House Sitting

When I was in high school I made extra money house sitting or pet sitting. I liked this better than sitting with kids. The hours were more flexible.

A friend of my parents sold real estate and would get these jobs for me from time to time.

The money was good for the small amount of work I was to do. And, it was kind of nice to be able to spend nights away from home.

My friends thought it would be fun to join me and have a lumber party, but I preferred to not let them know when I was house sitting. The job was not for me to hold parties in . . . just to stay a few nights to set the homeowner’s mind at ease that the house wasn’t empty and their pets would be fed and wouldn’t be alone.

I wasn’t prepared for the house or the rumors of the house that I was to go to.

The elderly woman was in the hospital. The sad truth was that she would probably not return home.  Her family was out of state and they were on their way, but wanted someone in the house until they arrived.  The dog was one of those small fuzzy things that needed constant attention.

When I arrived, “Baby” greeted me at the door. She had some dry food in a bowl and water.  There was a doggy door she used, so I was there for companionship and to feed her canned food in the morning.

I got my sleeping bag, pillow and school books out of the car along with a “care package” my mother packed for me with snacks, dinner and soft drinks. I made myself at home in the living room.  Baby sat on the sofa next to me.

I didn’t feel the need to go exploring around the house. I know my friends would have been snooping, but I wasn’t all that interested. My job was to house sit and take care of Baby.

While I sat there in the quiet house, I remembered the stories of the house being haunted.  It may have been just babblings from my friends trying to scare me. Of course, they had it on good authority that what they were saying was the absolute truth.  One’s Aunt Sally knew the woman, another’s mother knew her — they played bridge together.  One afternoon, so the story goes, these women heard sounds of someone walking up and down the stairs. They also felt as though someone walked into the room and was watching them.

Immediately, it was assumed it was the old woman’s dearly departed husband — Mr. Dailey

There was nothing actually scary in knowing that . . . just a bit creepy to think Mr. Dailey was still in the house — haunting it.

The more I thought about it, there seemed to be some comfort in knowing Mr. Dailey was still in residence — a resident ghost.

I had been there for about an hour when I heard the flip-flap of the doggy door.

Baby was asleep next to me. Then there was a clattering in the kitchen. I knew something had come in the doggy door and I had to get it out.

When I went into the kitchen, the water bowl and dry food had spilled on the floor, but there was no evidence of a stray cat or critter of any kind.  I searched the house and found nothing.

I cleaned up the mess and returned to the living room.

My books were dumped on the floor and Baby was on the floor staring at the sofa as though someone was sitting there.

I gathered up my books and notebook and moved to a chair. Baby settled on the footstool, still staring at the sofa.

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I thought someone was watching me. I turned on the television.

I was tempted to leave.  I also thought of calling some friends to come over and stay with me, but I knew I was being silly. I didn’t want them teasing me about being scared,   They would have left out the part that I was  in a haunted house.

I must have dozed off in the chair.

Around midnight I awoke to the sound of Baby running up and down the stairs. For an old dog she was going pretty fast. Then she would stop in front of the sofa and look at the invisible something and run up and down the stairs, run around the living room, into the kitchen and back up and down the stairs before returning to sit in front of the sofa.

She didn’t move a muscle. She just sat there staring.  Then she growled and lunged at something. Barking, she ran up the stairs chasing something.  I sit in the chair, listening to Baby bark, not eager to get up and investigate.

Thankfully, Baby stopped barking came downstairs and jumped up on the footstool and settled down to sleep like nothing happened.

I spread my sleeping bag on the sofa and kept a light on. I turned off the television, because I wanted to hear if anything was sneaking up on me.

I could hear Baby’s steady breathing and a cute little snore or two.

I began to relax. Then I heard footsteps pacing up and down in the room above the living room.

Then it sounded as though furniture was being moved.  There was some scuffling around . . . then the lamp in the living room went out.

Great, I thought, a burned out light bulb.  I rummaged in my purse for a small flashlight I kept in there for emergencies.

The noise upstairs got louder.  In the dark, it seemed to be louder than it probably was . . . nevertheless,  I was beginning to get scared.  I went into the kitchen to turn on that light, but it didn’t turn on.  Evidently the power was off.  There was no need for me to look for a light bulb. But I did look for a stronger flashlight and candles.

I found candles and candle holders and trivets to set them on. I wanted them around the living room so I would have enough light.  I watched the shadows of the flickering flames dance on the walls as I settled back into my sleeping bag.  The noise upstairs stopped and I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I braced myself.  The dog was sound asleep on the footstool, big help she was. Then something flew from the stairs and hit the floor near the foot of the couch. Then there was another thud of something falling near the head of the couch.

I was relieved it didn’t hit me. For some strange reason, I had a feeling it wasn’t meant to hit me or even scare me.  I got up and found a Ouija Board at the foot of the couch and the planchette at the head.  I set it up on the coffee table, rearranging the candles slightly.

At the time, I wasn’t all that afraid of a Ouija Board. I just didn’t have any use for one . . . plus they never seemed to work for me.

The planchette started moving on its own, up and down, back and forth.  It seemed to be spelling out something, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it had to say.

I heard the squeak of the springs in the chair.  I saw the indentation on the cushion as though someone was sitting in it.

I was thinking of grabbing Baby and going home.

I watched the planchette spell out “w – a – i – t” over and over again as though it read my mind.

I waited.  I watched the Ouija Board.  Nothing.

By now it was after three in the morning.  I knew my friends wouldn’t believe this and to be honest, I doubt I’d tell them.  The whole evening was just too unbelievable.

Then the planchette started moving slowly.  It spelled out “take care of baby.”

I then knew the elderly woman had passed.

I held on to Baby . . . more for my comfort than hers . . .

I stayed up the rest of the morning.  The house was quiet.  By daylight, I snuffed out the candles, put the Ouija Board away in the upstairs bedroom, and fed Baby.

The realtor knocked on the door around ten in the morning to tell me Mrs. Dailey passed about three that morning.

I dumbly nodded.  I was to remain in the house until the family arrived and then I could leave.

Fortunately, they arrived that evening.  I was torn between leaving Baby with them and asking if I could have her.  One of the relatives had a little girl that seemed to adore Baby, so I thought that was all right.

I wasn’t sure what Mrs. Dailey wanted me to do about Baby. I did take care of her until someone else was there to do so.

I was pretty much packed up when the relatives arrived. I kind of had the feeling I wouldn’t be spending another night in the house. The electricity was back on . . . the lamp in the living room did work . . . So I went home with a real ghost story.

I don’t know if the relatives heard anything strange . . . I just know the house was on the market for awhile . . . and the relatives didn’t stay around . . .

Thanks for stopping by!

Sharon

My Brother’s Howdy Doody Marionette

All right, no surprise — this Howdy Doody Marionette Freaked Me Out.

I’ve never really liked puppets or marionettes.  I thought they were just creepy. Sometimes my dolls would creep me out as well. But I digress . . . 

Way back in the 1950’s, my brother got a Howdy Doody Marionette for his birthday … and I stayed away from it.  Gary got good at manipulating the strings and having him walk around and up and down the stairs and even do a little dance, but I wasn’t amused, I was afraid of it — it just wasn’t natural.

Oh good grief!! He even got it to talk … and say my name!!!

I’m not claiming it was possessed, I’m just saying I didn’t like it. Howdy Doody was fine on television, but not in the same room with me. And it was fine for my brother to have as long as he kept it in his room.

Well, it seemed this toy would be in other parts of the house. Maybe my brother was trying to scare me, but he claimed he left it in his room.  I guess one day, this little marionette got in my mother’s way and it was put out in the trash.

As my mother admitted decades later when I asked her what happened to Howdy Doody, she admitted to throwing it out. “That thing kept staring at me. I swear it moved, crossing its legs and folding its arms.”

Throughout the day she kept hearing something in Gary’s room. She thought at first I was in his room playing with it, but she saw me outside swinging on my little swing set. Then she thought maybe there was a mouse in the house, but all she saw was that marionette.  She studied it as it seemed to study her each time she went into the room.  She moved it to the closet and it returned to the desk.

She got a paper bag out of the drawer and put Howdy Doody in it and put it in the trash. When my brother came home from school, she had some cookies for us.  She encouraged us to go out to play for awhile, but after dinner when he was doing his homework and I was coloring in a coloring book, nothing was said about the missing Howdy Doody doll.

I asked my brother about it and he just shrugged and said, “It’s gone.”

“Gone? Where?” I asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m glad it’s gone.”

Then he leaned closer and said, “You were right, that thing was creepy.”

Sometimes there are real demons possessing items and sometimes things are just creepy with the help of our imaginations . . . or . . . not.

Have you had a similar experience with a childhood toy?

Let me know your real ghost story!!

Thanks for stopping by!

Sharon

The Dead Speak — And Sometimes Play Piano

Let’s begin with a couple of definitions — I know, the former teacher in me is coming out . . . 

  • When you pick up voices that’s an EVP = Electronic Voice Phenomena. It’s a disembodied voice imprinted on a recording device that was not audible to the ear at the time of recording.
  • When you pick up non-voice sounds:  music, bangs, rattling, etc. that’s an ENP = Electronic Noise Phenomena.

I was out walking my dog this morning.  I just wanted a little exercise and fresh air.  I like going out in the morning when it is quiet and cooler.

On my walks I sometimes take my camera and voice recording device to record anything interesting I see or hear.  Or when I intuitively think I might pick up EVPs or ENPs.  Once I recorded the clip-clop of horse hoofs going at a steady pace up the street. It reminded me of horse-drawn carriages . . . or a hay ride — usually in August I dream of fall.

This morning I was curious about the house that was just vacated a few days ago.

In the past I would hear sounds coming from the house when they were on vacation. It seemed the spirits in there have a great party when the owners are gone.  I had asked them once if they left a radio on while they were gone and they said they hadn’t.  It sounded like teenagers back in the 50’s – 60’s with a sock-hop.  I just shrugged off their answer.  My neighborhood, I believe in very active with ghostly spirits, but the neighbors don’t discuss it.  They usually deny any activity or think I’m crazy for bringing up the subject.

I did walk up to the porch and set the recorder down.  I said, “If there are any spirits here, please talk into this recorder.  I’m not going to hurt you and neither is this recorder.  It will just record what you say.  You can say anything or make a noise.  I’d greatly appreciate it.”  I then set the recorder down and went on my way.

I think most spirits are a bit shy and like to “be” unnoticed.  I know it’s an intrusion on them, but I am curious.  I do try to be respectful.

While I was walking, I had a mental image of a spirit on hands and knees checking out the recorder . . . it made me chuckle to myself and also made me eager to retrieve my recorder.

I could hear piano music as I came around the corner of my street. It got louder as I walked closer to the vacant house.

I was torn between keeping the recorder on the porch until this little concert was over . . . but I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to see if the recorder picked up anything.

I listened to my little statement and I heard, “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice.

Oh my goodness!! I got an answer!! I almost dropped my recorder!!

There was quite a long pause and then I heard, “Play piano.”

Wow!! I was in heaven!!!

It didn’t take her long to start tickling the ivories with a classical tune.  It was lovely and as I mentioned earlier she was still playing when I picked up the recorder and turned it off.  So I got both an EVP and an ENP.

I do remember hearing a previous neighbor was a piano teacher.

I do hope the new owners like classical music and are kind to this lovely sounding woman. Or the new owners will be “stick in the muds” and deny any paranormal activity taking place in their new home.

I’m also curious if the teenage “sock hop”-pers are still in residence. That will keep them on their toes!!

I am so amazed by the spirit world and how lovely ghosts can be . . . sometimes I like them better than the living . . . I’ve always imagined having a “tea party” inviting the ghosts from the neighborhood. Maybe with my new Spirit Box, I’ll be able to do just that.

Maybe I should do it on my back patio . . . I don’t necessarily want a whole lot of spirits in my house — I have enough of my own.

I wonder what kind of prayer would be appropriate for self protection and having them go away after our session . . . Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks for stopping by!! Please leave me a comment and be sure to tell a friend or more about this website.

Sharon

I Got Bitch Slapped By A Ghost!!

I’m confident that many of you who have dabbled into the paranormal have had an experience or two that either still shocks you . . . or tickles you . . . and perhaps a little bit of both . . . 

This Real Ghost Story happened quite a few years ago. I found it amusing and thought you may enjoy it as well.

Hey!! It’s not every day you encounter a ghost who gets offended and reacts in a non-ladylike manner . . .

I was in a restaurant with a friend, who is quite psychic.

I noticed a woman who kept rubbing her right foot on the carpeting . . . actually she did have her shoe on . . . and it seemed as though she was trying to get something off of it — perhaps she stepped in something . . .

This seemed odd. Not just the behavior, but that she was there one moment and gone the next.

I decided to concentrate on my meal and be polite to my dinner companion — Michael. Then, once again I saw that woman was back rubbing her right foot on the carpeting. I mentioned it to Michael.

He was so cool that he immediately turned around. Oh good grief!! I couldn’t believe it!!

And he did see her!!!

Now, if you want to know something, just ask . . . but not in the middle of dinner — oh good grief

Michael asked the waitress if she knew anything about the history of the land before the restaurant was built. She was new to the area and asked the manager to come to our table.

Well, we did find out that the whole area was once a pasture . . . a cow pasture . . . Need I continue?

And the ghostly apparition had evidently stepped in it . . . and was now cleaning her shoe.

It struck me as funny!

I burst out laughing!!

Now, if I had been embarrassed by Michael’s behavior . . . mine took the prize! But more than that, the ghostly woman, in her fine attire of two centuries ago came up to me . . . I could feel the chill of her icy stare . . . and without warning — all right, that isn’t true . . . I knew the woman was upset. She slapped me!! That’s right!! Slapped me right across the face . . . an open handed “bitch slap”.

Yes, I was shocked! But, more importantly you’re probably wondering if I felt the slap . . . 

Yeah!!

It felt as though I was hit in the face with a bag of ice.

Michael could see the imprint of the ghostly hand print as my face reddening . . . Yes, from the slap . . . and perhaps embarrassment, too.

It was absolutely amazing . . .

Michael was caught in one of those catch 22 situations, be consoling to me or be astonished that a ghost
“bitch slapped” me.

“Go ahead, Michael, it’s all right,” I said calmly.

He burst out laughing . . . and so did I.

Then, I quickly looked around for the refined ghost . . . but she was gone. I truly did not want a repeat performance . . . unless it happened to Michael . . . nah . . . but . . . it’s just one of those things you have to experience . . . and I wouldn’t want to deprive him of the experience.

As we were leaving . . . 

And I was waiting for Michael to open the door . . . I’m not all that women’s lib . . . I enjoy gentlemanly gestures.

I looked at Michael . . . he was frozen in place . . . his eyes wide open . . .

I helped him outside . . . and to the car . . . and saw the ghostly apparition off in the distance . . . watching . . . She had a broad smile on her face . . .

I looked at Michael . . . back at the apparition . . . back to Michael . . .

He said through clenched teeth, “She goosed me, right up the . . .” (We don’t have to go there . . . I think you got the drift of it.)

I heard a laugh . . . a laugh that echoed through the air long after the apparition disappeared.

I didn’t join in her merriment . . . Michael looked so pathetic . . . and I was still chilled from the slap.

I often wonder what the other patrons in the restaurant thought while all of this was going on — the apparition cleaning her shoe, my being slapped, Michael being goosed . . . Did they see anything paranormal . . . or just thought Michael and I were odd . . . 

In retrospect . . . what did I learn from this experience?

For one, don’t tick off a ghost by laughing at her after stepping in a “cow patty”.

And, there are ghosts who will interact with you . . . maybe not in a kind manner . . . (just ask Michael) . . . but then again, if I had been more kind . . . Being insensitive to a ghost is rude . . . especially one who was all dressed up and obviously upset by her situation of trying to clean off her shoe

I didn’t know anything about her. She may have been “someone” in this town, so . . . how dare I laugh at her unfortunate situation . . .

Well, I hope you enjoyed this Real Ghost Story and share it with a friend or two.

Thanks for stopping by!

Sharon

It May Be My Imagination

But it seems too real — I heard it . . . and so did my precious Yorkie.

I bought some “ghost hunting” equipment.

Nothing fancy, just some tools to discover who and/or what is in my house.

It’s one thing to be aware of “ghosts” in my house and another thing to have it confirmed electronically with an EMF meter and also a Spirit Box.

 

The thing is . . . 

I received one box from Amazon Monday and another one on Tuesday.

Tuesday’s box with the Spirit Box wasn’t supposed to be delivered until next week . . . but there it was on my front porch near the door.

I did not open Monday’s box . . . I decided to wait until the rest of my order arrived . . . Well, it did . . . But I still haven’t opened either box yet.

I’ve been hearing a lot of activity in the living room, where I left the unopened packages. The activity really picked up when I left the second package. All Tuesday night and into the wee hours of Wednesday morning, I’ve heard scuffling around.

I am wondering if they (the spirits in my house) are anxious for me to open the boxes so they can communicate with me . . . or they just don’t like having unopened boxes around . . .

 

I am eager to use my Spirit Box . . . 

But since I wasn’t expecting it until next week, I’m not quite ready for it.

I guess you could say I’m not ready to have a confirmation of what is in my house with me.

Maybe the problem is that I’ve watched too many YouTube Video and Scary Movies lately. I thought this would be good preparation . . . but in reality I’m a bit nervous about it . . . and want to prepare myself for a wonderful experience . . . not something disappointing . . . or downright wet your pants or run out of the house screaming scary!!

It would be awful not to get anything . . .

I was planning on setting up my video camera and recording my first session with the Spirit Box.

I am aware I may need to play it back several times before getting a clear EVP.

Or I may just use my audio recorder . . . I was also planning on having a series of short sessions . . . Especially since I’m learning to use the equipment.

Of course I’ll be burning some sage and say a prayer for protection.

It seems as though I’m making a major production out of it . . . but I don’t want to miss out on any messages — thus my anxiety and not opening the boxes.

Well . . . that’s my current Real Ghost Story . . . Oh!! By the way . . . I set one of my boxes next to the love seat and the second on the love seat. When I walked into the living room both boxes were gone . . . They were moved to the dining room table . . . still unopened . . .

I guess all that scuffling around was moving the boxes . . . I do wonder why they didn’t open them . . . That may be one of the questions I’ll be asking them when I’m ready to hold my first session.

Thanks for stopping by!!

Sharon