It was one of the old mansions in town that got everyone exciting about this particular estate sale.
I was there bright and early so I wouldn’t miss anything. The article said that everything had to go and the attic was filled to the rafters with cast offs from decades of storage. It’s something that feeds the imagination.
I was talking to a few people before the doors opened. Everyone had something special they were seeking: old dinnerware, toys, dolls, silver, old clothes, furniture, fixtures, etc.. I understood even the chandeliers were going and those were original with the house. I was daydreaming and missed the rush of bargain hunters when the door opened.
I was almost ready to leave as soon as I entered the residence.
I was assaulted with muggy air — it was thick and hot. I was feeling a little ill, but I continued on as though nothing was wrong. I took a hankie from my purse and gently dabbed the moisture off my face. My glasses were sliding down my nose and become a bit foggy.
I did see an entity a few feet away from me, frantically trying to get my attention or anyone’s attention in the room. Every time I walked away my legs buckled out from under me. It was awkward for me to just stop in the middle of the room and converse with a ghost, but it was giving me no choice. Every place had people milling around, so I just had to do the best I could to hear what this trapped spirit wanted to say to me. With my hankie still in hand, I thought this may cover the fact I was actually talking to something that others couldn’t see.
“My home is being destroyed, who are these vandal?” were the first words addressed to me.
I didn’t know if I was in the vandal category or if he thought I would help him in some manner — maybe to get rid of the rift-raft which I couldn’t do for him. I tried to explain that this was no longer his house and others had lived there over the years. He wasn’t buying any of it. He spoke of losing his wife after the children moved away and hadn’t seen them for a very long time.
Well, all that was back at the turn of the 20th century. I told him his wife and children and grandchildren were all waiting for him and he could leave at any time.
“I do hear my name being called. It sounds just like my Anna,” he said sadly shaking his head. “Is she trapped here? In the walls?”
“No, she’s beyond the walls. Come outside with me,” I said.
I didn’t see the bright light, but I saw swirling white mist circling the entity of the tried old soul. I just got pieces of conversation, almost like there was static on an invisible line. His wife was coming for him. He was having quite a reunion with his loved ones. I couldn’t help the big grin on my face.
Some people were leaving the estate and others were coming in while this beautiful passage was taking place. Then there was silence.
To be honest with you, I believe I came to the estate, not for antiques or a look around the mansion, but to help this trapped soul. As soon as he was gone, I felt free to go, as though my job there was done. I was also exhausted and felt the need for a nap.
In my sleep, I was visited by the man and his family. He asked why I hadn’t been there earlier. My only reply was that he wasn’t ready then. I believe I’m drawn to where I need to be. He seemed to accept that. That was good, because it was the best explanation I had at this time.
I hope you enjoyed this Real Ghost Story.
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Many of you may find cemeteries to be creepy . . . but they don’t have to be.
Some people have some very interesting ideas about ghost hunting and being right in the middle of the action, but would you set up camp next to a cemetery?
I have a respect for cemeteries and don’t get all creeped out by them, but when Larry was about 10 or 11 his parents rented a cabin for the weekend. It was small, next to a lake and had room for the boys set up a tent near the cabin. That evening they cooked their dinner over an open fire and told ghost stories.
Larry’s parents told the boys they could sleep in the cabin, but they wanted to stay in the tent. The ghost stories didn’t scare them and they were looking forward to star gazing before going to sleep.
Strange Sounds In The Middle of The Night
About 2 AM Larry was awakened by the sounds of someone crying. It wasn’t his brother, it seemed to be outside of the tent.
He decided to ignore it, because he didn’t know what to do. Then he wondered if it was someone who got lost, maybe he could help. He woke up his brother so he wouldn’t have to confront the crying stranger alone.
“Pete, there’s someone crying outside our tent,” Larry whispered while shaking his brother.
Pete listened. “I don’t hear anything, go back to sleep.”
Larry couldn’t do that. He listened, but the crying person must have moved on. He did finally go back to sleep.
The next morning after breakfast the family decided to do some exploring of the area. They found an old abandoned cemetery a few yards away.
This was exciting for the boys and the parents were equipped with cameras and tape recorders, along with other ghost hunting equipment.
Their mother was talking about some of the old graves that dated back to the 1700’s. “This is a really old cemetery, I wonder why it was abandoned.”
Their father answered that it looked full. They may have run out of space and instead of enlarging the old cemetery they may have set up another one closer to town.
It all seemed logical and matter of fact to Larry. He didn’t mention the crying he heard in the early morning hours.
Chased Out of The Old Cemetery
Pete nudged Larry and pointed at a dark figure at the very top of a huge rock monument.
Both boys stood riveted to the spot, until the image took flight and was headed towards them. They ran with all their might to get out of the path of the flying apparition. Their mother saw the apparition and ran out of the cemetery leading the way, followed by their father.
Larry remembers the sound of running footsteps behind them, but he always remembered the thing was flying. It didn’t make sense until he turned around and saw his parents behind him.
They ran all the way back to their camp and went inside the cabin. Larry stayed on the porch for a minute and looked back towards the cemetery and the path they took. He saw a faint image of a man standing quite a distance away.
Pete had a pair of binoculars and looked toward the image.
“He looks like he just came out of the grave,” Pete said handing the binoculars to Larry.
When he looked, the image was gone.
The family did pack up and go home. They weren’t scared, but thought there little adventure in the graveyard wasn’t such a good idea. It is a hallowed place and since they were chased away, they didn’t want visitors. They did wonder if they had been disrespectful in any way. Maybe it was taking pictures or tramping around.
What Do You Think About Ghost Hunting In a Cemetery?
There are some who believe ghost hunting in a cemetery isn’t a good idea. There are always abandoned buildings and plenty of places that are known to be haunted.
I don’t find cemeteries to be a problem since I regularly put flower on graves, but this is my job, I do talk out loud, making comments about the flowers and at times I set flowers on various graves just to give the area a bit of color. It’s my little gift to spirits that may be hanging around.
There is a common belief that 12 midnight is the bewitching hour when ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, what have you will appear.
For ghost hunters, many have day jobs and night is the best time for them. I believe it is spookier at night and having some nice scary pictures to go along with your explorations doesn’t hurt. I believe it adds atmosphere and gets you in the mood. It is also a reminder to be alert.
Remember when you were a kid and how the creepy old house down the street was creepier at night? It may also have something to do with Halloween when we dressed up in costumes and went trick-or-treating in the dark. Maybe at that time in our lives we were only interested in the candy and seeing our friends, but if you remember back it was so very quiet. You could hear your footsteps echoing behind you. The silence was only broken by the occasional chorus of voices calling out, “Trick or Treat!”
There were the creepy lit jack-o-lanterns that adorned porches and fence posts casting an eerie glow to the yard. Some played scary organ music with occasional screams, rattling chains and moaning wind. Things may have changed over the years, but the basic atmosphere and our enthusiasm hasn’t.
In the “still of the night” has been an ideal time to hunt for ghosts.
It is obviously quiet and you have a better chance of picking up something on your recording devices. It appears ghosts don’t like being in crowded places, if they are at all aware of their surroundings. There are haunted houses, hospitals, restaurants, libraries, and open spaces.
There was a mall in a neighboring town that lost its anchor stores and soon became a “ghost town” of sorts. I’m not saying it was “haunted”, but I did feel uncomfortable walking around in there during the day. Others had remarked that they got spooked walking through the empty mall one night after a meeting. So I suppose ghosts prefer to be where we don’t like being.
One personal experience I had recently was at a well known slaughter house in town.
Just the idea of a slaughter house would instantly make one think it would be haunted. The thing about this place is that there have been stories, many have been proven to be hoaxes perpetrated by local teens having fun and perhaps wanting to create an urban legend of sorts.
Well, it wasn’t my intention to go to the slaughter house, but I was out with friends and we saw something that came whoosing out of the sky at us. We followed it to the old slaughter house.
I tried to convince everyone it was an owl, but they gave me reasons why it couldn’t possibly be. So there I was walking along this empty field late at night to this building that had a questionable reputation. The old brick building had been broken into numerous times over the years and visitors would take a brick as a souvenir.
Hoax or not, this was a creepy place. There was this unsettling scent in the air — like death, but the slaughter house hadn’t been used for decades.
The air had a chill in it I didn’t notice until I got closer. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, just placing one foot in front of the other, not wanting to fall into a gopher hole and twist my ankle.
All of a sudden there was an ungodly screech and this black mass with a white skull face came swooping down upon us! I took off running! The others followed.
Pity no one had the peace of mind to take a picture, but we’re not the bravest souls who go off exploring in the dead of night.
The easy answer is the unexpected.
I truly wish there was a camera set up awhile back when my ghost hunting friends and I came running out of an abandoned house like scared children. You’ll just have to imagine a group of senior citizens running for their lives down a deserted street.
Was it a ghost or something more sinister?
At the time we believed it to be something more sinister, but in reality . . .
It’s important to begin at the beginning.
One of my ghost hunting friends is a real estate appraiser. He was given the task of appraising an abandoned house. He asked the owner if he could bring some friends with him and the owner agreed.
So there we were in an abandoned house. I do find it strange and rather creepy what people leave behind when they move out. Is it something they forgot or intentionally left? This thought was on my mind while I explored the house. I ended up in the basement when my friend Barbara called me down there.
She heard scratching. I told her it was just a mouse or rat. Then she drew my attention to the warm and cold spots in the room.
I could hear the scratching coming from a closet-type cabinet. I opened the latch and the door slightly. I was braced and ready to run out of the basement if anything came out.
Of course, I was expecting a rodent or something evil.
While my attention was on the cabinet, something behind me made hissing sounds.
I shot up the basement stairs with Barbara right behind me. I didn’t stop when I noticed Ralph running from upstairs and Frank from the kitchen. We kept running out of the house, the yard and even past Frank’s SUV.
Once we felt we were far enough away from any danger we regrouped and returned to the house.
The basement hissing was, of course, a cat that caught a rat.
What scared Ralph was something else entirely.
There was a fully furnished room upstairs. The woman who had once occupied the room had it all neat and tidy. Clothes were still in the closet and the dresser still had clothes in it. The night stands were full of odds and ends, too.
The first thing I noticed was a night gown on the bed.
Ralph assured me that it was the night gown that chased him out of the room and down the stairs. He was sure it was possessed. He kept hearing, “I’ll kill you!” as he fled the room and the house. Of course, we didn’t hear the threat on Ralph’s life.
Frank was in the kitchen when he ran out of the house.
He heard the locks on the back door snap into place. He had a feeling of being trapped.
That wasn’t what had him running for his life, though.
He was doing his inspection under the sink. Looking for leaks and evidence of dry rot.
He heard movement behind him.
“It sounded like a family preparing the evening meal, but when I straightened up and turned around I saw something out of a scifi movie. It was huge and had sharp teeth. It seemed to be eating something.”
Frank didn’t want to be its next course and ran out.
I decided not to go into the kitchen.
There was definitely something going on in that house. I wanted to meet the people who lived there before and hear their story.
Most of the time people like to move on and not dwell on past unpleasantness, but Frank was able to persuade the owner to give out the name and whereabouts of the renters and they were willing to meet us.
The family consisted of a man and his wife, his mother and 10-year-old twin boys.
The boys agreed there was something evil in that house. They couldn’t play video games without the controllers taking on a life of their own ruining the game for them. Even playing with toys was no fun in that house. Whatever was there would make them fly off and sometimes chase them out of the room.
They didn’t want to sleep in their room after awhile.
The grandmother explained that something was in the house. She didn’t think it evil until that last night when her bed caught on fire.
The problem with the paranormal is that she saw what she was supposed to see, but when we were in that room weeks earlier, the bed was not burnt.
The parents of the twins explained what happened to them next.
Connie was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Bill was in the basement mopping up a leak from the water heater.
He was just going up the stairs when he heard and felt an explosion.
The explosion knocked him off his feet and he did lose a leg to the experience.
Bill was the only one with a physical injury, but the water heater did not explode. The paramedics were called and they took him to the hospital.
Frank believed that creature he saw in the kitchen had something to do with it, but Bill was sure it was the water heater.
Can one evil entity cause this much trouble to a family?
But in so many forms?
That’s the problem with the paranormal, once you think you have something figured out, something new comes along.
It’s no wonder the family didn’t return to remove all of their possessions. When Frank volunteered to pack up their belongs and deliver them, the family politely declined his offer.
I couldn’t blame them. They wanted to get as far away from that house and their belongings as possible. They didn’t want some evil entity following them.
With the family experiencing different things and with us seeing things differently than what the family claimed to happen, we concluded that something evil was indeed going on in that house, but we couldn’t explain it and we weren’t going to contradict them.
It is a strange world we live in when evil forces invade our physical realm of the universe.
Fear does come in all forms, we experienced the unexpected as did the family that lived there. It came in different forms to the different individuals to the degree that got us all to run away in fear for our lives.
Barbara and I got off easy . . . a cat catching a rat . . . I do wonder why such a “natural” thing like that when the men had definite paranormal experiences. Or . . . was the cat and the rat what we were meant to see . . . and in reality it was too easy to get us out of the house . . . and where’s the fun in that for an evil entity?
Please leave a comment to share your thoughts about this Real Ghost Story and perhaps tell us of an experience of your own.
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I am definitely intrigued by the ghosts of children.
For one thing it breaks my heart that children have died young. Maybe since I’ve been a teacher, they’re attracted to me, or me to them. Whatever the case, I do get my fair share of children ghosts.
I met two young lady ghosts — Emma and Sarah while visiting the local cemetery..
Sarah invited me to visit her Aunt Francis in this old Victorian Mansion just outside of town.
Normally, I don’t want to go ghost hunting . . . or meet ghosts in a creepy, rundown old house . . . but I did.
Yes, I was arguing with myself the whole time. I was definitely telling myself how this was stupid. I knew of this old house and Aunt Francis before inviting my ghost hunting friends on this venture.
My friend Barbara was the only one from my ghost hunting group of friends who could join me on this great adventure. Barbara was all for it, especially since we received an invitation to visit the old matriarch of this old mansion.
I’m torn in telling this “adventure” as Barbara puts it.
You know, I always come out as being anything but brave. Yes, this is no different. You see, Aunt Francis . . . well . . . Aunt Francis is a cranky old woman who nagged her husband to the point where he took an axe to her and . . . goodness, she’s come back as a floating head.
The young nieces dote on their beloved Auntie Francis and she’s insistent on meeting the “human” they’ve grown fond of.
I know the old woman loves peanut butter cookies, so I made some for her. I would have preferred to buy something, but Sarah insisted they had to be homemade.
We needed to time it so that the cookies were “fresh from the oven.”
I don’t know why or how a two hundred plus year old woman would know the difference or care, but it may be her controlling way — as in life, so in death.
So, there I was with Barbara and two ghost girls paying a call on dear old Aunt Francis in a creepy old, rundown mansion in the middle of a thunder storm. Not much rain, but plenty of thunder.
The girls float on up the stairway. Barbara and I walk slowly, testing the boards as we step lightly. Some of the steps are missing so we did our best to continue moving up. Barbara knocked the banister down in her attempt to climb up three broken steps. My hand went through the wall in a couple of places.
This wasn’t unnoticed by Aunt Francis who screamed, “Sarah, tell your clumsy friend to be careful. This is our home.”
Then, a little calmer I heard, “Those cookies better be good.”
Aw geez, now my culinary skills were on the line.
My only thought besides trying not to break my neck was, “Betty Crocker, don’t let me down.”
Barbara and I made it to the landing. I didn’t see the girls, but I heard dear old Aunt Francis.
“Quit dallying, woman. I want my cookies!”
Of course, she had to be another flight of stairs up. Only those stairs were in worse shape than the ones Barbara and I just climbed.
Whatever happened to ladies meeting guests in the parlor? I was getting tired of this charade.
“I sorry, madam, but it’s impossible for me to go any farther. I’ve met you halfway, the only polite thing for you to do is come down here,” I said as forcefully, yet politely as I could.
“Who are you to tell me . . .” she sputtered.
I didn’t wait around to hear more. I motioned for Barbara to go on down the stairs we just climbed.
“What about the cookies,” Barbara whispered. “Shouldn’t you leave them?”
I’m not really up on ghost etiquette, but this woman wasn’t the most hospital ghost I’ve encountered.
“If she wants them, she can come and get them.” I took them out of the carry-all I put them in so she could get a good whiff of the fresh from the oven peanut butter cookies.
“What is that I smell?” the woman bellowed.
“Your cookies. You can find them in the parlor.”
Fortunately, it was easier for Barbara and me to get back down the stairs. Finding the parlor was another matter.
Sarah came down to meet us without Emma.
“Auntie wants her cookies, why can’t you bring them to her?”
“The stairs,” I stammered, “there are no stairs.”
Sarah didn’t seem to understand. Her perspective of the house was locked in time. Too bad I didn’t share her same perspective.
A head bobbed beside Sarah. I almost jumped out of my skin.
“Aw, Francis, I presume.” I said awkwardly to cover up my fright. Her countenance matched the gruff voice I heard.
Barbara wasn’t aware of what I was looking at, but she shared my fright. I must have scared her.
“The cookies!” Francis boomed, shaking the house.
I opened the container again and Sarah picked up a cookie and fed it to her aunt.
It was the most disgusting sight I’d ever seen. Crumbs dropped to the floor. The woman made obscene grunting sounds. I thought I was going to be sick.
I expected a lady of the manor with Victorian manners, but what confronted me was a head that had no resemblance of refinement . . . a head that was badly decomposed.
“What’s that putrid smell,” Barbara whispered.
“I need some air,” Barbara said as she bolted for the door.
I wanted to follow, but I had to wait for Aunt Francis’s feeding time to conclude. Four more cookies to go.
Francis nodded for Sarah to take the remaining cookies upstairs.
Why hadn’t I thought of giving the cookies to the girls and save myself all this aggravation?
They just floated away.
“More tomorrow,” Francis said.
“No, ma’am,” I said. “There will be no more cookies.”
“What?” she boomed, knocking me down with the shaking of the foundation.
“Your nieces are polite young ladies. You, madam have no manners at all. I refuse to bake cookies for you again.”
Normally, I don’t stand up to spirits, but there was something about the situation that got my dander up. Maybe it was the lack of appreciation and the demanding tone. I had enough and I wasn’t going to take any more abuse from this disgusting ghost.
I got out of the house as pieces of it were thrown at me under the wrath of a peanut butter cookie craving ghost.
“That went well,” Barbara said.
Was any of this captured in pictures or video . . . of course not — Barbara and I are not professional ghost hunters . . . and besides, Barbara’s camera batteries were drained — I guess Aunt Francis doesn’t like her picture taken . . .
I hope you enjoyed this Real Ghost Story . . . and if you happen to meet Aunt Francis, please don’t mention my name . . . but be sure to bake some fresh peanut cookies.
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