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Memoirs of a Haunted House
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Alfred Eyrie-Just because they can't see doesn't mean you're crazy
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That is a mighty scary thing you're telling us there. I admit having seen a ghost (at least once), but it was a child and aside from scaring my huge Newfoundland, it never did anything mean to anyone in the house. I guess I can count myself lucky it was a good ghost.
Child ghosts are always sad. That is, it's not that the ghost is sad, but the idea of a child that is a ghost.There's a town near where I live that is known for a ghostly child's ball that randomly appears from the back room of a downtown restaurant, rolls across the dining room floor, out the front door, and into the street. I don't know if anybody has ever seen the child, but after you get over the creepiness of it (the ball always vanishes before anybody can pick it up) you start imagining what kind of tragic story might lie behind the legend.
BTW, in my experience (and in comparison to what happened in my own house), I tend to think that most "ghosts" are "good"...if they really are ghosts. You have to be careful, though, because sometimes people think they're talking to a "ghost"--usually using some kind of spiritual medium like a Ouija board or a séance--and the spirit suddenly takes a darker turn and starts doing things or requesting things that are pretty evil.
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It was around 3AM when my son, who was 5 at the time, called me in his room. I opened his door and heard him moved toys around in the closet. The room was only lit by the moon. All I could see of him was his legs and his white bare butt.
Mad that he was playing at this time of the night I asked him what he was doing there and told him to go back to bed. A voice coming from the other side of the room, my son's voice, told me he was in bed and that it wasn't him in the closet. I turned on the light but saw nothing. Whatever was there had left.
I asked my son if he wanted to come and sleep in our room and he refused. He said the ghost wasn't mean and he wasn't afraid. He didn't even ask to have a light on, nothing.
From that day and on, our dog wouldn't walk in front of my son's bedroom door by himself. I had to drag the 200 pound dog until we were past it and then he would run in our bed room. Same thing when leaving our room, so I know he could sense something.
So yeah, I have to believe in ghost. Even the dog did. :P
I'm in the don't know camp. But what I do know is I'm not about to pooh pooh anything. I don't want to be the one beaten up by a vengeful poltergeist
Loved your book, Alfred!Wow G.G., that is an amazingly spooky story!
G.G. wrote: "For me it was not an object. Let me tell you how it happened.It was around 3AM when my son, who was 5 at the time, called me in his room. I opened his door and heard him moved toys around in the ..."
A very interesting story.
If I may ask a few questions:
First--I can't tell from the story--did your son call you into the room because he heard something in the closet, or was that not your son calling you?
Second, did this visual-type encounter only happen this one time, or more than once?
Also, have you ever researched the history of your house to know what might have been the story behind it? I've read of paranormal investigations where, once they found out the name of the "person"/revenant, they were able to mitigate the haunting.
Finally, does your dog have pretty good judgement of character when it comes to other visitors and people that he encounters? (Mine bristles her hair at certain people and makes us wonder, but then again, she acts like the UPS man is Satan.)
If these are too personal, I'm okay if you don't answer.
Jane wrote: "I'm in the don't know camp. But what I do know is I'm not about to pooh pooh anything. I don't want to be the one beaten up by a vengeful poltergeist"I don't know if I've shared this as Alfie or my real profile, but I often tell people about the third-degree burns I got from an astrology reading.
Let's just say I was being skeptical. My friend was born one day after me, so I read both our horoscopes and laughed at how off they were (both were the same, but we are very different). Both of us were supposed to have a specific scar on our bodies due to one of the planet's alignments.
I thought it was funny until I caught on fire within a few months of that reading; now I have a scar.
I'm not saying astrology is real, but the possibility exists that there might be powers in this universe that want us to keep believing in it.
There is a small valley near where I live. The road goes down on a gentle curve, straight for about 800 meters over a bridge and then immediately starts upward again at a larger curve. There have been many accidents near or on the bridge over the years. Every year in the last two weeks of July, if you are the only car on that road between the hours of 11 pm to 2 am, you have a chance to be followed by a ghost car. My boyfriend at the time had told me about it because it is a local legend. But sure enough one time during the ghost time, we were driving to his place and when we hit the bridge headlights came on behind us and then disappeared just before the first bend going up the hill. Since there is nowhere for a car to go on that stretch except for the road, it is kinda freaky.
Don't get me started on seances and Ouija boards I have a few stories about them. But yes I believe not only in ghosts but the extraordinary.
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I didn't experience any violent behavior from any of the things I encountered, and there were many. The events went on for years. However, I was deeply involved in Ouija and Tarot at the time and I think that messing with those brought these spirits into my life. Even though they were not violent, sometimes they seemed friendly and funny, but I learned later they were dangerous in their own way in the lies they told.
Your book sounds interesting. I'll make a note to pick it up next payday. (I'm already over budget for Indie books this week).
I've had some indirect trouble from Ouija boards, too, but I can't say it was definitely supernatural. I had some friends who would play with that stuff, and whether they really contacted a spirit or one of the players was "playing", the "spirit" started telling them that it didn't like me and basically ordered them to bully me. At first I thought I was definitely getting bullied by the board, but then I started suspecting that one of the people involved might have been using the anonymity of the board to take out her personal vendetta against me.
My one and only encounter with an Ouija board were when I was quite young. One of my friends picked one up so we were playing with it. And I say playing cause we were all aware that we were moving the pointer. Well, my friend's older sister was waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up for a date and he was super late. Bored she got in on our fun and asked the board when her boyfriend would arrive. The board spelt out 'never' and when she asked it why it spelt out 'dead'.
He crashed his bike on the way to pick her up and died at the scene. I've never touched one again.
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Alfred wrote: "If I may ask a few questions:
First--I can't tell from the story--did your son call you into the room because he heard something in the closet, or was that not your son calling you?
My son did. He said he called me because of what was in the closet.
Alfred wrote: "Second, did this visual-type encounter only happen this one time, or more than once?
I haven't seen the ghost nor heard him again after that. The dog acted strangely for many months after the event though.
I did have a strange other encounter many years later. I woke up with a dark shade at the feet of my bed. Well, to be honest, I woke up because I felt like something was pulling me under the blanket. When I opened my eyes, a dark hooded figure stood at the feet of the bed. I sat and back away form it. It turned and disappeared. I wasn't scared easily. I got up and out the room, but once out it felt as if I totally had lost interest in it. I went to the sink and washed my face and went back to bed. So yeah, even as I type that and remember it so clearly, I still can hardly believe what I saw.
Alfred wrote: "Also, have you ever researched the history of your house to know what might have been the story behind it? I've read of paranormal investigations where, once they found out the name of the "person"/revenant, they were able to mitigate the haunting.
We didn't dig much. We were only the second owner. I never had the courage to ask if the woman had lost a child while living there. She had two adult children, too old to have been born there. She had been a divorcee since she had moved there so...no idea.
Alfred wrote: "Finally, does your dog have pretty good judgement of character when it comes to other visitors and people that he encounters? (Mine bristles her hair at certain people and makes us wonder, but then again, she acts like the UPS man is Satan.)
Well my dog wasn't scared easily. He was a two hundred pound Newfoundland. He was a people dog. He loved people. Except the priest that once came. The man didn't let me open the screen door. He opened it himself. Good thing I was holding the dog because he wanted to jump on him, all teeth out. The man asked me if I would put the dog away while we'd talk. The hell if I would (pun intended). I didn't know him. He told me he was the new priest but I had no proof after all. He did sit and talk but kept his eyes on the dog the whole time. :P (Meany me!)
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YIKES!! yeah scary!!!
G.G. wrote: "Sorry for taking time to answer. I had forgotten about this message. So here it is:Alfred wrote: "If I may ask a few questions:
First--I can't tell from the story--did your son call you into the ..."
Good dog. Give him a cookie.
As for the figure at the foot of your bed, I've collected several similar stories from friends and family. That's an interesting piece of information you have about losing interest, though--possibly more frightening than the encounter.
If I may ask, was the figure a particular color?
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As for the figure, It was the middle of the night so you know what they say. All cats are grey. But i am fairly sure it was black and not because of the night. It happened something like twenty five years ago so it's a bit blurred. I am fairly sure the figure told me without words (yeah sounds crazy huh?) to stay calm or quiet. It's head turned in the direction of my ex who was still sleeping and then it walk away and disappeared.
As for ouija board the just creep me out. Whether it's triggered by people or not. ;)
Your story does not sound crazy at all. In fact, I had a friend whose mother told a similar story, except the figures she saw had colors that she associated with feelings. If it was blue, I would have assumed that you or your husband were very ill at the time and that the figure was bringing comfort. However, since I've also had experience with "black" figures in my own house, I have to wonder if this was not so benevolent a manifestation.The part about the supernaturally-induced apathy is also something I've seen in person, but it's scary because it washes over people while I'm talking to them and they just forget the conversation and walk away. I used to call it "middle child invisibility", but it could be part of something more sinister. The term I most often use to describe it is "suddenly everything else is more important."
I have never experienced the supernaturally- induced apathy but it must be both frustrating and freaky. I do have to send you a mock fist shaking (in a good way) for this thread though. I sat down yesterday to do some work on my second novel in my series. When a line about the supernatural popped into my head and then two scenes right after. So instead of working on my next book, I spent time writing some scenes for what I am not sure about.
I have never had my muse jump genres before. So thanks for the inspiration :)
Lea wrote: "I have never experienced the supernaturally- induced apathy but it must be both frustrating and freaky. I do have to send you a mock fist shaking (in a good way) for this thread though. I sat dow..."
That is interesting.
I have to confess that "supernatural memoirs" aren't exactly my genre, either. I started writing down stories from my childhood a few years ago to help my kids visualize some of the weird stuff I had been through. (Also to help me cope with the recurring nightmares that I have about that house.)
After I had written about 20 chapters (some of which did not make it into the final book), my wife suggested I put it all together into something that others could read.
Interesting anecdote about your muse. I wouldn't worry too much about getting side-tracked. It happens to us all, and it's probably a good thing to take a vacation sometimes. One of the joys of being an indie author is that you don't have anybody breathing down your neck (except my wife, I suppose) and setting deadlines for the next chapter getting finished. That is something a lot of mainstream authors complain about.
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As for my shade, some people back then asked me if someone in the house was sick. Could they have heard the same thing you did about blue shades? I honestly don't know but what freaked me out was when someone else said that it was there to take me. That I was going to die soon and the only way I could have ridden myself of the curse was if I had washed my face right after seeing it. The funny thing is that I hadn't told anybody, not even my ex, what I had done that night. That I had actually washed my face after seeing it. That part was strange to say the least. I even had to ask them if they were the ones who played a bad joke on me.
G.G. wrote: "Alfred, that is very intriguing...That house sounds like the house from hell, a house perfect for horror movies. As for my shade, some people back then asked me if someone in the house was sick. ..."
That is an interesting theory about the washing of the face. Other people I've talked to said they've prayed or even confronted the apparition to make it go away, but washing sounds just as spiritually practical.
One of the things some of the readers of my book picked up was the suspicion that my dad's sudden descent into madness that ended in divorce (I didn't go into detail, but it was bad) might have been caused by something in that house. Maybe I wasn't the only one being picked on.
For the record, the woman who told me the story about the blue figure comforting her would always end her story with, "But then again, I was at Woodstock". That was her defense mechanism for telling the story without letting people tell her she was crazy.
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"I was at Woodstock"? too funny. To be honest, I don't care much about what other people might think when I tell them my story. I know what I saw. AND they were not there so...Just like the incident in the subway when I ask for a proof of existence. I got it. I was satisfied. If people don't believe me well...their loss. :P
I think it's been harder for me because of some of the things that happened to me after I moved out of that house.For instance (and I know this sounds far-fetched): years later, I was hiking in the woods outside of town with my wife. I was trying to take her back to a favorite meadow that my friends and I would camp in as a teenager. I must have taken a wrong turn (or maybe not), because the road went around a bend and, instead of seeing the meadow, we found ourselves looking at a massive, man-made tunnel leading down into the ground. It was like the earth had just opened up like a mouth to swallow the road. The opening was as wide as a garage door, and the tractor treads that led in from the road indicated that a large vehicle had been going in and out. On the sides it was framed by what looked like two metal pylons that I wonder now whether they were pistons that opened and closed this "door" like a gaping jaw.
Needless to say, I had a freak-out. I thought I was going crazy. I turned to my wife and asked her, "Are you seeing this?"
Years later, when I tell the story, she always chimes in with "Yes, we both saw it. You're not crazy. Stop over-reacting."
I'm not big on government conspiracies and such, but I've heard of secret underground bases. I don't know if this is what that was, but it was just such a shock to encounter it on what I thought was a familiar stretch of road. When I think about the effort and resources that it must have taken to construct just the entrance section that we could see from the surface, it's hard to fathom what else might be possible.
I think there is a demon who does not want me to type this. This is common, but tonight it’s gotten really bad. While typing these comments, my wife suddenly became agitated. She came to me and said, “Something about your typing is making me angry.” She changed her story several times about why she suddenly felt extreme anger, blaming the “rhythm” of my typing, the time of night, and my “demeanor”, but the persistent point in all of this was that something inside of her simply had to get her to stop me from typing. This is not new. I’ve self-published five books, and each effort has featured at least a small amount of battles with people who suddenly, for whatever reason they can come up with, simply MUST interrupt me and stop me from writing. Often it is an anger they cannot explain, and when I ask about it, I am told that I am the one who is insane for suspecting such a thing.So I’m just going to bring this out. My family has joked about me being an “invisible middle child” since I was very young. Some of it, though, goes beyond the typical parental neglect and gets down-right eerie. Like how every time the opportunity for my photo to be in the paper or on the news, I’d get cropped out of the shot or something would be pushed in front of my face at the last minute. It followed me into my adult life, when I twice made front page news as a chimney sweep, but my boss insisted I wear full safety gear to cover my face. You could see my body, but just like when I was a kid in a crowd shot (where all of my family could be seen but me), my face was completely obscured.
Last year, after attending a parade, a co-worker told me she saw my wife and kids at the parade, but “where were you?” I was standing right next to my wife. Sure enough, when we viewed the footage, the camera pans over to our family, but just before it gets my face in the shot, it stops, lingers on my wife for a moment, then pans back the other way. A similar thing happened a few weeks ago, when I attended a civic event and found myself cropped out of two different, front-page photos taken of the people standing all around me.
A few years ago, this took a sinister turn (which is why I’ve even considered bringing it up) when I was interviewed by the local newspaper. The editor spent several hours with me, taking notes and hearing my personal take on a community issue, then promising me he’d do some more investigating and get back to me. Within a few days, he unexpectedly “retired”. It only got creepier when, after I contacted the second editor of that paper, he responded to my letter, then also suddenly transferred to an out-of-state paper.
So maybe I’m going to regret typing this (or be made to regret it), but here it is. Call me crazy, but something is trying very very very hard to keep me from being noticed. And tonight, it is trying very hard to make my life miserable simply because I am typing this.
Mod
That you seem to disappear from the pictures, video, or maybe even from the minds of people is strange to say the least and just to make sure, I am writing this in Word. Seriously, I've had crashes and messages disappear on me before when writing directly on the website, GR and Facebook, so with the 'luck' you seem to have, I minimized the risks.
I am speechless. These things are often seen in horror movies and on TV shows such as Twilight zone, but rarely have I ever spoken with someone who had to deal with it.
I hope the newspaper guys were a glitch. Really, I don't want more bad luck just for talking to you! On a side note, and hopefully funny, is this why you don't have a picture on your profile? Sorry, I just had to ask. Just so you know, I will never shy away from sharing strange events, but when it gets too spooky, I need to laugh it out. I find it helps deal with the unexplicable. I guess it must be my 'defense mechanism' that kicks in. :(
Sorry about not getting back to you until now. I hope you are doing fine.As far as the lack of an image on this profile, that is because I don't want to be tagged or linked to my real name. It's kind of a sensitive issue to blab about one's childhood when you don't have permission from siblings (and especially parents).
As for my regular profile, I have often wondered what would happen if I used a close-up of my face. Would I suddenly "vanish" from the threads and go un-noticed? Would the sky grow dark and the earth open up to release the wrath of the diabolical? Probably not, but for some reason, I have an aversion for self-promotion.
At this point, my real profile photo is a far-off shot of me standing on top of a mountain, which is the closest I've ever gotten to publicity. And, at this point in my life, I'm fine with that. On social media, I have more fun just dropping my comments on other threads and fading back into the background. Some of my ideas get picked up and run with, and I'm fine with not getting any credit so long as I've contributed to the collective.
As for the point you made about horror movies, I agree. I often joke about the recurring theme where somebody is running from the monster/killer, but as soon as they burst into a room with other people, the monster is no longer in pursuit. It's just gone. And they get mocked for being the crazy one. I always say: "If you complain about the problem, it will go away." I have to wonder, though, if that is a trend because so many people can identify with that feeling. The feeling that nobody else can see the monster that is chasing you. If that's the case, you might have met others who have also shared similar experiences, but like me, they've learned to keep quiet about it.
I'm resurrecting this thread for two reasons:First, I have been working on a novel for the past few years that I am now trying to get published through an agent. Of course, step one is to find an agent. In doing so, that same strange sense of "invisibility" has come back. I've managed to get two agents to request my manuscript, but both have then suddenly rejected it. The trouble is that it is not for the same reason. The first said he read 8 chapters in, then something came up at the agency and he had to stop (he claims there has been a shake-up in his company and he has to drop clients, which also means he can't take on any new). Of course, I interpret this as "everything else is more important than you", so I consider it yet another act of rejection. I have to wonder if other authors have ever encountered that kind of a reason for an agent to drop them (after showing interest.)
The second reason is that I've been working on a theory on "roadside apparitions", which my family has had some experience with (ghosts or strange visions on the side of the road (or sometimes in the car). However, I don't want to go too much into detail since this current event happened not far from where I live (which I prefer to remain unknown). I'm curious if anybody else has had any experience with this subject; if so, please leave a comment.
my name is Alfred Eyrie--at least, that's my pseudonym. I thought it best to hide my real name to protect the privacy of my family and friends who I wrote about in my childhood memoirs.
I thought I'd use this showcase as a thread on which I can raise awareness for something I know a lot of people have gone through but very few want to talk about.
I spent a good portion of my childhood in a house that is still well known for its ghost. As a kid, I had an ongoing encounter, sometimes bordering on molestation, with that ghost. But my family didn't want to believe me. They said I had a big imagination, and the worse it got, the less they wanted to believe me. I still have moments where I wonder if I'm going crazy, where I wonder if I just imagined everything. Then again, I also still have nightmares about that house...
I wrote my Memoirs because I know other kids out there have been through similar situations, and I want them to know that, just because nobody else wants to acknowledge that it happened, that doesn't mean you are crazy.
If anybody would like to talk about their own experiences with the paranormal (and the resulting discredit or outright shame from family and friends), I offer this thread as a place to discuss it.