Three Ghostly Tales

Well, after reading several stories on the site, I decided to add 3 of mine to the list of odd experiences. One is a story I've shared before (even to the point of drawing a 1 page comic strip on it) but this seems like a good place to share them. Sorry if this gets a bit long. I've had a variety of odd things happen in my life ... whether ghostly, states of mind or coincidence. For example, like others have mentioned, I too have awakened in the middle of the night with a strong feeling that someone was in the house, just out of my site, yet unable to move let alone barely breathe. The incidence I most remember of this happened while living in a ground floor apartment in Livermore California across
the street from the hospital where the ambulances would pull in, sirens blazing (though that did not happen this time to wake me up). That night I was the only one home, my first wife gone on a visit with an old friend. But here are what I consider to be my three ghost stories:

The House I Never Saw.

I've had memories of a house that I recalled parts from a very young age. I would have dreams of this house, and sometimes, for no apparent reason, it would just pop into my mind when thinking about my grandparents. When I was around 10-12, and my grandmother was spinning yarns about our family past, I mentioned this house. Both her and my mother said it was (If I recall correctly now some 20+ years later) an accurate description of my great grandmothers house ... a house I had never seen as I was born after she and my great grandfather had died,
and the house had passed from the family. Perhaps I just pieced it together from those old tales of my grandmother, except, she rarely described the houses, focusing more on the people.

My Ghostly Playmate

Again, when I was about 10 years old, living in Pleasant Hill California, I had an argument with my mom and was sent to my room for the day. Now I have to admit I was a rotten kid and have since done the best I could to change that, but then I deserved the day of grounding. I went to my room and started playing with my MEGO dolls (anyone remember those from the 70s?). Now in my room, my bed was on say the South wall, and on the North was a dresser, on the East a closet that was about half of the wall, the door to the room being in the other half. As I played
with my MEGOs ... I made lots of "POWS" and "CRASHES" as the heroes and villains fought. At some point, I made my Superman and Batman (why two heroes I don't know) fly at and crash into each other in mid air. As they collided, I said something along the lines of "CRASH". At the same time a "Thump", came from behind me. As I sat staring at the figures now lying on the bed, another "Thump" came, followed by another, picking up speed and getting closer. As I turned around, behind me, between the dresser and closet was a chalk board that was moving by itself, side to side crashing into the dresser, then the closet. As I watched, it slowed and stopped. I immediately jumped up and started screaming to come out, but mom refused (again, I was really rotten and she thought I was just
pulling a trick to get out). I climbed on the bed, grabbed my MEGOs and sat watching that chalk board, crying until I fell asleep. I don't know if it was a ghostly reminder that being grounded to one's room didn't mean "playtime", or if it was someone/thing that simply got caught up in my play. Perahps, just perhaps I simply imagined it.

My Uncles grave.

My uncle died back in the 80's, a self inflicted gunshot in front of my grandparents. This was my mom's brother, and both she and my grandmother felt we looked a lot a like, and shared some similar personality traits. In fact, my aunt always said that if she and my uncle had had a son, he'd look like me. As my grandparents didn't have much money, and didn't want to tell any family members of this, he was buried in the part of the cemetery where no grave stones are allowed, and where people with no or little money can still have a burial. All he has is a small marker about 3" x 2" with a number in it. The first time my parents went to find his grave, they had a dickens of a time finding it. So they made photos, and notations on how many footsteps from which graves with what object in line of site would lead
to the marker. The first time I went with my parents, they started digging out all their photos and notes to figure out where, from a general starting point this marker was. While they were doing this, I simply walked out about how many steps it was, knelt down and moved a bit of grass to find it. Not too odd, probably just coincidence. A few years later, I took one of my cousins to see her dad's grave site.

I started to count out the location. Went to what should have been the right spot, and started looking with no luck. This went on for several tries/minutes. The next thing I knew, my cousin simply walked out, knelt down and found his marker. OK, now for the really weird part. My uncle liked to play tricks on people. For what would have been his 50th birthday, I and my parents went to the cemetery to have a birthday party for him, complete with a bottle of wine and his favorites, Hostess cakes (those wonderful round ones with the chocolate frosting and creamy filling). We literally spent hours looking for his marker, tearing up small tufts of grass that had grown over before finally giving up and finding a grounds keeper to help us. He found it, about 2 inches away from the 2 foot by 3 foot area we had been looking in. After the grounds keeper left, we broke out the wine, all taking a sip and poring some out for him. Then we lit a candle in the Hostess for him. But it wouldn't light.

The wind kept blowing it out (you can see the wind blowing constantly on a pinwheel we brought for him). Somehow we got it lit after being ready to give up on lighting it and quickly decided to sing "Happy Birthday" as we knew the wind would blow the candle out. The odd thing, it stayed lit for the whole song ... meanwhile, the video shows the pinwheel still twirling in the wind. Right after we finished the song, a gust of wind slightly stronger then the rest (which weren't that weak) came and blew out his candle, just as if he was there. We decided he must have been there, playing with us all day and turning our 30 minute visit into a daylong visit with practical tricks, letting us have his party just before we really needed to leave for the cemetery to close. He wasn't always the nicest man, having drug and alcohol problems, but underneath, he was a very loving and caring uncle. I think his spirit is at rest, but still likes to play those practical jokes once in a while.

By: skipmcf@gladstone.uoregon.edu