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Jillian's Ghost (strictly for Halloween)
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Cindi    Posted 10-21-2003 at 06:26:09       [Reply]  [No Email]
I have always believed in ghosts. Not that I have any reason to. It’s not like I had ever had any experiences that I could directly attribute to paranormal phenomenon. At least not until 1989, and the house on Myrtle Street. Even now I’m not so sure what to think of the events that happened in that house, so I will give you the details, and let you judge for yourself.

Shortly after we moved into the house, my daughter Jill began coming into the master
bedroom in the wee hours of the morning crying, wanting to get into bed with us. I put up with this for several days. I assumed that it was due to the new environment, or maybe the fact that her brother Jake was a newborn and she was a little jealous, as his crib was in our room.

Anyone who has ever slept with an active three year old, knows that the three year old is the only one who gets any sleep, so it wasn’t long before I started sending her back to her room. But as small children tend to do, she persevered to the point that I had to do something.

One morning, after she’d beaten her father and I half to death in her sleep all night, I decided to get to the bottom of the problem. I found her in the living room standing in front of the television watching cartoons. Only a wily energetic child stands to watch television. I knelt down and smiled at her.

“Jill, honey, why can’t you sleep in your bed? You’re a big girl, you’ve had your own bed for a long time. Don’t you like your new room?”

Her lower lip came out and she tucked her hands behind her back, and rocked back and forth, as she gazed at me with big brown eyes.


“Well then, why don’t you sleep in your bed?”

“Because of the monster lady.”

“What? What are you talking about, honey?”

“She has long white hair, and face.” She twisted her chubby little hands together, and her
lower lip started to tremble. “She has blood all over her.” She said, and made a face.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Jill was not allowed to watch anything even remotely scary. She wasn’t even allowed to watch Scooby Doo. I could not for the life of me imagine where she could get such an idea.

“Jillian. I think you just had a bad dream.” I stood up and walked to the kitchen and she
followed me.

“No,” she shook her head frowning, “she comes in my room and closes the door and sits in front of it so I can’t get out.”

She rested one hand on the counter and gazed up at me. I had no idea what to say to this child. I just stared at her as her eyes began to fill with tears. Whether it was a dream or not, it was very real to her, and my heart went out to her.

“I’ll tell you what. Tonight I will come and sleep with you in your room and if the monster
lady comes back I will tell her that she is not allowed to come back anymore. Okay?”

She started jumping up and down and clapping her hands, and I felt like a female version of John Wayne.

That night I put her to bed at the usual time and promised that I would see her in a little while. I went about my normal routine, bathing Jake, putting him to bed, cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed myself. At about ten o’clock I crept to the door of her room and peeked in. I eyed her tiny bed and was debating backing out of my deal when something happened that sent a chill straight up my back.

Even though I hadn’t made a sound, she sat bolt upright out of a dead sleep, clutching the covers to her chin, her eyes were wide open, panicked, and when she spoke, her voice shook with fear.

“I thought you were the monster lady!” Then she started to cry.

“No, no, it’s just me honey, it’s just me.”

Without another thought I walked to the side of her bed.

“Scooch over.” I said.

I crawled in beside her and she immediately began to calm down. She went back to sleep right away, her hand resting on my cheek. While I waited for sleep I gazed around the room, trying to figure out why she didn’t like it. That had to be it. What she was saying didn’t make any sense.

The light from her aquarium glowed softly, giving the room a dim quality that was tailor made for a three year old to fall asleep in. Just enough light. The fish made lazy circles, almost hypnotic in their slow, calm movements. Her stuffed animals lined the shelves above her bed, almost as though they were watching over her. I finally drifted off to sleep, perplexed. I just couldn’t figure it out.

Shortly after I went to sleep I woke to the sound of a loud bang. I sat up and glanced around the room. Could a book have fallen to the floor? Maybe I was in that stage between sleeping and wakefulness and had just imagined that I had heard the noise. Anyway there was nothing in the room that could be attributed to it, so I lay down and went back to sleep. It seemed I no sooner got back to sleep when I heard someone
pounding frantically on the front door. I threw back the covers and raced through the house.

The first thing I noticed, was that despite the fact that my husband slept in our bed which was right against the front porch, he hadn’t stirred, and he is an extremely light sleeper. A mouse can pass gas in the kitchen at two a.m. and he can tell you how big he is, what color he is, and what he had for dinner. But here he was, sleeping like a rock after all that racket.

There was no one at the door. The porch light was on and I bent down could clearly see through the bedroom window that the front porch was deserted. I headed back to bed, a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I noticed as I left my room, that the red digital numbers on the bedside clock read exactly midnight.

The next morning, our landlady, who lived next door, came over for coffee as she had done almost daily since we moved in, and I jokingly told her what had been going on.

“Nobody is getting any sleep around here except the baby, and last night I could have sworn I heard someone banging on the front door at midnight, but when I went to look there was no one there.”

I watched as her expression changed to one that made me very uneasy.

“If I had had any idea....” She began.

“What? What is it?”

“The woman who lived here before you was an alcoholic. She told me strange things. Like the way that bedroom door always closed by itself...” she indicated Jill’s bedroom door, “and I never believed her, I thought it was the alcohol talking, you know.” She shuddered. “If you want out of your lease, I’ll understand.”

“Wait, wait, wait....what is going on?”

“You mean you didn’t know? I thought surely one of the neighbors would have told you
by now.”

“Told me WHAT?”

“Several years ago, a young girl rented this house. She and her boyfriend were going to move in together. She moved in but on the day he was supposed to move in, he called her and told her that he had changed his mind. That he had met someone else. She was devastated. She kept calling him all day, and into the night. Finally she threatened suicide.

He called her bluff, but when she stopped calling he got nervous, so he tried to call her and she didn’t answer the phone, so he called the police. They came to my door asking for a key to get in as she was not answering the door. The officer tried one last time, pounding on the door, and then I unlocked it. It was straight up midnight.”

I shuddered when I remembered the digital clock in the bedroom.

“They found her in what is now Jill’s room, her body sitting propped against the closed door. They had to force it open. She had shot herself. It was a terrible shame. She was a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and the force of the shot destroyed her face.”

A monster lady with long white hair and no face.

Things started clicking into place at a faster rate than I was comfortable with. I glanced at
Jillian where she sat engrossed in Sesame Street and I was overcome with a guilt like I had never before and have never since felt. If I choose to believe that this child had seen something and in my opinion, all the evidence pointed to the fact that she did, based on my own strange experiences, then I can only imagine what 'no face' must have looked like to her. On top of that, I hadn’t believed her, and furthermore, I had sent her back to her room to face this nightmare, time after time.

“I just...I never thought that...I mean I never know that! I would never
have rented to you if I thought...” The land lady was stammering and tripping all over her words.

“I know.” I said quickly. I believed her. Had I not experienced what I had firsthand, I wouldn’t have believed it myself. “I know. But we will be looking for another house. I have to tell you Mrs. B., I have never felt comfortable in this house, I just didn’t know why.”

We moved shortly after that and in the mean time I set up a bed in my room for Jill and she slept with us until we moved and for quite awhile after we moved, until she began to trust the new house. They say that children and animals have a sixth sense and can see things that we adults cannot, and as far as I’m concerned, I am convinced that this is true. You....will have to make up your own mind.

P.S.,I may have posted this here last year, so if you read it already, sorry about that.

Linda in UT    Posted 10-21-2003 at 10:10:39       [Reply]  [No Email]
I believe Jill, too. Poor thing!

When we were getting ready to move to Utah many years ago, we rented a home on a temporary basis for 3 months. It was a nice house next to a schoolyard. I work nights and sleep days and I can't tell you how many times I was awakened in the mornings by sounds of a door slamming, the toilet flushing and the floor creaking as someone walked down the hall toward the bedroom. There was never anyone there, nor were any doors closed, nor was the toilet ever refilling from an actual flush, but I had my pistol in my hand more than once as those feet walked toward my bedroom. It got so bad that I warned my husband to call me if he ever had reason to come home from work during the day.

That house was sold, and I have often wondered how the new owners fared. I never, ever felt entirely comfortable living there, and I was glad it was only for 3 months. When in the backyard I often had the feeling of being watched, and I would always find myself looking toward the bathroom window.

Maggie/TX    Posted 10-21-2003 at 12:37:19       [Reply]  [No Email]
Linda, I've had the same thing happen to me, only without the toilet flushing part.

Back in my younger days I moved out with a bunch of friends into an old two story house. It had a full basement and large rooms with high ceilings and hardwood floors, 4 bedrooms. Each of us had our own room and different schedules. Many times, I would be in my room and hear the front door open and slam shut and footsteps come up the stairs and there wouldn't be anybody there. We also would hear the basement door open and close and would go look and it was still locked, nobody there. Never did find out what the "story" on the house was or find any explanation, other than "ghosts."

Maggie/TX    Posted 10-21-2003 at 07:55:54       [Reply]  [No Email]
I believe. Our family has two true "ghost" stories that I was brought up hearing over and over at family gatherings, both told by my maternal grandparents.

Mama and Papa R. lived in rural Mississippi, first around Iuka and later in Rienzi. Papa was a rural mail carrier back when a horse and buggy was the mail "truck." They had rented a two-story house out in the country, where the nearest neighbor was about a mile away. Their first child, my uncle, was still a baby so this would have to have been 1907.

One day, after they had lived there for a couple months, Papa was out on the mail route and Mama was getting ready to go visit the neighbor. She had fixed Papa's dinner and had it on the table with a plate over it. The plan was that Papa would come home and eat and then finish his route and Mama would walk to the neighbor's and visit and Papa would pick her and Uncle G. up on his way home after work.

Mama was in their bedroom getting dressed when she thought she heard voices. Sometimes she sold eggs and sometimes people who should't be around there would cut through their property, but being a woman alone with a baby she got her pistol and went to check it out. Mama was not the nervous type, but tough as they come and would have used the pistol in a heartbeat if need be. She looked out first one window and then another and didn't see a soul. Meanwhile, the voices got louder and started sounding like it was someone inside the house, upstairs. Mama was somewhat alarmed, but her first reaction was to be angry. "Just who is up there and how dare they?" She went upstairs, with gun, to see. She searched the entire house, never finding anything to explain the sounds. The voices sounded like a man and a woman, first having an argument and getting louder and louder, to where you could almost but not quite make out the words, then one of them sounded hurt, moaning and groaning. While Mama was searching upstairs, the voices sounded like they were downstairs. The hair stood up on the back of Mama's neck and she got her stuff together, picked up Uncle G. and headed down the road to the neigbor's at a good clip. She decided not to mention the incident to Papa, as he would make fun of her and think she was nuts.

At midday, Papa came home to eat and was standing at the kitchen table chowing down when he heard voices. He thought the same thing Mama did at first, that it was someone coming to buy eggs or cutting through the yard. When it got to the louder stage, he went to look. Then he heard the moaning and groaning and thought somebody had come in an knocked Mama in the head and he picked up the pace of his search. He looked everywhere, for fear Mama was hurt. He never found a thing out of place and then he grew very uneasy, vowing to himself he would not tell Mama, for fear she would think he was crazy. He cut his lunch short and got back on the road.

Papa drove to the neighbor's after work and picked Mama and Uncle G. up and started driving the buggy home. As they neared the house, Papa spoke up.

"You know, I heard the strangest thing when I came home for lunch."

Mama, "What did you hear?"

Papa, "Well, it sounded like people talkin and then fussin and then sounded like one of 'em was hurt, but I couldn't find any sign of anybody."

Mama smiled, "You know, I heard the same thing this morning."

They searched every inch of the house, even the attic, and never found a thing out of place or any sign of a live person in the house. The voices would start up every once in a while and, since no harm was ever done they learned to live with it until another house was available.

Never would the voices show up when company was there, but Papa's brother came to stay with them while going to school in the area. He had made fun of their story. One night, after living there a couple months, he heard it. He called downstairs, "Jim! Jim! What's wrong with you two down there?" Papa, grinning like a possum called back, "Nothin's wrong with us, what's wrong with you?" And they say you could hear Uncle B. coming down the stairs, clippity, clippity, clippity, fast as he could go.

Cindi    Posted 10-21-2003 at 08:16:16       [Reply]  [No Email]

If I had been your mama I would have filled that dam house fulla holes! My sisters in-laws have a story like this. If I can remember how it goes I will post it. I love this time of year!

WallSal55    Posted 10-21-2003 at 07:11:54       [Reply]  [No Email]
Well, I missed it last year. Excellent Read!
Yes, I wonder about thumps in the night, or little
things that make you Believe............

[And I had an alcoholic friend who saw and heard
stuff. She became insane--that's what alcoholism
did to her. Terrible waste of a life, and a hell
of way to lose a friend.]

Cindi    Posted 10-21-2003 at 07:23:42       [Reply]  [No Email]
Apparently this woman lived in the house for a several years before we moved in....alone. She claimed that the door to the bedroom would close by itself despite the fact that she sometimes put stuff in front of it, in one case it was a box full of books. She said she heard noises and so on, but since she lived alone and had no one to corroborate her stories Mrs. B just figured she was a hallucinating.

I've been back to this house in the years since and questioned a man who lived there. He said he had never seen or heard anything but that his wife hated the house and just like me couldn't explain why. They had taken the door off the room simply because it was right off the living room and they were using it for a library.

WallSal55    Posted 10-21-2003 at 07:35:58       [Reply]  [No Email]
Took the door off? I smell a sequel !

Now would that put the poor spirit to rest, or have her rumbling about even more?

WallSal55    Posted 10-21-2003 at 07:40:50       [Reply]  [No Email]
Yeah, what would happen if you change a ghost's or
spirit's favorite routine?

(My grandpa was a great storyteller, of humorous, I think a lot of that rubbed off on me, don't get me going!)

Cindi    Posted 10-21-2003 at 08:13:43       [Reply]  [No Email]
Why not? Lol!

WallSal    Posted 10-21-2003 at 07:19:18       [Reply]  [No Email]
I believe a Spirit of a loved one
who has passed on, can move something, {as a sign}
of a spiritual life after this one.
I think they can orchestrate other things, too.

If you live long enough, you will experience
things you cannot explain away. Just my

LH    Posted 10-21-2003 at 06:55:43       [Reply]  [No Email]
I believe Cindi.

KellyGa    Posted 10-21-2003 at 06:53:43       [Reply]  [No Email]
I believe in ghosts, I think some people weren't ready to go, or don't want to leave their family, or in your case, seem trapped, in unrest.

I had a friend I worked with quite a few years back. One night, we got off later than usual, so I stopped by her house for a bit and visited. She had two small children, one boy and one girl. The boy was 5, the girl 3.

We sat around, talking about everything and nothing, and she offered me a beer, I said sure, and we went on talking. You can see her hallway from the living room, which leads down to the bedrooms. On the beginnings of the hallway wall, she had many shapes and sizes of wicker baskets and decor. One of the things was a wicker baby buggy. Now these things were nailed to the wall. All of the sudden, the wicker baby buggy came off the wall. NOw normally, this would not be such an odd thing, except for the way it fell. If something falls off a wall, it will fall straight down and land, or fall straight down and maybe bounce across the floor a little. This thing came off the wall and landed on the other side of the hallway wall floor, like someone had thrown it off the wall. I thought, how odd, didn't really think that much about it, other than it was wierd. Then the girl I was visiting tells me what that was all about.

Her mother was killed in a drunk driving accident when she was 8 years old. A drunk driver hit her and killed her. I had had a beer. She was hesitant to tell me this, because most people would think your crazy. But she proceeded. She told me the basket coming off the wall ws her, and that she didn't want me to drive home after drinking the beer. I said, well I have to get home, she isnt going to appear in the car and scare the pants off me and make me wreck if I drive home anyway is she? She said No. So I went on my way. Later, on another visit, she told me many other stories of her mom hanging around. Things would be knocked over under the counter. Her daughter would end up sleeping in the middle of the room on a rug, where there was a cold spot as they call them.

Her dad lived on the same street as her, and apparently her mother visited him also. ONe time, according to her, he was locked in the bathroom, arguing with someone, and he couldnt get out, and she couldnt get in. When he finally did get out, he said it was her mother he was talking to. He also had trucker friends over from time to time, one of which came over drunk and passed out on the couch. When he woke, he felt restrained like someone was holding him down. When he was finally let up, he got out and never went back.

Ian has an Aunt that just moved to Florida. She didn't tell me about this until they were moved, which I am glad of, since we spent many a night there. She is in no way flaky, or crazy. She is a regular person, loving wife, great mother, great grandmother. In their old house in Chatsworth, they had ghosts. One was a little girl on a white dress, about 7 years old. SHe was often shy, and peeked around corners. There were others, she never saw, but she heard, upstairs when she was downstairs, banging around. She would tell them to keep it down up there please. When they were just about to move, she had fell asleep in her husbands chair (He by the way, wont talk about the ghosts, he refuses to). She never falls asleep in his chair, but that evening she did. The chair backs up against a window with blinds. She woke suddenly, feeling like somebody was there in her face, and then there was a rush of air, and the blinds rattled, like they HAD been right there, and then she woke and scared them! Spooky Spooky.

I have never seen a ghost, but I have seen enough to believe. I have so many other stories to back it up. So spooky.

Cindi    Posted 10-21-2003 at 07:05:05       [Reply]  [No Email]
Your stories raised chill bumps ALL over me! (Giggle). I think I saw the ghost of a cowboy once when I was a kid, to this day, that's what I believe. That's the only time I have ever SEEN anything but I have heard mnay things that scared me, always seeing things out of the corner of my eye. One of my great dreams is to go to some of these famous haunted places that I hear so much about. One day I will. I can't wait!

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