I was shocked when Molly and Kevin came into the coffee shop and sat down across from me.
I was having my coffee and a blueberry muffin while working on my laptop. My ghost hunting friends were busy doing other things and we hadn’t planned to meet at the coffee house. I thought this would be a good time to catch up on my websites.
Molly and Kevin came to my table, sat down and began talking. No preamble of any kind. It was a bit unnerving for me to have a young couple sit down and begin talking as though they knew me … and I them.
It was as though I should have know they spent the weekend in San Francisco and took a tour of Alcatraz and the prison.
Kevin was very precise about mentioning the prison hospital. In particular, the pharmacy. I immediately felt a cold chill run down my spine. There was something in his eyes and demeanor that told me the impact of that tour disturbed him.
I was immediately drawn into what Kevin had to say. I glanced at his wife Molly who was quietly sipping her coffee.
Very quietly, Kevin said, “I was touched by something in that room.”
I turned to Molly, who remained quiet.
Although there were many on the tour, Kevin insists he wasn’t the only one who felt something. Several cried out, announcing that they had been stabbed. The room became freezing. Many ran for the exists, insisting that some sort of riot was about to take place. They felt an urgency to escape.
Cell Block D, solitary confinement, was also a place where people felt uncomfortable. There was a sense of hopelessness that disturbed many.
They heard scuffling of feet throughout the prison, but discounted it, thinking it could be other tourists.
There was a paranormal investigation group there who were given permission to use their equipment to measure room temperature and set up voice recorders and cameras. Some tried to make contact with entities. Some recorded EVPs, but there were no ghostly apparitions caught on their video cameras. This I found out from other ghost hunters who networked with other ghost hunters to find out who had visited Alcatraz that weekend.
Molly finally spoke, “I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It wasn’t of this world.”
I waited for her to explain, but she said nothing more. I wanted to question her, but I knew she would speak when she wanted to share without any prompting from me.
Quite frankly, I was feeling creeped out by the couple sitting with me. I wanted to bolt out of there.
Suddenly a college student working on her lapgop shouted, “Stop touching me!” She was sitting near the back wall, quite a distance from us. It was impossible for someone to be behind her, but she looked behind her anyway and waved her hands above her head. She got up and left the coffee shop with all eyes following her out. Molly’s eyes followed something invisible to the rest of us walking out the door, following the college student.
It became clear to me that something followed Molly and Kevin from Alcatraz.
Both Kevin and Molly became much more animated and spoke about their trip to San Francisco, but said nothing more about Alcatraz. Whatever possessed them, evidently released them.
I was worried about the college student who just left. I hadn’t seen her before or since.
I did ask the barista about her, if he remembered her. He said she was in a few times before her outburst that morning. The few times he walked by her, she would close her laptop so he couldn’t see what she was looking at, then she started sitting with her back to the wall.
I inquired if she ever came in with friends. The barista couldn’t remember anyone ever sitting with her. She spoke to no one and ordered regular coffee, black.
A few days later, couple of college students came forward to join the barista and me. “Shelley’s her name,” one said. “She was in my abnormal psych class.”
“Was?” I inquired.
“I haven’t seen her since she lost it here that morning.”
“She was weird,” volunteered her companion.
“Weird in what way?” I asked.
He shrugged and said, “Just weird.”
“She was interested in serial killers. Always wanting to know what made them behave as they did. She studied them constantly. That’s probably what she researched here each morning with her coffee.”
It seemed to fit that her interest in murderers and the entity that followed Molly and Kevin from Alcatraz could hook up.
I didn’t say anything to the barista or the young couple about what I was thinking.
I left the coffee shop and the young couple followed me to my car.
“I did see her wandering around campus a few days ago, muttering to herself,” he volunteered. “She looked awful, like she hadn’t showered or washed her hair or changed her clothes.”
The only name I had to go by was Shelley. I tried locating her with the help of friends.
I knew she needed professional help.
It’s unfortunate that there are entities among us that are waiting for a perfect prey to possess. They seem to hitchhike with those who don’t protect themselves with a white light. They can also get into objects and hide out in them. That’s why everyone has to cleanse everything they purchase before bringing it into their house or wherever they’re staying.
A couple of years later, I heard about Shelley. She frequented the mental ward of the hospital. She knew how to play the system and was usually released after a week. She would show up there monthly. Then, she stopped coming in. Many speculated she finally succeeded in committing suicide, but there were no police reports.
Upon further investigation, my friends told me she left the area. They contacted others to see if she was in a mental ward of a hospital, but it seems she succeeded in disappearing.
I haven’t seen Molly or Kevin for years. I don’t know if they’re avoiding me or if the entity is back with them and tormenting them when Shelley seeks help. Or there could be more than one entity.
I have no desire to visit Alcatraz. There have been many reports that the place is haunted and there are many people who have had scary experiences there.
I do hope you enjoyed this Real Ghost Story and will tell your friends and family about TwoCansOnAString.com
If you’ve been to Alcatraz and have a true paranormal story to tell, please leave me a comment or email me email@example.com
Thanks for stopping by!
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.
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!
To be honest with you, I try not to give demons much thought.
Yes, I have seen demons and I have felt them. I’ve had to remove them from my house and antiques.
I thought with the movies and some YouTube videos, people put too much emphasis on demons. They could be ghosts or poltergeists. Now, those are evil. The more research I’ve done, the more I’m believing there could be something to demons and I shouldn’t dismiss them.
Linda is an old friend who confided in me one day that there was a demon in her house.
“It’s the strangest thing,” she said. “I was in bed, about to go to sleep when I heard deep breathing at the foot of my bed. Without warning I felt a weight on top of me and it felt like a vacuum cleaner hose was stuck in my mouth sucking all the air out of me.”
She paused, watching my reaction.
“I heard that the name of Jesus chases demons away, so I chanted Jesus, Jesus, Jesus in my mind. The sucking stopped and the weight was off of me. I then heard footsteps in the hallway outside my bedroom door. I whispered ‘Jesus help me’ and the pacing stopped.”
Thinking it was over, Linda did drift off to sleep only to be awakened by a non-human growl at the side of her bed. She froze. Then screamed, “Jesus help me!”
She jumped out of bed and turned on the light. Within a second of it turning on, the light bulb blew.
“In the name of Jesus get out of my house!” Linda exclaimed as calmly and forcefully as she could.
She grabbed a pillow and a blanket and went to sleep on the couch in the living room. She’d change the light bulb in the morning. She had enough of whatever it was in her bedroom.
Linda knew it was evil. She wasn’t prepared for what she saw next.
“I have a mirror behind the couch,” she explained. “I expected to see my disheveled reflection, but instead, I saw a small child wearing an old fashioned school uniform. I looked behind me, but there was nothing there. I looked back in the mirror and there she was. It was almost like she was waiting for me to invite her to sit down.”
“As I observed this young child in her school uniform, I kept thinking about that old scary story of the girl in the red cape.”
For those of you not familiar with the story, there was a girl babysitting a five or six year old little girl. Her mother told the babysitter that if her daughter wanted ice cream a little later on, it was in the freezer down in the basement.
The little girl did ask for ice cream and the babysitter went down in the basement for it. She saw out the basement window a little girl in a red cape. It was still light out, but the babysitter thought it strange for a young child to be outside. She got the ice cream and went in the kitchen to scoop it into a bowl.
The little girl wanted some chocolate sprinkles on it. Those were also down in the basement in a cupboard above the freezer. The babysitter went back in the basement, looked out the window and saw the same little girl in the red cape. She was wondering if it was a friend of the girl she was babysitting.
While the little girl was eating her ice cream, the babysitter asked the little girl about school and if she had any friends in the neighborhood. It seemed there were no other children her age who lived nearby, but she was very eager to tell her about her ballet lessons and all the wonderful girls that were in her class.
By 8:00 the babysitter helped the little girl into her pajamas and into bed. She read her a story and the little girl fell asleep before the end.
The babysitter turned out the light in the little girl’s room and went into the living room to wait for the parents to return.
When the parents arrived, the mother went to check on her daughter and found her dead. The police were called and the babysitter was the prime suspect. She remembered the little girl outside the basement window in the red cape.
The mother said, “There are no windows in the basement, just mirrors.”
I agreed with Linda it was a creepy story, but did she really believe the child she saw in the mirror would be the evil she felt in her bedroom?
Yes, she did. No angelic face was going to fool her.
She did tell the entity in the mirror to leave her alone, to get out of her house. She did get a priest to bless her house and she regularly burns sage to cleanse it. She also got rid of the mirror above her couch and sold her bedroom furniture and bought new.
Some people go to extremes, but they do what they believe is necessary.
I guess the moral of this story is to realize that demons are real and whether you believe in them or not, don’t trust anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.
Well, I gave you two Real Ghost/Demon Stories rolled into one!! I seriously get creeped out about the girl in the red cape — that’s one of those stories that has stuck with me for a very long time. And, it is one I tell others . . . I don’t want to be the only one with creepy stuff bouncing around in my mind.
Thanks for stopping by!!
I Love Vintage Photographs
I wrote about this on my TwoCansOnAString.com website today.
I usually don’t like repeating links, but I thought it appropriate to share here. I’m sure you have similar photographs in your family albums with the “shadow” of the photographer.
I’m sure this is very common throughout the world . . . or maybe just North America . . . but much depends upon how many of these have been discarded or the shadow section cut off . . . it would be interesting to know.
Although there is a logical explanation . . . it brings up thoughts of “shadow people” or something more sinister.
We are more curious of the “unseen” than the seen. We’re always looking for clues in photographs of what escapes our everyday observations. Too often we don’t see what is right before our eyes.
And then there are the sounds. We put a label on them . . . oh, that’s the neighbor or the heat turned on . . . or its the wind . . .
It’s only when things are persistent that we turn to the paranormal for an explanation . . . or something that scares us to the point of running out in the still of the night screaming.
Or huddled up under the covers . . . the blankie shield.
Anyway . . . it does make you wonder a bit . . .
Waving At Ghosts
I may have mentioned this before . . . but I do see ghosts from time to time sitting on their front porch and waving as I go by. They are aware of me . . . just as I am aware of them.
That could be creepy, but it makes me feel good. I just wish I could join them on their porch and have a bit of chat . . . but it doesn’t work that way, unfortunately.
We get snippets of information from ghosts, but most of the time we have to do research . . . or watch them . . . and take note of the various times we see them throughout the town . . . and sometimes we’re so busy with our own thoughts that we miss them completely.
Yes, I’m guilty of that.
Patricia was riding to school with her mother one morning.
She saw the ghosts on the porches waving at her, so she waved back. Her mother asked, “Who are you waving at?”
“Oh that couple sitting on their front porch.”
Concerned, her mother asked, “Do you know them?”
Patricia didn’t tell her mother that they were ghosts . . . nor the fact that there were ghosts at school and ghosts at the market and just about everywhere throughout the town.
This wasn’t a topic her mother wanted to discuss.
She did, however, discourage Patricia from waving at strangers.
This was sad . . . because the ghosts were no longer waiting for her on their front porches.
When Patricia was old enough to drive herself to school, she once again waved at the ghosts sitting on their porches. She also spent more time at the cemetery. This was where she could openly try to communicate with them.
She would do her homework under a tree and ask for ghosts to show themselves to her.
They would stroll by on occasion.
She tried capturing EVPs and even pictures . . . without success.
This is all too true for many of us.
Then, one day she heard about a seance a friend of hers was having . . . since her parents were going to be gone for the weekend.
Well, things didn’t go as planned.
Patricia thought she was joining a small group of other girls . . . but boys were invited or they invited themselves . . . a Ouija board was brought in . . . and there was no psychic to conduct the seance.
With this change of plans, Patricia was tempted to leave . . . but with peer pressure . . . she stayed.
We do have wonderful hind-sight . . . too bad at a young age we allow others to influence our behavior than relying on our own common sense.
The Ouija session started out as usual. Is anyone there? What’s your name? Will Patricia and Josh get married? The usual questions.
Then, things changed when Alex wanted proof that the spirit was real. “Prove yourself,” he said. “Move something in the room.”
Alex continued his taunting until there was a huge swirl of energy knocking furniture over and pictures off the walls.
That got everyone running out the door, including Alex.
But Patricia wasn’t moving. Her friend dialed 9-1-1.
Patricia recovered from her head injury. But there was something different about Patricia . . . she changed in behavior and attire. She was possessed, or so it seemed. She would cock her head to one side as though she was listening to someone.
She knew things . . . the outcome of the homecoming game . . . the drug bust that was being planned the next day. Patricia became very popular. She didn’t have close friendships, everyone was her friend . . . including the drug dealers and the popular crowd. She didn’t care who she hurt or benefited by her information.
Actually, Patricia didn’t have any friends. She became a loner . . . a recluse . . . an outcast in many respects. She kept up with her school work and was a model student . . . and a perfect child as far as her parents were concerned.
It was the internal torment she felt within her mind and body . . . Patricia was gone . . . replaced by a spirit of some sort . . . completely missed by her parents, teachers and former friends . . . they couldn’t see what was right in front of them . . .
No one saw it . . . no one came forward to help . . . and Patricia was helpless to help herself. She had no future . . . no goals or aspirations . . .
It was difficult for Patricia to concentrate on that night with the Ouija Board . . . the supposed seance . . . she couldn’t remember what was asked, but she knew Alex was tormenting and challenging . . . her . . . not the old Patricia, but the new Patricia . . .
Well, you can imagine what went on . . . Alex was the target . . . and Alex was going to suffer . . . and suffer he did. He shattered his kneecap in a freak accident — no longer able to play football or any other sport he enjoyed. There went his college scholarship. He also lost his girlfriend . . . his parents were on him to make something of himself.
Even after Alex died from a drug overdose . . . the entity didn’t leave Patricia . . . there was always a new target . . .
Patricia lived a long life . . . she did go to college . . . she did work in the corporate world . . . she never married . . . she was very successful . . . destroyed her competitors . . . and was finally free when she died at the age of 98.
I have no way of knowing if the entity found a new vessel to possess . . . a nurse, a doctor . . . a paramedic . . . a child visiting someone in the hospital . . . a young mother or father . . . another high school student . . . a new born . . .
And maybe it returned to explore the possibilities . . . when someone played with a Ouija board.