by Sharon | Sep 26, 2018
There are plenty of old houses where I live. I sometimes get a weird feeling from houses, just passing by them.
Some are inviting and others feel creepy and I don’t even want to look at them. Has this happened to you?
I believe every house has the potential of being haunted. Not scary haunted, just having a previous owner who has passed still living there. It starts out with a feeling of being watched. Then you may feel cold or increasingly uncomfortable. Depending upon the spirit, you can either feel welcome or unwelcome. I have walked into houses and immediately wanted to leave. It’s awkward when you’re invited to dinner and just don’t want to stay another second. You truly believe something horrible will happen to you if you do stay. Sometimes you see something out of the corner of your eye. You know you’re not imagining it, but you do shrug it off. You don’t want to say anything, not everyone shares your belief in the paranormal. And, honestly, how do you tell a friend that their house is creepy?
The interesting thing is when you do make contact with a ghost, who doesn’t know he or she is dead.
There have been times when I’ve talked with a ghost and didn’t know it was a ghost. It thought I was a ghost.
I was looking to buy a house a number of years ago. There was a great open house that served food and allowed potential buyers to look around and get a “feel” of the house. I suppose it was a way of imagining how it would feel to live there as opposed to most open houses where they invite you in, quickly show you around and out the door you entered.
It was a friendly crowd who were sitting around enjoying the buffet. I wasn’t sure how many realtors were there and how many were potential buyers. It didn’t matter to me. I was enjoying the setting and was curious about other homes in the area they may have seen. For me, it seemed to be a way of comparing notes of different houses in different price ranges.
I noticed an elderly woman standing off to the side with an unpleasant expression on her face. She seemed to be upset about something. Being a curious person, I walked by her and stood close by, but not too close.
She immediately said, “Why are all these people here?”
I told her it was an open house.
She said there must be some mistake, she wasn’t selling her house. She also explained that no one would listen to her. “These people came early and started setting things up and snooping all over the house. They woke me up at the crack of dawn.”
Then she got a really frightened expression on her face. She was sure her house was haunted by these “party makers.”
Well, I’m not one to tell her they were real. At the moment I didn’t know I was talking to a ghost.
Later, my realtor was asking me why I was standing there talking to myself.
Fortunately, she shared my belief in ghost so I told her I was talking to the previous owner who didn’t know she was dead and didn’t want to sell her house.
She left to talk with the realtor who was hosting this open house. We did make a hasty retreat. He was probably afraid I would tell his potential buyers the place was haunted.
I can only imagine how the family that moves into that house are going to feel to have a resident ghost who doesn’t want them there.
Well, I’m usually at my local coffee shop, if they wish to talk . . . I wonder how the dear old woman is coping . . .
Thanks for stopping by!
I hope you liked this real ghost story and it got you thinking about the paranormal.
Sharon
by Sharon | Sep 22, 2018
Ray O’Bannon is a talented artist who created Ravenscraft.
Since it is finally fall/autumn, I thought I’d share some of my favorite Ray O’Bannon Haunted Toys.
Of course, it’s The Ghost House!
It also has a Secret Chamber . . .
Well, as I remember the story . . . The house was built in 1820 by Captain Joshua Harsh. Yes, his temperment seemed to match his name. He was a seaman — a Ship Captain as I recall . . . but he was rumored to be a pirate . . . and into the dark arts.
He built this house, but the building only occurred at night . . . not a strange occurance in Ravensblight . . . but all the same, it seemed quite odd.
He did bring home a bride to his new home . . . who was heavily veiled . . .
And she died mysteriously after lighting the lamp post in the yard . . . do you see it?
That lamp post still burns brightly . . . even to this day . . . inspite of other residents who purchased this property . . . and is still burning as it is awaiting a new owner . . .
This papercraft has a Secret Chamber which I mentioned earlier . . .
That’s what makes this paper craft Ghost House so special to me! I can put some of my own “treasures” inside.
I’ve made several of these in the past and given them as gifts . . . I wonder if they found the treasures I selected for them . . .
It really doesn’t matter — about the “treasures” . . . just that there is a secret chamber waiting to be discovered.
I also added some spooky characters to dress us the place a bit . . . 
There are two sets . . . It is difficult to decide which are my favorites so I have a selection from both sets decorating my Ghost House . . . and, of course, you can do the same . . .
And, my Ghost House has a story all of its own . . . I just did that for my own amusement, but you can be true to Ray O’Bannon and stay with his story . . .
I kind of like having a mad scientists . . . or maybe a coven of witches building this Ghost House . . . and, of course, mine isn’t from Ravensblight, but built in my own hometown . . . which has a colorful haunted history all of its own . . . for those who are interested . . . but not everyone is into ghosts and real ghost stories . . .
Seriously, who wants to know that such “interesting” monsters are haunting their hometown . . . ???
All of these Free Printables are compliments of Ray O’Bannon over at Ravensblight. Just click any of the images above to print out your Ghost House and Micro Monsters.
Thanks for stopping by! And Happy Fall to you!!
Sharon
by Sharon | Sep 21, 2018
I ain’t afraid of no ghosts seems to be the running joke with “ghost hunters”.
But in reality, I’m not too sure.
We may not be afraid afraid of them, but we can still be startled by them or feel uncomfortable around them.
This is a real ghost story told to me by Kevin.
One weekend he agreed to house sit for a friend. Basically he was feeding his friend’s dog and cat and hanging out with them for awhile before returning home.
His friend told him the house was haunted, but not to worry about it, no harm has come to his family or pets. Kevin wasn’t a believer in ghosts and just took it as his friend messing with him.
When he arrived to feed his friend’s pets, he saw something watching him from an upstairs window. He immediately texted his wife to join him at the house. Kevin wasn’t comfortable going into the house alone.
When his wife arrived, he told her to stay outside and he went in alone to check out the bedroom window where he was sure someone was watching him.
He went through the whole house feeling a bit foolish. Nothing was there.
He and his wife fed the dog and cat and settled into the living room to watch a DVD that Kevin’s friend set out for him to watch.
The dog was barking at something on the staircase. The cat settled on the sofa next to Kevin’s wife, Maureen.
Kevin went upstairs to investigate what had the dog so upset. When he returned he was white as a ghost, shaking and having trouble breathing.
Maureen went to him. She was going to go upstairs, but Kevin blocked her from going up.
Once he settled down, he took Maureen by the hand and showed her what scared him. He explained that he saw someone in that front bedroom window looking at him when he arrived. When he went upstairs the first time, the door was open. When he went up the second time the door was closed. When he opened it, there were three coats hanging on the bed post — one inside the other.
Downstairs, they heard noises in the kitchen and found all the pots and pans stacked one on top of the other on top of the stove. They knew the stove was clear of any pots and pans when they fed the dog and cat.
They turned off the television and DVD player, ejected the DVD and put it back in its case and left the house.
Before this incident, Kevin and Maureen didn’t believe in ghosts.
They did return later that day to take the dog and cat along with their food, bowls, litter box, beds, toys, etc. with them. Neither of them had any desire to return to the house.
When Kevin’s friend returned, he explained to him what happened.
His friend wasn’t surprised. He said things like that happened all the time.
It seemed to be poltergeist activity that was occurring in the house. If Kevin’s friend was comfortable with it, then it was his business.
I wouldn’t want to be in a house with poltergeist activity. I would prefer ghosts.
Thanks for stopping by!
Sharon
by Sharon | Sep 6, 2018
David bought a small house a year after his wife of 40 years passed.
He needed a change. The house was a constant reminder of the life he shared with his family — the children were grown with families of their own. So, David decided he needed to move on and maybe a new living environment would help him not be so lost and lonely.
In his new home, David. noticed the rooms were filled with junk from the previous owner. He phoned the realtor to see if they needed more time to remove all the old belongings they left. After an hour he received a call saying they took what they wanted and he could do as he pleased with what was left.
He busied himself disposing of all that was beyond repair and put other items into another spare room, for the next trash pick-up day. He also set aside some miscellaneous items to see if at a later date he might find a use for them.
He found a set of iron shelves he put on the wall as a bookcase, he used a couple of old chests to display his wine collection and used a sofa, chair, end tables and coffee table to balance things out a bit.
He was pleased there was a dining table with chairs already set up in the dining area and the kitchen still had dinnerware, silverware, and cookware in the cupboards.
He found an old bird cage he cleaned up and decided to put candles in.
He spent most of the day and evening putting together an old broken rocking chair.
He was sitting in the rocking chair and smelled honeysuckle. He wasn’t aware if any was planted outside, but he liked the scent and if not, he was going to definitely plant some outside.
He looked around the room, admiring all he accomplished and then wondered what was missing. He was positive something was missing. Consciously, this was the first time he started furnishing his house, but this was all odds and ends of another life, long ago — not David’s life. Was he remembering something? Was some entity there directing him?
He walked into the spare bedroom for anything he could add to his living room. He found a clock he could put on the mantle and some figurines of wild life.
When he arranged them on the mantle, he was feeling a bit more “complete.”
He turned around and said very seriously, “Is there someone here? Were you helping me? I hope you don’t mind my using your furniture, book shelves and these pieces I put on the mantle. I couldn’t throw some of this stuff out. I didn’t mean to interfere . . .” David didn’t want to say the next part. He really liked this little house, but he knew in order to have peace with spirits he would have to get it all out.
“If you don’t want me to be here, I guess I’ll have to sell the house and find someone else to buy it and find someplace else to live. If this is what you want, let me know, but please don’t move things around and make a bunch of noise. That would scare me half to death. Thank you.”
It seems everything is fine at David’s house. He’s been there for 5 years now. He has noticed the rocking chair rocking slightly and he feels there is someone there — an older man keeping him company when he doesn’t have friends or family visiting.
Yes, it does seem possible for the living and the non-living to share a space compatibly together. Very few mention having a resident ghost in their house, but sometimes they do seem just like one of the family.
Thanks for stopping by!
I do hope you did enjoy David’s Real Ghost Story.
Sharon
by Sharon | Aug 26, 2018
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.
“Aunt Francis.”
“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.
Thanks for stopping by!
Sharon
by Sharon | Aug 14, 2018
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
