Home > Uncategorized > Boo. I’m a ghost.

Boo. I’m a ghost.

I am certain that I’m haunted.  Not my house, but me, or possibly my husband.  In the spirit of the Halloween season, I want to share some of my ghost stories.  It’s nothing dramatic or scary like you’ll see on TV, but spooky, nonetheless.

It all started about 15 years ago, with innocent phone calls.  You know the ones, the phone rings, no one’s there.  We all get those calls, but we got them A LOT.  This was in the days before caller ID, so naturally, we didn’t know who was calling until we actually answered the phone (scary enough in itself, I know).  For a very long time, we got the calls.  At the time we didn’t think much of it, other than the annoyance factor.  Until we moved, and the phone calls came with us.  Once we continued to get the high volume of strange calls at a new number, I got suspicious about it.  But still, nothing terribly spooky there.  One day, they just stopped and we carried on with life and mostly forgot about it.

Driving home from work one night, I noticed a green car a little way behind me.  No big deal, we were on the highway, after all.  No big deal, until it disappeared.  I’m not kidding you.  There had been no exits, no turn-offs.  It was just gone.  Weird, indeed, but surely there was an explanation.

Not long after the car incident, I was home alone, doing some housework.  As I walked past the stove, I saw one of the burners burning red-hot.  Since I hadn’t been cooking, I immediately set down the laundry in my arms and turned to the stove to turn it off.  You guessed it.  It wasn’t on.  It wasn’t even hot.  That was  about the time I started getting spooked.  At the time, we were expecting our first child and I was certain that something supernatural was trying to tell me something.  (Chalk it up to hormones if you like.  But as I type this, it occurs to me that the child I was carrying then now has a great passion for cooking.  Hm…)

Fast forward a couple of years to a night when we had my sister’s family over to the house for dinner and cards.  We enjoyed dinner, then set out a pan of Rice Krispy treats for dessert (don’t make that face, you know you like them).  After we served dessert, we left the knife in the pan and went into the next room.  Just an ordinary night at home.  Until we heard a noise in the kitchen and investigated.  The Rice Krispy knife was on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.  Somehow, it had been thrown out of the pan.  Once again, no logical explanation.

Fast forward again to our current home.  I don’t mean to imply that nothing at all happened in the years between, but, honestly, I just can’t remember all of it.  Most of the happenings are so insignificant that, taken alone, you just shrug and carry on.  It’s only when you put it all together that you have to wonder, “Just what is going on here?”

The last couple of years have been getting more interesting and more tangible.  Before we bought our house, we brought our kids here to get their “approval.”  Their favorite part of the house is that the upstairs is theirs alone, with two bedrooms and a bath.  They loved the idea of it!  So we moved in, excited and happy.  However, not long after we moved in, both kids informed me that there’s a ghost upstairs and they both refuse to be up there alone.  I didn’t think much of it.  They were around the ages of 8 and 10 with vivid imaginations and they were in a new house with new sounds.  They traveled upstairs in pairs and everything was peachy. 

One day I was home alone and went upstairs to my daughter’s room to put away laundry.  (It’s funny to me now that I was doing that for her…it may have been the last time I ever put away laundry upstairs)  I was standing at the closet with one of my cats sitting at my feet.  Suddenly I heard a loud burst of static-y noise from a far corner behind my back.  (It wasn’t exactly static, but I don’t know how else to describe it.)  I whipped around, saw nothing but my child’s bed and stuffed animals.  My cat bristled, then tore out of the room like his tail was on fire.  Friends, that’s all it took for me.  I was right behind him, shaking all the way. 

Okay, so maybe there is something weird going on upstairs.  It scared the bejesus out of me, but surely there was an explanation.  I didn’t tell anyone about that for a long time and to this day, the child in question has no knowledge of it.  I’d be a fool to tell her that happened in her room.

Another morning, I was upstairs to wake the kids for school; always a fun activity.  I had carried my MP3 player and speakers up to try to wake them with music.  I set it down at the top of the bannister.  While I was trying to wake them, the music stopped.  I went to the landing and found the speakers where I had left them, but with the cord dangling beside my son’s door and MP3 missing.  I assumed that one of the cats had knocked it off, so I started looking around his room for the MP3 player.  With the way the cord was hanging, it would have had to have fallen into his room.  Well, that’s clearly not true, because I found it at the bottom of the stairs.  It would seem to defy the laws of physics, but that was another one that I ignored.  I have a special MP3 player that can leap OVER the bannister to fall down the stairs.  Yay me.

Now, because of our ghostly second floor (and heavily influenced by the fact that our kids aren’t allowed to have TVs in their rooms), the kids often beg to sleep in the TV room downstairs on the weekends.  We let them do it as a treat.  Once, as they were sleeping downstairs, my daughter woke in the middle of the night for a bathroom run.  She went back into the room, lay down and soon after heard a knock at the door.  As she described it to me, it was a human level knock, definitely not a cat, and every other human in the house was sound asleep.  But she could have dreamed that, right?

All this brings us to our one piece of tangible evidence that I can’t explain away and my husband steadfastly refuses to discuss.  A few weeks ago, letters appeared on the ceiling of the aforementioned TV room.  Viewed one way, they read “RM.”  Another way, it could conceivably read “W8.”  I don’t enjoy the implications of a the ghostly etching of the word “wait,” so I choose RM.

Where does all this bring us?  Well, it would seem that I’m haunted, friends, but I am fortunate enough to be haunted by a friendly ghost who just wants to be acknowledged every now and then.  I could probably explain every bit of this away with some logical explanation, but why go to all that trouble?  Most of us believe in an afterlife, so is it really such a stretch to believe that there are spirits among us?  Besides which, it makes life more interesting.  

So we go on with our regular, ordinary lives.  I’m sure the cats go nuts at night just because they like to play.  I’m sure that all the things I think I see in my peripheral vision are nothing.  I’m sure someone secretly paid tribute to Rickey Martin or Rashard Mendenhall on our ceiling.  I’m sure there’s really nothing to it.

After all, who you gonna call?

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  1. April 7, 2012 at 8:48 am
  2. January 27, 2013 at 10:42 am

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