What Paranormal Means to Me - Part 1

I'm not really sure why I decided to do a blog post on paranormal experiences but it hit me this morning that I've had many strange happenings during my life.  Otherworldly experiences that I'd thought I'd share with everyone.

When I was eleven, my mother moved me and my sister to north Mississippi where my father's family lived.  That area of Mississippi is gorgeous at any time of the year but I especially loved it during the Fall.  I had always lived in southern Louisiana where there is very little changes in seasons.  It's either steamy hot with humidity or too cold because of the dampness. The trees and plants go dormant with very little color.

We moved to Mississippi in the late 60s and stayed there until 1971.  My mother put me and my sister in a private academy. They had just opened so the enrollment was small.  Mom would take us and pick us up at the end of classes.  We'd stand at the top of the hill where the school had been built and watched for her turquoise Chrysler New Yorker to come up the drive.  We then would go home to Cuff Hill. It seemed as if being on the top of a hill was normal.

Yes, my dad had bought my mom an old two-story house up on a hill.  Just past where the yard ended, we were  surrounded on three sides by a jungle of woods with entangled vines. The hill was cleared around the house except for the slope in the front. There, pine trees flourished in thick array. I laugh when I think back. We never had to worry about the grass there. No, the pine needles covered the ground and cushioned my feet when I'd run down the slope.

The house was huge in my child's eye. An old white madam presiding over the hill. All the rooms on the first floor, including the kitchen, had ten foot ceilings.  It was elegant for that time with crown moldings and wainscot. The type of old house full of character.

Up to this point, I existed in my own world of me. Too young to consider adult subjects but barely old enough for my imagination to soar.  My little dog and I would often walk in the woods, climb trees (poor little Buelah would wait patiently for me to ascend from the heights of the limbs) and enjoy my childhood. One of my favorite places on Cuff Hill was the attic playroom.  The staircase to the second floor was between the living room and my mother's bedroom at the front of the house.  As with most old houses, there was a door closing the staircase off from the rest of the house. I would spend days in the long room up there. It was my space, a domain where neither beast (not counting Beulah) nor man would dare bother me. I would spend hours playing and imagining worlds of my own creations. I never felt strange  being up there with the windows open and the gentle breeze flowing through.  Nope, it became my sanctuary.

Cuff Hill was the birth of my muse.  The peaceful quiet, the beautiful seasons, and the discovery of books helped open new wonders for me.  Real books with stories and plots and in your face excitement and adventure.  I fell in love and at the same time, I opened the door in my mind to my own stories and worlds.

It was also a time of discovering there is more to life than this reality we exist in.


I distinctly remember my first paranormal experience.

One day, I was in my mom's bed.  For me it was a secure place where my mother's scent still lingered on the pillow and the warm covers enclosed me. A wonderful haven of peace. That day was either a Saturday or Sunday, I'm not sure which but I do know that it was a day when the entire family was home.  My older brother, his wife, and baby son were staying with us at that time. I'm not sure why I was in mom's bed. I don't believe I was sick but I don't remember. Everyone else was in the kitchen.  The way the house was built, the kitchen was at the very back left corner and her bedroom was at the front right corner. I could hear them talking in the kitchen as I snuggled under the covers.

I want to say it was cold, possibly late Fall or early Winter. As I lay there, I heard a thump on the staircase. This was followed by another and another as if someone was coming down the stairs with heavy footfalls.  I became very still, listening, trying to understand why someone would be up on the second floor when I knew they were in the kitchen.

The steps grew louder and closer to the bottom.  They stopped but my heart didn't. It banged against my chest and I was unable to escape from the bed. The door to the attic opened and then slammed shut.

Fear was born in me. The throat closing, pangs across the chest and belly along with the desire to scream in terror type fear.

I lay crunched in a bundle of covers and pillow, hoping to make myself as small as possible. I didn't want to see. I didn't want to know. I'd never experienced anything like this before. Then only a minute or two after the door slammed, my mother came in the room.  In tears that this point, I told her what had happened while clinging to her. She sent my brother upstairs and they searched the house but there was nothing there. It was put off as just my imagination but I didn't believe it and I still, to this day, know it was more than imagination.

I have more experiences I will share with over the upcoming Halloween season.

If you have a paranormal experience, please share it with me.  I would love to hear about it.