THOSE OLD HAUNTED HOMES & CEMETARY

One family's experience in the state's oldest community.

Our family moved to a small eastern Washington community in 1989 where I took a job with the City. One of my responsibilities was the overall management of the cemetery. It dated back to 1854 and had roughly 6,300 burials. Early in 1990 I hired a sextant to make an effort to correlate all of the cemetery records through an on site review and then we would compare the records at City Hall to see where it would come out. During the preceding years, I and the office staff had data based all of the city's cemetery records.

By the spring of 1993, I had a very strong knowledge of this cemetery and its various sections.
At the time, we were living a few blocks away in one of the community's older homes. My wife and children professed a great amount of anxiety and fear over what they perceived as an incessant amount of strange occurrences in this house, none of which they were able to explain. I frankly was very skeptical, although we had lived in homes before that had a lot of paranormal activity. I decided to check out this one. A number of the City staff had lived in town all of their lives. Upon inquiry to one of my clerks, I was informed that at one time there had been a third floor on this house that had burned during the war. There had been a fatality. Consensus seemed to indicate that the casualty was a young man. This entity was very mischievous. Apparently, he enjoyed turning on water faucets, opening washing machine doors, turning on or off lights, slamming doors etc. I was skeptical of these claims.

One Saturday night I got up to visit the bathroom. The only light that was on in the house was in the hallway. When I exited the bathroom, I was quite surprised to see that the only lights that were not on were in the bedrooms. The front room, dining, kitchen, and laundry room lights were all turned on. I decided that the family was right, we need to move.

The very next morning, I was on a walk through the cemetery when I noticed a young woman in a faded dress standing in front of a headstone in one of the older parts of the cemetery. The dress looked like an early 20th century wedding dress. I turned and walked over to where she was standing. She appeared to be in her twenties. She was slim, long brown hair and of medium height. She was looking down at the headstone with a very sad look on her face. I quickly surveyed the cemetery. There were not any vehicles or other people in the cemetery. From where I stood, I could see all of the grounds. She vanished as I approached. I noticed a man's name on the headstone. I wondered what could be happening since she probably wasn't buried here. The name on the front was that of a man, Slocumb. But, since the stone was four sided I decided to check the back of it. It was the only Jewish headstone in the cemetery. It was unique in shape and I had remembered it from previous trips to the cemetery.
The name Emma Moore was on the rear of the stone. She died at age 26 in the early part of that century. A daughter, maybe. A check of the City's burial records confirmed that they were both buried in this grave. Sad.... Never more Emma Moore.

We soon found another house and moved ASAP. The children were becoming paranoid and my wife was unhappy with the current arrangements. Peace at last, I thought. Wrong. It wasn't long before the children began complaining about noises in the basement and footfalls on the stairs coming up from the basement. One afternoon, several months later, I was home preparing lunch when I heard footfalls coming up the stairs. They were located directly behind the kitchen and these footfalls were quite loud. I sprang to my feet and ran to the door at the top of the stairs. This will end right now, I thought. As I opened the door, A wispy figure of a middle aged woman scooted by me and into the kitchen where she soon vanished. That afternoon I checked with the long time residents again about the prior occupants of that house. The building inspector informed me that a woman fitting the description had lived there about twenty years earlier. She died in a plane crash a few miles west of town. The call went out again, we're moving. We subsequently found a fairly new home that had no complications.

I then received a phone call from a local car mechanic that had moved into our prior residence. He stated that he had heard about our experiences in this house and that he and his family had recently moved into this house and was having some strange experiences. What kind I asked? He stated that he had placed their three month old child into a play pen in a side bedroom. When he entered the room some twenty minutes later to check on the baby, he found it crawling around on the floor outside of the pen. How could that happen I asked ? I don't know he responded. What should I do he asked ? MOVE I said.
Move. Now....

Submitted by Don Avery

PHONE CALL FROM THE NETHER WORLD

It was a dreary Sunday morning in 2007, with on and off again rainfall against a grey sky, typical of late winter in East Tennessee. I was getting ready to go to the hospital to see several patients when, some minutes after 10 AM, the door bell rang. "Dad, there's a policeman at the door," shouted my 10 year daughter. All three of my kids gathered around in the excitement. I answered the door, and the officer stood there with a concerned expression and asked, "Everything OK?" Bewildered, I replied, "Sure, but what's going on?" He explained that "there's been a 911 call from this address." I turned to the kids with an accusing look, and they all denied any such "pranks." My wife had arrived at the doorway from upstairs, and indicated that no one had even used the phone that morning as far as she knew. Everyone had "slept in." We all chalked the event up to an accident, as the officer said that sometimes there are errors at the phone company and "wires get crossed." I thanked him for his time, and the officer went on his way. We thought nothing more about it for a while.

One week latter, at 10:20 AM on Sunday morning, I had been to my office and was returning home. A police officer turned into our subdivision behind me. "Did I not make a signal," I thought. I pulled into my driveway and the officer pulled in behind me. "Oh no, what's wrong, I hope no one's hurt or anything," I thought to myself.

Quickly getting out of my car, I walked over to the officer's vehicle. "Hello officer, what seems to be the problem?" He replied, "there's been a 911 call from this address, it was made about 20 minutes ago," as he exited his squad car. "Let's go inside," I said as we walked to the front door. Inside my home, my wife and kids were as shocked as I when told of yet another 911 call that none of us made. I asked the officer if he knew the number from which the call was made. He looked at a pocket pad, leafed through the pages, and said, "Yes, it's 865-692-4524." I told him that was not our number or even near it, and we both stood there literally scratching our heads. I then relayed the fact that the exact same thing had happened exactly one week before at nearly the same time. The officer called up the database in his computer pad and said, "sure enough, a 911 call was reported last Sunday at 10:01 AM from this address and from that same phone number. Today's call was also made at 10:01 AM. Very strange. But it's clearly not your phone number." Along with my wife and three kids and the police officer, we all stood in my hallway with our mouths open aghast at the coincidence. Breaking the stunned silence, the officer suggested that we contact the telephone company to see if there is a problem in their computer system crossing our number with another. We thanked him for his time, and he left, scratching his head.

The following day, Monday, my wife contacted the phone company to make a query about the phone number from which the 911 calls were made. After the typical waiting period, an attendant returned to the line, indicating that there was no such phone number as the one in question. When further questioned by my wife, the attendant admitted that there was no such "active" phone number. When my wife insisted that all "other" phone numbers be checked, another waiting period insued. When, after about 10 minutes, the phone company attendant finally returned to the line, she said, "yes there is an old number that matches your request, but it is more than five years old. The record shows it was the number for a temporary line you had placed in your basement in 2002, five years ago. But that number is no longer connected to our system, and hasn't been since 2002." After learning that the number was technically "in" the computer but not electrically accessible for calling, my wife thanked the attendant and hung up the phone. She was in psychological shock.

I arrived home that afternoon and my wife met me at the door. "It was your mother whose been calling 911." "What?" I looked at my wife like she was crazy. "That's not possible, you know she died three months ago." The phone number that had "called" 911 and brought the police to our home twice, two Sundays in a row, was from a temporary phone we had placed in a room in our basement where we moved my mother in 2002, prior to placing her in assisted living. She lived there for only three or four months but her phone number was, in fact, 865-692-4524. That number had been disconnected when my mother left and went to a new facility, and the phone was removed.

My wife and I stood in our foyer with blank stares and goosebumps. It appears that somehow, someway, my deceased mother, who, especially in her latter years (she died at age 93), was rather prone to panic first and then think, had apparently attempted to call 911, twice! The calls were made at the exact same time on two Sundays in a row. Colleagues nervously attempted to supply explanations, some rational, some not.

In some kind of time distortion, perhaps she realized she was dead and panicked, calling 911 as she sometimes did in life. Or, perhaps, she was simply attempting to communicate with family in the most readily available manner. Or, maybe she was trying to warn me about what we much latter found out to be an office staffer who embezzled thousands of dollars from our practice starting in early 2007.

Regardless of motive, three months after her death, two 911 calls were made from my deceased mother's old phone line and number. The number was no longer in service, and the line no longer existed physically, and, according to the phone company, the number was not even "online" in their system. Something "physically" impossible had actually occurred, witnessed by two police officers, a doctor and his family.

In communicating with the living, maybe the dead do not need to be "online" in the manner we think about being "online." Perhaps the laws of physics, as we know them, only apply to the living.

Submitted by Edward Workman, MD

A MESSAGE FROM A FRIEND

I had a very close friend pass away from cancer a few yrs ago and a very strange thing took place following his death. This friend was well known for his sense of humor and routinely would call and, if encountering an answering machine, would always leave a strange sound instead of a message. Invariably, that strange sound would involve peculiar items, like crackling crumpled paper, hissing sounds, anything that would make strange noise while he would verbally spout some equally weird gibberish or other nonsensical vocal sound effects. This way, we always knew it was him who had called. Never a question. It became his signature and he did it for many, many years.

The day he died I had purchased a new phone with a built in message system, and was boggled by the manual on setting it up, so I put it off. That night, at roughly the time he expired (I later learned), 3 messages were left on my machine from an "unknown number" as the display on the message window recorded. The three messages came only a few minutes apart. Each one was distinctly a call from him, making all the usual strange noises and garbled verbiage, only the calls sounded like they were coming through a very bad radio or something, loaded with static which caused the sound to pitch and diminish. There were no storms happening, but it reminded me of how some calls can sound during a bad electrical storm. I didn't hear the messages until the next day when I noticed a little light on the side of the phone blinking and realized messages had been left, despite having not set up the message part of the phone at all. I had to look up how to play them for fear of missing them, but once I figured it out, I knew he had called. But I simultaneously knew that was impossible, because late that same night, the phone rang and I answered and his significant other told me he had passed away only an hour or so earlier. The phone was clearly operational. He had been in a hospice because his condition had weakened so drastically. He was not able to make phone calls, and was for several days far too out of it from the morphine to have done much of anything.

None the less... he called, somewhere just after the time of death. Not once, but three times, as if to say, "Yeah… it's ME." I was able to play the recordings for my wife, who was equally mystified by them. She knew his signature goofy phone message sounds all too well. In setting up the message system later that day, I somehow managed to erase or destroy the messages entirely. I thought it was a little odd, too, because I was following the instructions perfectly and being very careful about making sure any existing messages would NOT be voided from the chip.

Not more than a month later, my granddaughter who was 2 and a half was spending the night with us, and stopped and looked down the hall and appeared to be looking at someone and nodding at them. I asked her, "Who are you looking at?" And she immediately waved to whomever it was down the hall (there was no one else here but my wife, who was in the same room as we were) and motioned for the person she was looking at to come, and she said, "It's ok, come in." I again asked her, "Who are you seeing?" And she then got a sudden shocked look on her face and kind of gasped a bit and jumped up on the bed with me, clung to me tightly and said, "Who is it, Grandpa? Who is it?" and kept looking back toward the hallway. I went down the hall and looked around, and of course, found no one. Saw nothing. I asked her what she saw and she seemed to struggle to make a good description. I asked her if it was a boy or a girl? She said "no." I asked if it was a man or a woman? And she seemed puzzled for a second and said "Who is it?" instead of "no" again. She just couldn't seem to make sense, or explain or describe what she saw, but it was definitely a "who" to her.

Later that night as we were putting her to sleep, something in the very back room at the end of that hallway came crashing down loudly startling all three of us. I went into the room which was basically empty and used only to store a few things and found nothing out of place. But the sound was distinctly of something large with many parts spilling or falling out, like a box full of various items. But nothing was out of place at all.

No further calls or apparitions have been experienced. But there is no question in my mind that some one or some thing was tapping through, by phone and perhaps with a personal appearance as well to the only one capable of seeing it. And I have a good feeling it was my good friend who passed.

Submitted by Alton Raines

DOPPLEGANGER DAD

One night.............I was awakened by a terribile thirst............................. it was 4am.
As I layed in bed, I weighed my options,.continue to "sleep the thirst away"......or............wake up, walk across the hall, quench my thirst, and then...............NEVER get back to sleep.
I chose wisely and "slept the thirst away".

RING!! RING!!! RING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was abruptly awakened by the irritating wail of my cellphone on the nightstand. (it was 7:45am, according to my cellphone)
"Hello!" I answered.
There was no reply........... I hung up.

By this time, I REALLY needed some water, I HAD to get up.
I grabbed the cup next to my bed and headed toward the bathroom sink.
As I opened my door, I noticed my Father standing in his robe messing with the TV.
"Good Morning", I said to my Father, as i proceeded towards bathroom sink
As I passed, my Father followed and proceeded to talk to me as I was filling my cup.......
"Yeah Dad......................sure, ok.............................ok Dad" I replied.
My cup now filled to the brim, I headed back to bed.
My Father still talking as I walked.
"Ok,...........all right.............ok Dad" I replied again.

As I reached my bedroom door I grabbed the handle, turned .....................and yelled.......
"DAD! I don't know what the hell your talking about , I'm going back to sleep!" (Obviously not the mannerisms of a "morning person")
Then I proceeded to walk into my room, slamming the door behind me.

A few hours later, I awoke with the fleeting memory of having yelled at my father. I recalled him telling me "the house is a mess" and to "clean it up" before he got home.....I also remembered how I verbalized my disgust, as punishment for disrupting my peaceful quest for water.
Filled with dread and regret, I quickly got to work, I straightened everything in the house, cleaned the dishes, and vacuumed the floors. Everything was prefect!
As the day went on, soon came the time, when my father would pull into the driveway.
I moped around the house till about 6pm, all the while feeling horrible for speaking to my father as I had.

Click! Clock! Click! I ran to the door.
Nothing could have stopped me that day from being the first to greet my Father.

"Im sorry....." I awkwardly blurted out, as he opened the front door "......for speaking to you that way to your this morning!".
With a puzzled look on his face,....he said: "What?......."What are you talking about?"
"I didn't see you this morning"

"Don't you remember? I replied (explaining what had taken place early that morning)
"it was at.....(looking at my phone, to check the time when I had gotten the phone call that had awakened me from my slumber).....7:45am.........."My father chuckled and replied "I didn't see you this morning, I was nowhere near the house at 7:45(am), I don't know who you were talking to, but it wasn't me."

I still have no idea who (or what) I was talking to early that morning. All I know is that this wasn't the first time I have seen my Fathers DoppleGanger, and it probably won't be the last!

Submitted by Bekindtoyurbuds

THE MISSING KNIVES

Last year my mother asked me to return the knives I have been hoarding from the silverware drawer. Not knowing what it was about I checked and indeed there were 20 or so knives missing. I said I don't know, and figured my father or she had taken them. No one else in the house.

Days later she thanked me for returning them, twenty knives. I looked with my own eyes and they were missing from the drawer before, now they are back. I thought it might be my aunt who had recently died and was mischievious.

A couple of months later my mother asked me to return six heavy coffee cups that were missing from the shelf. Huh? Where would I keep heavy mugs, and why? She was sure it was me, and I literally stared into the dishwasher to see that they were not in there. Again, remember, there are no visiting workmen here or other family members. I let it go that she thought it was me for a day, kind of sureally, and the next day she thanked me for returning them. I also had stared into the shelf to see it empty, six heavy mugs, gone, where? Now I just stared at them back in place.

A while later, a month or so, the water irrigation system came on by itself while it was cut into, system off, as I decided to go out and work on it again before it got dark. I turned the corner of the house and it was on, flooding the grounds, and had just gone on about the time I got up to go out and work on it. System off, and timer set for another day even if I (we, father too) had been absent minded enough to leave it on while working. IT WAS OFF. I was so startled I don't remember how I turned it off. This is the point when I am starting to see the light here.

I began to put two and two together. My fuse had been removed from my car almost causing a turn-signal disaster. The dog was always in my room, freaking out and curling up to me, watching the movement of something in the family room, once my parents moved into the kitchen. Her eyes would actually follow something moving out there, and she's not that friendly to me to run into my room, and hasn't since the "cleansing".

The pond motor was on once and running in the morning, and I thought the switch must have just slipped into the on position. While putting on my shoes I had been putting off end-capping my laces, as I had cut them, and they don't thread the eyelets unless you do that. Here's a shoelace, just cut, no way to thread it. When I came back to my chair with the Scotch tape the uncapped shoelace was threaded through the small eyelet. This is magic and it's standing right behind me!

That night, something in my soul knew this is no joke and I prayed the Rosary. In my mind's eye, I actually saw this thing surprised by two angels, heard their swords, saw the "thing" surprised as it was going through towels or something, snooping. I couldn't make out its face but it isn't pretty. Very nasty thing.

There hasn't been anything going on like that since I saw it go, like zip, although I have looked into the mug pantry, and anything else that might be funny going on, and nothing has. That was more than a year ago, and the smell of that thing is Gone. Thank God and his Holy family. Thank you Mother (I am not Catholic).

Submitted by Mitchell

THE SMELL OF EVIL

October 30, 2009

This is a true story about “Pa-knee Gurrsko” the witch from South Chicago.

I have a firm conviction that spirits can not only be seen as a ghost, or heard as a knock, but “smelled” or “felt.”

Since I'm writing my autobiography about growing up in a family of 15 in South Chicago, I'm the baby girl, I have these stories fresh in my mind from my memoirs.

Way back in the early 1950’s, when I was a little girl, we were extremely poverty stricken. Daddy only made minimum wage trying to raise this family of 15, where my Grandpa, a Polish Russian General also lived with us.

So, there was no money for doctors; we were lucky we had food and didn’t starve to death. An unusual story, especially in America. There were no hand outs.

Well, Mama's body hurt all the time from working full time, breastfeeding, and giving royal treatment to Daddy and her father. When she didn't have success with doctors, she consulted with a witch, Panee Gorsko. This woman would introduce my mother to various strange herbs to drink. I was scared of this woman, for she really looked like a witch. She would come to our home regularly and sit with Mama and chat and drink these strange herbs.

This witch wore a black woolen cape to the ground and a black veil on her head. She was very old, very old, had blonde hair, but mostly white growing in. She had the cackly voice also. Her face glowed!

What was strange was that she had the most unusual "smell" that I have ever smelled. It was foul, but not in a human sense. It was smelling something awful that I have never before or since ever whiffed in my life. It was like the smell of evil.

I tried to warn Mama of the evil smell, but Mama loved everyone and thought it was my “childhood imagination.”

Well, I guess witches don't make a lot of money, so she asked my Mama if she could live with us, and sleep in our old basement. The basement was also ancient, with spiders and mice, a pull-chain toilet, and just outright creepy. It was under an old farm house Grandpa moved on a trailer and dropped into South Chicago. I grew up in the closest thing to a haunted house that you can imagine.

(my sister, Rosemary, saw my dead grandma, Helen Kopaczewski, several times in the basement when Grandma appeared to her.)

Having all these children, Mama said "no," as we only had 2 bedrooms in this old and decrepit shack-of-a-house. The witch insisted and threatened Mama that if she didn't get to live there, she would bring down a curse on her, her husband, and her children, all 12 of them.

Mama got rid of her, but before she left she screamed out to the universe a horrible curse that would harm all of us.

Well, time went by, and no one ever talked about her. She was history. Then creepy things started to beset our very poor, but very happy family.

Although we were all physically strong, one by one, we started to succumb to mental or emotional illness. My father and mother who had a marriage made in heaven, and even Daddy said my Mama was a saint, they started to battle, literally fist fighting each other.. It was as if bad spirit(s) were possessing them, and started to possess each one of us. It was a mental influence that we could not fight off with drugs, or psychiatrists, psychologists, or group meetings. And it was like a domino theory, and no matter how talented we were, or attractive, or smart, this curse just appeared on each one.

The curse started when Mama lost 3 of her babies. Our house burned down, suicide attempts, alcoholism, severe depression, insanity. Even the Chicago Police said that they had never seen so many police reports for one home.

That was over 55 years ago, and I have lived to see unbelievable torment, that I have never seen in a large family. We sure were not like the "cheaper by the dozen," movie, but something out of a gothic horror novel. Only it was 'real.'

After Mama died, I think she took the curse with her to the grave, for now all of us are functioning much better, although scarred by it. None of my siblings would ever say that our emotional and mental problems were caused by this witch with the smell from hell, but in retrospect of my memoir writings, it now makes sense to me.

Submitted by Barbara Ann Nowak

DEMON CAT

The year was 1980. My husband and I had moved into our first home. It was not the home of my dreams but it was affordable and nicer than most of the homes in our price range. The previous owners were in financial trouble and let the house go pretty cheap compared to other homes in the area. I loved the neighborhood. We made a lot of friends there. The house itself was kind of dark. Dark paneling in the living room and dark colors throughout. We did a lot of painting and remodeling.

The first couple years were great. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then things started to change.

I remember running the vacuum cleaner in the upstairs hallway. There was a door to an attic crawl space above the stairs. The door suddenly flew open. I screamed and literally ran out of the house. I went to my neighbor's house because I really believed something or someone was in the house. My neighbor came back with me. The door was still open but there was nothing out of the ordinary in the house.

My cat would go downstairs (the house was a tri-level) in the lower level and just yawl. It was a creepy sounding meow and it was ear piercing. She just started doing this one day and it was always in the same corner.

I was sound asleep one night and was awakened by my husband choking me. I started fighting him off and he finally let me go. I was screaming at him and he jumps out of bed, turns on the light and is running around the room, looking under the bed, in the closet, behind the dressers. I literally thought he lost his mind.

He kept saying "Where is it?" I'm screaming "Where's What? Are you crazy?" He finally calms down enough to tell me his story. He wakes up in the middle of the night to see a large gray cat attacking me. In his mind, he grabs the cat and is pulling it off of me, where in reality, he had me by the neck. I was very shaken and crying.

I went in the bathroom to put water on my face when I realized my chest was burning. I opened my nightgown to find bleeding scratch marks on my chest.

We both checked the whole house and only found my two cats who were sleeping downstairs. He swore it was much bigger than our cats and was gray in color. My one cat was solid black and the other was a brown tabby.

I have always wondered what actually attacked me that night. Thankfully, there was never a recurrence with the demon cat.

Submitted by Kathy

UNWELCOME HOUSEGUEST

A few weeks ago my nine year old son broke the silence at the breakfast table by making the following comment.

"Dad, you don't have to stand by my room at night."

I was a bit confused, so I asked him, "What do you mean? I don't....." I stopped short of saying that I don't stand outside his door because sometimes I do like to look in on him.
He continued, "Dad, I see you standing there. I can hear you breathing. Just because you move out of the way I know you are still there."

I was scared by his statements for a number of reasons. First, I never hid from him. Second I always stood fully in the door and he was always fast asleep. Additionally, he said he could hear me breathing.
"How often do you notice me?" I asked with a smile. I didn't want to terrify him by explaining that I check on him once a night and only for a moment.

"Come on Dad! Every night!" He obviously thought I was joking around with him because he grinned from ear to ear and giggled. "I'm not a little kid Dad. I know you are there."

"I'm sorry buddy, I'll stop. OK?" He nodded his head in agreement and finished his breakfast. Then, we got up from the table and had a great day together. I spoke with my wife about what he had said. She mentioned that he was probably dreaming. Maybe he was half awake and noticed me or something like that. We knew there were no other men in the house for him to see. Soon the morning’s events were forgotten and evening came.

I had forgotten about the morning’s discussion but my wife had not. "Mike, don't you dare freak me out or I'm going on the couch with the cats and you can stay in here by yourself." She furrowed her brow a little and waited for a reply.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Oh, you mean the thing about him seeing a man by his room? Don't worry. I'm not doing anything except for going to sleep." I slid into bed. "But, I am going to stay awake for a while just to satisfy my own curiosity. I mean, I checked all the doors and windows and there's no way someone is getting in here. No way at all."

I felt my wife kick me under the covers, "I'm serious! You better shut up Mike!"
An hour or two later I looked up from my book when I noticed movement in the hall. "Hey buddy, come on in." I whispered. I put down my book, smiled and leaned forward to get a better look into the hall. What I saw wasn't my son but looked like the right side of a man side stepping into the darkness of the hallway.

I froze for a second, squinted and shook my head. Then very clearly came the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Every one of my senses told me someone was there. I felt the presence. What is more, the presence I felt absolutely terrified me.

My wife must have felt the bed shake as I stiffened with fear. She woke and looked at me, then toward the bedroom door. "Mike, what is it?" She whispered. Then we heard the breathing. There was no mistaking the sound. It was almost a gurgle. I looked at my wife and saw pure terror on her face. There was no reason to ask if she could hear it.

The next few moments are more of a blur than an actual solid memory. I bolted out of bed and dashed into the hall. It was empty, the only open door was to my sons room. So, I took three large steps, pushed his door all the way open and turned on the light. He was fast asleep. Nothing in the room looked out of place. I turned off the light and stood there for a moment longer.

I was tired, angry and confused.
Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw it.
Movement.

I snapped my head to the right and glimpsed the image of a what I thought was a man with short brown hair and thick dark rimmed glasses. He was wearing a green long sleeve shirt or sweater. Just as quickly as I saw him he was gone. In the time it took for my eyes to fully focus he was out of sight.

Was I going nuts? I checked the entire house. Not a single thing was out of place. I didn’t sleep a wink.
In the morning my son and I walked over to the neighbors to visit with them and their children. As the boys played I told them about my experience. They both became visibly pale and had the following to say, "Mike, the house you live in was the first home your landlord built. He lived there with his wife while he built the rest of the homes in this subdivision. They were on their way home from a bar a few years ago when they got into a bad motorcycle accident. She wasn't wearing a helmet. When we went to see her in the hospital we couldn't recognize her at all. She looked like a man. It was terrible. She died a few days later."

"Did she have dark rimmed glasses?" I asked.
"Um, no she didn't, but her eyes were so black and blue that it almost looked that way."
I shook my head. "Well now what do I do? I mean I can't just ignore what happened. I mean my son is seeing this woman on a regular basis!"

"Move out, Mike. For you sons safety you have to move."

We gave our landlord a 30 day notice on 10/11/2012. We signed the lease on a new house effective immediately.

Submitted by Mike Gonzalez

WOODLAWN CHAPEL GHOST CHILD APPARITION

Hi,
My name is Ashley Charron and I saw your site and thought I would submit my story.

Last year, Columbus Day weekend I was in Keene, NH for a friend's wedding. It was a beautiful weekend and after the reception on Sunday night my friends and I decided to go to a few ‘Haunted Hotspots’ in Keene.. given that it’s October and a few of my friends are curious about paranormal activity we decided to go exploring. I’ve always also been curious about ghosts and spirits and have had a few unexplainable encounters…

However on Sunday night I had a spine chilling experience in the Woodlawn Cemetery outside of the Sumnar Knight Chapel. My friends and I approached the Sumner Knight Chapel and parked the car about 20 Ft. from the Chapel. My friends decided to get out of the car to walk around and explore the Graveyard. My friend Amy and I who were in the backseat of the car decided to roll the window down and just sit back and watch them fail at trying to experience a Ghost or Spiritual encounter.

I gave the boys my camera to take pictures of the Chapel which was very eerie and dark. Inside the car I had my iPhone with the window more than half of the way down, put the flash option on and took a shot in the dark trying to capture what the Sumner Knight Chapel looked like from inside the car… I was planning to mobile upload it later and after I snapped the photograph the following disturbing image is what I captured. I have also attatched a copy of the photograph after having it lightened up by a professional photographer.

..............
Click Image To See Larger Version of Photos

Photo Taken: 10/9/2011 around 12:15 AM
Woodlawn Cemetery, Keene NH. Photograph taken 20 ft. from Sumner Knight Chapel.
©2011 Ashley Marie Charron
Used by permission - Unauthorized reprinting/exhibition prohibited
without written consent of copyright holder

After looking at this more closely, there is no doubt in my mind that this photograph is a once in a lifetime experience. After much discussion and commentary on the photograph almost all who view it not only say that it is disturbing but feel as though the unknown figure looks as if they are knocking on the vehicle. Many believe the figure to look like a small child, a little girl specifically. I decided to see what Google might come up with on the Woodlawn Cemetery and typed it into my search bar, this is what I found via website

“Woodlawn Cemetery Keene New Hampshire - Sumner Knight Chapel - The whole area near the Knight Chapel is a major hotspot. The chapel itself is home to a very unhappy spirit and it’s presence is almost overwhelmingly strong as you get within 15 feet of the Chapel. Near the chapel is the spirit of a little girl who will sneak around and peer from behind trees at you and on voice recorders you can get sounds of a girl giggling. You have to go away from the Chapel to encounter her. Warning, do not curse in front of the Chapel. There is a spirit who will wash your mouth out with soap if you do. Several people have documented the taste of soap in their mouths and others can smell the soap (Similar to Ivory Bar Soap in my opinion) on the breaths of the victims.”

Submitted by Ashley Marie Charron

AMELIA WILL BE STAYING!

My daughter Tasha was born a normal child in all ways. At the time of about four she had an imaginary friend she started to talk with in her room while playing. She called her Amelia. I knew that children would make-up friends while playing. My oldest daughter would make fun of Tasha talking to Amelia. I knew it would be a phase and Amelia would be gone like all imaginary friends, in time.

As my oldest child went to school, Tasha and I would be home alone. I had to keep my eye on Tasha at only 4 years old as she was into everything. We enjoyed hanging clothes outside on sunny days. One sunny day Tasha was watching cartoons on TV and I decided to hang the clothes with her out back. She had a favorite chair by the TV. We went out to hang the clothes and returned back down the hall to the living room. When we came closer to the TV, I could see a child setting in the chair at a side angle. I thought one of the neighbor kids had came in the front door and took a seat to watch the show, since the kids did come and visit sometimes. When we got closer I froze and dropped my laundry basket… The child had no LEGS sticking out from the chair!! She slowly turned, but I never saw her face, only her hair moving. Then she kind of disappeared like steam from a pot.

Tasha said "Did you see her Mom?"
"Yes, I did!" I exclaimed, quite frightened.
"That’s Amelia," Tasha said.

I was really afraid for myself and Tasha too. If Amelia was a ghost or evil spirit, I had seen and read enough to know this wasn’t going to end well. Later that day I told Tasha that Amelia had to go to the light, or someplace away from us, I was thinking. She said she would tell her. I hoped that thing was gone.

The next day I was feeling better, thinking, maybe I really didn’t see anything… just nerves or a glass of bad milk. I was grabbing at straws. At about noon Tasha was playing in her room, and I called her for lunch. Tasha was eating her sandwich and we were talking. I was hoping to forget yesterday. Tasha stopped my thoughts when she said that she told Amelia she had to go away. Shaking, I asked, "What did she answer?"

"Amelia will be STAYING, and she came FROM the light, Mom." Tasha said.

I couldn’t speak for fear!

Days, Months and Years have gone by. Now it’s 6 years later, and I never saw the phantom of Amelia again.Tasha slowly stopped talking to Amelia. I think her classmates and society finally got rid of Amelia. At least out in the open.Tasha has the strangest ability to stay away from life’s little bumps in the road. Could it be Amelia is still near her? Tasha is growing up fine with no mental or social problems. But me... I know what I saw and it still makes my hair stand on end.

Submitted by Tracy

THE GHOSTLY CEMETARY PRANKSTER

Practically everyone, or at least someone they know, has had at least one strange experience that defies all orthodox, rational ideas of what constitutes "reality."

Speaking only for myself, pretty much every one of my family members have had a brush with the so-called paranormal : from the blind paternal grandmother whose battery operated alarm clock stopped chiming at the moment of her death on Christmas Eve 1985, only to resume normal functioning several days later; to the maternal Grandmother who murmmered utterances in Gaelic, a language she had never spoken, while meeting long dead relatives in a coma induced vision of Heaven; to my mother, who while cooking breakfast one morning, encountered the corporeal presenses of my then living Aunt Mary and their deceased stepfather only several hours before Aunt Mary's house became engulfed in flames. I could recount others, but would now like to relate several of my own....

Appropriately enough, I at one time had employment with a fairly large cemetery company based in New Jersey. The largest of the three cemeteries owned by this company was started sometime in the late 18th century, and you can find more than a few upright gravemarkers whose graven text has since eroded away due to the pernicious effects of the weathers of time.

Rumour has it that somewhere in the cemetery are buried the ashes of famed conducter Eugene Ormandy and actor Zero Mostel, but this will probably never be verified with certainty. Interestingly, Jonestown cult leader Jim Jones was cremated in the cemetery's crematory, along with numerous of Jones' followers after the mass suicide in 1978.

When I first started working there in March 1988, one of my main tasks was cutting the grass in the upright marker sections. Since the close proximity of the vertical gravestones excluded the possibility of using the wide Ford tractors to do the job, we had to walk behind rickety old Briggs and Stratton mowers which could get the job done due to their relative small size. This job entailed long hours of walking, which inflicted no little damage to my feet in the form of blisters, and damage to my shoes in the form of green grass stains.

Because of this, each morning before starting work, I would remove my good shoes and put on old sneakers. I would leave the shoes in a dusty little breakroom connected to a musty, concrete floored garage where work trucks and tools were stored. On one particular Friday in the spring of 1988, I forgot to change back into my good shoes before leaving for the day. Since I planned on going to a local bar that night, and did not feel it appropriate to wear the unsightly green stained sneakers on thus excursion, I decided to return to the breakroom to retrieve my good shoes. By the time I had got there, night had fallen and the entire building - breakroom and garage, was covered in darkness. The cemetery owner and his wife lived in a house just on the other side of a row of hedges, and I decided it would be best to enter without turning on the light and arousing any suspicions of burglery or such. I just wanted to grab my shoes and be on my way. I fumbled my way into the darkened room, and taking advantage of the dim light of a nearby street lamp entering in through the window, reached down at the end of a delapidated couch where I had put my shoes earlier that morning. As I crouched over, a distinct sound of something moving in the adjacent garage caught my attention. I paused and the sounds grew louder. This room and the garage were part of the same building, connected by a doorway that had had it's door removed some years earlier.

The sounds were emanating from no more than 8 to 10 feet away, and were definitely being caused by something heavy being dragged across the concrete floor. As I said, the sounds were unmistakably being caused by something heavy being dragged across the floor. This was no raccoon or any other furry animal of the night doing this. After listening for maybe 15 to 20 seconds, I grabbed my shoes and hurried out the door, casting a nervous sideways glance into the inky black darkness where the sounds were coming from. When I got to the bar, I related the story to several compatriots who reacted with predictable bemusement. Upon arriving at work that following Monday, I immediately went into the garage to see if I could find out what heavy object in the room could have caused the sounds heard the previous Friday night. At the far end of the garage was a heavy wooden table with metal legs. I grabbed the table with both hands and proceeded to drag it across the floor and I swear this was about as close an approximation to the sound I heard as you could want to find.

Another strange incident happened several years later, around 1994 or 95 or so. On one bleak Winter morning I arrived, as was my habit, at this same breakroom about an hour before the start of the workday so as to relax with a cup of coffee and newspaper before my coworkers arrived. As I was sitting in the room sipping my coffee and perusing the paper, my attention was once again caught by an unusual sound emanating from the adjacent garage. My curiosity piqued, I entered the garage to investigate. As I stood there, the sounds were coming from directly over my head, and sounded like what I can only describe as the footfalls of a small person or child dragging a heavy object across the rusty tin roof overhead. A few moments of silence and the sounds would start again.

They were loud and very distinct, no raccoon or possum, and I took it for granted that someone was actually up on the roof dragging something across it. I went outside and walked around the entire circumferance of the building, only to find nothing unusual on the rusting metal roof - not even an overlapping tree branch, which would not have caused the sounds anyway as there was not even a hint of breeze with which to move them. This continued for maybe another 15 or 20 minutes and completely subsided when my coworkers came over from the main office at 8:00 am to start the day. It almost seemed as if the culprit was playing a prank on me by stopping as soon as the other guys got there, and once again my story was met with bemused dismissal. A few days later, the same scenario played out again, and I never could explain what caused those bizarre sounds on those dim, grey mornings circa 1994. I never heard anything like it in that building before or after those two incidents. It was quite strange.

Submitted by Brian Smith

HAUNTED SCHOOL

There are dark shadowy figures that roam the halls of my school! I am currently an English teacher and assistant football coach in Georgia. Friday nights are rather late for me. Once I leave the stadium, I have to drive to my campus and enter a supposedly empty school to finish my work with offensive statistics such as touchdowns, yardage, etc. Before I begin, I must briefly describe my classroom set up. My classroom has two doors that lead into hallways. One door is in front of my desk about twenty feet in front of me, and the other door is on my left about twelve feet or so. Both doors have those 6 inch by 30 inch vertical rectangular windows that are pretty standard for classrooms. Due to the motion sensors, the hallway lights only come on when someone or something moves in the hallway. After a brief period, they go off again. I have had the same Friday night routine for the last three football seasons and have had no other experiences before this year. However, I did have a very uneasy apprehension about going to the school on this particular night. This is very unusual because the school is in my hometown and I have very fond memories attending high school there.

About a month ago I entered my classroom with the stat sheet from the game. I turned on the computer and some music from the internet. As I am entering information, from the corner of my eye, a dark shadow person moves across the window in the door in front of me, and the hallway light came on! I looked up to see clearly, and nothing. But very clearly, something moved across the window. About ten minutes later, I notice this same dark flash moving quickly across the window in the door to my left. Again, as I looked to my left, there was no sound and it seemed that no one was there. The lights come on again. This continued to happen at random times for the next hour or so. Strangely, the later it became, the more uneasy I felt about being there alone in the class. My uneasiness turned into panic when the volume of the music coming from my computer seem to switch from a normal level to very loud. The thought came to my mind that I had to leave...immediately. That is exactly what I did! There have been other Fridays, and I still see the shadow figures going across the window panes in the door, but I haven't felt the dread that I did on that night.

Submitted by Trey Green

JUST SCARING US

My recollection of the first time that I personally witnessed a spectral entity was on the weekend eve of losing my job. Ironically, I was downstairs looking for a job on monster.com when, upon ending my session and proceeding to go upstairs I caught a rapidly moving object streak past my field of vision. It was positioned at eye level and moved so quickly I couldn’t make out what it looked like. My cat was also in the room and her head also followed with the object. The stair steps out of the lower level number fifteen but I only heard it stomp up three of them.

Later that week I was terminated from my job, it was a small company. I was the only software engineer, only software installer, only software support person and they didn’t replace me. Gone was my illusion of job security. Do not be alarmed I did find a better job several weeks later.

One night a month after the first incident I was getting ready to get into bed when I noticed a sudden indentation on the comforter. It appeared to be the depth that a cat would make if there was a cat on the bed. I reached for it and it let out a squeak and the indentation went away. I was certain it was one of the cat’s we own, so looked under the bed, looked everywhere in the room, no animals were to be found. I opened the door to the bedroom (carefully watching my feet for a cat zipping by) and went into the family room where all the cats where sitting with the rest of the family while they watch television.

Every night for over a year I would get into bed and feel something jump into my bed next to me. This even happened once while I was on a business trip. I was in San Francisco and was lying on my left side looking at a beautiful view of the bay when it happened again it landed on my bed right next to my stomach. It is one thing when you’re at home and your family is nearby and something odd happens , but when you are far from home it quite another. Oddly, I didn’t rush around and turn on all the lights. I was tired and rolled over figuring it hadn’t done anything to me yet and went to sleep.

My daughter has always hated to be alone in the house because she hears voices when we are gone. I’m not sure this is the house’s fault. None of the other children (two boys) or my wife mentioned anything until one night when I was eating with the family at a local restaurant. For some reason (and to this day I don’t know why) I told them about the thing that hopped into the bed every night. My wife’s face turned white. She said she noticed the same thing every night when she came to be. Something hopped in bed between us.

This pattern continued for a long time. One night while sitting in my bedrooms a bunch of empty boxes started bouncing around like something was in them. I got up and checked the boxes but they were all empty. I was a little exasperated at coming so close to something immaterial yet all it seemed to want to do was scare me. I asked it, ‘What do you want to tell me?’ The only thing that happened was a cheap little waterfall in the room with a tiny Christmas tree light (it was already turned on) that suddenly made a high pitch squeal while the light literally lit up the room.

Now after all of this you would think I would be terrified, actually it was just the opposite. I have noticed a pattern in life where (if you reduce all of the authority figures tactics into one) everyone is trying to scare you. The Catholic Church threatened me with hell, my parents gave me hell, teachers threatened my future and on and on. Now my one chance to make contact with the spirit world and what did it want to do – scare me. I was just sick of it.

All I said was, ‘This is what you’re reduced to – parlor tricks?’
For a long time haunting stopped.

It has been several years but now it is starting up again. My daughter has a daughter of her own and they are both living with us. The both talk about ghosts in the room. I actually called the psychic Helene (I know she is on your show every month) and upon my recanting this story she asked if she could remote view my house. I agreed.

I have to say it was odd sitting in the dark talking to someone on the phone hundreds of miles away who describes what the interior of your home looks like for you. It’s a little creepy. Helene, definitely claimed we have a female ghost. She asked I wanted her to exercise the ghost. I ask her if she was harmful. She said no she actually like you. I didn’t take her up on the offer, I don’t have that many people that like me.

Submitted by Ruppert

A VISIT FROM GRANDMA

It was March of 2007 when I lost my grandmother to pancreatic cancer. I am fortunate enough that I have not witnessed death many times throughout my life. This was the first time, I saw someone I knew gradually losing strength, and withering away before my eyes. It frightened me. I cared for my Grandmother, but I can’t say I truly loved her. I've never developed that close bond with her that I think many people feel towards their grandparents. I paid her a few hospital visits, but at the sight of her dying body, I chose to stay away. I knew there was nothing i could do for her anyways. On the night of her death, my mother left to go to hospice where she had passed away. She asked me if I wanted to go. I thought about it, I knew it was the right thing to do but I was a coward and decided to stay home and try and get some sleep. After they left, I went to bed, yearning for the peace that sleep brings. In bed, I found it was harder to calm my mind and relax. Just when I was reaching that drowsy state before sleep, the lights went out. Having been afraid of the dark ever since I was a kid, I always sleep with a rock lamp, which now turned off from the blackout. I hate blackouts, and what horrible timing it had! I was already unnerved by my grandmothers passing, and being the imaginative girl I am, I started thinking that this blackout was linked to her death. I tried to get the thought out of my head and i pulled the covers over my head, determined to fall asleep. Suddenly the silence was shattered by what sounded like a chainsaw right outside the window! No, it sounded close enough to be inside the room with me.

I leapt out of bed without a second thought and ran to the computer room. The door has no lock but I closed it shut with shaking hands and cowered on the bed. I was relieved to see that our German Shepard dog Shadow happened to be in the room and I clung onto him for comfort. It didn't help much, I was so scared, and he did little to stay alert. I thought about the strange noise. What could it have been? The window from the bedroom wasn't near anything electrical. It hovered over our small backyard but the noise came directly from the level of the window. It was so loud, and close. Too close. I stayed still on the bed, not able to shake the feeling that a presence was nearby. I've never felt anything like it before; I just knew that there was something else in the house too. I thought of my Grandmother. How ironic that this should happen not ten minutes after we were notified of her passing. Was it coincidence, or something more? Maybe the ghost of my Grandma is angry at me for not visiting her more when she was in critical condition. I looked at my dog for support, having heard that animals can sense when a spirit is nearby. Shadow lay on the bed, just staring tiredly at the wall. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about after all. Then a blue light appeared from the window. My eyes widened because I knew that across from the window was nothing but other houses. It wasn't in the shape of a flashlight, it had no real shape. It was just a blur. I started trembling again as the light flickered several times and then went away. I let out a breath as the lights suddenly turned back on. I was so relieved I almost felt like crying.

However, a few moments later the lights went off once again. 'No!' I thought in panic 'Please just let this be over, please' I saw Shadow suddenly lift his head from off the ground and stare at the door. Did he hear something? My heart raced, I felt as though any moment the door would burst open and then who knows what would happen to me. I was powerless against supernatural forces and the helplessness of the situation was driving me mad. Another light appeared, this one bigger and more in the shape of a rectangle. I tensed and watched in baited breath as it stood still for a moment against the wall and then slowly started moving closer to me. I leaned away from it, too scared to do anything more. Our window isn't facing the road, or else I would have believed that the light was being projected from a car. From all the times I had slept in this room, I had never seen any lights coming through the window. Why now? The light came closer and closer to me. I was prepared for the worst, but it stayed still a moment before disappearing. The lights immediately came back on. I stayed frozen to my spot, because even though I should have been calmer, a new sound still held my heart in fear. Footsteps were approaching, I could hear them coming up the stairs. I latched onto Shadow as they stopped at the door. I heard my mom call my name. I don't think I’ve ever felt so relieved before. “I'm here, come in!” my voice cracked. By the concern on her face I realized I must look a mess. I broke into tears and told her what happened and my belief that it was Grandma's ghost in the house. My mom told me Grandma would never want to scare me like that and provided logical reasons for the noises and lights I saw, but I still had my doubts. I slept in the same room as her along with Shadow, and eventually sleep finally overtook me, with the image of my Grandmother still in mind.

Submitted by Ruppert

DREAMS FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER

Sometime in the afternoon hours, while working the graveyard shift during the month of January 2008, I experienced two synchronistic dreams - one foretelling an incident that was to occur later that same evening, and another one, exactly one week later, in which I seem to have telepathically recieved information about a childhood acquaintance who died the day before.

In the first of the two dreams, I was driving home down a nearby road at night when my attention was caught by the sound of a man talking very loudly in an overgrown field on the right side of the road. Being curious, I stopped the car to eavesdrop, and realized that the man talking was someone I had worked with previously at another job about four years earlier. This individual, by the name of Frank, is in actuality a good natured black man in his late fifties, with whom I shared a very pleasant rapport. However, in the dream, oddly enough, he was standing there in this field, loudly slandering me to another person. Feeling both angered and hurt, I got out of the car, walked out into the dimly moonlit weeds and gave Frank a piece of my mind. I awoke from the dream just as my indignation reached it's boiling point, and lay there for a moment puzzling over it. Why would I have this odd dream about a past co-worker, living twenty or so odd miles away, whom I hadn't seen in four years, and who in all probability would never see again in this life?

I got my answer later that same evening while browsing the DVD aisle of a local Bestbuy electronics store. As my attention was engaged, looking over various titles, the sound of a man's voice slowly entered into my concious awareness. The voice called several times from a nearby aisle - "Brian. Yo Brian!" Of course, it was Frank, who, as it turned out, was only at this particular store because the Bestbuy nearest to his hometown about fifteen miles away did not have an item he was looking for. He told me he had never even been to this particular store before.

The odds of bumping into this man, at that precise moment, at exactly that location, and only hours after having the aforementioned dream have got to be at least a million to one. After I told him the story, and we talked for a few more minutes we shook hands and said goodbye. I will, in all liklihood, never see him again, at least not in this life anyway. And to add to the uncanniness of it, as I was returning home from this inexplicable encounter, I was struck by the sudden realization that the dream occured on a stretch of road I always drove through on my way home from this very store. It is no exaggeration to say that the dream contained information that would only enter into my conscious realization hours later. Somewhere Carl Jung is smiling

One week later, again on a Friday afternoon, I was awakened by a very vivid dream - one of those dreams where you have the profound feeling of having experienced something quite real, an actual event taking place in another realm or dimension of consciousness.

In the dream, I had crossed the Delaware River from the New Jersey side where I live, over to the Pennsylvania side in a small row boat. After wandering along a stretch of deserted beach lined with heavily wooded area, I came across a group of old, abandoned houses situated atop a concrete sea wall maybe twenty or thirty feet from the edge of the river. For some reason I decided to explore the interior of one of these houses and was quite taken aback when I encountered the presence of my late Uncle Francis who had died a little over a year earlier due to advanced old age. He proceeded to inform me that he was doing reasonably well on the "other side" but lamented the barren state of his new found home, which appeared to consist of one rickety wooden chair and a wobbly kitchen table. I can vividly remember the dirty, trash strewn tile floors and broken windows, and could almost smell the mildew and moldy woodwork. We talked for a bit, then I began to walk back down the beach from whence I came, only to find my little row boat now gone. Concern turned into mild panic as I worried how I would get back home to New Jersey.

I wandered awhile more along the beach in search of either my boat or a log with which to float back to the other side of the river, and in typical dream fashion, the scene abruptly changed to an entirely different location.

I suddenly found myself in a room with my sister, who I will call "L." We stood in front of a table which had a pile of old color photos scattered across it's surface. My sister told me that these were pictures of her and a group of her childhood friends, and standing out amongst the pile was a photo portrait of an old friend of hers. In the photo she appeared in the full bloom of youth with long blonde hair straddling both shoulders, and her name appeared printed at the bottom in bold letters - CHERYL. It seemed as if my sister was trying to communicate something of importance to me in regards to these old pictures. Just as was the case with the first dream, I awoke and puzzled over it for a moment before slipping back into a few more hours of slumber.

Later that same evening, upon visiting my elderly parents, I walked out onto the porch where they were watching TV, and the first thing my mother said to me was - "Did you hear about Cheryl [****] dying yesterday?" Completely unbeknownst to me, she had been suffering from cancer for a considerable time, and had succumbed only the day before. All I can say to those of a coincidence oriented skepticism, is that there was no reason whatsoever for me to dream of this person. I literally hadn't seen her in over two decades and couldn't even remember anyone mentioning her name to me in years.

Shortly after arriving home from my parents, I recieved a call on my cell phone from my sister informing me about the death of her old friend. She had just recently been given a group of photos from another childhood friend by the name of Debbie, and wondered whether I knew how to scan and save them to her computer. I told her yes, and went to her house the following day. Although no single portrait photo, similar the one I had seen in the dream, existed in the pile of pictures, prominent in several was the recently deceased Cheryl.

These two experiences are proof enough for me as to the validity of so-called psychic or paranormal phenomenon. The skeptics of the world can all go take that cliche'd long walk off a short dock as far as I am concerned.

I sometimes imagine how nice it would be to get back into that little row boat again, to paddle across that watery barrier and find my Uncle pleasantly living in his newly restored home. Or even seeing a young and healthy Cheryl, a stranger to him in this life, helping an old man turn a run down, delapidated house into a new home on the other side of the river.

One can only dream...

Submitted by Brian Smith

A STRANGE ENCOUNTER

One nice summer day I was off exploring in the dense woods near our home in Central Illinois, a place I visited often, usually taking my trusty .22 caliber rifle along for target practice and protection. It wasn’t long before I came into a clearing with a gently flowing creek, an area of the woods I had not previously seen. It was there that I saw this metallic-looking object sitting beside the creek. The object was two-toned, light blue beneath and silver on top. Approaching it closer, I could see the object was about the size of a child’s wagon; however, one without wheels or anyplace where a wheel might otherwise have been. At first I thought I had discovered a toy boat of sorts, considering it was after all sitting near the creek; yet found myself wondering how in the hell a boat got here deep in the woods like this? I gave up the boat possibility as it was not in the creek but resting a few feet from the water’s edge there on the dry sand. As I contemplated both size and shape of the thing I continued to wonder what this could possibly be for it certainly wasn’t like any toy I had ever seen. With its aerodynamic design it seemed more like a jet airplane, but again not one I had ever seen or heard about. Whatever it was I quickly found myself wondering if I could drag this thing home, thinking it might serve as a nice makeshift raft with me standing on the flat rear portion there between what looked like metal tubes extending the length of the thing. It was then that I sadly noticed, oddly not having seen it earlier, a large crack extending the width of that same flat surface. The crack appeared cartoon-like yet the same caused me to abandon further idea of using it as a raft or anything else for that matter. The damage certainly left me disappointed yet wondering why such an obviously large crack hadn’t been immediately recognized as such. I shrugged it off; deciding the thing was useless, broken, and most likely way too heavy for me to drag the distance home alone with my rifle in hand, so I left it sitting there – Only to return the following day.

Having informed my step-father of my find, seeking his assistance in moving the object and asking if he might be able to repair the damage so I might still have that desired makeshift raft, he agreed to come see this mysterious thing. This abandoned toy boat, this oddly shaped airplane, or whatever it was I described to him. It took some time to find the exact spot almost to the point of giving up but finally there it was again, sitting by the gently-flowing creek surrounded by the quietness of the dense woods. We approached the object and discovered I had been mistaken, for there was no huge crack. No not at first -- but looking again – there it was and appearing even worse than I had remembered. My step-father was lost as to what this thing could possibly be but when he offered to try and move the item – Suddenly there approached two tall figures.

More reptile in appearance than human yet they walked upright as men. Surprised and startled at seeing the two, we were unable to move or speak. Not because we elected this deer caught in the headlight behavior, but frozen in place and for that reason unable to move or speak. One of the reptiles upon seeing my rifle, asked me angrily if I had intentions of shooting him? His words were not spoken yet I heard them clearly in my mind. He repeated his question with a renewed anger yet I was unable to reply for all I could do was repeatedly scream my own thoughts that I had no intention of shooting him or anyone. I questioned, pleading how this could be; who were these reptile men; and why couldn’t we move and run from this place? It was then that the other reptile, a more gentle soul, explained to his companion that I was a child and not to be feared. Relieved at this awareness out of the corner of my right eye I saw a tear run down my step-father’s cheek.

-- We were both scared to death.

The more gentile of the two reptile men explained I had found their ship, not something they had wished to happen. When I questioned their human size and the size of their ship being in conflict, it was explained they possess technology to shirk their ship when not in use to minimize chance of its discovery. But it had been discovered, an accidental discovery; and the ship was not damaged, seeing the crack had been a trick placed in our mind as a means of further discouragement.

We were let go, unharmed; neither of us ever speaking of the event again. This too an apparent mind trick as we continued out our days as if none of it ever happened.

-- But it did happen.

The story as told to you now is details having escaped my memory for many years. Oddly as clear as this story is now, recollection of same only came back to me years later with my step-father’s death.

A FAMILY GHOST STORY

I was seventeen and a young soldier in 1965 on reassignment orders to a U.S. Army overseas facility at Kaiserslautern, Germany.

I reported for duty only to find that the unit was deactivating, then in the process of moving all of its soldiers to new locations. The sergeant told me to go find myself a cot in one of the vacant rooms, that I could have my pick as to which, that I would be notified in a few days as to my new orders.

It was on day two that I met two other soldiers in the same boat; however, unlike me, they’d taken up temporary residence on another floor. We became friends, mainly taking our meals together, avoiding all authority while waiting for our new assignments.

The room I selected was on the second floor of the drafty, old, stone structure that I reasoned had in the past housed many German soldiers. But now all was quiet, and as I learned a vacant billet was an understatement regardless of who used to call it home. It was like a ghost town.

My room was empty of all furnishings except for two other cots. No one was claiming either and I enjoyed the privacy knowing it would be short lived once my orders came.

On day three after a good night's rest I woke to the door opening. In stepped a young soldier, about my age, wearing a dress green uniform and sporting a green beret. He stopped at the doorway and asked if he might join me in the room? I welcomed him to come in, so much for privacy, and quickly pointed out that I recognized him as a Special Forces soldier, the beret he wore cocked on his head being a dead give away for same.
He smiled.

Closing the door, he stood next to my cot where we engaged in further conversation. I could see by the black plastic name tag he wore that his last name was similar to my own:

-- His name was BRIDGER, mine BRIDGES.

I pointed out this fact, excited as I had not encountered another soldier with a similar name as mine. He told me he and his family were firmly rooted in North Carolina. I told him mine was from Kentucky. We exchanged further small talk at which time I again brought up his green beret. That's when he explained that he really wasn't Special Forces; that he really wasn't even old enough to be in the army; that by some trickery he had managed to join with a group of real Special Forces soldiers that had deployed to a place far from his home, a place called Vietnam.

I had not heard of Vietnam, and told him so. To which he explained to my amazement that he had been caught by surprise almost immediately upon arrival in the jungle there -- and shot -- and killed.

What? I will admit I was surprised by what he was saying but at the same time found his story, and his manner in an oddly and curious kind of way, quite believable. He explained further that as he lay on the ground dying he had wished he had not tricked anyone; that he had stayed with family and friends back in North Carolina and not gone to Vietnam; and, how he had wished with all his might to be able to visit with another soldier, a relative. And that was me.

The names were different but he claimed we were related and that's why he was there in my room. His wish had been granted if only in part. Saying beyond that he had little understanding as to why he was there in my room and became visually surprised that he was in Germany.

After a few minutes more he moved to one of the vacant cots and lay down. I got up and dressed in my fatigues and was lacing my boots when my two buddies came crashing into the room with purpose of gathering me up to go to the mess hall for lunch. One of the two sat on the edge of the cot where BRIDGER lay quietly looking over at me, listening to the general festive conversation then happening from the two, but himself not participating.

I thought this rude that no one had acknowledged BRIDGER’s presence so I asked if it would be okay if BRIDGER joined us? They looked at each other, and at me, seemingly lost as to what I was asking.

BRIDGER said they couldn't see him. That no one else could see him. He said he would stay until we left and then he’d continue on with his journey.

That sounded strange but so had everything else up to that point.

Caught up in my two friend’s insistence, we left the room with BRIDGER looking over and waving goodbye as the door closed behind us.

Thinking this had been an elaborate ruse at my expense, I laughed and said so, bringing up the matter again as we continued down the stairs; but again to vacant stares and comments they had no idea what I was talking about.

I tried relaying BRIDGER's story as we went but they wouldn’t listen. Seated in the dining facility, they insisted they saw no one in my room and asked that I drop this idiotic conversation for more logical chit chat. I was beginning to believe they actually hadn’t seen BRIDGER and perhaps I might be losing my mind.

Upon returning to my room BRIDGER was gone, never to be seen by me again.

My new orders came that day and that was the last I saw of my two lunch buddies. For which I was thankful, for I was sure they thought me completely nuts.

Nearly ten years later I learned our family name of BRIDGES had in fact long ago been BRIDGER. My ancestors had migrated from North Carolina and taken up residence in Kentucky.

Both Stories Submitted by Jerry Bridges

ENCOUNTER IN A REMOTE CABIN

I had left home before graduating from high school due to a very dysfunctional family situation. I struck out on my own in order to leave the disturbing past behind and ended up in Colorado. While there I met a young professor, Paul, who lectured a course at the local community college in Boulder.

We got along well. He was a former Marine who had served in Vietnam now rebuilding his life as an instructor. He had long hair and a chiseled body, what more could a girl ask for? We quickly consummated our relationship and were soon living together. He was a bit older than I, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. I enjoyed keeping a place for him and cooking while he taught and everything seemed to flow together.

That coming summer we went up into the mountains of Washington state near the Pacific coast and rented a cabin for the next three months as a getaway until he went back to teach. The cabin was great at first. It stood on a slope surrounded by gargantuan pines and redwoods. The forest was so think that even during the day the sun had trouble peeking through the dense overhead vegetation. Long shadows began to form by mid afternoon on most days after a cool and dewy morning. The altitude really neutralized most of the summer heat. A small village with a tavern was a few miles down the road where we got groceries and gas.

It wasn’t long before I began hearing tales of Big Foot or Sasquatch matter of factly from the locals. It seemed that a lot of lumber jacks thinning the timber were seeing them. One woman reported seeing something she thought looked like a tall ape actually within the streets of the small nearby village, but no one really seemed to take it all that serious. Not that they didn’t believe just that they did not consider Sasquatch a threat.

One night Paul, my man, had failed to show up at the cabin. He had gone out with some buddies drinking that he had not seen in a long time, and for the first time I found myself along and feeling somewhat isolated and afraid. Normally, I did not feel this way. I had dabbled in some witchcraft at one time or another and believed in a spiritual world where evil and good entities sometimes manifested themselves in physical forms. I was really into Rod Serling and his not to well known short stories at the time too. The verdict was still out among the locals whether they thought even Big Foots were actually spiritual entities of the forest who took on this massive hairy biped appearance as part of their persona.
Well, the night progressed and got darker and more ominous. I began hearing something outside the cabin, and without my lover there with me, had never really realized just how devoid of light and how isolated the place really was in the event a emergency happened. I admit that I had begun to get the jitters. I hadn’t drank or smoked any weed so I knew that my imagination wasn’t getting away from me, but never the less, whatever it was out there seemed to be circling the cabin. Out there in the void of the night something or someone was definitely creeping around snapping twigs and making the sound of heavy but careful footfalls in the dried pine needle floor of the forest just beyond the logged walls of that old cabin. I’ll admit it was becoming unnerved.

During the day you hear pine cones fall and hit the roof or you hear the pounding of a woodpecker running the length of a tree trunk and reverberating on the ground, but at night, the inky blackness obscures the lush beauty of the woods and becomes an ominous curtain of mysterious void. I had heard some people say that it was not uncommon for a cougar or even bobcat to come nosing around a cabin looking for food if you were unwise enough to leave trash in the open without securing it down, but whatever it was out there sounded big! It just didn’t creep about. It was walking, but carefully and stealthily yet because of its size and weight it still gave off unmistakable sound in the black silence of that foreboding night.

I wished Paul had returned and now I was angry that he would thoughtlessly leave me here alone without a car. I had a phone. The TV barely got more than 3 channels out here deep in the boonies, but as each moment crawled by I was growing more and more desperate. I will admit I am the kind that can go haywire if I get scared enough, but I was sure something was out there! It wasn’t just my imagination! Then something hit the side of the cabin like a heavy thud like a huge heavy body had bumped into the log walls. That just a about set me off, but still I held onto my wits, hoping and praying that it would just go away!

There were only 2 windows in that small single room cabin. One near the front door and one in the bathroom. Normally during the day I kept that big bay window open, but here on this terrifying night I couldn’t bear to peer outside! Now I was petrified as I heard a grazing noise against one wall as though something big were just brushing up against the outer wall! I could barely hold my breath as I listened intently waiting for it to just leave, but it didn’t.

Finally, I could bear it no longer! I was frightened out of my wits! I didn’t care if whatever it was just carried my out into the wood, but to just hear who or whatever it was out there just lurking, I couldn’t take it any longer, and of course I had no gun or rifle for protection! I just burst right out the front door ready to confront whatever it was and die doing so if that were meant to be!

I ran out into that suffocating cold, darkness and screamed, “ come out whoever you are! Show yourself! I’m not afraid anymore!” I was breathing fast about to hyperventilate, but I just didn’t care anymore.
The moonlight left a singular shaft that penetrated the formidable blackness that had closed in on me. I moved toward it expecting any moment to be grabbed by two big powerful furry arms. There was only silence now as I backed into a tree only a few steps from the cabin and I balled up into a fetal position in pure fright waiting to be taken. The moonlight splashed against the tree I had backed into. I could see outward only a short distance, and a thought a saw a huge form further out than I could make any sense of, but nothing happened. Whoever or whatever it was had apparently crept away. Not a sound came from the forest all around me in that threatening night. Finally, I got the courage to get up from where I had curled up and walked back into the cabin shaking like a leaf, but alive at least.

Paul, got home later that morning and I told him what happened and how mad I was that he would leave me by myself like that. It was the beginning of the end of our relationship. For some reason, things just didn’t seem the same between us anymore, and a few weeks later after moving back to Colorado, we broke up. It seemed that lonely terrifying night did more than just leave me scared, it let me know that I wasn’t as cared for as I had once thought. Maybe it was a sign that the relationship had not been the right one for me. However, I will never forget that lonely encounter with the unknown and all my fears in that remote cabin one ominous night.

Submitted by Esther

SUMMER OF MY GERMAN SPECTRE

The summer I turned 18, I went on a five-week study abroad trip to Berlin. This was 2006, when the World Cup was hosted by Germany, so the city had about a million more tourists than usual. I used to get lost all the time. It was just something that happened. I'd go out, take in the sights, get lost, ask for directions and eventually make my way home. One night, I went to see a horror movie with some friends. We stayed out really late, and took a train back to the part of the city where we were staying. Turns out we took the wrong train, because after forty minutes we passed some cows and realized we were heading out into the country. So we got on a train going back into the city, and by now it was the last train of the night.

Then I walked my friend back to her host family's place, and finally, around 12:30 I headed for the apartment where I was staying- which happened to be smack in the middle of a red light district. By this time it was totally dark, and most of the streets were empty. I had to walk through several blocks of storefronts, all of which were naturally closed. I was very jumpy. I was afraid to walk all the way, so I thought I would take the bus. I was waiting in the shadows outside of a bakery, because I thought if noone could see me, noone would bother me.

I waited for about half an hour, and then I started giving up hope. I must have missed the last bus.
Here's the scary part.

I was purposefully standing in a dark corner. I could see the rest of the street very well, because there were street lights. I was there, feeling scared, when out of nowhere this man appears.

Like, literally out of nowhere. He was just there, in front of me, without passing through the street lights. I would have heard a door open if he had come out of a building, but he didn't make a sound. Just- poof! Right in front of me. I almost screamed, but I was too shaken.

He said good evening in really formal German (which I barely spoke at the time) and called me Fraulein, which people don't really say anymore unless they're being sarcastic. I still remember his face. He had deep blue eyes, and dark, curly hair, with a full beard. He was handsome, and looked to be about thirty years old. He smelled like tobacco, like the pipes my grandfather used to smoke when I was a kid, and Grandma wasn't around to scold him.

I said good evening in a tiny voice. I was very worried- remember, I was a young woman in a big city, all alone at night. Then he looked right into my eyes and said "You're waiting for the bus. It isn't going to come. Go home, Miss."

Then he disappeared again. I have no idea where he went, he was just gone.

I freaked out and ran the whole way home, like 35 minutes, running in the middle of the street where the streetlights were shining because I just couldn't take being in the dark anymore.

I don't know if he was a ghost, or a person. I think if he had been a person, I would have seen him coming and going. And the thing is, I don't think he was entirely there. Like, I couldn't tell you anything about the way he looked. What he was wearing, whether he was tall or short, thin or fat- I don't know. I really only saw his face, and heard his voice. It was frightening at the time, but the more I think about it, he really did help me. If I had stayed in that part of town, which I found out later was a pretty rough area, I could have run into some nasty elements. Berlin is a huge city, and people disappear there every day. So, yeah. I got the bus schedule from a benevolent German ghost, and who knows? He could have saved my life.