Seeing is Believing?
So, if I saw a ghost, does that mean I have to believe in them?
I saw a special the other night on a mad-crazy, supa haunted house, much-much more haunted than the "typical" haunted house. This house had ghosts, demons, evil people-chasing mists, etc.
I've always watched these things with equal amounts of skepticism and foreboding, and that's only after I lost the battle for the remote.
People, why, but why would I want to believe in such things? I suppose I lack the masochistic recessive gene that allows its owner to achieve thrill through terror.
And yet, I'm in real estate.
Working at a well-connected real estate firm (as I did a few years ago) does have its perks. Like... when a foreclosure comes on the market, we kinda have first dibs.
It doesn't matter how spooky a house may look, the words "instant equity" can be absolutely blinding. So when I saw a ranch over a partial basement that was so grown over with vegetation that I could barely access the front door, I was elated.
There were holes in the walls, there were toilets and skylights in the yard, and it had been raining, sleeting, snowing, and all-purpose weathering into the middle of the Living Room. Perfect.
We spent over sixty grand. It took six months. I love this house. The inside is custom me. This was no longer spec, we had to move in.
But...we heard things about this house while we were fixing it up. Apparently, the man who lived here had left in a fit of rage because there was a warrant out for his arrest. By the time we acquired the house, he was in state prison. We don't know what the guy did, but there's plenty of speculation.
Suffice it to say that when we were ripping out cabinets and Polaroids splashed out onto the floor, I was afraid to turn them over. ...But I had to. Kids. All kids. Dressed kids, thank God. Kids playing.
As I said, we ended up moving in. I had worked too hard, put up with too many subs - who called me either "Legs" or "Hard-ass," typically the former unless we'd done any negotiating that day - and basically, I just loved what I'd done with the place, so here we are, here we stay.
Miss Priss was not thrilled. We had come from a rather large four bedroom two-story in Buford, and she had been spoiled. She had two rooms. One was a typical bedroom, and one was a playroom with toys and an indoor playset with a slide.
She only had one room now, and thus started the histrionics over the move. She couldn't sleep. She had bad dreams.
So, we made a dream-catcher together. Not that I believe or don't believe, but I believe in psychology, therefore I believed that if she believed, it might help.
There was just one episode that can't be explained away.
It was late for her, close to eleven, so she had been asleep for a couple of hours. In fact, we were getting ready for lights out over in the Master abode as well, when she came tearing into the room absolutely terrified.
"Mommy! Mommy! Someone was standing over my bed! They were shaking my bed! It was shaking! It was! There was somebody there!"
Well, I have to try to explain it away, right? Mommy can't freak. [Thou shalt not freak is in the rulebook just under Thou shalt not get sick, right?] So I intone, "Honey, it was just one of those dreams that seems really real. But daddy will check the doors and windows just in case."
Of course, she stayed with me that night, and amazingly, that was the end of it. No more dreams, no more bed-shaking.
I could have almost written the whole thing off, were it not for what I saw a few weeks later.
I got up in the middle of the night to do that annoying piddling thing that women do - use the restroom, take some aspirin, check the thermostat - and I'm, btw, incredibly talented in that I can do these things with minimal lighting.
Tasks accomplished, I made it back to bed. I wasn't yet fully reclined when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
I sat right back up and jerked my head toward the door of my room. And I saw her. As plain and obvious as I've ever seen anything in my life, I saw a little girl walk all the way across my bedroom from one end to the other.
She never looked at me. She looked straight ahead the whole time.
Of course, there are no words to describe my state of mind at that moment. No words. Sorry. Wait, I have one! Denial!
But see, denial is difficult to substantiate given the fact that I could describe the girl down to the last detail. (She looked about nine, had straight brown hair, was a bit pale...)
So, yes, my spooked ass was ready to consider moving the next day, but how to bring this up to the husband...
Well, I danced around it, and finally told him what happened and asked him if there was any way that he could believe it. (I braced myself for skeptical condescension.)
"Yeah, I saw one too," he said. Before I could flay him for his sarcasm, he continued, and given the nervous presentation, it became evident that he was quite sincere, "In the last house. I saw her often. A little girl. The last time I saw her, she bit me on my hand..."
My mouth fell open, as even after my sighting, I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but he continued, "I even had bite marks the next day."
Two things came out of my mouth simultaneously, "WHY didn't you tell me??" and "...the LAST house?"
"The last house?"
Great. So much for moving.
We're still here. We don't bring it up anymore. I can't speak for the rest of them, but I haven't had a sighting in three years...
posted by Key on
08:07 PM
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Comments (10)
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Thunder And Roses links with:
I wanna believe
Oh, stigmatized property truly sucks. My house in Memphis had a man who would waft through the great room out of the corner of your eye. Newbuild, but atop an Indian burial mound. This guy was in white man attire, however. Must have been the guy who brought the blankets slathered in smallpox.
That's some freaky shit. If you want my metaphysical opinion, it's your husband that's haunted, not your house. Since the spirit was able to fully manifest in his presence, real enough to chomp on him, he must be the epicenter of the parapsychological disturbance.
Maybe if you sold him and moved...?
I am an inbred assholio, but I'm going with Queenie here.
Key, it's called hysteria.
Once your subcouncious accepts the fact as true or even possible then it will start playing tricks on you, especially in the middle of the night when you are half awake.
In any case, we now keep dogs, three of them and a 45 in the night stand. The Dogs parapsychologocal antenna is much better than ours. Fuck a bunch o ghosts!
Okay guys, I'm a little late to the party. I'm sitting here in the dark playing on the computer and you just freaked me the sh*t out. Geez. The overactive imagination is already in hyper drive...
I do believe in the spirit world, however I do not think that sightings, moving items, etc. are necessarily evil in nature. My wife and I both saw/sensed something in one house we inhabited. I actually felt protected/safe because of it!?!
"Who ya' going call?"
Holy cripes! Now I can't get the hair on my arms to lay back down!!!!!
Too bad he didn't say anything about it before you moved, or you could have done something about it. It's pretty simple, really, but too late now.
Just remember, if you ever decide to move into another house, after you have moved everything out of this house, scatter salt over the floor of the kitchen. Take a new broom (must be new), and sweep the floor, sweeping all of the salt and other dirt into a corner. Then leave the broom standing in the corner with the dirt.
Because it's a new broom, the entity will believe you are coming back to retrieve it and will stay with it. It will be there for the new tennants.
Hey, don't scoff. It works.
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