Beginning's End

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about living in a haunted house, it’s this: you get used to it. Just like you get used to footsteps on the ceiling when you live in a downstairs apartment, or road noise when you live on a busy street, you adjust to the things that go bump in the night. Which I guess is how we find ourselves here, two and a half years (!!!) between blog posts. We still see things, hear things, and experience the unexplainable. It’s just become somewhat commonplace. Something will happen, I’ll be too busy to sit down and write about it right away, and then within a day or so, I’ve forgotten all about it. But our otherworldly friends haven’t left us. We are, however, getting ready to leave them.

It’s been over five years since we moved into our spirited little corner of the world, with no idea what we were in for. I’m so glad that I decided to chronicle our time here, even if I have been pretty lax with it the past couple of years. I love that we’ll have this weird little blog to look back on years from now, when we’re struggling to remember what it was that made this house so damn creepy. But all good things must come to an end. And so, after ten years as a commitment-fearing renter, I decided it was time to dip my toes back in the cesspool of home ownership.

Yep, I BOUGHT A HOUSE! A new beginning. A fresh, ghost-free start. And yet, I’m a little sad to be leaving behind our roommates. Recently, I took a drive out to the new house for no other reason than to admire the “SOLD” sign in the front yard. One of my favorite things about the new house is the 1920s twist doorbell. I have to ring it every time I’m there. So before I left that day, I walked up onto the porch and rang the doorbell. And as I turned to head back down the steps, I heard a door slam from inside my completely vacant, completely closed up new house. Well. Here we go again, I guess. Stay tuned, folks…

Shattered

So, it's been a while. And for good reason. Nothing worth writing about has happened in months. The most recent "event" I can think of was a few weeks ago, and that wasn't much. I was in the bathroom around midnight, and heard laughter coming from upstairs. Only our two youngest boys were home at the time, so I informed the hubs that they were still awake and needed a reminder that it was way past bedtime. He went upstairs, and found them both fast asleep. But I definitely heard children laughing, the sound was unmistakable. The situation was curious, yes. But not out of the ordinary.

Tonight, however, I have a story for you. Last night, a little after midnight (so technically this morning), the teenager came running downstairs and into my room, terrified. He said he was trying to sleep, and kept feeling someone touching him and running a hand through his hair. He said at one point, he distinctly felt someone sit down on his bed. (Which was what prompted him to come flying out of his room like a bat out of hell.)

Too afraid to go back upstairs, he slept on the couch. I slept on the loveseat beside him. Several times during the night, he jolted awake, insisting that someone had poked him or touched him. Once, he said he felt someone pulling on his leg. He kept thinking he saw shadows walking through the house.  I didn't see anything, didn't feel anything, but I did keep hearing weird noises- creaking floorboards, the typical "things going bump in the night."

Needless to say, it was a rough night. I was thankful the boys had a snow day today to catch up on sleep. (Only wish I'd been as lucky.) Tonight when I got home, all was back to normal. The teenager was up in his room Netflixing, and everyone else was downstairs doing various things. Then from upstairs, we heard a loud crash/pop/explosion. The teenager found it before the rest of us got upstairs. The light fixture in his brother's room shattered in place. Didn't fall, didn't get bumped. Just exploded. There was no one in the room at the time.

So, basically, what I'm trying to say is....they're baaaaaack.

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!  

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.

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.

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.



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...

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.

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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!

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. 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.

Mom, I'm Scared...

Those are the words that woke me up this morning. My son was standing beside my bed, his eyes wide. He'd been upstairs (by himself) getting ready for school, when he heard the sound of a child's laughter in his brother's room, which is right next to his.  Then, according to him, something loud crashed to the ground.

I heard none of this happen. But yesterday, when I was home alone, I heard a loud crash upstairs. I called my husband and told him that either a tree had fallen on the house, or one of the boys' TVs fell to the floor.

My husband investigated both yesterday and this morning, and found nothing that would have caused such a loud "crashing" noise.

A Night With The Others

A couple of weeks ago, I was contacted by a local paranormal investigation team that was interested in investigating the house. We've already had four investigations, so I thought- eh, what's one more? Been there, done it, got the t-shirt. Actually, I don't have a t-shirt. I should really get myself one of those. Anyway...

On April 26, 2014, close to a dozen paranormal investigators descended upon our haunted abode with trunks full of all kinds of crazy equipment. We didn't even make it through the tour of the house before they began having what investigators call "personal experiences" (evidence of the paranormal that they saw and felt for themselves.)

While we are still waiting for the official evidence review, there was some craziness that went on during the investigation. I was able to catch a couple of things on video! And since I now know how to download videos from Facebook to Youtube (yaaaay!), I can share what I caught with all of you.

The first video is of "the flashlight trick." One of the investigators placed a MagLite flashlight on the bench in the middle room of the house, which was otherwise empty. He then explained to the spirits that they could twist the flashlight to turn it on to answer questions, then twist it again to turn it back off.

The video turned out like crap, but you can see the light shine on the wall a couple of times in response to questions. After that, the video stopped picking up the flashes, which was crazy, because they were lighting up the entire room. But you can hear the investigator's responses to the light continuing to be turned on and off.

WATCH THE FLASHLIGHT TRICK HERE:

The second video is of a K-II meter going off. A K-II meter detects electromagnetic fields, or EMFs. In the paranormal community, it is believed that all spirits produce electromagnetic fields, which can be manipulated at will by the spirits. So the theory is that a spirit can use a K-II meter to communicate or make their presence known.  All evening, there was a K-II meter lying on the couch, with no result. Then our puppy, Opie, jumped up on the couch, and the K-II meter started going crazy. The video, once again, is crappy quality. But. You CAN see the lights going off on the meter and hear it chirping and beeping, if you look and listen really closely.   To me, the creepiest part is when the investigator asks the spirit to pet Opie. Opie instantly lays down and stays there, as if someone is in fact petting him.

WATCH THE K-II METER GO OFF HERE:      

Needless to say, it was a crazy night. I can't wait until we get all of the evidence and see what else the investigators found. A big thank you to Gary, Kim, and their team for coming out, and we look forward to working with them in the future.

Oh, and just because this whole downloading videos from Facebook to Youtube thing is new to me, I thought I'd share one other video, one I talked about before but was not able to post due to my lack of tech savvy-ness. Here is the video taken from last summer of the light in the middle room of our house turning itself on and off:

ENJOY!

The Heebie Jeebies

One benefit of living in a haunted house is that I've become kind of hard to rattle. Even when scary things happen, I don't really get scared anymore.
I'm kind of like, "Oookay, here we go again." And if we have company over when something happens, and they're getting freaked out...well...I actually kind of love that. Super amusing.

Anyway, my point is- my house doesn't scare me hardly ever anymore. Last night, however, I was up well past one in the morning, just because. When I finally went to bed, the bedroom lights were still on. I went into my closet, which is a large, walk-in closet (and I believe used to be a bedroom once upon a time) and turned the light off. The second that light was off and the closet was pitch black, I was TERRIFIED. Like, goose bumps, heart racing, fighting the urge to scream terrified. And I have no idea why.  

I'm still on crutches (yes, still) so running was out of the question. Instead, I hobbled my way back into the bedroom as quickly as I could, but the feeling didn't leave me. I felt like something (someone?) was following me. I hurried into the middle room, then the kitchen, as quickly as I could, turning every light on along the way. It took me a good five minutes to calm down.

I didn't see anything, didn't hear anything, but I definitely felt it. And whatever "it" was, was horrifying.

In other news, I never told y'all about the scratches, did I? Probably not. I think I kept it to myself because I thought I'd found a logical explanation for them, but now I'm not so sure.

So, here goes- shortly after I had my accident, which was nearly three months ago now, I started noticing scratches on my left arm. Not just a couple small ones, but several long, deep, wide scratches between my elbow and my wrist, on both the inside and outside of my arm.

Here's the thing- I was literally doing absolutely nothing with my life at that time due to my injury. I was glued to my couch, pretty much 24 hours a day. There was no explanation for where these scratches were coming from, but they just kept coming. I thought it was weird, but then decided that somehow the velcro on the brace on my leg must have been causing it, even though I had no idea how.

Now- it's my other arm.  And instead of scratches, it's bruises. I bruise pretty easily, so I don't think anything of it when I find a random bruise (especially on my leg), but these are different. I have three large, deep, distinct bruises on my right arm, all below the elbow, just like the scratches were. One on the outside of my forearm, one on the inside of my forearm, and one on the back of my hand. I have no clue where they came from. I'm still a total cripple. While I'm slightly more active than I was three months ago, I'm certainly not active enough to be getting all banged up like this. I've got no clue where the bruises (or the scratches, for that matter) came from.

Maybe I should ask whoever or whatever is inhabiting my closet, waiting for me to shut the lights off so they can scare the bejesus out of me. Maybe they know.

A Haunted Life

Exactly two years ago today, our family got the keys to our haunted house. It's been a crazy past couple of years, so I thought I'd take some of the best excerpts and create a little video. (Please don't ask me how long it took me- the answer is waaaaay too long. I'm really not tech savvy at all.)  Anyway, enjoy!

They're Baaaack

We live in a busy world. Sometimes we go weeks, even months, without talking to some of our closest friends and family members. When we do get a chance to catch up, the questions are always the same. How's the family? How's work? And, in our case, "has anything new happened in your  house lately?" Might sound like an odd question, but I imagine it's pretty standard when you live in a haunted house.

For months, my answer to that question was the same. "Nothing." As I explained in my blog post last month, things around the house have been quiet for quite some time. I've even been home 24/7 for the past month now due to an unfortunate slip and fall that's left me a temporary invalid, and I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. And trust me, I've been paying close attention. How many horror movies start out with someone injured and stuck at home alone with nothing better to do than let their mind run wild? At least a few, right?

Anyway, my point...just when I was starting to think we'd been abandoned by "the others" for good, last night happened. Last night, I had a bout of insomnia with a wicked underlying migraine. I was up well past 6:30 in the morning. And during that time, I realized something. Our spirits haven't gone anywhere. They just save their shenanigans for the middle of the night. (And apparently we've gotten so used to them, we sleep right through them now.)

Picture this: it's 3:30 in the morning, it's pitch black outside, and the house is silent except for two things: the sound of coyotes howling from the woods out back (that's the new thing in our neighborhood these days, and it's creepy as hell) and a mysterious clunking/banging sound coming from upstairs. It's not easy for me to get around these days, what with the crutches and the leg brace that goes from the top of my thigh to the bottom of my ankle, so I listened for about a half hour to banging, followed by footsteps, followed by more banging. Earlier in the night, a little after midnight, my oldest son's alarm clock started going off, even though it was turned off.  I didn't think much of it at the time, but given the events that followed, I have to wonder now.

A little before 4, I sent my husband upstairs to investigate. His youngest son was awake, but insisted he hadn't been awake for long. Was he the one responsible for all the racket?  Or was the racket responsible for waking him up  I was more inclined to believe the former, until about an hour later. I heard a noise that at first sounded like a semi or loud diesel truck idling in our driveway. It went on long enough and was loud enough that I eventually got up and hobbled my way into the kitchen.  

Once I reached the kitchen, I realized that the sound wasn't coming from outside. I checked the refrigerator, the sink, the oven, before realizing that the sound was coming from inside the walls. I still don't know exactly what it was, but it sounded like the pipes were shaking and vibrating- not just a little bit, but enough to bust right through the walls. 

After a few minutes, it stopped, and gave way to another noise. The sound of water spilling all over the floor upstairs. It was very distinct and unmistakable. I made my way to the bottom of the stairs to make sure I wasn't imagining things. Not only did I hear water spilling everywhere, I also heard the TV in the boys' room blaring. I hurried (as fast as a one-legged cripple on crutches can hurry) to my bedroom and woke up my husband.

"The kids are awake with the TV on at 5 in the morning, and the toilet or the sink in the bathroom up there is overflowing and water's spilling everywhere. You need to get up." The hubs jumped out of bed and made his way up the stairs. I returned to my makeshift non-sleeping zone on the couch. After a few minutes, he returned.

"Well?" I asked.  

"The kids are asleep, there are no TVs on and there's no water on the floor anywhere," he said. So.  That happened. (And may I just remind you that coyotes were yipping and howling outside our windows the ENTIRE time.) Needless to say, I didn't fall asleep until after daylight broke.

A Haunting Update

Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!  (What does that even mean, btw?)  It's been almost three months since I've updated the blog.  Whaaaat?!  First and foremost, let me say- sorry!  The holidays are crazy for the C fam- that's the best excuse I can come up with. 

Anyway- here's what's been going on:  NOT A WHOLE LOT.  I'm not sure whether it's because there really hasn't been much activity in the house lately, or because we blame pretty much everything, including global warming, on our new puppy these days.  Meet Opie.

 

Isn't he cute?  He's also a holy terror.  Which means we're not as likely to notice strange noises or things disappering or being moved as we once were. 

I was thinking today, when I realized how long it's been since I've posted anything, about how much things have changed.  We've been in our haunted house nearly two years now.  Within the first six months, I found a dead bat in my living room, a chipmunk swimming in my toilet, and a rabid mouse in the drawer under my oven- chewed right through a wall to get into the house!  Since then, nothing. 

There were smoke detectors being set off all hours of the day and night, footprints on the floor, things flying and breaking and moving and slamming- so much craziness, it felt like living in a movie.  Now?  Just a noise or movement out of the corner of one's eye or a creepy feeling now and then. 

Maybe it was all just a show of force when we first moved in.  Or maybe they got sick of us bugging them back (a la, the four paranormal investigations in a year's time) and decided to leave us alone in hopes that we'd return the favor.  Either way, I dare say peace has come to the C Fam abode.  Here are some updates I've been meaning to share, but just haven't had time:

Fourth Investigation: The findings from our fourth paranormal investigation didn't turn up any evidence aside from the experiences we had during the investigation (which are documented in my last post.)  At this time, we don't have any further investigations planned.  But who knows?  That could always change...

History Lesson:  A couple months back, I got an email from one of the former owners of the house.  His family owned/lived in the house for nearly fifty years until selling it to my landlord.  He found out we were digging into the history of the house, and wanted to share some information with me. 

First and foremost, my "haunted farmhouse" isn't really a farmhouse at all.  Just a house.  In the 1800s, it was part of a plot of farmland.  The original farmhouse still stands, and is our next door neighbor to the west of us, on the other side of the abandoned lot.  In the early 1900s, the land was divided up into several properties- a small one with the original house and barn, an empty lot with a barn where shetland ponies were raised (now the abandoned barn), our property, and our next door neighbor to the east 's property.  What we call the "chicken coop" was part of that farm, and is the oldest structure on our property.  (Which may explain why it's the most haunted.)

His family did not build the house, as I'd always believed.  It was owned by at least one other family before his family bought it in the 1950's.  We've not been able to find any history on that family, or anyone who lived in the house prior to his family buying it.

He had no idea why the house might be haunted, and didn't have a lot of personal experiences to share.  He did say that the abandoned barn out back always gave him the creeps, and told me about a time when he was maybe 11 or 12, the first time he was allowed to stay home alone.  It was winter, and it was snowing.  He was in the house by himself, and heard footsteps outside, crunching in the snow, all around the house.  He was (understandably) terrified, and thought someone was trying to break in.  When he went outside the next morning to look- no footprints, just fresh snow.

Halloween Haunting:  When you live in a haunted house, Halloween parties are pretty much obligatory.  We had a houseful of "amateur ghost hunters" mulling around all night.  Here's one photo that was snapped in the basement by my friend Tena.  Some people claim to see the shadow of a face right in the middle of the picture.  Do you see it?

 

That's pretty much all I've got for ya right now.  I truly can't recall the last real "incident" we've had.  But I'll be sure to keep everyone posted.  In the mean time....no news is good news.  Right?

Child's Play



The boys using an EMF detector to look for ghosts


On Saturday night, the folks from Grimstone Inc. made their second visit to our haunted abode.  This time, they brought different equipment and a slightly different investigation team.  This time, we did something we’ve never, ever done before…..we let our kids stay home during the investigation.  (Not all four of them, though- the two youngest are afraid of their own shadows, so it’s definitely not something they could have handled.)

The boys were quiet, watching with wide eyes as the investigators brought in case after case of equipment.  We updated them on everything that’s happened in the house since the last investigation, including the fact that it’s been well over a month since anyone has slept upstairs.  They talked to the boys a bit about that, and then decided to begin the investigation upstairs.  As they got out different pieces of equipment, they took their time explaining to the kids how each one worked.  They even gave them an EMF detector to carry with them, and told them what to look for and when to call for help.

Austin checking readings on the EMF detector

Ethan thinks he found somethin'!

An investigator from Grimstone showing Ethan how the EMF detector works

 

The investigators: Kara, Barbara, Josh, and Shannon, performed an EVP session in E-Man’s bedroom while we stayed downstairs in the living room.  Then they got out a device called a Frank’s Box (also known as a spirit box, or ghost box.)  That’s when the real fun began.  The Frank’s Box is essentially a modified radio that scans through radio stations very quickly, creating a steady stream of white noise.  The thought is that spirits can speak through that white noise.  The thing that’s different about the Frank’s Box from other equipment is that the results are instant.  Whereas most evidence has to be reviewed, a Frank’s Box produces instant results- you can hear the activity as it occurs.

Needless to say, the boys were fascinated by this.  They stood at the bottom of the stairs listening intently as the investigators asked questions.  At one point, one of the investigators asked, “Can you tell us your name?”  The response was loud and clear: “Bobby.”  I thought the boys would be afraid, but they weren’t.  A little freaked out, maybe, but not afraid.  They got the green light from the investigator manning surveillance to go upstairs and join the party, so we all headed up to E’s bedroom to witness the investigation close up.  One of the questions asked by investigators was “Whose room is this?”  The voice that came through the Frank’s Box said, “Ethan.”  (Ding, ding, ding!)  Someone asked “it” to name someone in the room.  Over the next few minutes, we heard “Kara,” “Shannon” and “Barb” all spoken separately.  (Correct again!)  It was really, really freaky.  We then headed downstairs to the master bedroom for an EVP session and a Frank’s Box session.  The boys asked some questions, made some jokes, and got some responses through the box to yes and no questions.

Ethan helping to run surveillance

 

And that was about all the ghost hunting the boys could handle.  It was nearly midnight, after all.  We returned to our campout in the living room, and the investigators returned to their investigating.  The boys quickly fell asleep.  The Hubs played on his phone (Candy Crush, I’m sure.)  I spent a little time listening to the live broadcast of the 97.5 Paranormal Investigation, which was coincidentally on the same night, and then talked with Shannon, the investigator running the last surveillance shift, until the lights came back on.

Some things I overheard/found out over the course of the evening, but have not been shared as “official” investigation findings at this time:  One of the new investigators got an overwhelming sense that something tragic had happened in the house immediately upon entering.  She was very uncomfortable upstairs, and felt like she shouldn’t be there.  Another of the investigators, while in one of the upstairs bedrooms, could feel someone watching him from  the hallway.

 

During a Frank’s Box session in the downstairs bathroom, investigators heard the word, “dead.”  When they asked, “Who’s dead?,” the voice responded, “Me.”  At one point, I was in the kitchen getting a drink when I heard a commotion downstairs, where the investigators had convened.  All night, they’d been asking “it” to turn a flashlight on and off, and from the sounds of it, they achieved success in the basement.

The investigators left around 1:30 or so in the morning.  The Hubs and I went to bed.  At 2:20, we were awoken by a loud crash outside our door, where a picture had somehow fallen off the wall.  I wasn’t afraid or upset, I’m becoming an old hat at these paranormal investigations.  But I was restless and couldn’t sleep at all.  I was nauseous, and came down with a serious migraine that lasted well into Sunday.  Not sure if it was related to the investigation, or just a coincidence.

When the boys woke up the morning after the investigation, they were bummed that they’d fallen asleep before it was over.  They didn’t seem scared or traumatized or any worse for the wear.  But  my 10-year-old did inform me that he’s never, ever, ever sleeping upstairs again.  Sooo….there’s that.



Ghost hunting is exhauting!



Busy Morning

It seems that randomly playing music is going to be the new "thing" in our house.  This morning at about 6, with The Hubs already at work and both kids asleep in my bed (don't ask) and me on the couch, I was actually semi-awake when I heard the music turn on upstairs.  This time, it was The Beatles' "Hello, Goodbye" that started playing out of nowhere, with nobody upstairs (or even awake.) 

The curious part is, the song didn't even start at the beginning, it started right in the middle of the song, with the words, "Hello, hello!"  It played for about a minute, and then before I worked up the courage to go upstairs and turn it off, it stopped.  So I have no idea which device it came from- iPhone, iPod, iPod touch, TV, other TV.....coulda been anything.

Then, a couple hours later, after the boys got on the bus and I was laying back down in bed trying to rest for a bit before going to work, my husband came home from work early.  I listened as his heavy footsteps walked through the dining room, the kitchen, the middle room....and then stopped.  I turned to face the door, fully expecting him to be standing there looking at me.  He wasn't.  I called his name.  He didn't answer.  I texted him and asked where he was.  Still at work.  For another three hours.  Hmmm.  Well.  Okay.

I feel like September and October are important months for our spirits.  It was last September that I took the photo of the footprints at the end of my bed (see an edited version of said photo below), and the activity really picked up from there.  Especially in the days before (of course during) and after the first paranormal investigation we had done last October.

Oh, did I forget to mention?  We are having our FOURTH paranormal investigation in a couple of weeks.  Grimstone Inc. is coming back, and this time the kids are staying home during the investigation!!  (The kids' request, not mine.  I think it's a horrible idea.)  Stay tuned....

Sweet Dreams

I’m of the belief that some dreams have meaning and some have none whatsoever, generally speaking.  But every time I dream about our house or the spirits in it, I wake up totally freaked out,  convinced that our ghosts are trying to send me a message. 

Last night (this morning?), I was having a perfectly pleasant dream where I was with a group of friends at some event, and we were just talking and hanging out.  My mom showed up with a box of stuff she found in the (her? my?) attic.  In it, there was a photo of a man who looked like he was straight out of the 1970s  or 80s, with big, clunky glasses, a sweet porn stache, and thick, brown feathered hair.  I can still see the picture perfectly in my mind, the dream was that vivid.  He was wearing a white polo tennis shirts with a few thick stripes through the middle, and some waaaaay too short white shorts.  He was also wearing a gold chain.  (See, told you….I can still see it perfectly in my head.)

I feel like he was on a bike, or near a bike, and there was a woman in the photo with him, but I don’t remember her face as well.  I asked my mom who he was and why I should care about this picture.  She explained some present day link, which I don’t remember now (he worked in my building, or was one of the paranormal investigators on our case, or was a former teacher of mine or something like that) and then said, “look at his name.”  I can’t, for the life of me, remember what the name was, or why it was written in big block letters on the front of the picture, but I do remember that his first name was Robert.  “I think this is Bobby,” my mom said.  And then I started screaming- this blood curdling, top of my lungs, hysterical shriek.  I was staring at the picture, just screaming and screaming.  And I realized, in my dream, that Bobby was never the name of one of our ghosts, “Bobby” was the person responsible for all of the ghosts in our house, and that every time the little ghost boy talked about “Bobby,” he was trying to tell us about the person who killed him, not tell us his own name.  I screamed so much and so loud in my dream that it woke me up.  I’m 99% sure that it’s the reason for my migraine today, as well.

I woke up terrified.  I wanted so badly to run out of my room, out of my house altogether, and not come back until daylight.  But.  My youngest son was asleep in my bed, and I couldn’t leave him alone in my room with whoever or whatever was planting nightmares in my head.  I know, I’m being overly dramatic.  The dream probably meant nothing.  It doesn’t even make any sense.  But even now, in the light of day and with my fears calmed, I still feel like it meant SOMETHING.  Although what, I have no idea.

Whatcha Gonna Do?

Last night, I didn't sleep.  Like at all.  Which is so stupid, because I was beyond exhausted.  I tried to sleep.  Several times.  But something (someone?) wouldn't let me.  Every time I would start to fall asleep, I would be startled awake, by what I'm not quite sure.  But my adrenaline was pumping and my heart was racing- so much so that I was afraid there was something medically wrong with me.

I hadn't had a bad dream.  I hadn't heard or seen anything to warrant such a reaction, but it literally felt like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest.  I got so freaked out, I woke my husband up.  In case I, you know, died or something.  As I sat in bed, trying to figure out what was wrong with me, I was reminded of a few other times I've woken up in panic mode.

Most recently, it's happened when I heard someone talking to me while I was sleeping.  Once a woman, and once what sounded like a little boy.  Both times, I woke up with that same adrenaline rush, my heart pounding.  But this time there had been no voice, nothing that had happened to cause this.  Nothing I could consciously remember, at least.

Around 2 am, I got up to go to the bathroom for the millionth time.  I checked on the boys, who were fast asleep on the couch in the living room, and then went to the bathroom.  On my way back to my room, I heard something upstairs.  A voice. I walked slowly to the bottom of the stairs to listen more closely.

It was music.  "Bad Boys," to be exact.  (Yes, the Cops theme song.)  I returned to my bedroom and got my husband, who was just starting to fall asleep again, back up.

"There's music upstairs," I told him as I climbed back into bed.

"What?" he asked, almost as if he didn't believe me.

"Music, upstairs.  Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?"  I elaborated, getting back into bed, making it clear that he was going to have to be the one to solve this particular mystery.  He sleepily made his way upstairs, returning a few minutes later.  "What was it?"  I asked.

"Austin's iPhone," he answered, satisfied.  Mystery solved.  Austin's iPhone??

As I laid there, wide awake, listening to my husband's breathing turn into quiet snores, my mind was racing.  I had turned Austin's iPhone off earlier in the evening after informing him that he would not be using it for a few days.  (Long story.)  I'd let him put it upstairs on the charger before bed, but it was still turned off.  The kids were fast asleep downstairs, I saw them with my own two eyes.  And there was no music playing the several other times I'd gotten up to go to the bathroom that night.  It wasn't even playing on my way TO the bathroom, just on my way back.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.  I mean, it's definitely not the craziest thing to ever happen in our house.  But I couldn't help but feel a little unsettled as I stared into the darkness, the song's lyrics playing over and over in my head:

"Whatcha gonna do?  Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?"

Apparition

Of all of the crazy things that have happened in our house, there's one thing I'd not yet experienced until last night.  I'd never seen anything.  I've heard things, felt things, sensed things....but never actually SEEN any "ghosts" or ghost-like things.  But last night....

Last night, I got up around 2 am or so to use the bathroom.  When I walked out into the middle room, I was startled by what I thought was a person sitting on the bench against the wall.  When I stopped to really look, there was nothing there.  I used the bathroom, made my way back down the hall and through the middle room, and as I entered my bedroom, I saw the same "thing" standing beside the bed, near the closet door.  I blinked, and it was gone.

It was almost like a light brownish, person-shaped fog.  Both times I saw it, it was gone within seconds.  But the fact that I saw it twice, in two separate rooms, within a five minute time span......well, I can no longer say that I've never seen a ghost in the house.  Because I'm not entirely sure anymore.