Friday, November 28, 2014

The Tooth Fairy

Sometimes, I forget our house is haunted.  And then, always, something reminds me.  

We're full swing into the holidays, and just celebrated Thanksgiving at home with our family yesterday.  Which means that our house is still somewhat spotless.  (Aside from the kitchen.  For the love of God, stay out of the kitchen.)  Which means that it's easy to spot something out of place.  

Tonight, the boys and I went out to pick up dinner.  We were gone about ten minutes, and the house was empty.  When we came home, I walked into the living room and found a pillow in the middle of the living room floor.  Not just any pillow, but a small "Tooth Fairy" pillow that we only get out when one of the kids loses a tooth.  (And that hasn't happened in months.)  I keep that pillow in my dresser drawer, in my bedroom, where it's been since this past summer.  How it got into the living room, I have no idea.

I looked around the house for anything else amiss, and saw one of my picture frames in my bookcase tipped over.  When I went to stand it back up, I found a dollar bill and a baseball card sitting on top of it.  Those things also DEFINITELY were not there before, as the bookcase was just dusted yesterday.  It's too cold to be leaving windows open 'round these parts, so it's not like the wind was blowing stuff around.

I tell you all of this calmly, but I swear on all things holy, if one of the boys loses a tooth tonight (nobody has any loose), I will motherf'n freak out.  That's all for now.  

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!  

Friday, September 26, 2014

With a Bang


Things have been pretty quiet around the house as of late, but last night, our haunting came back with a bang.  Quite literally.

Around 3:30 in the morning, the entire house was awakened by a loud “crash” coming from my son’s room upstairs.  Then another.  Then another.  Then several more.  Then I listened in horror to what sounded like him falling down the stairs.

I was paralyzed with fear, which was definitely not a good reaction to have, but hey, it was 3:30 in the morning and I was woken from a dead sleep.  I began yelling for my son, who, thank God, didn’t fall down the stairs.  He ran down them.  He came flying into my room saying, “I’m okay, I’m okay, I just got really scared.”

We all took a few minutes to catch our breath, and then he explained that things started falling all over his room, which (understandably) freaked him out.  He spent the remainder of the night on the couch downstairs, and this morning (after the sun came up) went back up to his room to check things out.  On his floor were his phone from his nightstand, his TV controller which was on his bed, a video game controller that was on his entertainment center, and three action figures that were on display on a shelf in the hall.  We’re talking multiple items from multiple rooms here, people.  Apparently, Bobby didn’t want us to sleep last night.  Sounds like he just wanted to play.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Hatchet


So, my son found this in our yard today.  Well, not in our yard, but in our driveway.  The same driveway we are in and out of a bazillion times a day.  If you know where we live, you know that we're not in a neighborhood.  It's not like somebody walking by could have dropped it in our yard by accident.  Where it came from is anyone's guess.  All I know is that for as proud as my son is of his newfound treasure, I am equally freaked out.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

3:31 A.M.

Recently, the hubs and I acquired some hand-me-down bedroom furniture.  I was excited, because A.) I would finally get to have a “grown up” looking bedroom, and 2.) it had a very “country” feel to it.  At long last, our bedroom was able to join the country/funky/antiquey theme the rest of our house has going.  So we bought new bedding and rearranged everything.  I even got one of those antique pitcher and bowl stands, which creeps people out, but I love it.

As I’ve noticed pretty much every time we make changes to the house, it seemed to rile up the spirits.  With our bed in a different position, we now face the bedroom door, out into the middle room.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen “someone” standing in the doorway to our bedroom.  Always very briefly, and it’s gone before I’m even really sure I saw it, but it still weirds me out.

A couple of weeks ago now, my younger son was spending the night at a friend’s, so the teenager had the entire upstairs to himself, which he was very excited about.  Around 2:00 in the morning, he came running down to my room.  He said he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then something slammed on the ground right outside his bedroom door.  He said it was so loud, he thought it was me or his step-dad coming up to check on him.  When he realized nobody was there, he freaked out.

Last week, my older son was at a friend’s, so only my youngest was home.  He was asleep in bed with me, and my husband (bless his heart) was out on the couch.  In the middle of the night, I woke up from a very strange/scary dream.  (I don’t remember it now, but I did at the time.)  I didn’t move or make any noise, just kind of laid there with my eyes open, trying to calm myself down.  A few seconds later, my son sat straight up in bed and started reaching around like he was looking for something, mumbling incoherently.  Just as he laid back down, I heard my husband get up from the couch and go walking through the middle room.  At 3:31 am, all three of us woke up, completely on our own.  That’s weird, right?  I stayed up for a while, waiting and watching for something to happen, but nothing did.  Still, it was pretty odd.

A couple of nights later, we were getting ready to go to bed, and my husband went into the kitchen and turned off the light.  He said as he turned it off, he felt the sensation of someone covering his eyes with their hands.  He said he couldn’t see anything, and could actually feel the hands covering his eyes.  That night, he said he woke up very suddenly in the middle of the night.  He looked at his phone.  It was 3:31 am.

So, all of this is going on, and I can still say that it’s been a really long time since I’ve been genuinely scared in my own home.  Until last night.

Last night, I passed OUT.   Fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.  Which means that, naturally, I woke up a couple hours later and was wide awake.  I got a glass of water, went to the bathroom, put on actual pajamas, and crawled back into bed.  My dog, Sophie, wanted to join me.  She scratched frantically on the side of the bed a few times, using both paws.  Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch!  I told her to go get in her own bed, and the scratching stopped.  Then about a minute later, I heard (and felt) it again.  Scratch…scratch…scratch.  This time it was much slower.  But I still heard it just the same, and felt the sheet tugging under my hand.  I rolled over to swat at Sophie, but she wasn’t there.  She was across the room, in her bed.  I got up.  Freaked out.  Turned on the TV.  Then tried to go back to sleep.

I tossed and turned for a few hours, then was awoken again by Sophie scratching on the bed.  Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch!   I told her to go away, praying that what came next wouldn’t happen again.  But it did.  Scratch…scratch…scratch.  The sound was slow and deliberate.  The pull of the sheets under my hand was undeniable.  And Sophie was across the room, in her own bed.  I had this overwhelming feeling that I had to get out of my room.  So I grabbed my pillow and my phone and did exactly that.  My head was killing me and I felt sick to my stomach.  I settled on the couch for what little bit of sleeping time I still had left.  I looked at the clock.  3:31 am.


Sunday, July 6, 2014

Cuddle Time

Hope you all had an awesome 4th of July weekend!  We were busy, busy, busy- starting with the fireworks we attend every year on 4th of July Eve (otherwise known as July 3rd.)

On the 3rd, I got out of work, came home, and decided to take a short nap before we got ready to go watch the fireworks with friends.

I laid down on the couch, closed my eyes, and began to drift instantly.  Over the next hour and a half, I slept and awoke in erratic intervals, all while my husband ran his fingers through my hair, which he often does when we're cuddling on the couch, or lying in bed together watching TV.

I woke up for the final time when the dogs began barking like crazy, at the sound of a truck in the driveway.  My husband's truck.  He'd left to go to the store before I even fell asleep.  He wasn't beside me on the couch the entire time.  And he definitely wasn't running his fingers through my hair.  Apparently, nobody was...


Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Vintage

When we first moved into our home, we knew very little about its history.  Built in the '20s, then bought in the 90's by my landlord from "The W Family."  I was always under the impression that the house had only been owned by two families. All of the evidence found by historical researchers supported this, as there is no evidence of anyone owning it prior to the W family.

Months ago, I was contacted by the son of the W family, who grew up in this house.  He shared some wonderful history with me, including that his family owned the house for nearly 40 years- but they were not the original owners.  His family, he believed, bought the house from "The N Family."  I believed him, but was confused- there was no record of this family in any historical records on the house.

So imagine my surprise when I was contacted by a member of the N family a couple months back!  As it turns out, his family DID live in the house, only for about four or five years in the early 1950's.  So they weren't the original owners either.  Who knows how many families have lived here?!  He shared some beautiful photos with me- of our house when what is now the master bedroom was the living room, the front porch that used to stretch the width of the house, and the vacant, wooded lot that houses the abandoned barn back when it was a wide open corn field.  Absolutely LOVE them, and had to share!

Our house back before the addition, when it had a front porch, 1950's.



'
The vacant, wooded lot with the creepy barn was once a corn field!  See the chicken coop in the background?



The massive, five lane highway that is busy 24/7 was once a quiet, two lane country road!

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Bad Apple

In taking my family's story public, I've received some pretty interesting emails over the past couple of years- emails from paranormal investigation teams wanting to visit our house; emails from prior owners/tenants of the house, dating all the way back to the early 1950's; even an email from a production company interested in featuring our story on a reality show.

A couple months back, I was contacted by the lead investigator of a paranormal team that wanted to investigate our house.  I'd kind of closed the door on the whole investigation thing, as we've done it several times, but he was very...enthusiastic...so I agreed.

He brought his team out for an investigation, and the night went well- lots of evidence and experiences.  A few weeks later, I was contacted again by the lead investigator, who wanted to collaborate on some different projects.  The first was a presentation at a local historical society- he wanted me to join his group and speak about what it's like to live in a haunted house.  So I took an evening out of my busy schedule and went, just for the heck of it.

My failed attempt at a selfie with the crowd before my speech.
Can you see the fear in my eyes?!  (I hate public speaking.)

Following the presentation was another project- a documentary being made by film students about the paranormal investigation team.  They wanted our house to be a part of the documentary.  Sounded like a cool venture, so I agreed.  

We took an evening off from baseball and missed one of my son's games to stay home and conduct interviews.  The following week, we stashed the dogs and the kids at various houses, skipped baseball again, and spent an entire day readying our house for the film crew and paranormal investigation team to arrive.  Throughout the day, I attempted to contact the lead investigator to find out when everyone would be arriving- he'd previously given me a window of between 7:30pm and 9pm.  He was unreachable.  So imagine my surprise when the film crew arrived just after 6:00pm, WHILE I WAS IN THE SHOWER.  Needless to say, I was none too thrilled.  The last thing you want to be when you're preparing yourself to be filmed for an evening is rushed or stressed.  And I was both.  

After a lot of hurrying around while the film crew mulled about outside, and still with no contact from the lead investigator, we eventually got it together.  The film crew came in and began setting up, and my blood pressure began to lower.  The investigation team arrived, and the lead investigator was full of apologies and excuses.  We were good to go, right?

The film crew setting up.

Wrong.  Within the first half hour of the paranormal investigation team arriving, I started to realize that there was something very wrong with the lead investigator.  He was stumbling around, slurring his words, spilling food on the floor, passing out in the middle of conversations. He repeatedly claimed he was just tired, but I wasn't born yesterday, therefore I wasn't buying it.

As the night progressed, things got worse.  His team covered for him as best they could- trying to get him to sit the investigation out, making excuses for him, etc.  Being the stubborn guy that he is, he was his own worst enemy.  He insisted on taking a film crew around the house while he "investigated."  

The highlight of the evening was when he came and sat on the couch beside me, and began asking me questions that made no sense and saying things I couldn't understand.  He would pass out for several minutes at a time, then pick the conversation back up right where he'd left off.  All the while, there was a camera just inches from his face, recording footage that was more appropriate for an episode of Intervention than a Ghost Hunters knock-off.

My husband's patience wore thin, and he went and got the other members of the team and asked them to remove their leader from the premises.  They were understandably mortified, and tried their best to get him out of the house with the slight bit of dignity he had left.  But he would have none of it.  He argued, resisted, and caused a huge scene, all in front of the cameras.  Finally, his partner was able to get him to agree to go home, and we took a break, regrouped, and then resumed the investigation.

The team members that remained were professional, kind, and beyond apologetic.  But there was just no recovering from the nightmare their boss had created.  After a few hours of filming, they called it a night and headed home.


The next day, I received a couple of rambling voicemails from the lead investigator, apologizing and making all sorts of excuses.  I'd already allowed him to waste so much of my time, I had no intention of letting him waste anymore.  But then he sent me a written message that I simply couldn't ignore.  

In the message, he admitted to being on prescription medication during the investigation, but then proceeded to blame his team members for the majority of the things that went wrong that night.  He blamed on them things that I personally witnessed him do, as well as things that never even happened in the first place- these people who tried so hard to cover for him, protect him, and fill in for him while he was high as a kite.  None of them had a bad word to say about him, but he had nothing but bad things to say about them.

He was apparently unaware that I have a "no bullshit" policy, so he was surprised when I promptly set him straight.  We haven't spoken since.  I reached out to one of the members of his team to ask about the documentary, and she continued to apologize and make excuses for him, until I set some facts straight for her.  Seems he makes a habit out of lying to and manipulating others, and she was under some major misconceptions about what went on that night, as was the rest of his team.  Once I informed her of what actually went on inside the house with him and the film crew while she and the rest of the team were outside scrambling to do his job for him, things really began to come together- for both of us.

On top of everything else, I found out that this "expert" had taken it upon himself to begin trying to recruit teams to come investigate my house, and was going to charge them a fee, and keep half.  Without my permission or authorization, he staked some sort of claim on our property and our story, and was trying to use my family to turn a profit and boost his reputation.  Furious is not even the word.

It's my understanding that the group has disbanded since that catastrophe of a night, as he continues to try to lie his way out of it and misplace blame.  The unfortunate thing is that some of his team members actually bought his lies and sided with him.  But I suppose nothing can be done about those who refuse to see what's right in front of them.  

As for the documentary?  Between the footage that was completely unusable due to the lead investigator's altered state, and the fact that the investigation that followed his departure was pretty much a complete mess because of his actions earlier in the evening, despite how hard his group tried to pull it back together- the portion of the documentary featuring our home and our story was left on the cutting room floor.  

All that time.  All that inconvenience.  All that drama.  It was all for nothing.  But one good thing did come of it, I suppose- I learned a very important lesson.  I need to be more selective of the messages I respond to and the people I let in, because not everyone has my family's best interest at heart in all of this.  Some people are only out for themselves- motivated by greed and the chance for exposure.  I guess in every bunch, there's bound to be at least one bad apple.  If nothing else, I'm thankful for that reminder, I suppose.