of the kids, because I thought someone had shot a gun through the window. I went back into the kitchen to find that the plate of fudge had exploded all over the kitchen into tiny glass shards. Apparently I had turned on the wrong burner and the heat from the stove had caused the cold glass to shatter. There was chocolate and glass stuck in the ceiling tiles, blown clear across the kitchen into the sink, and all over the floor, where I had just been standing. if I had not walked into the living room in response to my name being called , it probably would have cut me to shreds or taken out an eye. I sort of felt like, whomever said my name was trying to get me to leave the kitchen, out of harms way and the only way to do that, was to make me think, that the kids needed me.

On another occasion , I had thought I heard someone moving around in the kitchen, I got up and went to look and there was no one there, I went to the kids room to check on them and they were sound asleep. As I was about to come back to bed, I heard a gunshot. It sounded as if it had come from the apartment above me. As I reached to get the phone, I noticed that there was a hole in my ceiling directly above my bed and little flecks of insulation were drifting down from the hole onto my bed. I thought OMG, I have children sleeping down here and what if this lunatic starts shooting thru the floor and hits one of my kids or me?

I called the police and reported the gunshot and they came out and went to the apartment upstairs.The apartment manager came out to see what was going on, when I told them about the gun shot and showed them the hole in the ceiling, they all just looked at each other oddly, the apartment manager informed me that the man who had lived there had moved out unexpectedly over a week ago and that the apartment was empty. The manager went on to say that he couldn’t keep a tenant in that apartment ever since a few years prior when a sailor who had lived there had committed suicide in the upstairs apartment by shooting himself in the head with a pistol. He also said that there had been numerous reports of gun shots coming from that apartment when no one was living in it. I said well, I’ve been hearing someone walking around in there all week but I thought the guy still lived there, I asked him if he could explain the hole in my ceiling and he said that he had repaired the ceiling on 3 previous occasions for the same reason, but no one ever found a bullet. The police checked all the doors and searched the entire apartment and the attic space above it and found no signs of entry or that anyone had been there. It had never been explained, where it came the shots came from or how the hole kept appearing. He said, just between you and me, I think the damn place is haunted.

About a week or so later, RM and I were sleeping on a Saturday Morning, the sun was already up and the room was lit with early morning sunshine, the kids had gone to their dad’s house for the weekend and so it was just the two of us. Have you ever had that feeling like someone is standing over you, staring at you while your sleeping? Well, that’s what I felt. But when I opened my eyes, no one was there, , I saw movement like a shadow walking at the foot of the bed. I turned over to see who it was, as I thought maybe RM had gotten up and was moving around, but I realized he was lying next to me. As I looked towards the door I saw a tall dark grey shadowy figure with a bony hand sticking out of a sleeve and it was pulling the door shut. This really freak-ed me out and I thought maybe I was dreaming with my eyes open or something, so I rolled back over, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t say anything to RM at the time, I thought he was still sleeping. When I did decide to get up, I was scared to death to open up the door, afraid that some tall, bony, shadow man would be standing on the other side of it, but there was no one there.

Later that morning RM got up and came to the table for breakfast. Out of the blue he said” The strangest thing happened this morning and I want to tell you, but I don’t want to freak you out. ” I said “what is it?” He said “this morning, I thought I saw someone walking around in our room.” He said ” I saw a bony hand on the door knob, pull the door to but I couldn’t see a face.” He was serious and a little shaken by it. I said, “I saw the same thing, but I thought I was dreaming it.”

He said “are you serious?” I said, “yes, I’m serious, I really did think that I was dreaming it”. He then proceeded to sketch a picture of it and it matched exactly what I saw to a tee. We both just kind of looked at each other with a ” so what do we do now?” kind of look. We finished our breakfast in silence. Then he said, “well I guess if it wanted to hurt us it would have done it by now.” Trying to be the positive one I said, ” “Maybe it’s just trying to look out for us, I mean look at all the times weird stuff has happened just before some event that we could have gotten hurt, like the fudge incident”. . We had no explanation for what we had seen or the things that had been going on since I moved in. He said, “I think you have a ghost or something following you, because nothing like this ever happened here before you moved in”. I felt kind of bad and wasn’t sure if I should take that as just a comment or an accusation. Most of the time, we just didn’t discuss it and would try to ignore the goings on. But it was a little unnerving when RM would leave for duty for a few weeks and I would be there alone. But, I never felt alone, even when I was.

A few months later RM was honorably discharged from his tour in the Navy and we were going to move to Houston. I was going to go and stay with my Dad for a few weeks while RM secured a job and a place for us to live and then he was going to send for me and the kids. He helped me move all our belongings to my Dads and we were going to store our belongings in my dad’s barn until he found us a place. As soon as we opened up the door to the back of the moving trailer, a very thick, sweet-smelling, warm breeze shot out of the back of the trailer the minute we opened the door, it was like standing in front of the heater vent when it first kicks on. It swirled around my head with enough force to move my hair and then it was gone, smell and all. RM and I both looked at each other at the same time, He said,” did you feel that?”, I said “yeah, I did ” and we just looked at each other and smiled but we didn’t say anything to anyone else. We both knew what we were feeling.

I never felt or heard or saw anything else after that. It was almost as if, whatever was there, knew I was safe with my Dad and I didn’t need protecting anymore. I knew when it was gone. The air and the atmosphere around me was different and it wasn’t just me who felt it, RM felt it to. I have never been able to explain any of these incidents, which is yet, another reason, why I study the paranormal. I don’t believe that it was there to harm me, I always felt more like it was just looking out for me and I missed it when it was no longer there. I have always personally believed that one of the spirits from the Davidson Farm, had attached itself to me and followed me until they knew that I was safe. Then again, maybe it was a guardian angel of some kind or the spirit of the sailor who had killed himself,  wandering about, I don’t really know. What I do know is that it was a crazy , hair-raising experience that I don’t regret having, I just wish I knew who or what it was.

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The Ghost of Clara Barton

A creepy experience at a nursing home, where black shadows bring death.

by Angela L Burke- MSSPI

In the early 1990’s I worked as a Charge Nurse at a Nursing Home in Michigan which was named after the famous nurse, Clara Barton. I was working the 11 pm to 7 am shift and it was usually pretty quiet..

Around 3 am on this particular Friday night, I was getting ready to lock up some medication that had been brought in by the pharmacy. The medication cart was parked just outside the nurses station, in front of a long hallway, which was my unit. It was a large unit with approximately 65 beds. I was the only nurse on duty for my unit but, I had several Nurse Assistants working with me that night.

The lights in the hallway were dimmed each night to help facilitate sleep but, there were generator type lights on in the corridor and it was lit enough that you could see anyone who was walking in the hallway.

As I was locking up my medication cart, I happened to look up and at the end of the hallway, I saw a black figure, which was like the outline of a woman in what looked like a long black dress. It darted across the hallway from one doorway to the other. It was so creepy looking that I got chills up my spine. I knew that the room on the left was empty..we used it to store wheelchairs and shower chairs in.

I walked to the end of the hallway and as I got near the end, one of the nurse assistants came out of a room to drop some dirty linen in the laundry barrel and I asked her if she had seen anyone down this end of the hall..she said no and I asked her if she would walk with me to the end and see if anyone had entered the last room on the left as I had thought I had seen a woman go into the room..

She said “ok” and we went to the last room on the left..the door was closed and I pushed it open and reached inside to flip on the light..As I did the room was freezing cold..so cold in fact that we could both see our breath.. I checked the windows ..they were closed and locked..I checked the bathroom there was no one there..I checked the thermostat on the wall and it said that it was 72 degrees in the room ..but there was no way it was that warm…we could find no explanation for what I had seen or why it was so cold…we searched the unit for wandering patients or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there and there was no one who wasn’t where they were suppose to be.

I went to the other side of the hallway and asked the two gentlemen in the room if they had seen anyone and they both said no..I of course didn’t tell them why I was asking, for fear of freaking them out .

The next morning, I called maitenance to come check out the thermostat and I reported what had happened with the temperature.

The maintenance man walked with me down to the room and when we entered the room, the thermostat was set on 70 degrees but, it was about 90 degrees in the room, so hot that he started to sweat almost immediately. He couldn’t find any reason for the thermostat to register wrong but, he changed it out anyway.

I went home and had the weekend off . When I returned to work on Monday I found out that one of the men in the last room that I had spoken with the previous Friday night, had passed away on Saturday evening. His roommate told me that he was sleeping and all of a sudden, he got extremely cold and thought he could see his breathe..He said he thought he saw someone standing at the foot of his roommates bed and he called out to them and no one answered…so he put his call light on and when the nurse came into the room she had found that his roommate was deceased. No one had come into or out of the room, as the nurse had been only about 10 feet away from the door when he had rang for her. It creeped him out so bad, that he asked for a room transfer and I obliged him, as I knew the anxiety of what he was feeling.

There was never a real explanation, but I did speak to my nurse manager about it several days later and she told me that there had been many reports over the years from the staff of a figure in black lingering in the hallways at night, usually followed by a death in the facility. It was rumored, for lack of a better explanation, that the figure was the ghost of Clara Barton who had came to help those who’s time it was, to pass over,

She said “no one tells the new nurses when they come to work here, because if we did, we would never get anyone to work the graveyard shift.”

 

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The Haunting of Davidson Farm

The Haunting of Davidson Farm

by Angela L Burke

I fell in love the moment I saw it. The old Davidson farmhouse was a dream that I had always wished for. It was a two-story white framed house with black shutters and a large country porch that ran the entire length of the house. I had always wanted a porch like that, so that I could have a porch swing and maybe even a few rocking chairs for sipping lemonade on hot summer days. It was October of 1990 when we moved into the house. I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with my oldest son and was excited to get the nursery set up before his arrival. My daughter Becka was a little over 2 yrs old and my husband and I were excited to have purchased our first home. The house was in the country down a long dirt road. There were neighbors in sight but not so close as to be able to hear their conversations over supper, unlike the crowded apartments, we had moved from in the city.

The house sat on a five acre plot and the land backed up to the State’s National Forest Land. On the left side of the property there was an open field that was overgrown with blackberry vines and weeds. The house had 3 bedrooms and a full bath upstairs and downstairs was a full bath, living room, kitchen and dining area and an extra bedroom which we turned into a small playroom and den for my daughter, so that she could watch her cartoons and not be running up and down the stairs for toys. There was also a large basement and a garage.

My first impressions of the house was that it was lonely and in need of a womans touch. I was excited and spent the day unpacking the kitchen. The first day was uneventful, all I can really say about it is that I didn’t like the basement. It was very cold and creepy down there, even though half of it was finished and had a nice laundry area with plenty of room for a folding table and storage. There was also a work bench on the opposite side where my husband could keep his tools and have room for his deer hunting gear. It was also large enough for a weight bench. This in itself was a blessing to me just to get the barbells out from under the bed.

But I had the feeling right from the start that I was being watched everytime I went down to the basement. There was a window near the staircase that did not open. When you looked out this window you were at dirt level and there had been an extention added to the house, were an addition had been added to increase the size of the kitchen. It looked like an enclosed tomb when you looked inside it. I remember thinking, that would be a good place to put a body. I got the chills when the thought entered my mind and I shook it off and got out of the basement as soon as I could. The first curtains that I hung were to cover this window. I did not like the feeling I got when I would have to walk past it.

My son was born early, 3 days in fact, after we moved into the house. It was something I somewhat expected to happen. He was a big baby and I knew we would not make it the full 9 months. I really don’t remember much activity the first few months we lived there, other than the heavy uncomfortable feelings I had in the basement. Like someone was always standing right behind me breathing on my neck and when I would turn around no one would be there. And the well and sump pump and the furnace in the far corner of the basement made so much noise that winter, that I attributed most of the noises I heard to that. But when spring came, everything changed.

When the weather had warmed we started to do odd jobs around the house. The first thing I wanted to do was paint the shutters. They were faded and chipped and the black paint looked more like charcoal grey, so I painted them a nice shade of burgundy red. The house came alive almost instantly, just from painting the shutters. We painted the inside rooms and put some new carpet down. I also love flowers and as there was very little landscaping, I decided I would put in some flower beds around the house to cheer things up a bit. I had taken a walk one day thru the field next door and I noticed that there was a large field stone foundation that was barely visible thru the weeds and brush. It was crumbling in places so I decided that the field stones would be perfect for a border around my flower beds. I carted several wheelbarrow loads of field stone from the foundation over to the yard. I had enough to put flowerbeds all the way around the house. I was delighted at how it looked. I planted all sorts of different flowers and plants and the house was looking very sharp when I finally finished.

It was at this time that I began to notice a change in events happening around me. It started with the footsteps. It sounded like little children running down the hall of the upstairs. Then I would hear giggling and children’s voices whispering. Sometimes I would hear a child say ” Mama” and turn around and no one would be there. I would hear voices on the baby monitor upstairs when the children were with me and I’d go up to the room to see, but no one would be up there.

A week or so went by and then I noticed that things were being moved. One day I had been doing some baking in the kitchen, I had placed a large bread carving knife on the kitchen counter, I turned my back to stir something on the stove and when I turned back around the knife was not there. I looked around and saw that it had been moved into the sink. My children were very little and were not able to even reach the counter top. They had been down for a nap at the time, and I was the only other person there. Sometimes the rocking chair in the living room would be moving by itself. I always found some kind of excuse for what was happening. I also noticed that things were being moved around in my daughters bedroom.

She rarely played in her bedroom upstairs, most of her toys and her tv and cartoon movies were kept in the playroom downstairs. I would clean her room every morning and make her bed and then I would close the door to her room and we would all go downstairs to play. The staircase was gated so that she could not climb the stairs alone. But on numerous occasions, I would go up to her room to put away her laundry or get diapers from the nursery and her door would be open, when I would enter the room , everything would be pulled out of her dresser drawers, her toy box would be turned over and emptied and all the clothes would be pulled off the hangers in her closet. Her bed covers would be pulled off the bed. I knew that my daughter was not the one who had done it. She had been downstairs with me the entire time. I think I really didn’t know what to do or think, so I did nothing.

On one occasion I had brought the children upstairs for a nap and Becka’s room was tidy and everything in its place. I put her into her bed and she layed down with very sleepy eyes and I knew it wouldn’t take long for her to fall asleep, I walked out her door and pulled it to and entered the nursery to put my son down in the crib. I heard giggling and rustling noises coming from my daughter’s room. So I went back to the door to make sure she was still in her bed. When I opened up the door, she was sitting up in her bed with one hand covering her mouth and her other hand pointing towards the closet. The dresser drawers were pulled out and all the clothes had been flung into the floor, the toy box had been emptied and the clothes from the closet had been pulled off the hangers and a few of them were still swinging empty on the bar rack.

I said “Becka, what happened, why did you make this mess?”, She said “it wasn’t me mama, they did it”, I said ” who is they?”. She said, “those little girls made a mess”. I said “what little girls?”, She said “those little girls in my closet”. She did not understand why I couldn’t see them and I was trying hard not to let her see how much it had shaken me up. I knew that there was no way that Becka had the time to empty the toy box or the dresser drawers and that she wasnt even tall enough to reach the clothes on the hangers in the closet. I picked everything up and put all the clothes back on their hangers and trying to keep my cool, I said, ” Becka, tell those little girls that it isn’t nice to mess up your room like that” She smiled and she said ” they said sorry mama ” Then she laid her head down and fell asleep.

A week or so later on one particular day I had decided that the kids would nap down stairs, my daughter was sleeping on the couch in the living room and I was rocking my son in the rocking chair next to her and suddenly the TV came on by itself. I thought it was strange considering that there was no remote and not really sure how it could have happened. It was an older model tv and you had to get up to change the channels. I got up and switched off the TV and sat back down in the rocker. A few moments later the TV came on again, only this time to a static station and the volume had been turn up to the highest it would go. I got up again and this time I unplugged the tv, as I thought maybe there might be a short in it or something. I sat back down in the rocker and no sooner had I sat back in the chair, the TV came on again to a static station. I was really getting freaked out now. I put the baby in the playpen and walked over to the TV, half expecting some sort of skeleton face to appear on the screen. I looked behind the TV and the plug was laying on the floor. I reached over to hit the off button and as I did, a blue electric charge shot out of the button and shocked my hand. I quickly hit the switch with my fist and turned off the tv. Then out loud I said ” knock it off ok, the babies are trying to take a nap” It never happen again.

I’m not sure why I didn’t panic, I felt like there was something there that was just being mischievous, but I didn’t feel threatened by it , only confused and a little bit irritated. I tried to tell my husband when he came home from work, but he just looked at me and jokingly said ” what have you been smoking?” I don’t think he ever really took me seriously.

A few days later I was outside working in the flower bed, which had begun to bloom nicely, in fact it was one of the prettiest flower beds I had ever planted and I was surprised at how fast the plants had sprouted and grown. Anyway, The elderly couple from across the road, were out walking their dog. They stopped at the edge of the driveway and said ” hello and how nice the yard was looking” I walked down to the end of the drive and introduced myself. The couple told me that they had lived in the house across the road for over fifty years. I said ” well then maybe you can tell me what use to be in the field next door where the old foundation is?”

They looked at each other like they weren’t sure if they wanted to say, But then the wife said, “well back in the late 1930’s early 40’s, I ‘m not exactly sure what year it was, the farmhouse that you live in, was occupied by a couple and their 3 little girls. The father had made them a rope swing out in the barn , which is what use to sit on that foundation.” She said ,” an unexpected tornado came thru this area and hit the barn while the 3 girls were out there playing on the rope swing. All three of them were killed”. She went on to say that “after their death, their mother became severely depressed and she overdosed on sleeping pills. It was very tragic and sad.”

I said “what happened to the father?” She said , “after his wife died, he left and no one really knows where he went. The house sat empty for a long time. Then in the 1960’s another couple moved in” . She said “the father was an alcoholic and it was rumored that he would get drunk and beat up on his wife all the time. One day, I guess she got sick of it and she just disappeared, some say she ran off with another man and some say that he killed her and buried her somewhere on the property, but no one really knows for sure what happened to her. They had a 16 yr old son, and after the wife disappeared, the father would take out his drunken rages on his son. One night, the father had come home drunk and had knocked the poor boy around a bit, the son had enough of it and he shot his father in the back of the head while he was sitting at his workbench down in the basement, then the boy shot himself in the upstairs bedroom.”

Needless to say, I was not prepared for all of that information, but I said, “has anyone ever mentioned anything strange going on in the house since all of this happened?” They looked at each other and the man said , “You might as well tell her”

The wife said, “well, after that the house sat empty again until the last young couple bought it a few years ago. It had been in terrible condition and they did a lot of work to fix it up. But they only stayed 2 years and then they just up and moved. That’s when you came. You might hear some rumors about the house that it’s haunted, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it dear, it’s an old house and old houses make lots of noise, it’s probably just the floorboards settling” . I thanked them for telling me the story , I didn’t let on to them any of the activity that had been occurring, which I knew was more than just the floor boards creaking. I was also worried that they might think I was a nut if I told them all the things I had seen and heard. I certainly didn’t want to be the subject of town gossip. So I kept it to myself.

My younger sister age 15 and one of my younger brothers age 13 had come to spend their summer break with me that year. My sister told me that she never believed in ghosts until she spent that summer in my house. One day she and I had been sitting at the kitchen table, just talking and we had the kitchen windows open. It was a beautiful day and pleasant temperatures, so we were enjoying the fresh air. All of a sudden, we heard a clicking noise. We could not figure out where it was coming from. The kids were in the playroom curled up on the couch with my brother watching tv and you could not hear the clicking noise when you entered the room. We went back into the kitchen after looking all around the house to try to locate the source. When we sat back down at the table we heard it again. I looked out the window to see if it might be coming from outside. My car was parked in the driveway, just a few feet from the window. The manual locks on the doors of the car were going up and down by themselves. I said, No Way! and I jumped up and ran out into the driveway to be sure no one was in the car. The locks were still clicking as my sister and I stood there. Then they suddenly stopped. My sister of course was completely freaked out and I was pretty much trying to stay calm for her sake. But I have to say that it was very unnerving.

Later that year after they had returned back home for school, the activity continued. Mostly footsteps, giggles, laughing, voices whispering and things being moved around. One night, I had finished cleaning up the supper dishes and my husband and kids had been in bed for some time. I was getting ready to go upstairs to bed. The staircase to the upstairs was in the kitchen as was the doorway to the basement. As I began to climb the staircase , the basement door slowly opened and made a creepy creaking noise as it came ajar. I stopped and went back down and shut the door. I thought maybe it hadn’t been closed all the way. As I started back up the stairs, it opened again. I went back down, I checked the basement, and the outside doors to make sure they were closed and that no drafts were coming in, I shut the basement door and as I started up the steps it came open again only this time with more force. I stood there for a moment and then I went down and I said “ok, if you want it open we will leave it open”, I opened it all the way and started back up, as I hit the first step the door slammed shut and scared the hell out of me. I picked up a flip-flop shoe that was sitting near the step and I shoved it under the door to keep it closed. As I took a step back the flip-flop flew out from under the door and slid clear across the kitchen hitting the opposite wall and the door flew open, a gust of wind blew past me with so much force that it moved my hair and I heard laughing that sounded like a child. I ran up the stairs and jumped into bed. I shook my husband trying to wake him up to tell him , but he wouldn’t wake up. Needless to say, I did not sleep at all that night.

The next few months became harder to deal with. My husband had become distant and seemed to anger easily. We began to argue a lot over petty things and we grew further and further apart. He didn’t spend much time at home anymore and when he did, he always seemed to be in a bad mood. He spent most of his waking hours at home at the work bench or lifting weights in the basement.He began to drink heavily and our relationship became strained, to the point that he began to have violent outbursts. He became controlling and paranoid and I did not understand this change in his behavior. He began to go his way and I began to go mine. Eventually we both had short affairs out of anger and misunderstandings, which was a devastating blow to us both.

The emotional tension between us had reached a peak and at times was violent and I was seeing more and more activity in the house. On two occasions I saw a woman in a black dress standing behind me in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were blackened as if she had been beaten and she had blood on her mouth. This scared me the most and was the only time I felt like I really was crazy, Then not long after this, my husband and I had argued and he had left very angry at me, and I was sitting on the couch crying. I was feeling very unhappy and that things were falling apart all around me, I had many regrets and guilty feelings, as well as hurt and anger for the violent arguments that were becoming more and more frequent. I had become depressed and anxious all the time, I was very tired and just felt like giving up on everything. I had my eyes closed and when I opened them, the same woman who I had seen in the mirror was standing over me, only this time she looked like she was made of fine smoke, and her face was soft and glowing and there was no blood, she touched my face with her hand and it felt like static from a warm sweater fresh from the dryer, She said, “everything will be ok, don’t cry, you have the children to think of”, she smiled and then she was gone.

I decided the next day to pack up the kids and take them home to my family in Tennessee for a while. I thought that maybe some time apart would help, that I needed to get out of the house and take a break from the crazy things happening all around me. I was beginning to feel like I was loosing my mind or having a nervous breakdown and I didn’t like it.. It didn’t change anything though, moving only made them worse and 18 months later after a long and bitter court fight, we divorced. I was broken-hearted to give up my house. When I moved there, I was happy and I thought it would be the perfect place to raise my children and grow old with my husband. But it didn’t turn out that way.

At the time I lived there I was young, in my early twenties. I was not involved in paranormal research at the time. I believed that ghosts where possible , because of the many experiences I’d had as a child and also unexplained things I had seen in my profession as a nurse. But, I knew nothing about ghosts, had no idea there was such a thing as paranormal investigators and had given little thought to the subject. I never expected them to be in my home or affecting me in such a way. I wish that I had known then, what I know now. Maybe I would have been able to prove these occurrences somehow or to help them in some way to move on. I think it is just one of the experiences I ‘ve had, that has led me to be involved in the study of the unexplained. I am grateful that I was not the only one to experience something in the house. My sister to this day will back me up on the claims we experienced. But I will always wonder if placing the field stones around the house had really been such a good idea. I think it may have awakened the spirits. Or maybe, bringing life into an old home, energizes the spirits that linger and they draw from us the emotions they felt when they were alive. The emotional part of this house was a mixture of happiness, laughter, innocence, loneliness, anger, paranoia, betrayal, guilt and pain all rolled into one house. I honestly wonder sometimes , if I allowed them to much freedom to stay in my home. I really wasn’t concerned about getting rid of them, I didn’t feel like they were a threat, I was more fascinated by the idea that they were there to begin with. I guess I felt like, they were there before me and so they had a right to be there. I’ve also thought that there were more than one spirit and that each affected us differently, my husband being the target of the negative energy in the home without even knowing it. Maybe the spirits played on his moods and his temper causing him to lose control. Maybe the children and the mother were drawn to me because I was a mother too. If my ex-husband did have an experience there, he never spoke of it or admitted it to me. In fact , he probably still thinks I’m crazy. But, I know what I experienced and the things that I felt in that house. Even if, I still to this day, cannot explain them.

 After I had moved away from the house, the activity did not stop. I believe that something followed me, but I will save that story for another post.

 

 

 

 

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