Ghostly Tales

I’ve decided to share some of my “ghostly tales”.  I haven’t had many, but the ones that I have had scared the beejeesus out of me.  I was inspired to do this by the lovely lady over at ThreeRingMom.  Her post (I Do Believe In Spooks, I Do, I Do, I Do) about the spooky things that have been happening in her home struck a chord in me.  So I decided to write down all my little antics.  Now, I’ll be the first to say that I LOVE LOVE LOVE horror movies and haunted houses.  Halloween is my favorite holiday (and not because it’s my birthday).  I love all things creepy and scary.  But I have to admit, I am a big scaredy cat.  On the norm, horror movies don’t bother me, unless of course, they deal with things of the paranormal.  And more often than not, they just creep me out a little.  Only really good horror movies scare the  crap out of me.  I love scary things but I get scared SO easily.  Brad and I were actually discussing my fear of the dark when we were at the theater watching Insidious not long ago.  There’s a part in the movie where the father is practically in pitch black nothingness.  I am SO fearful of the dark that I admitted to him that if I were in that situation for a long enough time and had the means do so, I would be so scared that I would commit suicide because I wouldn’t be able to stand it.  Anyways, back to my stories.  Unfortunately, I have no photos of the things that have happened because I was deathly afraid to take any in fear of what I might see.  So the photos are just the result of my Googling skills.

1.  Dad’s first house in NC.
My dad moves around a lot for his job.  At this time he had just moved to North Carolina.  My sister and I would visit him during the summer and he would take us back home right before school would start.  Everything seemed fine in the house, I never noticed anything the first month we were there.  But as the second month started to dwindle away, that’s when it happened.  My dad works all day and doesn’t usually come home until late in the afternoon.  So my sister and I were by ourselves every day.  Every day at the same time (I believe it was around 12 or 1pm), my sister would sit herself down on the floor in front of the television and get her daily fix of The Saddle Club.  At a random commercial break, she would get up and go into the kitchen to make herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  This was a daily routine.  The bedroom that we shared at the time was across the hall from the kitchen.  With the door open you could barely catch a glimpse of whoever was walking into the kitchen, but you couldn’t get the whole view.  Well, while my sister was watching her show, I would sit on the bed in our room and write.  Every day.  One day I heard what I thought was Emily and glanced up quickly.  I caught just a glimpse of movement going into the kitchen.  I thought it was just my sister, so I went back to writing.  I started wondering what she was doing because I didn’t hear any shuffling around or dishes clanking or opening of jars.  So I got up to look, and there was no one in the kitchen.  I walked in the living room and there was my sister, her butt on a couch cushion in front of the tv.  No peanut butter and jelly sandwich in sight.  I asked her if she had been in the kitchen and she said no, she hadn’t moved.  I forced the incident out of my mind as best as I could for the remainder of our stay because I have a very vivid imagination and I tend to freak myself out a lot.  It was much harder said than done because in the same kitchen I would occasionally hear the door handle shake and rattle like someone was trying to get it to twist open.  I never said anything about this to Dad or Emily.   About a month after I was back home, Dad called me up one night out of blue.  He asked me if I had ever seen or heard anything in his house.  I admitted to him what I had seen and he told me that he would occasionally hear footsteps walking around in the kitchen.

2.  Dad’s Second House In NC.
Dad moved again, but not because of any of the things that had happened in his previous home.  Again, he moved because of work.  In this house, I never saw or heard anything, but Dad was very adamant about not letting us up in the attic.  I always wondered why and he said it was just because he was afraid of one of us getting hurt.  He didn’t like the ladder was a pull down and when you pulled on the string it would unfold very quickly.  You had to catch it as soon as you pulled it down or it would hit you.  Later on, Dad once again called me up, and he admitted to me that the REAL reason he wouldn’t allow us up there was because he would hear people walking around up there.  Not little mousy feet or scurrying or the house settling.  But full on human footsteps.  Also, that same summer, we went to spend the afternoon at his friends house.  When Dad pulled up into their driveway, he shut off the car.  My sister got out and ran around to the back yard, but Dad made me stay in the car for a minute.  Before he would let me get out, he asked me to tell him if I smell cigar smoke at any point in the day.  He wouldn’t tell me why.  Thankfully, I never did, but later on Dad told me that the reason he told me that was because sometimes when people would be sitting in the living room, they would randomnly smell a cigar.  No one in their family smoked cigars.

3.  Mom’s House.
When my mom, my stepfather, and I moved into a house in town, there was a doll in the house.  It was really creepy from age.  It’s face just looked scary.  We were told that it had been the landlord’s mother’s (the previous tenant), and that it had been in that house since she moved in, years and years ago.  Well, my mom wanted to throw it out.  She didn’t like it at all.  It creeped us all out, but I convinced them to keep it.  I figured that since it had been in the house for so long, it might as well stay.  We ended having to keep it hidden behind the couch because before any children in our family would come into our house, they would ask if the doll was in there.  If it was out, they would refuse to come inside.  This story in itself, I honestly don’t know if it revolved around this doll or not.  But it sure as hell seemed like it did.

For a while, nothing happened.  But after the one-two year mark (I honestly don’t remember), things started happening.  When I would be sitting in the living room, this one certain mirror on the wall would shake.  I don’t know how many times I would get up and try to figure out what was causing it.  I couldn’t come up with any plausible reason and nothing else on that wall would shake.  Just that mirror.  That’s the smallest thing.  My bedroom was in the very back of the house.  This part of the house was really old because it had been built years before the front of the house had.  One day I was laying down and trying to take a nap.  As I was laying there, I heard my door creak open.  My first thought was that it was my mom peeking in to check on me, as she occasionally did.  A minute went back and the door continued to creak open.  Realizing it wasn’t my mom, I leaned up on my elbow and looked at the door.  As I did this, the door (which was open about a foot) slammed back shut.  There was no one there.  That freaked me out enough, but on other occurences, I would be doing my makeup or something and in the mirror, I could see my door creaking open.  I started having horrible nightmares about nothing involving the house.  Just really bad nightmares where I would literally wake up in a cold sweat.  Finally, I started sleeping on the couch in the living room.  As the days went by, my mother started getting angry with me and finally MADE me sleep in my room.  After that, I would hear footsteps in the kitchen.  A couple of times, I would be in my room, and I would hear someone call my name from the kitchen.  This didn’t scare me as my mom and stepfather would do this all the time.  They wouldn’t come to my room to get me, but they would stand at the top of the stairs in the kitchen and yell at me.  But when I heard my voice being called these few times, I would get up and no one would be standing there.  I would actually go into the kitchen and no one would be there.  My stepdad wasn’t home and my mom was asleep in her room.  I finally told them about all the stuff that had happened one night at dinner and my stepdad admitted that he had been hearing stuff to.  Some of the same things that I had heard.  We decided that maybe we should get rid of the doll.  So my stepdad took it out one day and did away with it.  Nothing else happened.  To do this day, my mother does not believe us.  She still thinks we were making these stories up because she never heard or saw a thing.

I have a few more stories, but I think I will post those at a later date.  This post is long enough already.  I hope you enjoyed my scary times, cause I sure didn’t!


P.S.  Have any of you had any ghostly encounters?  I’d LOVE LOVE to hear them!  I’m an addict at all things creepy!


~ by lunafleur on May 3, 2011.

2 Responses to “Ghostly Tales”

  1. The Last two pictures I have never seen. Thank you.

    • You’re welcome! I randomly search for things like that all the time, and I found those a while ago. There are lots of sites out there for the paranormal.

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