An Antique Mall

There Is Truly Something About The Halloween Season That Makes Me Nostalgic . . .

I remember back in 2014 when I began this website again that I was truly into the paranormal and all things that go bump in the night. That has not changed . . . although I did set up a new website with a ghost story niche . . . but, of course, with the old content I have I need to share it here . . . and I must share even more . . .especially during this time of year.

I must admit I did get a bit side-tracked by creating a new website . . . One that was originally set up to promote my internet marketing platform of which I am a member and affiliate. As September turned into October . . . things started changing . . . it could be the lifting of the veil between the seen and unseen . . . or an awakening . . . abandoning a concept that was destined to bore me to tears and realize who I am and what is truly important to me . . . 

Earlier this week I came across the Trick Or Treat Tarot which I absolutely had to have. I did purchase it and it was delivered to me that same day. You can find it over at

It was this Tarot Deck I consulted and asked about my new website and how I really liked the domain name, but wanted to make it into a niche I would enjoy. And to bring my beloved into the mix as well.

An Antique Mall Is Always An Adventure

I find it enjoyable to go to one of our local antique malls with my ghost-hunting friends. They do have an interest in different antiques. I love things to do with candles — wick cutters, snuffers, lighters, etc. Usually in silver.

My friend, Barb will buy just about anything if she has a feeling it is haunted. And over the years she has discovered some very haunted objects — an umbrella stand, a hat rack, an antique desk, oh my the list could go on and on.

Mike goes for antique toys. And he’s also into jewelry and other items that interest him at the moment. He does a lot of reselling online and also has clients who are looking for particular haunted items. I usually don’t ride with him on these ventures. I don’t like sitting in the backseat with an antique item that gives me the creeps.

I’ll usually meet my friends there. This way we are all free to say as long as we like or leave and visit another place. Or just go home with a treasure we found.


I have some old cameras from my uncle. I do love them, but of course, I now go digital rather than film. It suits me because I’m not a great photographer. And with my printer, I can print out the pictures I want or have them on my computer to share on my blogs. But . . . there are times I just can’t resist an old camera or lens . . . There is something about them that fascinates me.

Perhaps it’s the writer in me, or my interest in mysteries and all the “what if” concepts employed by such writers as Stephen King . . . What if there was a picture in the camera? What if the camera would show you the future? Or the past? Or something mysterious you just have to know about . . . These are thoughts that go through my mind. I am curious . . . and very much afraid at times of what I may discover or what my imagination would imagine.

I do have a creepy front bedroom. It used to be my office and now it does have my printer and lots and lots of antique mall treasures . . . and many camera pieces . . .

I Heard My Printer Printing Out Page After Page . . . I Know I Didn’t Engage The Printer . . . 

Years ago, Tim Holtz had a collection of Found Relatives — of course, these were a collection of old photographs Tim collected over the years probably from a variety of different places — perhaps some old family photos as well. It’s a concept I have always found interesting. Even when we go through old photos of true relatives, we don’t necessarily relate to them or see a family resemblance . . . or maybe we do in a “found relative” pack . . . I do find it all quite interesting.

Well, my printer was busy printing out page after page of images . . . some people, it seemed to be on a crowded street with people perhaps waiting for a parade or it just passed or perhaps it was going on . . . I wasn’t sure what I was seeing or why it was significant . . . but I did study the pictures . . .

I set them aside for a while. I needed to clear my mind. I lit a sage stick and let the smoke fill the room and cleanse the pictures and everything . . . 

I decided to leave the house and take a quick walk around the block.

I only walked a couple of houses up from my house when it dawned on me. I knew the street. I remember seeing a newspaper article about it in the library quite a few years ago . . . Someone disappeared . . . it was during a founders day parade or perhaps the 4th of July . . .

I knew she wasn’t abducted, but she and her best friend fled never to be heard from another. Well, the friend did return, but she was where she wanted to be . . . free from her father and the plans he had for her.

I knew there was much more to this story, but the camera and pictures weren’t going to help me. I needed to call Barb and her psychic friend and arrange to have a seance.

This just wasn’t going to be a seance. It was to be a whole event with food and snacks and since it was close to Halloween costumes and decorations and oh my goodness! I needed to call in some other people to make my home into a haunted house set with props and creepy stuff to freak others out . . . Yes, it was way over the top!

The Night Of The Seance Was Especially Creepy — We Even Got Rain . . .

I had no idea a storm was brewing . . . I do know whenever I call for a seance anything can happen . . . And I should be prepared for anything . . . but, of course, I’m not . . . And that creepy figure that was lurking in front of my house was getting on my nerves . . . He would move and stand in the shadows across the street . . . then in the middle of the street then off to the right, then the left . . . as my guests were arriving I didn’t see him . . . but I could sense he was lurking in the shadows . . . somewhere . . .

I was tempted to call off the seance and just have a Halloween party and read Tarot cards . . . Food and beverages would be served and everyone could tell their creepy tales and have quite a wonderful time . . . But . . . I didn’t want to disappoint Barb and her psychic friend . . .

I have to admit that having a seance in my house is quite off-putting. Everyone gets to leave . . . and I’m still here . . . with whatever residue or spiritual energy that could be lingering . . . and I’ve had experiences that more is revealed after everyone is gone . . . and I’m confronted with the truth of what had happened so many years ago . . . I did have a feeling this was going to happen and it had something to do with that figure lurking outside.

The more I thought about it, I decided to invite that lurking whatever in to join us . . . I thought it would be better to face him with the others than alone after everyone was gone . . . Yes, I’m a scardy cat!

We did the smudging and the prayers all in preparation for inviting him in . . . But . . . we were far from prepared . . .


We knew the moment he stepped foot on the steps leading up to the porch . . . It was a cold followed by a hot blast of air that took your breath away and knocked you off your feet. My goodness, the minute you got back on your feet, you were knocked down again. We decided to stay down.

I was scared but also annoyed that an entity would be invited into my house and be so rude. I had a mind to throw him out . . . but I knew I would have been the only one thrown about . . . I was not in control of the situation. I knew we were in serious trouble.

The entity may have been the girl’s father or some remnant of his past demonic associations. That’s the problem with this area is that it was rife with demonic practices. Some tunnels run through the town and into many of the grand mansions on the hill where I live. I’ve heard and seen robed figures chanting as they walked down the street in front of my house . . . It is truly unnerving, but a practice that was quite common during the early 1900s. I remember the first time I heard it and looked out. I was quite surprised by what I saw and was pleased that I was aware of the possibility before I actually experienced it.

There was no doubt what we were dealing with and after it had its fun with us, it did leave and we did have our dinner and our snacks and our seance.

We found that the young girl in her late teens ran away to a convent someplace safe. I’m not quite sure whether she stayed at the convent until her death or she left briefly and then returned. It was unclear and I didn’t want to belabor the point. It was good that what she endured at the hand of her father and the other satanic followers was over once she left.




I’m Still A Bit Creeped Out By The Experience

Barb and the others haven’t invited me to go ghost hunting with them or back to the antique mall . . . Or even for coffee at our favorite spot . . . I didn’t receive an invitation to Barb’s Halloween Party . . . It may take a while for everyone to get over the experience . . . I guess I don’t want to talk about it . . . I do watch for the lurking demon . . . I do wonder if he’s bothering any of the others . . . Could be the reason no one wants me around . . . 

I do thank you for stopping by! I hope you enjoyed this personal experience . . . Leave me a comment if you’ve experienced something similar.


Hazel’s Antique Telephone

As you read Hazel’s Real Ghost Story, you may wonder as I did of how much is real and how much imagined …

I have a friend who told me when she was a child how she would rock her grandfather’s rocking chair and have long conversations with him.

She was very aware of her own imagination at play. This was abruptly brought to a close by her mother who was afraid that her daughter could invite the ghost of the grandfather . . . or something else.

This was running through my mind when I met Hazel and heard her account of the antique telephone …

You decide for yourself.

Hazel had an old antique telephone she found at an estate sale.

She set it on her grandmother’s antique desk.  It was a novelty item– it was not plugged in. Hazel felt closer to her grandmother and loved ones who had passed. As she sat at her grandmother’s desk, she imagined the letters her grandmother penned at that writing desk and the calls that would come in. An invitation to tea? Family coming for a visit? Birth announcements? Wedding announcements? It was a lovely way Hazel liked to pass the time.

She remembered the days of party lines and by counting the number of rings would indicate that the call was for you or for someone else.

That thought just entered her mind when she heard the old telephone chirp out two short and one long ring. It did it several more times before Hazel answered it.

“Hello?” Hazel asked timidly. She felt a bit awed by answering the old telephone that wasn’t plugged in.

“Is that you?” came from the antique instrument.

“This is Hazel.”

“Oh, wrong number.”

Was this a call from heaven? Hazel wondered. She thought about this. Grandma was that you? Was it for someone who owned the telephone?

The more she thought about it, the more she thought the antique telephone was connected to the previous owner. She wondered how she could make it hers and receive messages from her loved ones.

Was Hazel asking for trouble?

She got out a smudge stick, lit it and allowed the smoke to envelope the antique telephone and antique desk.

“This telephone and desk are one,” she said. “The desk belonged to my grandmother and now the telephone belongs to her, too.”

Hazel thought a moment and added others thoughts she had to this ceremony she was conducting.

“I will receive messages on this telephone from my grandmother and loved ones who have passed. This is my direct link to them, just as in the days when they were here on this earthly plane of existence. I love you all and miss you.”

Hazel allowed the smudge stick to burn as she placed it in a bowl on a trivet and meditated while sitting at the old antique writing desk.

The telephone interrupted her meditation with one long and two short rings.  Hazel thought that must be for me, since the two short and one long was for someone else. She answered it by saying, “Hello, this is Hazel.”

There was laughter on the other end of the line.

“Who is this?” she asked.

More laughter.

Hazel wondered if it was children playing a prank as in the old days. “Do you have Prince Albert in a can? Well, let him out!” Referring to the pipe tobacco.

That thought brought a smile to her lips as she hung up the telephone.

Hazel truly thought she had made a connection with the beyond. She just hadn’t connected to her loved ones.

A few days passed and the antique telephone remained silent.

She thought that since it was an old telephone, maybe an old number would reach her loved ones. She got out an old address book that belonged to her mother and looked at the list of names and numbers. Some numbers were scratched out and replaced with newer ones. She found one for her grandmother who had died in the 1960’s and using the rotary dial she placed her call with great anticipation. She also wondered how much this call was going to cost, but since the antique telephone wasn’t plugged in, she dismissed the thought as mere foolishness.

She heard ringing through the instrument. She was making a connection, if only someone would answer. It just kept ringing. She tried another number. The old number that belonged to her parents. She got a message of “That number is no longer in service.”

Hazel wondered how far back she had to go in order to connect with her loved ones. With determination she dialed number after number.

Exhausted from her efforts, she went into the kitchen to make dinner and think about this some more. She was truly obsessed with making a connection. She got out an old recipe book that belonged to her grandmother and even made the raisin oatmeal cookies she always had in her cookie jar. Hazel even brought down the old cookie jar from the high shelf above the refrigerator.

She almost fell off the step ladder when she heard the antique telephone peal out three short rings. She set the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator, stepped down to the kitchen floor and dashed to the telephone.

“Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

“Stop! Just stop what you’re doing!” and the line went dead.

Hazel was delighted! She had no intention of stopping. She made a connection!

It happened when Hazel was drinking tea and eating raisin oatmeal cookies around 2 in the afternoon. The antique telephone would chirp out three short rings. Hazel would answer it and receive instructions. She would follow them to the letter from cleaning out cupboards to running errands. She was also instructed to go to a particular thrift shop to buy what her grandmother referred to as “house dresses.”

Everyday Hazel would have her tea and raisin oatmeal cookies at 2 P.M. anticipating her telephone message. She was obsessed and some believe possessed. Her care provider never heard the antique telephone ring, but she would see Hazel run to answer it and bake more cookies or do something in another room or even get out in her car. Sometimes she would take a nap.

Whatever possessed Hazel, didn’t seem dangerous to her family, just odd. The care provider thought differently. She did file a report and the family dismissed her and hired someone new.

Hazel seems happy enough with a new care provider, her tea and raisin oatmeal cookies and telephone messages.

Is this really happening? Is it all in Hazel’s mind? Is the antique telephone haunted? These are all questions I can’t answer, but I believe something is going on with Hazel and that old antique telephone.

Please leave me a comment.

Thanks for stopping by!


Reading Antiques Before Purchase

Psychometry is the ability to read objects.

All of us have this ability to a degree.  We get vibrations that are either good or bad.  We just need to spend some time with an object and see if we receive any reaction to it.  It may make you feel happy, sad, or any feeling along the spectrum.

It is no different from walking into a room and instantly feeling uncomfortable. Or when meeting someone for the first time — you do get vibrations . . . a sense of whether you want to get to know the person or want to move on . . . and sometimes run!

I noticed a woman at my favorite antique mall put on gloves before handling jewelry. 

Some people think its to show respect to the jewelry and the prospective buyer.   In her case, she gets very emotional when handling some jewelry pieces with her bare hands.  In one case, there was an emerald ring with two small diamond baguettes on each side of the emerald. It was a pretty ring and just about everyone interested in jewelry wanted to see it, but after handling it, trying it on and studying it, each woman passed.

I was curious.

I asked to see the ring.  I held it for a few seconds.  I didn’t want to try it on.  Actually, I felt something bad would happen to me if I did try it on.  Obviously, it wasn’t right for me, but what about the other women.  I sought them out and asked them what they felt when they handled and put on the emerald ring.

Julie wanted to know what I felt before telling me her story.  The other women were interested to hear what I had to say, which was helpful — I didn’t have to run after them, they were all eager to tell their reactions.

I was brief.  I explained how I felt sad just handling the ring.  I knew trying it on was the next logical step in the process, but I became frightened that if I did put it on, something awful was going to happen to me.  I didn’t get anything specific just a warning not to put it on my finger.  It was almost as though I heard a voice saying, “You’ll be sorry if you put it on.” It felt as though the ring spoke those words.  I wasn’t going to question it or tempt fate.  I accepted the fact that the ring was not for me.

Julie said she, too, felt sad.  The other women agreed.  When Julie put it on, she knew it was a “promise ring,” but it was a promise that wasn’t kept.

“I don’t know why I know that,” Julie said, “I just know it to be true.  I was going to buy it for my daughter, but I knew it would bring nothing but trouble to her.”

Gloria spoke up next.  “I got a picture in my mind of a young girl who was gloating about the ring and who gave it to her and what it meant.  She was bragging that Phillip was her intended and the girl she was talking to would end up alone with a house full of cats for companionship.”

Gloria knew she wanted nothing to do with the ring and the previous owner.  “She was just too cruel in her manner and attitude.”

Pat was nodding the whole time Gloria was talking.  “I got the same mean spirited picture in my mind, but when I put it on, I got the image of this woman being hit by a car when she left the place where she was showing it off to the other woman.”

Connie was next to speak up.  “I felt strong and entitled when I picked up the ring.  When I put it on, I felt as though it would squeeze the life out of me.  I got scared and couldn’t wait to get away from it.”

Elizabeth, the woman who was showing the jewelry walked by our little group.  I stopped her and asked about the emerald ring.

“We’ve had it for quite some time.  I show it several times a day, but no one wants to buy it.  We’ve marked the price down, too.  I doubt we’ll be able to give it away.”

I asked her how she felt when she handled it.  She paused for quite some time before answering. “The first time I held the ring I felt sad.  There were other times I would feel revengeful, like I wanted to prove something to someone.  The last time I became so angry when the person I was showing it to didn’t buy it.  I almost shouted at the woman, telling her she was wasting my time and didn’t know a good ring if it fell in her lap.”

Elizabeth was disturbed by her mood changes/ That was when she started wearing gloves before handling jewelry.

Is it possible to read antiques?

Yes, definitely.  You read the account of five women who handled the same ring.  Did we get a clear reading?  I believe it was close enough.  Do we know the truth about the ring and who brought it in to sell it?

Yes, as a matter of fact.  Elizabeth went to look up the information about the ring. She called the owner who agreed to come to the antique mall and meet with us.

Cindy seemed anxious.  She was curious about our reaction to the ring and also wanted to disclose what she could about the ring.

“This ring was passed down in my family.  It seemed whoever came in possession of the ring had bad luck in love.  It’s like the ring is cursed.”

When Cindy inherited the ring, she immediately wanted it out of her house.  She brought it to the antique mall to sell along with other items.  As Cindy explained it, “My great-aunt Sue was killed in her late twenties.  She was coming out of a small tea room when she was hit by an automobile.  She was wearing the emerald ring at the time of the accident.  Family legend has it that the ring was a “promise ring” from a wealthy businessman by the name of Phillip.  At the time he was engaged to someone else, but he was going to break it off with the other woman and marry Aunt Sue.  Obviously, that didn’t happen.”

She went on to explain how Sue’s parents got divorced shortly after Sue’s death.  Then the ring was passed to the eldest niece who’s husband was killed in a hunting accident.  There was one tragedy after another.  Either the niece or her boyfriend or fiancée lost their life or the relationship went sour.  Once the ring was passed to another, it was like a curse that she would not find happiness.

Cindy didn’t want to chance it.  She had been married for 37 years and her four daughters were each engaged.  Cindy didn’t want the curse to touch her family.

Well, there’s the story.

Curse or coincidence?

Is there something to a self-fulfilled prophecy associated with knowing the history of the ring and the owner’s fate that these relatives put into motion?

Or was there really a curse placed upon the ring by “Aunt Sue” as she was dying from her injuries — or was she killed instantly — that we don’t know . . . but I do believe it may have something to do with “Aunt Sue’s state of mind prior to the accident.

I do wonder if the “curse” applied only to Cindy’s family or if it would be passed on to the new owner. It does seem logical that it would — especially because it was centered around the ring — and all the women who handled it and tried it on felt it . . . 

I don’t believe it was an actual “curse” placed upon the ring . . . unless “Aunt Sue” put one on it — or perhaps it was just her negative energy that lingers.

I’m curious about cleansing it and perhaps contacting “Aunt Sue” in a seance to learn more about the woman.

I can only imagine she wasn’t too kind — a bit selfish perhaps . . . and with her bitterness of dying young and not attaining marriage is delighted by the chaos she has created within her own family.

I honestly can’t imagine gaining any pleasure from that . . . Perhaps she did place a “curse” upon the ring. And by not knowing the “curse” it may be next to impossible to reverse it.

I don’t know. I would, however, like to hear your thoughts on the subject of “Aunt Sue” and psychometry. Please leave me a comment below.

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Have You Heard Of The Dybbuk Box?

Yeah . . . That box, sold at auction on eBay and was said to be haunted.

Wasn’t there a book and a film about that creepy old thing?

It’s a wine cabinet — a dybbuk box and also spelled “dibbux”. It’s said to be haunted by a dybbuk.

That makes sense for a dybbuk to live in a dybbuk box.

So . . . what’s the big deal?

This real ghost story begins with Kevin Mannis. In 2004, Mannis put The Dybbuk Box up for auction on eBay.

He’s a writer and at the time of the eBay auction owned a small antiques and furniture refinishing business in Portland, Oregon. In 2001, Mannis bought the Dybbuk Box at an estate sale. The box belonged to a Holocaust survivor of Polish decent by the name of Havela. She escaped to Spain prior to immigrating to the United States . . . bringing the box with her.

According to Mannis, Havela purposely sealed a dybbuk inside the box.  Evidently she and her friends were performing a séance when a dybbuk contacted her.

Jewish folklore claims a dybbuk is a restless, malicious spirit believed to be able to haunt and even possess the living.

Now that we have some background on the dybbuk and his box . . . we return to Mannis. This is what he found when he opened the box:

  • 2 pennies dated in the 1920’s
  • a lock of blonde hair bound with a cord
  • a lock of dark brown hair bound with a cord
  • a small statue engraved with the Hebrew word “Shalom”
  • one dried rose bud
  • a single candle holder with four octopus-shaped legs
  • a small golden wine goblet.

These items, according to Jewish folklore, are for exorcising demons.

That’s all fine and good . . . yet it appears the Dybbuk wasn’t exorcised. He was still in the box and when Mannis opened it . . . 

He had horrible nightmares involving an old hag.

Even guests in Mannis’s home experienced these nightmares, too.

So, what did he do?

He gave the box to his mother. Oh good grief!!! And, the same day he gave her that stinky old Dybbuk Box she suffered a stroke. I said “stinky old Dybbuk Box” because it did have an aroma about it of a cross between cat urine and jasmine flowers.

The current owner of this Dybbuk Box is Jason Haxton, Director of the Museum of Osteopathic Medicine in Kirksville, Missouri.

Haxton had the winning bid at the eBay auction, thus buying the Dybbuk Box from Mannis.

Jason Haxton wrote The Dibbuk Box and published it in November of 2011.

He developed some strange health problems including hives, coughing up blood and “head-to-toe welts”.

While he had the box in his office, light bulbs burst.

Haxton removed the box from the museum and locked it in the back of his truck.  He parked it at his house and that night experienced the same nightmares of a hag-like woman as other previous owners.

He contacted Rabbis to seal the dybbuk back in the box after he and his son noticed a black mass shaped like a flame in the room with them.

Currently, Haxton has the freshly resealed Dybbuk Box hidden in an undisclosed location.

Reminds me of a Genie in a Bottle or Aladdin’s Lamp.

Just in case you come across a dybbuk box, this one has the Shema carved into the side of it and the box  measures 12.5″ x 7.5″ x 16.25″

Although this tale creeps me out, I can say that it is an attractive box . . . one I could see myself buying in an estate sale . . . but in light of all this . . . I would have to take a pass. I don’t like inviting danger into my life unnecessarily.

Oh yes, one more point . . . This was quite popular up until 2014 . . . so why am I writing about it?

I know this particular Dybbuk Box is now sealed in an undisclosed location . . . but do you honestly believe that there is only one Dybbuk . . . or is it merely an urban legend . . . Maybe those owners got caught up in the hysteria of the legend . . .

Or . . . there are Dybbuk among us . . . hidden in some old antique cabinet . . . an armoire perhaps . . . or a lovely vase . . . just waiting . . . for . . . you . . . to discover it . . . and . . . set it free . . .

Thanks for stopping by!