Who you gonna call?

WARNING: This post is looong!

Yesterday there was this post on Apartment Therapy and it got me thinking.

I am a believer in ghosts and the paranormal because I've seen things, I've heard things. Even if I hadn't had some experiences I've had I don't think I could be like some of the folks who commented and just say "No, ghosts don't exist". It just seems awfully closed minded.

It just makes sense to me that our energy doesn't just die with us, it's gotta go somewhere right?

Some of the most straight-laced people I know have had experiences with the paranormal. My Sister in law went to college at Flagler College in St. Augustine, FL. St. Augustine is reportedly one of the most haunted towns in the country and Flagler College has a reputation for being VERY haunted. My SIL told me that one time, late at night she was walking down a hallway at school and she felt like she was being followed, she turned around and saw a man who she described as being "not from this time" behind her. She said he was in an old fashioned suit. When she did a double take he was gone. Now you don't know her but my SIL is one of the most no nonsense people I know. If she says she saw this, she did.


My Father is a salt of the earth kinda guy. He's a sailor and currently a Merchant Marine working on oil rigs. He wrote psychic, ghosts, tarot cards off as hogwash until he had an encounter about two years ago.

My Dad and my Step-Mom leased a house out in the boonies of Florida for my Step-Mom's catering business. Sometimes they stayed overnight there because it was so far from their house. One night my Dad turned down all the lights, locked all the doors and went to bed. In the middle of the night he got up to use the bathroom and he heard voices downstairs. He went down the stairs and as he got to the very first landing the voices stopped and all the lights were on. This happened two more times that night.

My Step-Mom would feel little hands on the backs of her legs whenever she baked cookies or treats. It got to the point where she would leave a plate out overnight and when she came back they were gone.

They looked into the history of the house and it turns out that at one point it was on a railroad line and during the Tuberculosis outbreak it was turned into a 'resting hospital' which just meant this is where people stayed until they succumbed to the illness.

When I lived in Seattle before, as a teen, My Mother and I moved into a house on North Hill in Des Moines, WA. I didn't find out until years later that North Hill was, and yes I AM aware of how cliche this sounds, an Indian Burial Ground. Turns out Ann and Leslie Rule lived two streets away from where my house was. Leslie wrote about it in one of her books. Apparently the hill itself is haunted, I guess people see demon dogs and white figures. I never saw that but I did see some stuff...

We were the third owners of the house my Mom bought. It was a three bedroom Rambler with one of the bathrooms on the far end away from the bedrooms. One night I got up to use the bathroom and get a drink of water. I went to the far away bathroom because it was mine, I had claimed it and I only used that one.
So, I was in the kitchen drinking the water and I saw the shadow of man walking across the kitchen floor. Without going into explanation of how the house was laid out and why what I saw was impossible, you're just going to have to trust me that this was impossible. There is no way something could've made the shadow I saw without walking right in front of me.

The guest bedroom in that house was always cold, I never went in it. Something about it was off. Lot's of people commented on that room and how weird it felt.

One afternoon I was in the living room doing homework and I looked up and there was, what I can only describe as a cloud, in front of me. It just drifted across the living room and dissipated.

and lastly one morning I got up and found my Mom in the kitchen. She told me she had been up since 4am. She had been asleep and something woke her. She felt a weight on top of her chest and then pounding. She said she tried to scream but couldn't. A few weeks later a Death Certificate came in the mail for the original owner's wife. She had died of a heart attack. My Mom thinks what she felt that night was what the woman must of felt the night she died. Paramedics beating on her chest.


Bear with me, I'm just about halfway through...More tomorrow and please I'd love to hear why you believe or why you DON'T believe!