I haven’t been adding real ghost stories to this website for awhile … mainly due to a personal experience that still bothers me. I won’t be writing about it any time soon. I don’t know about you, but there are times a paranormal experience does scare you so seriously that you have to take a break for awhile. That is the reason for my absence …
Since it has been raining, I thought the atmosphere was right to once again tell you a real ghost story. This one happened to me when I was young visiting my great-aunt.
I remember reading a fictional story about a fireplace that was haunted. Then I saw this really great Halloween project of a skeleton in a fireplace.
Then I remembered my own personal experience about seeing the ghost of a woman standing near the fireplace from many years ago.
I love sitting near a roaring fire, listening to music or reading a good book. It’s fun to sit by the fire with family and friends and tell ghost stories, too . . . or just chat.
I suppose the most memorial experiences are those that happen to us as children. That seems true for me.
I was at my great aunt’s house and it was really cold in the house. The heat was on, but the living room seemed uncommonly cold. My father suggested making a fire in the fireplace, but she adamantly refused.
We were bundled up in blankets and drinking hot chocolate.
I looked longingly at the fireplace and the stack of wood logs that set outside and a few inside that were waiting to be lit. Then, out of my peripheral vision a ghostly apparition of a young girl, no older than me, floated to the fireplace. She was wearing a nightgown from an era gone by. I watched silently.
When she turned around, I screamed.
The front of her nightgown was gone and her face and body had been burned. The flesh was red and raw hanging onto her bones.
It took awhile for my parents to calm me down. My great aunt may have seen her, too. She calmly explained it all to us.
“I’ve been having dreams since Martin and I first moved in here,” she began. “It was a little girl who was playing in the living room with her dolls.”
That’s how the dreams always began. Some would continue with her playing. As the months and years of having this same dream, the scene changed with a man walking in and throwing one of her dolls in the fireplace.
My great aunt could feel the sadness in the child upon being scolded and losing one of her cherished dolls.
More time passed, but the dreams continued and were expanded.
When the man left, the little girl went to the fireplace to retrieve her beloved doll.
I remember my great aunt telling us she awoke screaming, “No, don’t!”
From what I saw, the little girl, evidently, did retrieve her doll, but caught herself on fire in the process.
My great aunt was so disturbed by this that she never lit a fire in the fireplace since. It was a warning to her that she took to heart.
I remember my grandmother scoffing at her sister by saying, “You aren’t playing with dolls, my dear. There’s no reason for all of us to be freezing because of some silly dream about a child who once lived here.”
She walked over to the fireplace, lit a match and it went out. She lit another with the same result. I don’t know how many she lit before she gave up.
I didn’t see the ghostly child blow out the matches, but there was a part of me that was relieved my grandmother didn’t succeed in lighting the logs in the fireplace.
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When was the last time you saw a ghost?
Today? Yesterday? A week or month or year ago? Maybe … never?
Well they are around …
Tim and his wife were at the florist shop in town ordering some flowers to send to his grandmother who was in the hospital recovering from a hip replacement. His wife pointed out a man who was standing by a display case. He didn’t hear what she said, but the man seemed out of place and had a blank expression on his fact. His wife went to speak to one of the workers while Tim stayed where he was observing the strange short and portly may in a black suit that had seen better days. The man walked past Tim. He felt cold and also smelled like damp earth, but not in a nice after a rain clean smell. Tim watched him go into the back room.
When his wife returned, he asked her about the odd man she pointed out.
“What man?” she asked, confused. She said she was pointing to one of the workers and wanted to know if they could order something special to be filled and delivered in Dallas.
Now Tim was confused and wanted to know about that man, but didn’t want to make himself look foolish. He looked around the shop while his wife took care of the order. He was interested in the pictures that were on the wall with the various owners since the shop was first opened.
He saw the man in a photograph. He had to go outside for some air. He thought he was going to pass out or throw up or both.
Tim sat on a bench that was outside the shop. He hung his head between his knees, taking slow, deep breaths. When he sat back up, the strange man was sitting next to him on the bench.
He heard very distinctly, “Young man, I own this shop. Is there anything special you want today?”
Tim didn’t know if the man was real or not. He reached out to touch him . . . and he vanished.
Evidently, the previous owner didn’t know he was dead and was carrying on with his normal daily activities.
It was the strangest experience Tim ever had. He was still shaken when his wife came out of the shop looking for him.
Tim’s wife wasn’t as timid as her husband when it came to asking about ghosts. The worker who was taking care of her order said, “Oh yes, Mr. Stephenson is here regularly. There are times we have seen floral arrangements on the work bench in back that he must have made up. It’s nice to have the old with the new.”
She pointed out some arrangements that he made.
“These will be sold by the close of today,” the woman said. “Someone will come in looking for it.”
It’s refreshing how some people just take hauntings in stride and appreciate what they can learn from those who have passed on.
I believe this is more common than not … there is nothing to get freaked out about … At my local grocery store there is an elderly gentleman who greets me in the produce section — he is definitely an apparition … a spirit … a ghost … and he is there checking on the produce, making sure it is fresh.
It is unfortunate most people don’t see him … he does work very hard.
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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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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 . . .
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.
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