The Paranormal & Supernatural
When I was younger, I would sometimes work for a nursing agency Per Diem. Most of my agency calls were for out of town about an hour and a half away as they did not like to assign us in our local facilities.
Many of those calls had me drive through several really small, rinky-dink towns so small, they had one stoplight in the middle of their town. They were very rural.
I had an unusual experience during a drive-thru in one particular town. It was always during daylight hours. On the edge of town, I would see a man standing on the side of the road with a bag at his feet. He would stand there and watch the cars as they went by. I considered that he was waiting for his ride to work. He was dressed in blue jeans, a polo style shirt, and a pair of work boots. Maybe a construction worker or someone related to that field.
I felt bad for him to be living in such a small town that, obviously, he worked outside of it and didn’t have a way to get there. I often thought I might stop and ask if he needed a lift, but either he wasn’t there when I went by or I’d be in a hurry and didn’t have time to stop.
There was something a little off about the whole situation. Then I noticed, whenever I did see him, he was always going to work. If I were coming through at 7 in the morning from working the graveyard shift, or coming back from a 7-3 shift in the afternoon, I might see him standing there waiting in the same spot with the bag at his feet watching the traffic as if he were waiting for his ride.
Even though it started to creep me out, it wasn’t what bothered me the most. I was having a hard time putting my finger on it, though. Then I noticed he wore the same clothes every day. I maybe could have passed it off and said that I was just passing him on the same day he had decided to wear those clothes again. After all, I didn’t work every day for the agency nor did I see him every time I passed by, either. But I’m not much for coincidences.
The last two times that I went by him, just before I quit working for the nursing agency, it dawned on me what was more strange than him always looking for a ride or wearing the same clothes each time I saw him. It was how he always looked so solid upon my approach. However, when I drove past, he looked opaque. I could see through him. It wasn’t until then that I realized he was a ghost.
While on Front Street today, I went over to the Kaminski House Museum to use the public bathrooms. When I came out, I heard a dog running up to me. I could hear his toenails as his little paws hit the cement and I clearly heard him panting.
I turned around to show the doggy where the water bowl was that the museum keeps out for animals, but there was no dog there. I thought I must be hearing things and turned to walk away again.
The dog came running to me a second time. Thinking I might have missed him the first time, I turned to look for him again and again, there was no dog present.
I went to the gift shop and told Lisa Stalvey what had happened. She had a very good point... Frank was buried on the property. For those Georgetonians that do not know who Frank is or what relationship he had with the Kaminski's go visit the museum.
I was at my daughter’s babysitting my granddaughter one afternoon. My husband (Grandpa), was with me at first, but he had gotten a call for work and had to leave.
I know their house sits on old rice fields, as do several other homes down the lane. I had never given it much thought before, but now, I consider that it’s old land and that it has a history; quite possibly, a haunted history.
My granddaughter had pulled me into her room to play for a minute when I heard someone in the kitchen...or thought I had. I went out to look, but no one was there so I decided it was probably the ice maker dropping ice cubes is what I heard.
About 15 minutes later, we went back to the kitchen to fix lunch. I had her sitting on a kitchen stool next to the counter while I made her a little sandwich. We both heard the front door open up and then shut. Although, she was about 18 months old and didn’t speak well, I know she heard it, too, because she turned completely around in the chair and looked in that direction.
After the door shut, we heard the footsteps as they walked past the TV and came toward us. Both of us watched and waited for someone to round the corner. I was hoping my husband was told not to come to work after all and was returning.
When no one came around the corner, I called out and said, “We’re in here.”
Still, no response. I got my granddaughter down from the stool and both of us walked to the living room to see who it was. She was just as curious as I was, so I’m even further convinced that she heard the front door open and someone walk in front of the TV and then toward where we were in the kitchen.
Later, I recounted the events to my daughter and asked if she had any experiences. I know as a child she exhibited “abilities,” that could not be explained.
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about it,” she said with a shudder. “Let’s just say there’s been plenty of times when I’ve been up late, by myself reading, and had an over-powering sensation that someone was standing close by watching me read. When I look up, expecting to see my husband, no one is standing there.”
Remembering my daughter telling me about how the baby doesn’t like to sleep in her room, I asked, “Okay, how about the times you say the baby wakes up in the middle of the night crying...do you look at the baby cam to see if something is waking her up and making her cry?”
“Yes, but there’s nothing there,” she answered. “I still just put her in the bed with us, though.”
The other day, I was over babysitting again. I understood what my daughter meant about being watched. While my granddaughter and I were in her room playing, I had an over-powering sensation that someone was standing close by watching us play. Apparently, so did my granddaughter. She abruptly stopped playing and went out into the living room. I haven’t told her mother about it, yet. She doesn’t like to talk about those kinds of things.
HAUNTED: This experience lasted over ten years and the after effects remain. At first, it was simple things like the doors opening and then closing on its own, little things were moved (we had a video of my wire whisk slowly moving back and forth on it’s own between two other whisks on either side of it and of a shirt that was in front of another hanging on a door knob. It was swaying back and forth but the one behind it was not. It was as if the entity wanted me to know it was there).
I was sitting at my desk one afternoon when I felt someone come up and pull my hair back from my neck. It literally was lifted up off my shoulder (I had hair to the middle of my back). I turned to look expecting it to be my son, but he was across the room. I said, out loud, “Don’t touch me,” and my hair promptly dropped down.
One afternoon, while my son was doing his schoolwork, I saw him out of the corner of my eye, get up, and go into the kitchen. Suddenly, the cabinet doors slammed and I jerked around to see why he slammed the cabinets when he was still sitting at his desk.
I said, “I thought you went into the kitchen; I saw you go in there!”
He said, “No, I saw YOU go in there.”
The shower door in my bathroom was a smoky glass. You could see through it, but not see clear images. Many times I would be in the shower and see “my husband,” Reese going into the bedroom, but it wasn’t him. He said it happened to him quite often, as well, and he always thought it was me.
One night, I forgot my towel and saw him walking into the bedroom so I called out to ask him to bring me a clean towel. He didn’t answer, I called out again, and again, before Reese finally came from the other direction and asked if I had been calling him.
I insisted I saw him going into the bedroom!
It was so terrible, that I would not stay in the bedroom alone (while awake, at least) and I would make my husband sit in there with me until I fell asleep.
I would see “something” come out of our closet space and pace the room, going back and forth, but not on my side of the bed. It was a solid black figure, slightly hunched over, and he would do that several times before finally leaving the room and going toward the living room. It would terrify me.
The shadow figure did not come out while Reese was in there, only when I was in bed alone. If I left the lights on, I didn’t see him, either. However, when I switched to a day shift job, I had to get up at 5 in the morning and couldn’t sleep with the lights on (poor Reese).
My son (who refuses to speak on any of these events as he’s still suffering the effects of the haunting), told me about this particular incident after we’d gone to see the movie Paranormal Activity.
He insisted, “Whoever made that movie, had to have experienced it to get it so accurate.”
I asked what he meant and he told me this: A few years earlier he had a sleepover. All of his friends were asleep on the floor, but he could not sleep so, he got up and sat on the sofa to watch TV.
All of a sudden, around 3 in the morning, he heard the bedroom door open and the (vibrating) footsteps as they headed in his direction. He said it was shaking everything in its path.
As it came by the kitchen, everything shook: the cabinets, the dishes inside, and the things on the counter tops. By the open counters, all my candy dish displays shook. As it came by my desk, the things on my desk shook and vibrated, his father’s desk next to mine included. As it rounded the love seat, the items on the mantle shook with fury. The footsteps stopped right in front of him. He said he kept his eyes closed for fear of what he would see. A few minutes later, he said he felt a sense of relief and realized that whatever it was, was gone.
The bedroom where the steps were coming from was always, with emphasis on always, cold. Even in the summer. It stayed ice cold.
My brother and his (now ex) wife spent a week and a half with us. They slept on the sofa bed. One morning I got up and my brother said to me, “Why do you get up in the middle of the night and stomp around in the kitchen?”
“I’m not getting up and stomping around in the kitchen,” I insisted.
“Yes you are! Every night this week, around 3 AM you come out here and stomp around, you open and close the refrigerator and cabinets. There’s a light in the fridge, you know. We’re trying to sleep out here, and it’s disturbing us.”
It wasn’t me. My nephew said it happened with him, too. He asked me what was I going to cook at 3 in the morning and insisted it was every night. Keep in mind, during some of this time, I worked graveyard shift and I wasn’t even home! Why would they say it was me?
Reese has told me on many nights when I was asleep or he was alone, he would hear someone in the kitchen banging around the pots and pans. When he looked, no one was in there so, he decided he would holler out, and he did. He would say, “Stop it! I can’t hear the TV.” and it would stop… just like that.
He complained of being in the shower and hearing “conversations.” They were not audible enough to hear what was said, but loud enough to know someone was talking.
He described it as if people were outside the house talking… you could hear them, but not what they were saying. Sometimes it happened while the house was full, but more times than not, it happened while he was home alone.
One night, my husband got up out of bed to use the bathroom. When I felt him pull the blankets back and get back into the bed, I rolled over to hug him and no one was there. I jumped out of the bed and screamed and then heard Reese, still in the bathroom, ask me what was wrong. There was no one in the bed.
Another night, I was laying on my right side and I felt Reese move into me and snuggle my back. Then he started stroking my hair so, as usual, I reached up with my left hand to take his that he had rested on top of my head, but it wasn’t there.
I rolled over to ask him why he moved when I saw he was on the other side of the (king-sized) bed with his back to me and hard and fast asleep. I didn’t even hear him snoring… at all …until then.
The nursery room (turned storage room) was separated from our room by double doors. One night, my husband was watching a movie and I didn’t want to disturb him, but I had to go to bed. I decided to leave the TV on in the bedroom and lay down. About fifteen minutes later, I saw the light from the nursery shine under the door and heard him in there moving around boxes.
I called out and asked him to stop. The noise stopped and he left the room; I heard the other door close as he exited. A few minutes later, it happened again so, I called out (I know I was irritated) and asked him what was he looking for by moving all those boxes around. Again, the noise stopped, the lights went off, and the other door closed as he left the room. Several minutes later, it happened a third time. At this point, I was mad and I got out of bed and snatched the double doors open to find the room, not only completely empty of people, but the lights were off and the other door was shut.
I went out to the living room and (as calmly as possible) asked my husband what he was looking for in there. He and my son both swear, he was never in the room. They had been watching the movie the whole time.
I would be brushing my teeth, spit in the sink, and when I’d lift my head, I would catch a sudden movement behind me in the mirror. It was so dang fast, I never did see what, or who, had been there.
One afternoon, I laid down for a nap. I wasn’t asleep. I was quite restless, though. I realized that someone was in the bedroom with me as I laid with my eyes closed (yes, I’m an idiot). I was so sure it was Reese, especially when he tucked my hair behind my ears and bent down to kiss me. I opened my eyes and no one was even there.
The straw that broke the camel’s back: Everyone tried to convince me it was my deceased father. However, my beliefs are clear – these ghosts are not the souls of our deceased loved ones so, I never believed it was my father. One particular night, I was proven correct.
I was laying in bed waiting for Reese to come in there with me. I had my eyes closed when I felt someone “sneaking up” on me. I remember I kind of smirked because as I said, I was not asleep. I opened my eyes and started to ask him, “What are you doing?”
I saw the silhouette of a little boy on the wall. He was creeping up towards my head. I gasped really loud and rolled back away from him. He stopped as if he were suddenly caught then he turned and ran away. I watched his silhouette run around the room on the wall and out the door.
I called my husband (Okay, I really screamed for him) and he came running. I told him what happened. All of these things had taken such a toll on me. I was becoming more and more unnerved by the entire incident. I finally broke down and called my brother.
I told him as much as I could up to the point of the little boy, to which he responded, “As soon as you said little boy, I knew you were talking about a demon, not a haunting. Demons use children because they represent innocence and people trust them.”
He asked if I had a Ouija Board which I denied. I know they are the devil’s toys. He recommended getting the house blessed and I did. Two weeks later, my nephew came running out of the (ice cold) bedroom asking why my son did not answer his phone.
“I called you twice!” and when my son said he never got a call, Kevin told him to check his phone. Sure enough, there were two missed calls, back-to-back.
The problem was, as Kevin laid in bed, he saw a black solid figure, a little hunched over, come out of the closet and pace back and forth at the foot of the bed before finally turning and vanishing through the wall.
I remember scolding him because we had just had the house blessed days earlier and I was afraid Kevin (who has a pension for the dramatics) was going to call it back. A few days after that, I found the source of the “haunting.”
I was cleaning some shelves out and preparing for a yard sale. I’ve always been somewhat clairvoyant; a gift I do not want to have. Reese had always been fascinated with my abilities so, to encourage me to use them more, he bought me a deck of Tarot Cards one Christmas about ten years earlier.
I called my brother back and asked about them. He confirmed they are Ouija Boards in card forms. I got rid of them and fast. Since then, not a single thing has happened. Nothing!
It also explains why I was the primary target; why this thing latched on to me the most. The cards were mine, and in fact, I did play with them a couple of times. I really believe that’s why I became the entity’s focus.
However, it’s left us scarred especially my son and I. Anytime we hear a bump in the night, we look. I don’t “feel” anything, but who is 100% accurate? For the last few years, I’ve been so affected, I don’t even sleep in my room anymore.
I don’t like going in there when no one is home and if I have to, believe me, I pray for protection before going in.
Copyright © November 2019
When my friend Robert suffered damage to his home from a tornado, he rented a place on Lafayette, in Georgetown, from a young man whose aunt had just passed away. It was temporary until the damage to his own home was fixed and it was habitable again.
The rental house was completely furnished since no one had bothered to clear it out, yet. It had everything Robert would need including utilities. It was also in dire need of repair from years of neglect, but at $300 a month plus the utilities, he jumped on it.
Since he didn't drive, I drove him over to his new home and when I walked in the door, I could feel it. There was absolutely no mistaking it; the house was haunted.
I didn't say anything to Robert because in the past, whenever I would tell him about a ghostly experience, he would just roll his eyes at me and walk away.
"You don't believe me?" I would ask with a chuckle.
He often gave his customary response, "I don't want to talk about it."
Although I did not say it out loud that his temporary dwelling was haunted, I did turn to look at him. I could see by the look on his face that he knew it, too. I realized then that it wasn’t he didn’t believe, he was just afraid to acknowledge it out loud.
I got a call early one morning. It was Robert, "Michelle, can you come get me?"
"Sure, want to go to breakfast?" I offered half-jokingly.
He has always, with emphasis on always, turned me down. Robert was raised in an era that a black man and a white woman seen together in public could be disastrous especially, if she were married. Today, though, Robert said yes to the offer.
"Okay, what happened?" I asked over breakfast. I knew something had happened for him to jump at the chance to leave the house.
"I woke up feeling like someone was staring at me. I rolled over and there was a black lady standing right next to me by the bed staring at me. She didn't look happy, either."
"Holy scrambled eggs! Did she say anything? Who was it? Did she run out when you woke up? How did she get in the house? Did you lock the door before you went to bed?" I could not stop my mind from the possibilities, except for one...
"She vanished...into thin air!" he answered animatedly.
I shook my head, "A ghost?" Robert nodded in agreement. "A full apparition; head to toe?"
With a tone of sarcasm, he answered, "I don't know; I didn't bother to see if she had feet when she disappeared. And, that's not all, either. The other morning, I was in the shower and when I turned around to rinse off my back, that same woman was peeking around the shower curtain at me, only this time, she was curious, like she was trying to figure out who I was. I hear someone in the kitchen like they're cooking all-the-time! Sometimes, I even smell the food and when I go look, nothing!"
I was in awe. "Was the shower incident another full-body apparition?"
"No," he answered, "I could tell it was just her head and the hand she was using to pull back the shower curtain. I haven't showered since, I just been washing up and I'm not going to sleep in her bed anymore, either. I'll just stay on the couch."
We had already offered our spare room to Robert when we picked him up from the hospital after the tornado and he refused. I made the same offer to him again: to let him stay in our spare room, free of charge, until he could get back on his feet again.
He refused again...it was the black-white thing. I understood. It was the way he was raised. In the end, I took him back to his haunted rental house on Lafayette and just kept checking in on him until he could move back to his own home.
It seemed that if he stayed out of her shower and out of her bed, she left him alone. If he moved something in the house, Robert would wake up in the morning and find it back in the original place. The daily phantom sounds of someone in the kitchen cooking with occasional scents of food never did go away, though.