I have a friend who always said, “I’d love to live in a haunted three story Victorian house.”
As the saying goes, “Be careful what you wish for.”
No, she didn’t get her three story Victorian, but she did encounter an aggressive ghost.
She was sitting in her living room at a table she set up for making wind chimes. She was surprised that every time she set out a new wind chime, someone knocked on her door and asked to buy it. Thus, the beginning of a new business for her. But I digress.
She saw what she believed to be a shadow person out of the corner of her eye. It seemed to scurry across the room and through the wall. It was too tall for a mouse, but it was the same type of movement.
She shrugged it off and continued working. She heard the wind chimes on her porch. The sound started out slow and soft, like a gentle breeze. It was a comforting sound, but she noticed the room was getting cold — not just cold, but freezing.
The wind chimes were getting into a steady motion, but it seemed somewhat controlled, as though someone was playing a tune. It seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place the melody.
Next, she heard singing in another room. Since she was home alone, she got up to investigate. She found no one.
She settled back to her wind chime project when she heard a crash. She had experienced that before and upon investigation found nothing, so she ignored it. The wind chimes on the porch continued to play a tune. For anyone else the tune would be comforting, but for Anne, it was a song her ex-husband always sang. She felt chilled to the bone. Her ex had been dead for two decades.
Obviously, something was trying to get her attention.
She went out to her front porch to have a look around. Her dogs were watching something, but didn’t bark and didn’t acknowledge her. She was starting to go down the steps when she was pushed and reached the bottom sooner than expected. Sitting at the bottom of the steps, she took inventory and started to get up, only to be pushed down again.
She knew it wasn’t the ghost of her ex-husband, he wasn’t a violent man.
She shouted, “Leave me alone!”
This must have broken the spell the dogs seemed to be under. They started barking, came up to her with tails wagging. When she was pushed again, the dogs were snarling and snapping at something. The dogs chased the entity, but it disappeared in the house.
Anne didn’t like the idea of the entity being in the house unattended, but she also realized she had no control over ghosts — friendly or aggressive — and this one was decidedly aggressive.
She heard a crash. This time she decided to investigate.
The old grandfather clock that sat in the foray for years had been knocked over. Glass was scattered on the floor, but the strangest thing was that clock parts were scattered among the glass, too. All the mechanisms had been dismantled. All those little cogs and gears were on the floor intermingled with the glass. The wood had splintered in the clock casing.
Fighting back tears, she got a broom and dust pan to clean up the mess. As she worked, she thought she’d keep some of the clock works to add to her wind chime materials.
Deep in thought, she couldn’t explain how a splintered piece of wood pierced her thigh. It hurt like the dickens. She didn’t know whether to try to take it out or leave it in. Blood soaked through her jeans and began to puddle on the floor. This wasn’t good. She was feeling faint, but managed to get to the telephone and call 9-1-1.
She doesn’t remember the paramedics arriving. She didn’t realize she had been in the hospital for three days. Everything seemed foggy around her. She wasn’t sure if she was alive or not.
A few more days later, she awoke.
A nurse greeted her and said she’d get the doctor. Anne tried to put the pieces together to what exactly brought her to the hospital.
When the doctor came into her room, he went over his chart and explained all the medical mumbo jumbo. Instead of leaving, he pulled up a chair and sat down.
Should she tell the doctor a ghost was messing with her — playing with the wind chimes, pushing her down the porch steps, knocking her down every time she tried to get up, knocked over her grandfather clock and stabbed her with a splintered piece of wood?
As it turned out, the doctor spoke of all those things. Evidently, while in her coma she was trying to figure out what happened. It was fortunate the doctor believed in the paranormal and didn’t discount the situation.
The splintered piece of wood did not have a sharp point, it was dull and rammed through her thigh with such force, it almost broke through to the other side.
Anne couldn’t imagine anyone living or dead who would be that strong and that filled with hate for her, but that splintered piece of wood was evidence that someone or something did hate her that much.
Anne is still seeking answers and is still living in her house. Her reasoning is that moving wouldn’t prevent this aggressive ghost from finding her. She has had other incidents from time to time, but nothing as drastic as this personal experience.
That’s a truly creepy real ghost story!
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